Happy New Year

 Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow (and 2024) is a new day (or year); begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day (or year) is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays. (Ralph Waldo Emerson with parenthetical additions by me). Happy New Year - it is full of grace.

Romans 8

Today I read Romans 8 from The Message.  I would highly recommend it to you.  I think Paul's writing can be difficult to follow, and Peterson's Message paraphrases it in a way that allows me to hear it.  As I read Romans 8, I was prompted to rewrite what I heard in it.  Some of this might be direct quotations from The Message, and I haven't marked those parts.  Go read Peterson's version; it's really good.

With the arrival of Christ, we are freed.  God has acted in a decisive way -- he is not remote.  He has entered into the human condition and has done what the law could never do.  He has done what we could never do on our own.

"Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life."  Attention to God rather than self leads us to a free life.

When God takes up residence, we cannot help but think of him.  Those who have welcomed him -- even though they still experiencing sin -- exprerience life on God's terms.  With God's spirit in you, you will experience life!

Let go of the life you have -- embrace the life God offers.  This is not a grave-tending life - it is a life expectant.

All around us is a pregnant creation, waiting with anticipation for what will come.  When we tire of the waiting, God is there. When we don't know how to pray, God is there.  He knows us better than we know ourselves. 

God reveals to us this plan through what he has done in Christ.  We see the intended shape of our lives through Christ.

If God is like this -- present with us, at work re-creating us, groaning with us -- how can we lose?  If God will do what he has already done, there is nothing he will not do for us.  And what or who can separate us from God?  Nothing -- not life, death, pain, joy -- not the best or the worst in life -- can separate us from God's love for us.

Beautiful Music

Last night, we went to a dinner that was part of the conference which I am attending. The entertainment was provided by Becky Archibald. Before you read more, go to that web site and listen a little bit. Go ahead; I'll wait.

Becky is a pianist and composer. (She also ate dinner at our table, which just added to our enjoyment of the whole thing.) Before she would play a piece of music, she would explain its genesis to us.

One piece of music, called Unspoken, was born when she decided that she would write a piece of music based on five notes randomly selected from a pile of flash cards that she uses with her students. Unfortunately, the notes were C, C#, C, B and D. Play those notes on a piano, and you'll notice that she didn't have much with which to work.

She tried several variations of the notes, and nothing sounded right, but once she "embraced the dissonance," everything fell together. Beautiful music was the result.

I think that's what happens when God gets hold of us. He embraces our dissonance -- he loves us not in spite of our flaws as his children, but through our flaws. He takes our less than perfect beings and creates and transforms us, until we are a new creation -- beautiful music recreated by our God. In fact, he uses those flaws themselves to create our beauty. We are transformed.

What results is a whole new creation.

See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare;before they spring forth, I tell you of them.

Image: This is the Grand Hall of Union Station in Indianapolis. It is also where we had dinner last night. A beautiful setting!

Renewal

I'm still thinking about The Grove event. There was much talk yesterday about restoration and renewal (which is an obvious statement, considering the purpose of The Grove).

Jesus took time to pull away from his ministry, from time to time. He sought time alone and he spent time in solitary prayer.

Why did he do that? I assume that he needed it; if he needed it, then so do I, but why did he need it? What is the "so that" of renewal?

I ask this question because I'm apt to just sit and rest. I'm not sure that this kind of relaxation has a purpose or a reason -- I just like to do it, so I do.

There are times when I take a day off and just spend it on my own. Time apart. I need it; I don't just do it because I like it, but because if I don't do it, I get "antsy." I read the other day that people who take time for lunch during their work day are more productive than people who don't.

If the rest -- if the relaxation -- is because we are renewed for ministry, then it is sacred and holy. I'm not sure that I can say that about all of my quiet time, but for some of it, it's truth.

I think the point I'm trying to make -- and I am really am rambling around it -- is that I know that renewal is necessary. I just think that we need to make sure that it has a "so that."

Living Water

Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10a)

I really like my new job. I am incredibly blessed (as our Annual Conference minister would have said, "Blessed beyond measure") to be a part of this ministry.

I was headed down the hallway this afternoon with my handy dandy, non-disposable water bottle, to get some water. I'm trying to drink more water. Not succeeding, but trying.

Anyway, as I was walking down the hallway, I decided to step into the chapel, to see what it is like. Our offices are in a church in Charleston; I had never seen either the chapel or the sanctuary.

The chapel is beautiful -- modern, with some interesting stained glass windows. I'll go back some time with my camera and get to images to post. It has that quiet, peaceful feel of a room dedicated to God. I was struck by the quiet, knowing that one of Charleston's busy street is right on the other side of the wall.

I sat in the pew for a few minutes. When I worked at my old job, there were times when I would stop by our church during lunch, and sit in the quiet of the sanctuary. I hadn't realized until this afternoon that I missed those quiet moments -- I didn't realize it until I had one this afternoon.

It was a completely different room -- different size, different look, different feel. One room holds many memories -- one room I had never seen before. Both held that quiet feel of a room set apart; that quiet feel of a room in which the mind can pay attention to the presence of God.

I have a feeling I'll be back in that chapel, if only for a minute or two, if only now and then.

I touched the baptismal font on my way out. The church keeps water in it, so that one can remember his or her baptism. I went out of the office for a glass of water, and came back having found living water.

In Our End is Our Beginning

I know that the first day of spring is in March. I mark it on my calendar; I watch for the transition every year. I say to myself, "It's spring; why is it snowing?"

Really, though, for me, spring comes a little later than March 21. Now is when I start noticing that spring has arrived. The weather is warmer, the daffodils are blooming, and our crabapple is starting to bud. The trees in front of our church have large mounds of white flowers on them. When it rains, tiny petals from the trees litter the ground. Now is spring; before, we just had the promise of it.

A friend pointed out a song to me last summer called Every Season, by Nicole Nordman. It's a great song about how she finds God in every season. I hear it on the radio every once and a while. I specifically remember hearing it on January 24, on the way to work. Read this last verse (and a little of the previous one):

Even now in death,
you open doors for life to enter.
You are winter.

And everything that’s new, has bravely surfaced,
teaching us to breathe.
And what was frozen through,
is newly purposed,
turning all things green.
So it is with you
and how you make me new,
with every season’s change.
And so it will be, as you are recreating me.
Summer, autumn, winter, spring.

I remember thinking at the time that I had never noticed that the last verse was spring. We so often think of spring as being the beginning, with winter as the end. I was glad that she had written it the way she did, ending with the beginning.

Then, a few hours later, as I was working in the lab, Steve called to tell me that Jim Ray had died.

Even at the time, that day, I connected those two events in my mind. I was glad, that day, that perhaps God had pointed out to me that the end is not the end; that the end is the beginning.

I think we are called as Christians to know that reality. It's not what society teaches us to expect, but in so many ways, it is true. In times of change, the end is so often the beginning of something else. We have an endless God, who, because he loves us, even turned our death into a new season. There is not an end; there is only spring.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
in our doubt there is belieiving; in our life, eternity.
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
(From Hymn of Promise; Natalie Sleeth)

Images: Our crabapple tree; one of our few daffodils.

Remembering the Sabbath

What is a sabbath? What does it mean for us to remember the sabbath and keep it holy? Do you do that?

Think about the Luke 13 passage that I discussed on Monday. Jesus heals on the Sabbath. He takes a women who is "broken" and heals her, returning her to wholeness.

I was reading the RevGalBlogPal's Tuesday lectionary musings today. One of the commenters listed the things that she "does" on the Sabbath. She admitted that this wasn't resting, but that it made her feel whole.

Do we use sabbath time to make us feel whole? What kinds of things bring you wholeness? To be perfectly honest, sometimes it's a nap. Other times, it's hard work, but the sense at the end of it is wholeness.

Worship? Does that bring you wholeness? Times of prayer? Reading? My needs are often different, and different practices can be my sabbath.

What about working on Sunday? I don't mean at my job, but what about those of of who volunteer on Sundays at church? During the school year, I am on the youth leader team at our church. That's far from resting, but it does bring me wholeness. I am also an adult Sunday school teacher -- there are times when that brings me wholeness.

Don't get me wrong. Sometimes the best thing to do is to rest -- just rest. Sometimes that is what is needed to bring wholeness. I read in the Ortberg's Closer book that getting enough sleep can even be a spiritual discipline. Maybe that's one that I need to practice.

My point in this rambling is that not-working is not the only way to keep the Sabbath holy. Sometimes it can be doing something which makes us whole. Or at least a little closer to it.

Images: Pictures of weeds. I have no idea what they are. They were near the VA parking lot, but I really like these pictures.

In the arms of God

Something amazing happened this evening.

I was in Ashland, serving as help for the Emmaus walk that Steve is participating in. It was about 6pm or so. Dinner had been served, so I didn't have much to do. I was hot (if you know me, that's no surprise), I was tired, so I slipped out of the room.

I don't know why I went where I did. I climbed the stairs to the third floor of the church, and went to the very tiny Franklin Prayer chapel. I've prayed in that room three times -- twice on Emmaus walks and once before a Gathering. Each time in the quiet, tiny room, I have encountered God.

This evening I went in, and just sat on the pew. I didn't pray -- at least not in the conventional way. I prayed no words, but sat there, listened to myself breathe, felt my heart beating. I cooled down. I calmed down. I rested. I became convinced that God had drawn me to this room.

At the end of around 20 minutes, I did pray, for just short time, in thanksgiving.

As I got up to leave, I stopped at a little table by the door. It's a prayer table, and it interested me because I would like to have something similar at our church. On this table were a few candles, some papers, and four pink sticky notes, on which people had written prayers or prayer requests. I read them.

The last note said, "I have rested in the arms of God."

Amen.

Image: Green, spring leaves at the VA.

Unaware that I still breathe

We are all alive. We are breathing. Our hearts are beating. We walk, we talk, we go about life. We are alive.

Notice that even the word doesn’t look very exciting, and my description of it is lackluster. Boring.

Lent is a busy time of year in church. I feel like I am running in high gear. Adrenalin. Non-stop. It isn’t so much that there is so much to do, it’s that I FEEL like there is so much to do.

We are therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead though the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. (Romans 6:4)

We are made new in Christ. In Christ, we are ALIVE.

On the way into work this morning, I picked up my iPod, and stuck in the earphones, so I was walking and listening. I don’t normally do that. The song that was playing was Unaware by Mercy Me.

I looked around, and felt pulled to stop. Compelled to stop. The day was beautiful. The sky was huge, the light from the sun was perfect, turning everything into mirrors, reflecting brightness. Even the grass was shining. There was a hint of fog in the far off mountains.

I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out (Luke 19:40)

I know what that means, now. Creation was shouting its praise to God, and He stopped me, and told me to watch and listen.

My hands are shaking now
But I catch my breath somehow
I am free at last

Unaware of my fears
Unaware of my shame
Nothing else matters to you
But glorifying your name.

Unaware of everything
Knowing you’re aware of me.

Tell me how I got here
I couldn’t make it on my own
Just tell me I can stay
Cause it feels so much like home.

And I loose all track of time
When I look into your eyes
Love is all I know.

Unaware of my fears
Unaware of my shame
Nothing else matters to you
But glorifying your name.

Unaware of everything
Knowing you’re aware of me.

I’m aware I’m in a place I couldn’t be
If you weren’t there to call my name and rescue me.

I’m unaware that I still breathe
Unaware of everything
Knowing you’re aware of me.

I know what the song means. I lost track of time, I wasn’t even aware that I was breathing. I didn’t feel the weight of the 17 pound bag on my shoulder, and more importantly, I didn’t feel the weight of what I thought HAD to be done, right that minute. I was only aware that God was aware of me.

The song ended, I came into work, and now I’m breathing! Now I’m ALIVE. And the funny thing is, everything that needed to get done, is done.

Love is all I know.

Images: All three of these images were taken this morning, as creation shouted His praise. Click on them to see them better -- the sunshine in the first one, how bright the grass is in the second one, and how huge the sky is in the third one.

Renewal

The RevGalBlogPals blog is a group of women who are involved in or discerning a religious vocation. I am not part of that group, but I was interested in their "Friday Five" Meme this week.

The verse: I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19, NRSV

From Kim: (That's the second time I've seen that verse -- just TODAY)

The question: I ponder the words of Isaiah and the relief and refreshment of a river in the desert.For this Friday Five, name five practices, activities, people or _____ (feel free to fill in something I may be forgetting) that for you are rivers in the desert."

What are my rivers in the desert? I think it's an important question because it is necessary to know what brings us renewal -- what brings us refreshment -- what brings us closer to God. I thought to make it a little more challenging, I would change the question to What are my five practices, activities or people TODAY who are for me rivers in the dessert?

1. Quiet breakfast -- Is there any better way to begin a day than with an unrushed breakfast? Our schedule was different this Sunday than it usually is -- we drove to another town close to our home for church. We didn't go to Sunday school, so we left home and drove to Panera. It was great -- breakfast with Steve and J, no rush, no worries. Just a relaxing time before church. Unusual.
2. Worship -- We attended church in a small town near our home, but not at our regular church. A friend of ours (JtM) was preaching, so we went to hear him. It was a very friendly, warm church where we were made to feel completely at home. No surprise -- the sermon was terrific and the worship was real.
3. A nap -- As a member of our church says, "Sometimes you just have to go to sleep." I've had a cold; after we got home from church, a nap was just what I needed -- renewal.
4. Youth meeting -- We've (Steve and I) recently joined the youth leader team. The meeting tonight was small but fun, and it was interesting getting to know a few of the youth better.
5. Dinner with friends -- In case you missed the birthday cake on fire in yesterday's post, yesterday was my birthday. I'm 43; it doesn't bother me to say it. I would rather be 43 than the alternative. For the third evening in a row, I had a birthday dinner. That's pretty special -- three dinners in a row! This one was with wonderful friends (JtM, MT and their daughter). Dinner, followed by coffee -- more importantly, an evening filled with laughter. What could be more renewing?
6. Son home from New York -- G has been in New York on a school trip for the past few days. Late tonight he came home. I think he's taller, older and different than he was four days ago. I may never understand him again. That's not very renewing, but it is a relief to have him home, and to know that he is upstairs in his room, asleep.

Oops. That's six! I guess any day when you can name six events that have been renewing is a good one!