philemon’s poem

Forgiveness

Reconciliation

Love

From Paul to Philemon

From God’s servant to a human master

From a concerned heart to a hesitant brother

From Paul to Philemon

A letter

An offering

Of Self, Sacrifice, Sacredness

Friend

Advocate

Partner

Offering of money?

Not good enough.

Offering of exchanged goods?

Not good enough.

Offering of self?

Now we’re talkin’.

From Paul to Philemon

From God’s servant to a human master

From concerned heart to hesitant brother

From Paul to Philemon

A letter

Tearing down the shackles

Of slavery that once

Held him.

The slave.

Onesimus.

Transformation

Stolen Goods to Redeemed Spirit

Slave to Brother

Harm to Healing

From Paul to Philemon

From God’s servant to a human master

From a concerned heart to a hesitant brother

From Paul to Philemon

A letter

Our own sacred hearts

Wrapped up in love

For another

Justice

For another

Reconciliation

For another

From Paul to Philemon, Who are we?

From God’s servant to a human master, from Us to Oppressors

From a concerned heart to a hesitant brother, from passionate hearts to hesitant ears

From Paul to Philemon,

A letter.

Of our hope.

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a halloween post: fear of spirituality

On Halloween, I find it appropriate to lay out one of my fears — get it out there so I can just deal with it already.

Spirituality scares me.

Of course, I’m not supposed to be saying this.  I’ve considered myself a Christian for my entire life, I’m baptized in the Christian faith … I’m even in seminary and currently serving a church.

Still.  It scares me.

After attending a spiritual retreat last weekend — I have found myself learning towards more spiritual thoughts in class, bible study, church, and in everyday conversation.  And sometimes I don’t even know who I am when I hear myself saying it.  It seems that there is an intellectual and spiritual battle happening within me that I don’t seem to have much control over.

Why is this?

Why is it that I associate spirituality with feeling queasy?  Why does my internal radar sound off when I hear myself telling people that they might need to pray about something?  Why do I feel like justifying myself and rationalizing things away when I approach the Scripture with a spiritual question that sparks an unprecedented conversation in our bible study?

All these questions are ones that I’ve been wrestling with lately … and I wonder if you’ve ever felt the same?  

Felt like intellect has taken over.
Like logic and reason dominant your thoughts.  
Like feelings are out of reach and abstract.

It has been suggested to me that I replace the word ‘scary’ when associating it with spirituality with the word ‘awe’.  Does this make a difference?

What might it look like if instead of scared … I felt in awe?

Awe that I might not have to make all the rationales for the way the world is …

Awe that I’m not in charge…

Awe that I’m able to surrender…

so, which is it?  Awe-struck wonder …. or scary spirituality?

happy halloween.

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Life, Interrupted.

Sermon preached on 10/28/12 at Edgewater Presbyterian Church

1 Kings 17:8-16

Common English Bible (CEB)

Elijah and the widow from Zarephath

The Lord’s word came to Elijah: Get up and go to Zarephath near Sidon and stay there. I have ordered a widow there to take care of you. 10 Elijah left and went to Zarephath. As he came to the town gate, he saw a widow collecting sticks. He called out to her, “Please get a little water for me in this cup so I can drink.” 11 She went to get some water. He then said to her, “Please get me a piece of bread.”

12 “As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any food; only a handful of flour in a jar and a bit of oil in a bottle. Look at me. I’m collecting two sticks so that I can make some food for myself and my son. We’ll eat the last of the food and then die.”

13 Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid! Go and do what you said. Only make a little loaf of bread for me first. Then bring it to me. You can make something for yourself and your son after that. 14 This is what Israel’s God, the Lord, says: The jar of flour won’t decrease and the bottle of oil won’t run out until the day the Lord sends rain on the earth.” 15 The widow went and did what Elijah said. So the widow, Elijah, and the widow’s household ate for many days. 16 The jar of flour didn’t decrease nor did the bottle of oil run out, just as the Lord spoke through Elijah.

********************************************************************************

A miracle story.

A story of abundant and steadfast trust in God.

God of the plenty.

A happy tale of being cared for … one with a happy ending.

I suspect that one of these descriptors might have run through your mind as the Scripture was read this morning.  “What a great story,” one might say.  “Oh, how God provided,” you might think.  Often this Scripture is interpreted as a story of Elijah’s trust in God and God’s ability and compassion to provide for the widow and Elijah —- and we get the warm fuzzy feelings and go home happy.

But that’s not necessarily the whole story.

See, at the beginning of Elijah’s story — Elijah confronts King Ahab and Queen Jezebel (who, by the way, do not have great reputations of being hospitable and welcoming) and tells them there is to be a drought — “As surely as the Lord God says….there will not be rain until God says so.”  Elijah is then led by God to a river where he will be provided for via ravens.  While at first, this might sound magical — like God is providing nourishment for Elijah through cute little birds who are singing and carrying on like the forest creatures in Disney’s Snow White movie — but I would beg to differ.  Have you ever seen a raven?  They are big, awkward scavengers — and Moses, through God’s law, deemed them unclean for the Israelites.  Elijah and the rest of the Israelite people would have strong avoidance for these birds.

Hmmm….God providing through the unexpectedThat sounds familiar.

Then we get to our passage.  No, no I haven’t forgotten about the widow.  Back in Elijah’s day — widows were at the bottom rung of the social ladder.  Without a husband or father to provide for her, she had no ability to earn an income for her and her family.  Widows were often driven to begging on the streets and gathering what they could from the land around them.  Scavengers — quite like the ravens.  Unclean.

Nevertheless, God tells Elijah to go to this land — a land that already doesn’t sit well with him because that evil Queen Jezebel is from that land — and a widow will provide for him.  I think we can imagine Elijah’s apprehension with this task…. Asking a lowly widow in a foreign land who presumably worshipped a different god … to provide.  Doesn’t sound like a task I would like to take on myself…

I’d like to hit the pause button on Elijah’s story for a moment — and focus in on our leading lady, the widow.  Like I mentioned earlier, this is a woman who was socially outcast and broke as broke can be.  When she runs into Elijah — she is busy gathering sticks in order to build a fire for her and her son’s last meal.  This drought that Elijah told King Ahab about earlier — has been affecting her food supply and her cupboard was nearly bare.  The only food she has in her cupboards at home are a nearly empty jar of flour  …and a few drops of oil.  She claims this is enough to make a final meal for her family — and then they are surely to perish.

But she’s interrupted.

A man from a distant place asks for a drink.

Then this man has the nerve to ask her for some bread to eat as well.

Excuse me?

Does he not know who I am?

I have nothing.  I am nothing.  I can literally see the end of my days in sight — and this man is asking ME to help HIM?  Where’s the punked camera — surely that is what’s happening here.

This woman’s life has just been interrupted.

Just like Elijah’s.

The crossroads where these 2 people meet each other is a dramatic interruption for both of them.  Both unsure of who is to provide for them.  Both starving.  Both are empty.  Not just empty concerning their digestive system — but emptied of hope.  Of grace.  Of being able to see past their own situations.

And yet here they are — smack dab in the middle of God’s story.

I wonder if we have ever felt like this?  Have we ever felt like an Elijah — wandering in an unfamiliar land, among unfamiliar people — waiting for that sign that we desperately want God to provide.  If God has sent us to this land — then when is God going to show up and provide for me?  And if God is going to provide like was promised — then why didn’t God send me to someone who actually had the means to provide?

Or maybe we identify with the widow in this story.  Minding our own business … scrounging around in order to provide for ourselves when an unexpected drought comes along.  Feeling kicked while we’re already down.  Being looked upon with distaste and outcast from society — from our friends, our families and even our god.  Feeling unworthy.  I’m already hurting — accepted my fate — and here is a man who obviously doesn’t understand me or my situation — and has the audacity to ask me for help.  I have nothing left to offer.  Ask someone else.

Where do you fall in this story?

Where is your crossroad?

At this crossroad … Elijah recalls God’s promise.  God told Elijah there would be a widow who would provide for him.

So Elijah asks the widow, who doesn’t seem to have anything, for some bread.

After some banter back and forth — and I can imagine the conversation becoming a bit heated as both of them realizing the other doesn’t understand their own situation in life — the widow finally agrees to make some bread for Elijah first — Perhaps, trusting that this man, claiming to be of the God of Israel … might have a prize up his sleeve for her.  Perhaps accepting that her death was going to come anyway — so what was a day earlier?  Perhaps out of sheer curiosity … but regardless of her intentions and motives — she trusts anyway.

She made the bread.  She gave away what she had.  All she had — for a stranger who asked.

This is our calling in life: to give what we have so others might be provided for.

Do we do this?

If we ask ourselves honestly — are we giving what we have?  All we have?

I would challenge us to think deeper than the surface of this story when asking ourselves this question.  This isn’t just about providing a loaf of bread for another person.

This isn’t about donating a jar of peanut butter to a food pantry.

This story is about a giving of self.

This woman gave herself to Elijah’s request.  Quite literally in her case.  She wasn’t just offering him a loaf of bread.  She was offering him her life.  Her very being.  There was something in the pit of her stomach — stirring — I would call this God — telling her that she would be able to trust this man.

With this offering of bread — this woman was putting this stranger in front of herself and her own needs.  With this last bit of flour and oil — she would be able to provide this stranger with a meager meal and then accept her fate of impending death that much sooner.

Now that’s risky.

Do we do that?

When we are asked to provide for another — a stranger, a neighbor … even the church: how much are we willing to offer?  Are we willing to offer what we have … whether it time, prayer, our abilities … even when we feel like we don’t have anything to offer?  In a world where everywhere we turn — people want pieces of us, our time and our money, what do we have left to give our family of faith?

This sermon is that things that I didn’t think I had this week.

This semester has been a whirlwind.  4 classes, a field site, EAing for a class, co-editor of the Herald, student session … and the list continues.  It takes a toll on one’s spiritual and emotional health.  People often think that because I’m in seminary and serving a church that I have a direct line with God and can feel spiritually full and on high whenever I need to.

This isn’t the case.

This past weekend, I went on a 72-hour spiritual retreat.  No phone.  No internet.  No outside contact.

An interruption to the daily grind.

An interruption where I realized, much like Elijah and this widow, that I was and am smack dab in the middle of God’s story.

Sometimes life is hard.  Busy.  Our to-do lists are so long that we can’t find the motivation to even get started.  We are exhausted.  And the one thing that I don’t want to do — is have another person or committee ask me to do something for them.  If I’m honest — this is where my heart has been lately.  Caught up in the busy exhaustion of life.  I’m the widow.

This retreat brought me back to the reality of God’s story.

God doesn’t ask us to attend session meetings.  Or lead bible studies.  Or create holy to-do lists.

God asks for ourselves.  Our very beings.

When we are able to surrender to this radical idea, that God asks for ourselves — our story turns out like the widow’s jars.  When the widow finally gave herself to God’s story … the unexpected happened.  The jars weren’t empty.  She fed the stranger.  She fed herself.  She fed her family.  And still the jars remained filled.

In the giving over of herself — she not only was able to provide for Elijah in his time of need …. But she ended up providing for herself.  God was able to use her faithfulness and her trusting actions to provide for all of God’s people.  This nourishment that she provided for others and herself was not only physical nourishment — but the restoration and rejuvenation of spirit that only God can give.

Just when we feel like there’s nothing left for us to give — God provides.

Amen.

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ordinary transformation

Every Tuesday night,  I have the privilege of being the educational assistant for the Pilgrimage into Faithfulness (PIF) class at the seminary I attend.  This class is required of all first year students and touches on key issues of faith as they are assimilating into the life of a seminarian.  The class is structured a bit differently than normal classrooms:  there is a lecture, common dinner, small groups, and then worship at the end of the evening.

While the class and professors are in their small groups, my job is to make sure the classroom that we have our lecture in is transformed into a worship space.  Even with all of the wonderful lectures and meals that we have together as a large group … I must admit that this …. this transformation … is my favorite part of my night.

Now, one might think that I’m just super introverted and this is my time alone …. but no.  It’s really not that.

At 7:00 each Tuesday evening, I enter the common room after dinner, turn my Ipod to a inspiring Pandora station, and get to work.  As I begin to move around the tables and chairs that were — just minutes ago — filled with students eager for knowledge and academic growth … I think about how flexible and intertwined our world is.  This space that was meant for knowledge and learning at this higher education institution is the same space that we occupy for worship.

The call to learn becomes the call to worship.

The note-taking becomes internal prayer and reflection.

The questions we ask professors in order to gain knowledge and clarify become an invitation to question our faith and gain clarity from our creator.

Our discussion of texts become our baptismal promise.

Our meal becomes our holy communion.

Of course, in this space, I am only moving around ordinary tables and chairs — objects of little importance in the grand scheme of things.  The transformation comes when we all agree to gather together for a common purpose.  The transformation comes when the spirit leads.

The ordinary into extraordinary.

Thanks be to God.

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seminarian vs. seminary

Seminary doesn’t always play nice.

When I see people that I haven’t seen in awhile (which is most people at this point because free time seems to no longer exist in my world) … they always ask how school is going.

“How is Jesus-school?” they ask.  

“How is life in the monastery?” they joke.  

“How is prayer and bible study?” they prod.

and usually I nod my head … and give the anticipated answer, “oh it’s fine…”

No one wants to hear that seminary hits my faith where it hurts sometimes.

Lately, I’ve been starting to work through some faith-things  — as has become the practice at the beginning of each new semester.  I start reading new books, writing new papers, and having new discussions and with all of that … I find myself with more questions than answers.

This time around, I find myself struggling to name God.  To point to things in life and situations and people … and call out God’s fingerprints.  Somewhere along the line, this has become difficult in my world.

and this might sound weird coming from someone in seminary to the outside world.  I get that.

The more I open up about all of this … the more I’m realizing that at some point or another — if we’re “doing” seminary right … we (seminarians) question.

            We struggle.  

                         We break-up with God.  

                                                          We fight.  

                                                                          We cry out.  

but somewhere along the way … we’re reminded why we’re here in the first place.  We go back to those ‘thin places’ in life and recall the feelings of God’s presence.  We hear encouragement from others.  We hear sermons that inspire.  We are affirmed in our field sites.

and while God and faith and church and grace might not ever make complete sense to our finite minds — we embrace the mystery of faith.

Great is the mystery of faith.

Amen. 

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Solomon the Prayer Ninja

Sermon on 1 Kings 8:22-30, 41-45 (and Ephesians 6:10-20) — Preached on August 27, 2012

A few years ago, I started following the blog of Jon Acuff who blogs at a self-created site, “Stuff Christians Like.”  If you have never read anything of his before, I urge you to check it out.  It started out as a Christian satire site — Jon is a Christian and has learned over the years to cleverly poke fun at things that Christians do that might seem weird or different to those who do not consider themselves Christian.  Those of you who know me — you know that this is right up my alley.  In 2008, Jon wrote a post that reminds me a bit of Solomon in the passage today.  See — I believe, using Mr. Acuff’s words here, that Solomon was a prayer ninja.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  Solomon is a prayer ninja.  Allow me to explain:

In Jon’s blog, he describes the subtle ways to discover prayer ninjas among groups of people.  As you know, a ninja is traditionally known for being stealthy and hiding in plain sight — and a prayer ninja is no different.  Prayer ninjas are the people who are really, really good at praying aloud in front of people and knowing exactly what to say.  They use common language — not all that seminary jargon — and they use their normal voice rather than changing it to sound more important or more dramatic.  Prayer ninjas are humble and wise and you will find them everywhere, if you only take the time to look.  All this to say, Solomon is a prayer ninja.

This scripture today from first Kings is just part of a huge prayer that Solomon offers to God as a dedication of sorts for the completed temple.  For a little background knowledge, this temple was originally going to be built by King David, Solomon’s father.

You remember King David, right?

Anointed as a youth, fought Goliath, wrote a lot of psalms David.

Well see, David, while a great King and loyal to God was not without his own mistakes.  After marrying another man’s wife and having her husband killed on the front lines — God wasn’t too keen on having David built God’s temple.  While God still promised that great things would come from David’s family tree — God passed the torch of building the temple to David’s son, Solomon.

Which, in my humble opinion, wasn’t a bad choice on God’s part.

Solomon had proven himself to be a pretty wise-guy.  Wait — not a wise guy like 3 stooges kind of wise-guy — but a very wise man who was determined to be faithful to the God of Israel – Solomon was given the task of building the temple.  Now, this was a big deal.  Like, a really big deal.  Up until this time, the ark of the covenant (which was a huge structure that reminded the Israelites of the covenant between God and h Abraham) had been stored in temporary tents.  So this temple was a sign of stability.  Of a permanent place of worship for a wandering people.  It was a big deal.

So, when the temple is finally finished after 7 years — Solomon gives this great speech to the people of Israel.  Then our passage for today comes in — he places himself before the altar of the Lord and in front of all the people present spreads his arms high and wide and starts his prayer ninja prayer.  Today, I want to highlight a few great things that Solomon does in this prayer:

Solomon starts with a thanksgiving, which reminds the people and God of the covenant that was promised.  The covenant between his father, David, and God which was being carried out through Solomon’s building of the temple.

This is our first clue that Solomon is a prayer ninja.

Solomon recognizes that all of the hard work, turmoil and sacrifice that the Israelites have made over the years has not been in vain.  I’m sure that sometimes it must have felt like they were doing all of this work for nothing.  At least at some points.  I imagine that the Israelites weren’t too happy to get up early every single morning to piece together a temple that they couldn’t see the whole blueprint for.

In fact, they probably didn’t know how long this whole temple was going to take to build, so there wasn’t even a guarantee that they would be around to see the completion.  And what or who were they working for?

The Israelites didn’t have the best track record with the God of Israel.  They were often found complaining, grumbling, building idols of other gods and the like — until someone ended up pointing out the error of their ways and starting them anew.

Solomon knows this history.  He knows that the people are tired and weary and need some hope and direction.

Especially hope in the God of Israel.

So his prayer addresses the people and God — Solomon reminds the people of the reason for their hard work.  This temple is a sign to the people that the God of Israel is present with them.

I think sometimes we fall into a similar predicament – at least, I know I do.  I often identify with the plights of the Israelites in the old testament.  I want to see the blue print.  No, no I’m not actually building anything concrete — but in my own life.  And I would venture to say that some of you might have had similar questions about your own direction in life.  Allow me to share an example — especially since this is theological education Sunday.

Almost 2 years ago now, I was once again contemplating what my calling in life was supposed to be.  I had a full-time teaching position, a nice apartment, a yappy dog — I was definitely comfortable.  I had transferred my membership from here at United to First Pres of Arlington Heights near where I lived and was involved with the youth and other bible studies there.  Comfortable.

But then things started to happen.  Little things.  I never had one of those moments where there was a white light surrounding me and I felt all the warm fuzzies inside tell me to attend seminary and become a pastor.

Nope.  If only it were so easy.

There was no manual for this.

No manual for quitting a full time job in a semi-recovering economy to attend a full-time 3 year seminary education program.

No blue prints to prove that when I left one job behind to become a student again that I was absolutely doing the right thing.

No definitive voice from God in my ear telling me that this was the calling I had been looking for … nope.  Nope.

None of that.

But there was prayer.  Not by me, mind you.  I’m the Israelite in this story, remember?  I’m definitely not prayer ninja Solomon — not that I didn’t pray, but that I was so confused and stressed out — I was unable to articulate my own prayers and listen attentively for direction.

But I had those prayer people in my life.  People who would chat and pray with me — reminding me of the promises that God had made in my life.  Of God’s presence.  Much like the temple was a sign of God’s presence to these Israelites, these people were representations of God’s presence in my own life.  For those people, I am still grateful and will continue to be.

So back to Solomon the prayer ninja.  Another kind of awesome thing that Solomon does in this dedication prayer is honor the mystery and uncontainable nature of God.  In verse 27, Solomon says, “But how could God possibly live on earth? If heaven, even the highest heaven, can’t contain you, how can this temple that I’ve built contain you?”  Now, this might seem a little out of the ordinary here.  Solomon is asking how can God possibly live on earth?  Wait a second.  Didn’t they just spend 7 years building a temple for God to live in?  Didn’t Solomon just start out his prayer reminding the Israelites that their work was not in vain?  If God’s not able to live in the temple — then what’s the point of building it?

And again, I will say — Solomon is a prayer ninja.

He’s a very wise man.

Solomon knew that the wondrous, awesome power of the Almighty would not be able to be contained within a structure built my human hands.  It just wasn’t and still isn’t possible.  The Hebrew word for “live” in this verse is the word “yeshev” which is often translated as dwell.  In the Hebrew text — God never yeshev’s in a human structure — God only visits, or tents in those places.  Even in the temple that is built in this passage, this is true.

The temple is a symbol of the presence of God — a place where God visits and can be with God’s people — but God is not contained and limited to the 4 walls of the temple.

Solomon’s acknowledgement of this in his prayer has a powerful meaning for us today as well.  We too, have symbols of God’s presence with us.  Some of these are personal — a cross, a keychain, a special Bible that was given to us by a mentor.  These things remind us of God’s presence with us — they do not necessarily contain God within the plastic of the keychain — but they serve as reminders and we are able to feel God’s presence when we see or feel these special objects.

Some of our symbols are communal — the baptismal font, the beautiful cross that is up here every week , and even this building itself.  This building is a representation of God’s presence with us.  God is present here.  But God is not contained within these walls.  God is also present in so many other places of worship this morning, in the field outside, and God is present with those who decided sleeping in was the best choice for them this morning.  God is not contained and limited to the walls here at United — God is so much bigger than that.  And when we remember that this building is not God —- we are free to experience God’s presence anytime.  Not just for an hour on Sunday mornings when we are in this building — but we are free to experience God with our neighbors, with our loved ones — we are then able to experience God with our friends and with our enemies, in both the light places of life and the dark ones.

One last part of Solomon’s prayer that I would like to highlight with you, but definitely not the least of importance, comes towards the end of our passage today.  Solomon prays that the immigrant, who comes from afar because of God’s reputation — that their prayers should be heard by God as well.

Whoa.

Now, this is big news.

Back in Solomon’s time — immigrants and visitors from other nations and cultures were not really welcomed with open arms.  Cities were built with walls around them in order to protect themselves from outside invasions and attacks.  In those days, there would have been lookouts and guards in order to keep themselves safe.  The Israelites were supposed to be a group of people who were set apart for God — kept holy.

This seems to not mix well — “well then, are we supposed to be separate from people of other nations, or are we supposed to welcome them” – I think this is what the Israelites might have been thinking in their heads as Solomon was praying this part of the prayer – “make up your mind!”

Looking at this part of the story through the lens of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians that Pam read earlier — I think we can piece together what Solomon might have had in mind at this part of his prayer ninja prayer.

In the Ephesians passage, Paul uses military terminology for armor to describe what we, as Christians, are supposed to use and wear as followers of Christ.  While this terminology is difficult for me, someone who has never fought in a biblical war, to understand — I can appreciate the transformation from armor of destruction to armor of love that Paul demonstrates in this passage.  And definitely something that prayer ninja Solomon would have been interested in wearing.  Instead of a belt holding weapons, Paul challenges us to a belt of Truth.  Rather than a breastplate of metal — one of justice.  We should have a shield of faith and a helmet of salvation – and finally our weapon of choice should be the sword of the spirit, or God’s word.  Not a sword that pierces and harms people —- but one of love, justice and mercy that comes from the spirit of God and the word of God.  In verse 12, Paul even says, “we aren’t fighting against human enemies…”  While he was talking to the people of Ephesus — I can hear the truth ringing from these words for both the Israelites in Solomon’s day and for us in 2012.  The battles that we have in this world are not with human enemies — but rather with spirits of evil.  We are not to fight and battle and kill our sisters and brothers on this planet — but rather work together against the evils of hate, bigotry, and oppression in our world.  We are allowed to disagree with the details that our brothers’ and sisters’ support — but the bigger picture of love and unity in this world need to have the ultimate victory.

See, a prayer ninja like Solomon isn’t just a person who comes up with the fancy words, or is long-winded — but a true prayer ninja both affirms and challenges the people who are listening.  A true prayer ninja knows that with prayer comes action — actions of love and compassion with the people and the earth around us.

In the closing song today, “The Summons” one of the most profound verses, for me, is the 4th one:

Will you love the “you” you hide if I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?

Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around,

through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

This was part of Solomon’s prayer in today’s passage.  Calling out the Israelites back then, and calling out to us now — whether we can see the blue print or not — quelling that fear inside us and changing our ways in the world.  Using the faith that we have found in God — through symbols and through God’s people to reshape our world around us into a loving and compassionate world that reflects God’s love for all people: immigrant and domestic.  We don’t all need to be prayer ninjas like Solomon — God knows that I’m not —- but rather we are called to listen to each other:  in prayer, in conversation and challenge each other to better the world around us.  Just as God called the Israelites to be a holy people, we too are called to be holy in this world and invite others to share in that holiness with us.  May it be so.  Amen.

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to the class of 2012: celebrations and hesitations

it has always struck me how odd the moments are when inspiration and deep thinking meld together to form blog posts in my head.  here i am, on a random, ridiculously foggy monday night.  11:21 p.m…. i haven’t blogged in weeks (possibly months at this point) and yet here’s a heart overflowing and fingers ready to type….

change

courtesy of google images

Transitions are something that we all become familiar with at some point in our lives.  Usually this begins around the time we graduate from high school and find that our friends are going off to college, or off to jobs, or off to the military — off to start their life anew.  A time of celebration and hesitation.  There are graduations.  And there are weddings.  And there are friends moving away.  And there are new friends.  And there is change.  Lots and lots of change.

You see, while we celebrate milestones in life — we also hesitate to do so.  In the same instance we are celebrating a milestone such as completing a 3-year graduate degree of all things divine — we mourn the loss of our current normalcy.  Our friends we’ve made will no longer be across the hall or down the stairwell — they’ll be across the city or on the other side of the world.  The singing that we’ve heard through the vent of our bathroom and the cat therapy that we’ve attempted to seek across the hall no longer exist.  We long to celebrate …. and yet, we hesitate.

I’ve been through enough graduations, my own and otherwise, in my lifetime that you might think these transitions become easier to handle … but they don’t.  A vulnerable heart doesn’t heal quickly from change.  I hope you forgive me, Class of 2012, when I long to celebrate with you and for you but the hesitation happens.

To this year’s class of 2012 at McCormick — I hope these words might express the gratitude that I feel towards each of you, even in the moments when I will hesitate to say them.  Our overlapping paths have taught me so much in this one school year — you have challenged, affirmed, pushed, pulled, accepted, laughed, cried, screamed, cooked, baked, hugged, homeletic-high-fived, preached, whispered, prayed, read, and understood.  And I needed that.  McCormick needed that.  The world continues to need that.  All of that.

I hope you keep giving, and if I know you all like I think I know you — the world is in for the gentle treat of a rude awakening from each of you and all of you.

courtesy of Peter Shin

So while hesitations will come.  For me.  For you.  For all of us. Celebrations will continue.  Lives will continue.  Changes will happen and hope will appear.

Thank you Class of 2012.  Now, go knock the world’s socks off.

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