spirit – Every Day Simple

Whose We Are

January 14, 2019 No Comments

Isaiah 43:1-7 | Psalm 29 | Acts 8:14-17 | Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

The words from Isaiah were surely words of comfort and assurance to the weary Israelites. They were weary from being in exile, far from their land, their home, where their God resided. Even upon their return, things were not as they had been, and it was unfamiliar. But these words from God through the voice of the prophet remind the people who they are and whose they are. As people created by God and for God’s glory (as the psalm also reminds), they need not fear.

To be created, formed, redeemed, protected, valued, honored, and loved by God — that alone is enough for us to take as good news. This God in all goodness and glory is on our side. As the favored ones, we have nothing to fear. “Surely it is God who saves me; I will trust in him and not be afraid” (Canticle 9, First Song of Isaiah 12:2, BCP, p. 86). Strength and blessing are promised to God’s people. All prosperity is ours and ours alone.

Is it, though? Is that the full picture of our inheritance and our future? The fullness of our present moment?

If our strength and peace as children of God were solely about our believing in the Word or even about our baptism in water in the name of the Trinity, then perhaps that would be all we need. But of course there’s more to the story.

We’re told that Samaritans accepted the word of God. In the reading prior to the verses we read in Acts today, the Samaritans saw Philip proclaiming the name of Jesus Christ, healing the sick, raising the lame, casting out demons, and they believed in Jesus Christ, Son of God. They were baptized, but it didn’t end there. Peter and John are sent to them. They lay hands on them, and then they received the Holy Spirit. Now they can continue the good work in the name of Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit.

But there’s even more to the story.

A man named Simon had practiced magic among the Samaritans, and they had been impressed by him, “amazed” (Acts 8:9). Like the Samaritans, Simon found himself being impressed by the works of Philip and realized that he, too, believed and was baptized. Simon stayed by Philip’s side.

When Simon saw what happened with the apostles laying their hands on the Samaritans, he saw something he wanted. He offered money to the apostles. “Give me also this power so that anyone on whom I lay my hands may received the Holy spirit” (Acts 8:19). But Peter denied his money, incredulous that Simon thought he could buy God’s gift. Peter proclaims that Simon’s heart is not right before God, implores him to repent that he might be forgiven–if it’s possible at all. Simon does ask that Peter pray for him, that the curses not come to pass. We’re not told how Simon’s story ends.

So if we believe in the word of God, are baptized, and receive the power of the Holy Spirit–with good intentions, of course–then we’re good, right? Then we can rest in our blessedness?

It wasn’t like that for Jesus. It certainly isn’t like that for us.

John the Baptist said he baptized with water, but one more powerful than himself is coming to who “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

We like baptism by water. Christendom might not agree on the amount of water, the place, or the age of baptism, but there’s agreement upon water and the invocation of the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to make a baptism valid. We exercise a lot of control and predictability in our baptisms so that they fit nicely within our services and our understanding of our traditions.

But when we start talking about Holy Spirit and fire, people back up really quickly. Trial by fire. Baptized by fire. These phrases don’t necessarily conjure up positive connotations. We’d rather go back to Isaiah and our psalm where we can focus on God loving us and giving us good things; let’s not complicate things.

As soon as we let go to give God the glory, to give God space to work in our lives, we complicate things, and things get out of our control.

Unlike Simon, John the Baptist knew his power would decrease, and gave way to one who is greater. John didn’t seek power or greatness for himself. Not only does he prepare the way for the Lord in his humility, but he also maintains integrity, not bowing down to Herod, calling him out for his cruelty and for taking his brother’s wife. John’s honesty didn’t garner Herod’s favor and actually got him imprisoned and eventually beheaded. John’s simple actions ran contrary to the societal norms. Jesus’s simple Way ran contrary to the norms of the first century. They still do.

Where things run contrary to one another, where there is conflict, there is friction. Friction heats up and can cause fire. Fire can be destructive, but it can also be restorative. Fire can refine things to burn off impurities. Fire gives us heat, energy, and light. Fire is necessary for life. We say our love and our anger burn, and they can burn in destructive or life-giving ways.

When we who are baptized acknowledge that we also have been empowered by the Holy Spirit–gifted in individual and particular ways–and put this power into work in our lives for the glory of God, things are going to get complicated. There’s going to be fire.

The ways of God are simple: Love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and love our neighbors as ourselves. The ways of the world are simple, too: look out for Number One to be the best. Until these two ways are reconciled, there will always be friction. We have the clearest case of it right now in the fight about a border wall. Except here, we don’t have friction, we have stand-off, realized in our government shutdown.

Richard Rohr in his book about the Trinity, The Divine Dance, says that it’s divine wisdom to be three in one because where there is simply duality, there is likelihood of either/or, us/them, one way or another. With a trinity, there can be ebb and flow, a third way that maintains the whole, unity in diversity, a divine dance. With a trinitarian mindset, we can view the world not solely as us against them but recall that we and they are in relationship with God. Ultimately this puts all of us in relationship with God, drawing us all into the divine dance of giving glory and praise to the almighty, giving us all the responsibility of manifesting the kingdom of heaven here and now.

Remember that Jesus didn’t just stroll into the temple palace and blast the rulers for their disregard of Almighty God. Jesus walked among the people, igniting their power by healing their dis-ease, crossing social and demographic barriers, manifesting a culture where anyone could come to the table and break bread together. He was reminding them of their value, their belovedness. While this may have given a sense of strength and blessing of peace within, the tensions mounted outside in the communities.

But all who have heard the Word of God, who believe, who are baptized, and are gifted with the Holy Spirit feel the fire within–even if it’s latent or smoldering–and recognize the fire outside in all the battles being waged, small and large–too many for me to name. The only control we have is over our own use of our gifts and the fuel that we have to fulfill the promises that we’ve made in our own baptisms.

“When (we) walk through fire (we) shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume (us)”–if we realize that the fire is of God and see clearly ourselves in right relationship with God and one another. If we know we are God’s as much as the one we name “other”. If we can say to the “other” that they are as precious in God’s sight, as honored and beloved as ourselves, then we show whose we really are in all of our thoughts, words, and deeds.

Sermons

Light & Spirit

January 8, 2018 No Comments

Epiphany

Isaiah 60:1-6 | Psalm 72:1-7,10-14 | Ephesians 3:1-12 | Matthew 2:1-12

Baptism of our Lord

Genesis 1:1-5 | Psalm 29 | Acts 19:1-7 | Mark 1:4-11

The 12th Night party was both delicious and fun, a beautiful way to mark the end of the Christmas season and turn to the light of Epiphany. Last week we were reminded of the Word made flesh, and I emphasized that the Word was Light: what’s born in Jesus Christ is Light. So it’s appropriate that a celestial star guided the three magi from the East to the birthplace of Jesus, though they checked at the palace in Jerusalem first–the likely abode of a newly born king–surprising King Herod who thinks he’s the only king in town. The star guides the magi to the true King of kings, and they pay him homage, bringing gifts decidedly not for a baby but perfect markers of royalty. And these three from afar are not Jews but gentiles and are part of the manger scene we see as complete, for Jesus Christ is the Lord of all nations, a Light for all. Epiphany commonly means a realization, an a-ha moment. Our Epiphany is when Christ was manifested to the gentile magi, as our gospel tells it. Christ’s manifestation for all is reaffirmed in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. The Light of Christ knows no bounds.

This Sunday marks the feast of the Baptism of our Lord, instantly not a baby but a grown man, arriving just as John the Baptist, the witness, said he would. Jesus, just one of the crowd. John, obedient unto death, baptized Jesus as he had so many others. But at Jesus’ baptism, the heavens broke open, and the Spirit descended upon him, proclaiming him as the Son, the Beloved, with whom God is well please. (I truly kind of anticipate this happening at every baptism, and it only increases the excitement of the event!) There had to be some at Jesus’ baptism who heard the voice of God and decided to ignore it, others who missed it, and still others who heard it and couldn’t shake off what happened. So they followed the one, not fully understanding why. We, too, will follow Jesus into his ministry this season of Epiphany as he calls his disciples and does that risky thing of living into who he is–one of Light and Spirit.

As Christians, as faithful people, we seek after Christ, his Light and Spirit. In our baptism, we confess our belief in Jesus Christ and receive the power of the Holy Spirit. To keep our faith strong, we look for affirmation in the world around us, or we use tools at hand to strengthen or renew our faith. Think about what you do to look for the light of Christ in the world. Where do you look for strengthening of Spirit or even the presence of Spirit?

I asked a few of my friends so that my experiences wouldn’t be all you hear, but in their responses I heard my own answers. Maybe you hear yours, too.

A candle during meditation
Music
Being with others, especially connecting with their humanity
Poetry
Sitting in the sunlight
Reading holy words about light

All these energize the Christ-light within for us and maybe for you, too.

And when we’re looking for strength and presence of Spirit, you can probably guess our go-to’s:

Meditation,
Church, especially to sit alone,
Silence,
A retreat,
A garden, and
The outdoors in general.

As much as these are ways we seek the Christ-light or discern the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives, sometimes–a lot of times, actually, especially if we have an active prayer life–light and spirit have a way of showing up and finding us. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that where they appear are often the same:

Places of good word: food banks/pantries, social justice events, social service agencies/organization,
Times of birth and death and other significant life events,
Relationships, be they brief encounters or long-term, and
Difficult situations.

These name just a few instances, and these are just times we actually notice.

Truthfully, the Light of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit are with us all along, anxiously waiting for us to cooperate in this “divine dance,” as Richard Rohr calls the Holy Trinity. How much more could God invite us into divine relationship than by offering us the only Son and giving us the power of the Holy Spirit? We’re not here just to follow the example of Christ; we’re here to live into Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. And like our church calendar, it’s cyclical, repetitive, and hopefully enriching and truly enlightening, deepening our relationship with the Holy Mystery that draws us near and holds us in perfect love, even when we ourselves are far from perfect.

So we can be like the moon, planets, and comets and merely reflect the light of the Son. (I hope you saw the full moon this past week!) Honestly, I’m a lot like the moon, the strength of my faith and spirit waxing or waning, depending on the day or season. But we are more like stars ourselves. For stars radiate their own light “through nuclear reactions, using energy stored in the tiny nucleus at the center of atoms.” Our sun is a huge star. Who’s to say we can’t be like tiny stars, trying to shine as brightly as the sun? Where is that Christ Light and power of the Holy Spirit if not at the center of our being? Why do we feel the need to be still and quiet or seek out others who radiate a light and power we sense as familiar, if we didn’t already know it in the center of our being?

Whoever we are, wherever we come from, the Light of all ages shines for us and within us, and by the power of the Holy Spirit we shine brightly in our lives through not just the extraordinary but also in the ordinary things we do. Living into our baptismal covenant gives us guidance on how to keep living into the Light and reminding us that we do all things with God’s help, thanks to the power of the Holy Spirit. It could be that our star is one that might lead others to Christ.

Sermons

Unity of Spirit

July 2, 2017 2 Comments

Genesis 22:1-14 | Psalm 13 | Romans 6:12-23 | Matthew 10:40-42

A month or so ago, Krista Mays contacted me, politely asking if I wanted to use Track 1 or Track 2 for our lectionary. Wisely on her part, she mentioned that Track 1 does include the bit about Abraham’s near sacrifice of Isaac. I grimaced. No one likes that story. What kind of first sermon would it be that mentions human sacrifice at the command of God? (Even though it doesn’t happen.) These are my first split-second thoughts. Then I remembered what I asked Rachel Held Evans at the Insight Lecture at Trinity Cathedral in Little Rock just days before Krista called, something like: “What stories do you find you have to lean into when you really want to ignore them altogether?” So I paused, sort of girded up my loins, and said for this new beginning, we would start with Track 1. I wouldn’t shy away from the difficult. And so we begin our relationship with the lectionary we have today.

Our collect this week asks God to join us “in unity of spirit” by the teaching of the prophets and apostles but chiefly of Jesus Christ. We will spend every Sunday, if not every day we spend in Scripture, gleaning the teachings of our ancestors in the faith. But today, how fortunate we are to have some foundational principles that will guide us in our life together individually and as part of the body of Christ. Especially as we look forward to and imagine the future of All Saints’ . . . we have to know who we are and whose we are. Fortunately, we don’t have to guess what this means. We have a tradition already firmly established in the teachings of Jesus, the prophets, and the apostles.

In a church whose tagline is “The Episcopal Church welcomes you!”, we get the Gospel message today. Our Good News is that whoever you are, wherever you are, you are welcome in this place, you are welcome at God’s table. Given the number of times I think we will have to extend hospitality to each other and the commitments we have made to reach out to others, I know All Saints’ understands the imperative of this teaching to extend welcome to all, to receive one another in the name of Christ, whether we are devout children of God or wandering seekers yearning for something we just can’t wrap our mind around. The graciousness of Spirit that Jesus showed us in his life with all the people he came across, especially the marginalized, that is the graciousness of Spirit we are to embody in our daily lives in whatever way we can.

That’s where the apostles and disciples come in: they show us that the most ordinary folks are acceptable in the eyes of God and that we’re meant to be a motley crew. Last week we got a list of the twelve apostles, but we know there was an even larger band of misfits with them, male and female, young and old, rich and poor, though mostly poor. The apostles teach us that it’s okay to doubt and ask questions. It’s normal to get uncomfortable, especially when Jesus gets excited and breaks yet another social norm, let alone when he starts flipping tables. And they show us that it’s okay to be completely surprised when we do something remarkable in the power of the Spirit. The apostles and disciples show us that if we are full of ourselves, how does that leave room for Jesus to shine through? Only when we’ve given ourselves over to God, become slaves to righteousness, only then can God fully work in our midst, only then is the kingdom of heaven at hand. All of this sums up to living a life in faith and righteousness to the best of our human ability (because we know none of us is perfect).

So we have what we often call the radical hospitality of Jesus and the faith and righteousness of the apostles and disciples. That leaves us with the prophets, and I promised I wouldn’t neglect Abraham.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t normally think of Abraham as a prophet. Father Abraham, yes. Prophet? Of course he is. He gets a remarkable call from God from the beginning to leave his people, and he goes. He’s told he will be the father of nations, though his wife is barren. And when he does finally have sons, one he is told to send away, which he does, and the other he is told to make a sacrifice, which he sets out to do.

Now, if you want to read a remarkable book on Abraham, I commend to you David Rosenberg’s book Abraham: The First Historical Biography. After I told Krista I would do Track 1, in my conversations with the Rabbi in Hot Springs, I asked him nonchalantly, “So, anything in particular I should be mindful of about Abraham if I were, hypothetically, to be preaching on the sacrifice of Isaac?” “Let me think about it,” he said, and the next time we met, he gave me a 300-page book on Abraham, being the good rabbi and Hebrew studies scholar that he is.

The obedience of Abraham, as with all the prophets who eventually accept their calls, is the main teaching that stands out to me today. (Maybe it’s because I’m so close to this most recent transition in my ministry.) But Abrahams’s obedience–particularly related to the near-sacrifice of Isaac–bears particular significance in lessons for our lives in faith. The translation Rosenberg includes in his book has Abraham responding to God not with “Here I am” but with “I am listening.” Not only is Abraham present, but he is actively receiving the Word of God. And Rosenberg describes Abraham’s actions, as the text does, as very physical, very tangible, yet in a dream-like state. There is something at work here beyond the natural realm, but very much in the natural order. For Judaism, God cannot cross to interfere in the natural world because then He would not be trusted ever again. But the boundaries have to be tested. Boundaries like between life, the affirmation of continued existence, and death or the fear of extinction. Isaac is the one upon whom the continued identity of a nation depends. This situation, Rosenberg says, is a “biblical nightmare” because God is testing Abraham with threat of cultural extinction. We realize how incredibly vulnerable this young nation is, a small family in the midst of strangers.

We might think God interfered directly, but Abraham awakes from his trance-like state from the voice of heaven, not entirely unlike the voice of our conscience. Probably with tears streaming down his face as he holds the blade above his son, both of them showing their devout obedience to God above all else, Abraham hears the voice and says, “I am listening.” And he’s told to stop, for Abraham is shown to have “an integrity dedicated to God,” not just fear of God. I love the translation that shows a father of nations to be filled with humility and integrity dedicated to God. That is the kind of obedience we are to show. Not false humility or empty martyrdom, but a complete devotion in knowledge of our strengths and of our faults that we will do nothing but our best to live into the commandment of our LORD. Every day we are listening, we hear the command to love one another as Christ loved us.

Hospitality. Faith and righteousness. Obedience.

The teachings are spelled out for us, but it is up to us to figure out what they look like in practice, what the process of becoming a holy temple will be like. What makes us worthy of the name Christian in the eyes of God?

So I have my sermon prepared by yesterday afternoon when I checked my email and saw the letter from the Bishop about the Little Rock mass shooting early Saturday morning. I had read about it not long after I woke up and thought, as I’m sure many of you did, “How horrible. How senseless.” Like our state leaders, we probably sent up our prayers to the victims and their families. And I went about my day and wasn’t even going to mention it in my sermon . . . except I read the bishop’s letter that challenged us to think about how we can be life-giving when so much of society condones violence as a solution. How hospitable is it for me to look away shaking my head just because the Power Ultra Lounge isn’t my scene and I’d never heard of Finese 2Tymes before Saturday? The victims at the concert were people’s children; the youngest wounded was 16 years old. If it was gang violence, these are individuals looking for belonging in the only places they think they can find it. How faithful and righteous is it for me to ignore or look away from that which is not pleasant and painful? How obedient is it for me to pretend that this doesn’t affect me or us? Because we are all connected. If I’m going to say my prayers matter, then another person’s pain also matters. We can’t turn away or pretend the situation didn’t take place any more than we can pretend that there aren’t some deep-seated issues in our society that need to be addressed for what they are . . . issues that make a place especially susceptible to fatal violence. I don’t expect us to come up with a response for the bishop right away, but he poses questions worth asking ourselves. Keeping our foundation firm in our teaching, we can engage the questions and embark on the arduous journey together.

It will take time, but I aim to meet with everyone here. Don’t be alarmed when I call you . . . consider this your advanced notice, and please let others know who aren’t here. I’ll not show up unexpected, though you are welcome to surprise me. (I’m a big fan of scruffy hospitality, so be at ease.) I want to know how live into your baptismal vows, what keeps you curious about a faithful life, how you see Christ at work in our midst. Together we will discern how we live into these teachings that give us a sure foundation in all we do because no one of us is at the head, save Jesus Christ. When we serve meals, it is the light of Christ we share first. When we visit jails, it is the presence of Christ we bring first. When we pray, it is the voice of God we listen for, surrounded in the presence of Christ, filled with the Holy Spirit.

In everything we do, how and who are we welcoming?

Are we doing it in good faith and righteously?

Are we being obedient to God’s will, or has our own will obscured our way?

The rewards of our practice, of our being Christian grounded in these teachings, is not spelled out in our Gospel today. But allowing the creativity of Spirit to craft our rewards accordingly encourages us to be aware, to keep looking for the glory that awaits us. It won’t necessarily be gold stars or even stars in our crowns, but it will be something like the glory of God manifest in the world around us. Something like that taste of joy when we are aligned with God’s will. Something like the smile of a loving father or mother who tells their child, “Well done, good and faithful one.”

I know we have hard work before us, for Jesus assures us that living as disciples isn’t easy. But our foundation is sure, and our prayers are set for the glory of God. I am blessed to share this journey with you, in unity of spirit, as we fill our community with the light and love of Christ.

Spirituality

It’s All in the Breath

May 24, 2014 No Comments

We do everything with a breath. Even if we are holding it, the breath is with us.

When we’re first born, we inspire, we breathe or inhale our first breaths in this world, and we spend the rest of our days living into this inspiration, motivated to make something–if not something material, then something of ourselves.

We perspire, breathing through this creative process because it’s hard. Anyone who says life is easy hasn’t truly made anything. The most gifted people in the world would probably tell you that the process isn’t a cake walk.

If we’re lucky, we get to conspire. “Conspire” has a negative connotation, associated with joining forces to do something evil, immoral. Literally, it means to breathe with. That implies being of one breath, united in the creative process. What you do together may well be something evil, but when we conspire to do something good, beautiful things happen.

At our end, we expire, breathe our last. Those of us who have attended the bed of the dying know that there is a palpable finality in that last exhale; you know that there is no more. We often say that the dead person’s work is done, but not fully understanding what her greatest achievement was, maybe it’s more accurate to say that she will not be creating anything else except through the ripples of her influence.

For a Christian, the breath is synonymous with Spirit. Maybe it’s the only way we can get a handle on something so beyond our comprehension. In pneumatology (the study of the Holy Spirit), Spirit is sometimes explained in “spirations.” (Liberation theologian Leonardo Boff was my introduction to the spiration concept, though he’s not alone.) This gift of life is made possible only through our breath.

I wonder about those who struggle with breathing disorders. In any struggle, our awareness heightens, and we wrestle more audibly and visibly and obviously, even if we are the only ones to notice. That we struggle with or defy doesn’t negate that which is.

If the breath isn’t with us, we are dead. If we ignore that the breath is with us, pay no attention to the gift of breath or our struggle with it, we may be the living dead, contributing nothing life-giving if there is creation happening at all.

I imagine that this is why so many traditions fundamentally pay attention to the breath. A breath prayer is simply giving focused attenention, intention, to the inhale and exhale. Each breath is a moment in which a decision is made, a decision to create something life-giving, life-affirming. We have to opportunity to conspire with Spirit. This positive, creative conspiration threatens a death-dealing culture, threatens the status quo, but this is the kind of conspirator I hope to be.

Spirituality

Day 21 . . .

August 30, 2011 No Comments

Right. I know. There are not enough posts between my last and current to count to 21, but I do have several prayers penned in my moleskine. When I get more than 10 minutes, I’ll enter them on my blog. For now, tonight was too momentous not to mention right away. So let this count for Day 21.

Dear God,

Keep teaching me. Keep infusing me with your Spirit. Keep surrounding me with those who share wisdom, just enough so that they don’t even know they’re doing it. This life is amazing, and I give my humblest thanks.

I am trying to walk the path to best serve your will. I am trying, discerning, and I know I could not do it alone. My path has converged with so many wonderful people; I have been blessed with a tremendous family and unimaginably compassionate friends. Of course, each of us has a flaw or two, and from them we learn the most about ourselves. I can’t imagine it any other way.

As I’m continuing along, help me to be mindful. Help me not waste a dozen or more waffles because I forgot about them keeping warm in the oven. I have enough, but there are so many without. Help me be present to recognize the needs of others and to pay attention to what is at the heart of the matter. Help me to hear the truth in my own heart.

And always, dear God, help me be grateful – for your love, for the gifts you’ve given me, for my friends, and for the gifts of others. Help me remember how sweet these tender moments are with the children and how wonderfully supportive my husband is. May they know my love for them is unconditional and greater than I will ever show. Help me at least try to embody unconditional love. I think I’d like to try.

Grant me the strength to do the work set before me, and may all the glory be yours.

Amen.

Spirituality

Day 12

August 9, 2011 No Comments

God bless Brenda Ueland; may her soul rest in peace. Her words from decades ago resonate loudly to me, reminding me why I do what I do, putting in print the cries of my soul. Sit a while, Sara. Dream. Write. Gaze into the distance and feel. That’s what my soul says, and I think Brenda would nod approvingly, maybe even give a sly little wink.

Every blessed moment when plans change or tragedy strikes or life seems all off-kilter, we still have a choice. Thank you for providing us with this choice. Sometimes I do just want to be a hedonistic sloth or wallow in self-pity. Thankfully, I don’t prefer this for long. What it does provide me with is a broader perspective and a greater appreciation for when those other holy, enlightened moments of peace and contentment come. These aren’t the same as the moment of ecstatic joy (though those are lovely, too). Moments of peace are like when you realize you’re floating on the water and relax into the flow. Life is good. All is well, and I feel it in the core of my being.

I’m convinced this peace does dwell within and through us all. Our awareness of it is what changes, blinding us with ignorance of its presence. Help us to know and to feel. Help us to show this peace to others . . . and to see it in them, too. Awaken us to the Peace that surpasses all understanding.

Thank you for the rain. Thanks for protecting my children and animals (yes, even the chickens).

Continually guide us all onto the path that lives into the greatest compassion for everyone, however great or small that may be. Hear us, O God, in our time of need.

Thanks and glory to You, now and forever. Amen.

Spirituality

Day 11

August 8, 2011 No Comments

Wow.

This life is so full.

I fill a page with a schedule for the children for the day to come. Nearly every minute is occupied, even if with the designation of “free time.” Every moment of my day is occupied, too, from early morning to late at night. Even then the unexpected tasks get wedged in between the standing commitments.

I’m reminded of the demonstration of the jar being filled with rocks (the obvious priorities), then smaller pebbles (the commitments and responsibilities), then sand (the everyday stuff), and just when it looks like it’s full and can hold no more, then you add water (I think of this as Spirit). There was still room for water, a necessity of life.

Somehow in my daily life I still have room for prayer. I need it. I need to take the calls from friends. I need to do the healing work, the holy listening. I need to play a supporting or even a leading role in various ministries. These nurture me and in some delightful way, it can help others. It helps keep me balanced.

Today I felt out of whack. It could be because I didn’t get up when I should. I didn’t start the day with prayer. It could be the whacky weather. It could be our family routine being turned upside down. It could be stress. It could be the striking images I saw in the magazine of the most significant photos of the past 100 years – space, science, society (the Challenger, a growing baby en utero, starving children, a lynching). It could be any combination of these things or of other things I have yet to consider.

There is so much in this life. Dear God, I know you don’t expect me to hold it all, to understand it all, so help me to let it go, all of it. Cleanse the thoughts of my heart . . .

And I give thanks for the rich life I lead.

Spirituality

Day 10 . . . Again

August 7, 2011 No Comments

Day 10 I honestly didn’t do anything. I rested the whole day, and for that I truly give thanks.

But if I take into consideration what I have done this day, may I remember that today is a feast day. The Transfiguration. Today I watched seven women become baptized members of the church. I felt the Spirit move between and among us. We got to wait in quiet contemplation and in a little uncomfortable silence.

Lord, bless these women. Help them in the paths that lie before them. I don’t know what choices they’ll have to make, what obstacles they have to overcome, but I give them love, though this love I extend compares naught to the infinite power of Yours.

Our community is so small, but I hope the impact of all the little acts of kindness, the abundance of tender mercies, and the radical hospitalities that appear when we least expect it radiate a greater power than the sum of all that is done outside of Love. May goodness overcome all evil.

Thank you for all my blessings. Bless my family and my home. Bless all those I love dearly and those I love whom I shall never meet. The glory is Yours.

Amen.

Spirituality

Days 8 & 9

August 5, 2011 No Comments

This feels like it might be pushing it a bit, but I’ll count it anyway. 🙂

Thursday, Holy Eucharist at the noon-thirty service at St. Martin’s, the UA Episcopal campus ministry. I enjoyed my lunch in silence, staring out at the ivy. Prayer is mostly listening.

Friday, I retrieved a child from camp. In so-doing, I got to attend the mountain-top chapel service at Camp Mitchell, our diocesan camp grounds. Yes, it was already over 90 degrees F at 10 am, but it was lovely to be with all the youth and witness all the sweet reunions.

Many petitions for rain, for safe travel, and for enough. Our wants are many, but may our needs provide enough through Your abundance.

Amen.

Spirituality

Day 7

August 3, 2011 No Comments

A prayer for the mothers, to the young just learning the maternal ways and to the elders surrendering the responsibilities to their children. To those who birthed and lost. To those who birthed so that others might share in motherhood. To those in the thick of it like I am, trying to hold the invisible and ever-wavering balance. To those of us who slip and fall, may we know that we never fall away from Your Love. To those who continue to radiate your Grace and Love, may they be an example to us all.

Wherever we are and whomever we are, our work is never done. May our works and our lives be blessed.

A house burned today, yet the family survived. Your mercy be upon them. They are dear and have suffered so much even before this day. Be with them.

I seem to have misplaced my written prayer list. I thought I saw it yesterday. It apparently has disappeared with my phone, and I’m beginning to wonder if there are, indeed, house elves. Perhaps it’s time for a new list.

Bless all our families. Protect all families. Be with us, your children, for we are quick to whine, clumsy, and selfish . . . yet so full of potential. May we all grow into the image of our Creator.

Amen.