(Ir)Reverend Ramblings

I did the preaching here on Sunday. Since I reduced my work to half-time I preach only 8 times a year. I miss preaching as I have always enjoyed that part of ministry and so feel genuinely excited when I get to take my turn in the pulpit. The scripture reading was Jesus calling Simon and Andrew, James and John the four men he noticed fishing on Lake Galilee. I spoke on ‘Vocation’ and ‘Occupation’ and how they can be similar and how they are different. I also talked about our call as disciples of Jesus doing what we do right where we do it. I challenged the notion that Jesus asked those four fisherman to leave all they knew behind. Rather, he asked them to use what they already knew and live it out in their commitment to God. Then I gave HOMEWORK! Yep, right there in the sermon I gave HOMEWORK! People don’t generally expect to get HOMEWORK at church but I gave it to them anyway.

The task, the assignment, was to spend some time over lunch talking with the others at the table. The topic was “Here’s what I do well and here’s how I am doing this for God because I am a follower Jesus.” I said, if they were eating alone then they were to think on that and then phone a friend and talk it over with the friend and then, finally, they were to drop me a note or email to tell me. WOW! I have had some great responses. People have taken this seriously and have shared with me their passions, their commitment, their discipleship. It has been wonderful to read how people see God calling in their own life experience and to realize the breadth of the activity that is being lived out as people keep faith.

I know, I know, you want me to give you some examples now don’t you? One notes her good listening skills and that she often will keep in touch with someone who has shared a struggle, just to see how they are doing. Another spoke of his commitment to encouraging others, saying that people often need to hear a word of encouragement. Another spoke of building relationship with a son and working on a joint project to empower and support that parent-son relationship. Another spoke of a love of dance and how dance brought joy into her life and into the lives of others. One wrote of a deep commitment to nature and feeding and photographing birds thereby creating a symbiotic relationship with God’s creation. Oh such moving and profound responses.

So dear reader, what about you? How would you answer the HOMEWORK assignment? What is it you are especially good at and how are you using that gift or ability for God? I look forward to reading your comments.

I have been debating about writing this blog. I have started it several times and then stopped. I have second and third guessed myself. It is not my intent to turn this blog into a place for me to only share my angst. But, as you my faithful readers know, I’ve been going through some stuff (!) and so while this is from a personal place I have decided to offer this reflection as I think it might offer all readers insight and maybe some clues as to how to support and understand someone who is going through a season of grief.

First, let me tell you it is true. All those expressions that we use are rooted in truth. I do often walk around with a ‘lump in my throat’. I can literally feel a lump when I try to swallow back my grief. I can put on a good front but that lump in my throat reminds me that I am ‘chocking back my tears’, and there is another expression that is in our common speech based in the real experience. I do choke back my tears. Who wants to see someone blubbering all the time even if that is really what is going on? And then there is the ‘knot in my stomach’. Yep, sometimes when my mind gets away on me and my emotions are triggered I can feel my stomach knot and tense. The sayings are based on truth. To add to this, I am astounded at my lack of energy and how quickly I succumb to lethargy. I can’t focus on anything for very long. Reading a book – nope. Watching a tv show – it better be a good one or I am restless and clicking the dial to find something else. Angry – oh ya, got that happening at times I can’t explain. Sleeping – oh, I am constantly tired but I can’t turn out the light at night and then find it hard to wake in the morning.

Others who have been down this road before me tell me it is all normal. The self-help books and grief manuals reassure me that this is typical. Nonetheless it is not easy and I don’t like it. So what do I do? I set one goal a day and if I accomplish just that one thing it is a victory. I talk to friends. I talk to family. I tell people when I want to talk and when I don’t. I push myself … just a bit more … each day. But I also accept myself when I crash and burn. One friend, whose husband died far too young, wrote me the other day and said, “remember to let the memories come and accept them all – the good, the bad and the ugly.” There are good memories and there are ugly ones. There are good days and there are ugly ones. I do believe that grief is a slow and heavy journey.

One quote I like, and I don’t know who wrote it so apologies to the author, says, “I had my own notion of grief. I thought it was the sad time that followed the death of someone you love and you had to push through it to get to the other side. But, I am learning there is no other side. There is no pushing through. But rather, there is absorption. Adjustment. Acceptance. And grief is not something you complete, but rather, something you endure. Grief is not a task to finish and move on, but an element of yourself – an alteration of your being. A new way of seeing. A new definition of self.”

I am finding this to be true. One person asked, with surprise in his voice, “Are you still grieving?” I responded, “I think I will be grieving for the rest of my life. ” I know my grief will change and my perception of my loss will change but I have experienced the death of someone I loved with all my heart, it feels like I have lost a piece of myself, and that will not disappear, not even with the passage of time.

What can you do to support a friend? Be there. Write notes and send texts, sometimes actual verbal conversation is just too hard but to be reminded in gentle ways of the network of support is invaluable. Offer meals and don’t be surprised if the answer is no – sometimes that lump in the throat makes eating hard and sitting at table with others is too big a reminder of the emptiness of the table at home. Go to a movie together – to have the distraction is helpful and to not have to talk is sometimes easy and the comfort of companionship is healing. This one is hard … stay close and give space … put all your intuition to use and try to sense what the other needs without asking. Admit you don’t know what it feels like. Each person’s grief is their own and I am only the expert on what I am feeling and even there I am at a loss most of the time.

The final truth is that love heals and what is needed most is kindness, care and affirmation.

They were star-gazers, those wise ones of old. Stories have been told about them. Poems have been written. Hymns have been composed featuring those mysterious travelers from the East. They capture our attention every Epiphany. They stretch out the Christmas story. Oh, sure, in Christmas pageants and nativity scenes we cram them in with the shepherds and the angels but they were different witnesses to the Christ child. They plotted their journey based on signs and hunches and dreams. They bowed to King Herod and then had the insight to skedaddle home another way and avoid his wrath and violence. They brought gifts, so the story goes, gifts that predicted how the babe’s life would evolve. Gifts most parents would not want to receive, so heavy with symbolism.

Every year the Epiphany story only raises more questions for me. What star draws me, entices me, guides me? How far would I go to follow the pull of my dream? What would I give up, what would I sacrifice on the chance that I would see history in the making? Who do I trust and will my instincts tell me to go another way?

I am so grateful for the magi, the wise-ones, the monarchs, who bring to the scene a majesty and a wisdom that speaks both of knowledge and insight. Oh Epiphany, you tease my imagination and open my soul.

Ah, yes, here we are. It is the week between Christmas and New Year’s when I can never remember what day it is, where I am supposed to be, or what I am meant to be doing. It is the la – la season of holiday, the slow your brain mode of relaxation or is it really just sugar over-load confusion? These days between Christmas and New Year’s blend one to another as stores are closed unexpectedly and work seems a bit low-key; kids stay up late and teenagers sleep till the afternoon if they can get away with it.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. It is also Sunday – I know I checked the calendar and asked Siri. I will be preaching on the story from Luke, the story that tells of Mary and Joseph taking their infant to the temple where the ancient Simeon and Anna recognize in this baby the hopes and fears of all the years. Anna and Simeon’s appearance in the story continue the fairy tale quality of the Christmas narrative. They are the wise old sages who bless the baby while recognizing the curse that will befall him. It is a wonderful piece of the story as it brings to consciousness the intermingling of joy and pain that life so clearly is. It moves us from the romance of the nativity into the routine of the day-to-day. Mary and Joseph have jobs to do and a boy to raise. They are reminded as they present their child at the temple that this will not be an easy life. Destiny brings them hope and with it sorrow. How much like our own life it is.

So on this Saturday, December 30th I look at the year now passed, with all its ups and downs, joys and griefs, and with thankful heart, know that Jesus, “a man of sorrow acquainted with grief” walked beside me every step of the way. It doesn’t take away the harshness but it makes it easier to bear.

Hope you are having a good Saturday – the last one of the year.

Little girls in sparkly dresses, boys being told to take off their hats, moms and dads looking tired, grandparents looking proud – that is Christmas Eve. The music plays, familiar melodies that stir memories of Christmases past, and take our imaginations back decades, even centuries to Christians humming these tunes in other places and others times – that is Christmas Eve. Lights twinkle and candles flicker as the organ sounds the chords for Silent Night Holy Night – that is Christmas Eve.

I am writing this between our first two services we have one at 5:00 and repeat it at 7:00. These services are attended by families and there is lots of noise as the children fuss and fidget. Then another service at 10:00 that draws those who prefer a quieter more orderly reflective worship time. Each service has its own charm and each calls in the joy and delight of the Christmas angels!

I was just talking with my team-mate Kevin and we commented, as we do every year, that many of the people who come on Christmas Eve are people we do not know, or only recognize because they come each year on Christmas Eve. How wonderful that coming to church is part of the family tradition. They may not attend at any other time and, I would hazard a guess that some aren’t even sure why they come but, here they are, each year, listening again to the story of shepherds and wise men, of angels and stars and wondering how this story can fit into their life. It is a beautiful tale of mystery and surprise, of villains and heroes, or fear and comfort, of loneliness and companionship. It is a story for the ages and for any age.

I feel so privileged to have the opportunity to, once again this year, tell the story of God’s love, a love that broke barriers and challenged understanding and changed the world. Hallelujah! Merry Christmas.

Ah Christmas! Such a season loaded with … tradition … sentiment … nostalgia … expense … music … shopping … overindulgence … grief … guilt … go ahead, fill in the blank. It is loaded with so many things, some cute and charming (think kid’s Christmas concerts) others harsh and difficult (think separated families or debt). I, like many of you, sometimes wonder how we got to this day loaded with so much. Of course, it is, in part, due to the consumer culture in which we live where we are constantly subjected to the power of advertising and, good old peer pressure.

This coming Sunday night, on Christmas Eve, we will hear the ancient story that started all this. It is a story of a couple of peasants caught in an awkward and difficult situation. It includes an overworked innkeeper and some poor, lonely shepherds who had visions on a starry night. Oh, and of course there are angels! The story, found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, is really a series of moments – holy moments – when God was realized in ways beyond imagining.

I love the story, as many of you do, for its romance and sentimentality, but every now and then I have to force myself to read it in a stark new way and hear the power of the moments. The moment when a baby’s cry pierced the night and the parents were filled with fear. The moment when humble shepherds realized they were destined for something big. The moment when political pressure was sending fear through the countryside. The moment when poverty and desperation met in a stable come obstetrics ward. The moment when God’s love was birthed in such a way that the whole world changed and history was altered.

There will be moments for you this year. Moments when you blanch when you see your credit card bill, moments when conflict arises at the dinner table, moments when loneliness or grief cramps your heart and tears flow. Hold those moments in the light of the Bethlehem star and know that even in the midst of those difficult and stressful moments there is an opportunity for God to be birthed and for your world to be a cradle for the Holy Spirit.

Christmas Blessings to you and yours.

This past week was a whirlwind. It seemed there were concerts, parties, dinners, and events taking up every spare moment. Sunday night I sat down to catch my breath and I think about the many people that had crossed my path over the past few days. Friends, parishioners, relatives, retailers, entertainers, the list was almost endless as I counted the young and old that had been part of my living in those days.
How do we measure the impact of others? I often ask the congregation to think of the people who were role models and mentors for them… ministers, teachers, group leaders, neighbours, parents, grandparents etc. etc. those people who were formative in their growing in wisdom. When I think of those adults who influenced me when I was young I so appreciate those who created space for me to ask questions and wrestle with confounding ideas.
Poet Maya Angelou wrote, “Your legacy is every life you’ve ever touched.” Reading that made me reflect on what kind of impression or word of encouragement I had given to those I met – stranger or friend. A few years ago I received an email from a woman who had been a child in one of my congregations. She told me of the way I had encouraged her and said she even remembered the scent of my perfume! I was humbled, beyond reckoning, to think that I, unknowingly, had played such a role in her young life that years later she still remembered me. It is not surprising, when we think of those moments that shape and make us, and of those individuals who through a kind gesture, an affirming word or a positive action make us who we are that we, likewise, influence others.
Legacy can go either way, I guess. We can create a positive legacy or we can leave behind pain and hurt. Given that, it is important to remember that any life touched by ours bears the mark of that interaction.
In these harried and busy days of the festive season let’s be sure to make our legacy a good one.

The season of Advent began on Sunday with the lighting of the first candle on the Advent wreath, the candle of Hope. I love Advent. It is so counter-cultural and it appeals to my delight in thumbing my nose at the consumerism of the day by saying things are different here at church. We don’t jump into Christmas with both feet. We step slowly and deliberately into the season by first measuring out the days of Advent.

Nonetheless, I have been doing lots of shopping and dropping lots of coinage as I prepare for the frenzy of gift-giving and festive living. For all my desire to live a simple life I easily get seduced into the purchasing program promoted by stores and catalogues.

I have thought a lot about Christmas this year and what I will do. It will be a different Christmas for me. For the past 30 years I have spent Christmas with my one true love and this year there will be a yawning space sitting beside me on Christmas day. I am being proactive and making plans so as not to succumb to more melancholy than I can handle. But it will be a day accompanied by sadness and while the magazines and tv commercials lead us to envision the perfect Christmas day filled with a happy family, a perfect tree, just the right gifts and a delicious meal, I know that for many, if not most people, Jesus’ natal day does not look like any of those tv movies! Many of us spend the day acquainted with grief, or debt, or anxiety or sadness.

Leonard Cohen wrote a wonderful song called “Anthem”. The chorus goes like this, “Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering, There is a crack in everything, That’s how the light gets in.” I like that! If something is perfect, with no cracks, then how does the light get in? In his song Cohen encourages the thought that nothing is perfect, everything – everyone has a crack, a break, a blemish, a grief, a debt, a sin. And that is how God breaks into our very soul – through the cracks, the openings, the not-perfect self that we are.

I am cracked. And I am glad. It is in the crack of my grief that Christ will find a place to be born this Christmas. Nothing about my day will be perfect except that I spent Advent preparing my soul for the coming of the Christ child.

Tomorrow is our church’s annual Christmas Marketplace. We have been planning for it since, well, since last year’s Christmas Marketplace. It is a big fun-raiser as well as a fundraiser. Pretty much every man, woman and child gets recruited to be involved in one way or another. Tomorrow the church will bustle with people in every room looking over crafts, searching out used treasures, bidding up a friend at the Silent Auction, picking up preserves, finding a good used book or trying to decide between apple or raisin pie.

The Marketplace is a highlight for many of us at the church and it is a LOT of WORK. Yesterday, in a cynical moment, I said to the lead organizer, next year I am going to write a cheque and save the grocery shopping, baking, packaging, carrying, setting up, taking down … well, you get the idea. But in fact, I love the Marketplace and the energy and excitement that will begin to build this afternoon as we set up the rooms and will peak tomorrow morning as the doors open. It builds community within our congregation and it builds links to the broader community as people come in and chat and meet friends and generally enjoy the hospitality.

Many people who are not involved in the church often erroneously think of church as a stodgy bunch of Bible-thumpers. Well, I do like the Bible (at least parts of it) but more important to me is being part of a company, a band, a tribe, of people who engage in both the spiritual and the temporal aspect of living. Church is about faith and about community. It is about living well and living in a positive and productive way.

Jesus was such a great teacher when it came to living in community and working to the betterment of all. I think he would have really enjoyed our Marketplace.

What?? – how did the days of this week disappear like vapour and it is already Friday? What has your week consisted of? Mine seems to have included a lot of phone calls, quick conversations, preparing for a meeting or wrapping up a study group and, of course, never ending emails. Along with that, as I work through the details following my beloved’s death, I am caught up in forms and paperwork. Sigh – not my favourite thing.

So, here is the question for this Friday afternoon… How do we find the Spirit in the drudgery of everyday? Where is the breath of God offering whispers of change or good news or comfort? How does paperwork inspire us as Christ-follower? What? Too much, you say, for a Friday afternoon. Well yes, it could be deep or it could be the idle wandering of thought as you run the vacuum, stroll the grocery aisle or drive the kids to a lesson. Where is God in the midst of the everyday?

For me, God has often been in the interaction with others. God is found between the sentences of conversation or in the sigh that comes with worry. God is in the cleaning up of coffee cups and in the serving out of food. God is in the heat of conflict and in the moment of reconciliation. Given that, it is not surprising that one of my current favourite hymns is “In the Quiet Curve of Evening”. The hymn writer lists the many times and ways that God is present. A few of them are – “in the sinking of the days”, “in the lapses of my breathing”, “in the cracks between the stars”, “the mystery of my hungers”, “the cloud of my unknowing”; such beautiful expressions of God’s presence, followed in each verse with the refrain, “You are there, you are there, you are there.”

So where is God for you this Friday afternoon? Right there, beside you, within you, around you, before you, behind you, above you, below you.