thursday theology

Posted on September 22, 2016 by isplainasjane

Just finished the second meeting of a new book/scripture study I’m lucky enough to be hosting in my home this fall. I had been praying about what I might do to offer something in ministry and connection when I came across this book, Following Jesus in a Culture of Fear by Scott Bader-Saye. It seemed the perfect book to use for a group study, considering all that is going on in the world today. So, I sent an email out to some people and the response was more than I had even hoped for. I’m guessing the topic of how to live faithfully in the midst of our fears resonates with a lot of us.

It’s a great group. Ages range from mid thirties to… us “older” gals. All phases of life. Some old friends. Some new friends. Different faith traditions. Some seasoned Bible study goers and for some it is their first venture into any kind of study of this sort. It is s not really a Bible study in the familiar sense. No fill in the blank questions. No lectures. No right or wrong answers. I gave up trying to get the right answers a long time ago. The deeper I get into scripture the more I realize it is all about the engagement and the questioning. And the gift of studying scripture together is in the wrestling with it learning to see it from different perspectives. We might come out with a limp, but we’ll be blessed because of it! I saw this video clip of two orthodox Jews at the wailing wall in Israel. They were facing each other and pouring over a passage. It was almost as if they were dancing with it, back and forth they shifted, both of them talking at once. They weren’t trying to convince each other of the correct understanding, but rather together immersing themselves in the process of coming closer to God and to one another. Each of them bringing into the conversation a unique perspective and life experience, and an open mind and heart. Now that’s a Bible study I can get behind!

In our new group’s time together we read a chapter a week in the book and then we consider a passage from the Bible that relates or speaks to what we’ve discussed in the book. We’re “hearing” the passage through Lectio Divina, a fancy way of saying that I read the passage through three times and the group listens to it instead of reading along. Somehow this opens the possibility of encountering the passage on a deeper level. Then we journal for a few minutes about what we heard and what it may have stirred up within us. And, we are all invited to do this journaling with our non-dominant hand. This is probably the biggest challenge of the whole thing. It’s such a foreign concept for most people to write with the opposite hand. There have been much smarter people than me who have researched this and found that writing with the non dominant hand can unlock parts of the brain that don’t get used enough. It is sometimes considered a gateway to greater creativity. I don’t know about all that but, sure enough, it is really amazing to see what comes out of this process. Even the discomfort and feelings toward the process are teaching us something worth noting.

For me, the time together with these wonderful souls is such a gift. I’m inspired by each and every one of them. It’s only been two weeks but I can already say that I am in awe of the wisdom, faith, and courage of these women. Some are going through the stresses of raising children in a world gone crazy. Others transitioning from parenting a child to being the parent of an adult. Some are navigating that road of having to “parent” their parents and negotiate caring for them. Some are facing the challenges of life after working in a long career, trying to figure out what life is now supposed to look like. Some of us are facing the realities and challenges of aging and how to remain young in the midst of growing old. Some are facing a major health crisis, either for them or their spouse, a time when rubber meets the road in the journey of faith. Some are walking a path of grief. The path of grief is a strange one because it never really ends. The challenge therefore is learning to embrace this truth and to allow time and faith to build a bridge between the grief and possibility of deepened joy. Our phases and challenges may be different, even while uniquely universal, but we all share an authentic intention to grow… stronger against fear, closer to the Love which created and sustains us, and in connection to one another through our time together.

My journey in ministry has always been out of order, long and winding, unorthodox and unpredictable. My official “career” in ordained ministry was not at all what I thought it would be and was much shorter than the time it took to get “there”. I may never again have an official or paid pastoral position. And in some ways maybe I have failed at my calling. And, just maybe, that was a huge piece of the calling; to learn that failure to succeed doesn’t mean failure to proceed. I couldn’t be more thankful than I am at this moment. To be able to journey with and learn from these amazing women. To be able to wrestle and dance with scripture, to be able to learn that standing strong amidst life’s challenges takes a willingness to be vulnerable with others. To be able to grow closer to Love and to this community. Well, who could honestly ask or hope for more. My cup definitely runs over.

In a world where the temptation to fear comes at us from all directions, be it world events, our own life circumstances, the manipulation for profit by the media, or our own internal fear mongering, it is good to know that something as simple, yet significant, as an hour of coffee, conversation, and prayer can do much to both neutralize the effects of fear and empower the possibilities for faith. Life. Faith. Hope. Love. Never meant to be a solitary venture. Rather, meant to be an amazing and unpredictable adventure in community.

Something to chew on….

Painted in Waterlogue

Posted in Christ, Christianity, community, connection, Faith, fear, friendship, Lessons Learned, Life, life purpose, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, wholeness; | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

priceless

Posted on September 13, 2016 by isplainasjane

Been struggling to write a post lately. The trouble is I’m watching too much TV. I’m watching too much politics. And, I have opinions about it all. Opinions which, no doubt, might differ from some. I’m aware that, at times, I can be annoyingly verbal about my thoughts but, I usually try to stay away from so called political opinions in my posts. I, like many, are weary, so weary, of the political rants on social media. And, I’m tired of the media bias on TV…whether it be this way, or that. Notice I said this way or that, instead of right or left, conservative or liberal. There is so much working to divide us these days. At the heart of it I wonder if we are just plain scared. And, I wonder if we really even fully know the root of our fear.

Yesterday I watched hours of 9/11 tribute shows. Extensive footage of people facing the horror of that morning, and for many a pain that lasts to this day. Watching it made me think of a childhood friend of Tom’s who lost his dad that day. He was a retired fireman who was working as a fire safety director at the World Trade Center. That morning he worked with others to safely evacuate children from the day care center in one of the nearby buildings. He called his wife to tell her he was safe. Said good-by and ran into one of the towers to help.

They never found his body, maybe his badge. Tom went to his memorial service a month or so later. It was one of hundreds attended by city officials. One of hundreds where bagpipes were heard to play the pain and love that was felt by all. One of many, none of them easier than another I’m sure. It was a life changer for Tom. I’ve never seen him so moved by anything before. I saw heart break and awe both in his eyes.

Yesterday as I re-watched the people running in the streets for their lives as the wall of debris and smoke chased after them I was reminded of the day, many years ago, I rode the train from Long Island to the city, to the World Trade Center, with our friend’s dad, Phil, the man who was killed trying to save others. I was meeting friends and he offered to escort me, the Texas girl going to the city.

He was an Irish Catholic Yankee, and I say that with great affection and respect. See, I married one of those and that’s why I know it is not a bad thing to call someone. Tom actually beams a little when I call him that. He’s proud of his heritage. I’m not insulting Southern Protestants…I actually am one. I’m just affirming some loved ones here. All of the Irish Catholic Yankees I have ever known have been hard workers, a bit skeptical, good hearted, sincere and faithful people, who love a good party when they see one. People who would do anything to help.

Which is exactly what our friend’s dad, Phil, did that day. He made sure I got on the right train, and the right subway, and made it safely to the World Trade Center. He was so protective he wouldn’t even let me hold my own ticket! And, I remember he was so very proud to show me the towers. He was proud to be a part of helping people stay safe there.

There was something in the footage I saw yesterday that both warmed my heart even as it broke it. It was the number of people on the morning of 9/11 and after who, maybe for the first time, or maybe it was the way they had always lived their lives, put their own safety aside in order to help others reach safety. There was a connectedness that took over, an understanding that all lives mattered and even a stranger was worth the danger.

There was an enormous blow of violence dealt to our country that morning in New York, one resulting in death and destruction, and in wounds we carry to this day. And, there were those who would not let death win, even if it meant assuring their own. Whether they were conscious of it or not, their sacrifice paved the way to the reality of a literal rising from the ashes. The reality of new life that comes from standing up to fear and death.

Jesus did and said dangerous things in his passion for humanity. Things that eventually got him killed. And, he did it knowing full well the cost. He did it in the spirit and power of Love. He did it so all might live. Beyond fear and beyond death. Right here. Right now.

The way I see it, the Gospel of Love was hard at work the morning of 9/11. Giving. Sacrificing. Comforting. Dying. Rising. Saving. Prevailing.

In this season of divisiveness and fear I need to know there is still a courageous Love uniting us at all cost.

Something to chew on…

img_1908

Posted in Christ, Christianity, community, connection, country, current events, fear, Lessons Learned, Life, life and death, life purpose, people, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, unconditional love, world peace | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

forced entry

Posted on July 29, 2016 by isplainasjane

Sometimes life gets fast and furious and there’s no time to slow down and reflect on what is actually going on. And then, usually, at some point, I must stop and think… chew on it. Which is why I started this blog in the first place. So, here’s today’s chew. I share it not because my life is so interesting but in hopes our lives might meet in the process.

I am guessing for many of us the C word and the D word (as in death) are probably always hovering somewhere in the background. Even when we are not conscious of them they are always lurking around in the shadows somewhere. No one wants to get cancer and no one wants to die.

A week before we moved to Corpus I was told I needed to have a tumor removed from my left breast. The surgeon was completely confident it was benign so I could wait until I had moved to have it removed. I went back for the surgery and even wrote about it in an earlier post. When the surgeon called to tell me the results I was fully expecting her to say it was benign. And she did. But then she kept talking. She said the pathologist had determined there had been a “little” cancer within the benign tumor she had removed. A small malignancy inside of the benign. Huh? This was a good news bad news moment if I have ever heard one. The doctor then said she was referring me to an oncologist who might prescribe radiation and estrogen blocking drugs. I was being pushed through a door I didn’t want to enter. A threshold from which there is no return. There is before the cancer diagnosis and after. Life changes. Ten minutes before the call I was busy working on getting settled in our new home in Corpus. Ten minutes after the call I couldn’t concentrate enough to work on anything.

During the next three weeks I received a lot of love from the people around me. And a lot of questions. And a lot of advice. All of which were expressions of love. The people I resonated with the most with were those who had also crossed the same threshold. The people who had faced a cancer diagnosis. I was now part of a club no one wants to belong to. The one where uncertainty is the only thing certain and fear is a constant intruder.

Instead of continuing with the hospital where I had had the surgery I went to M D Anderson. As a pastor I had visited many in this miraculous institution of vision and hope. I would now be a patient. I went back and forth between Houston and Corpus to go through their battery of tests and diagnosis and plan of attack. When the day came to actually see the MDA surgeon to hear results and recommendations Tom and I walked into the massive complex with wide eyes and anxious hearts. Tom was trying not to show his concern but I could see it clearly.

They called us back to the department and two nurses met me, weighed me, and took measurements of my arms….”In case you have to have lymph nodes removed we need a baseline of your arm.” Lymph nodes? Base line? This was a “little” cancer! And it’s out. What the…Fear plopped itself right dead center in my heart.

For the next thirty minutes I was asked questions and talked to and then finally given results. The doctor calmly spoke to me about this and that and then she said”…and our pathologist looked at the slides from your surgery and we found no cancer.” It took me a second to process the words. Wait, what. No cancer? Confusion took the place of fear. Relief was too afraid to show up, afraid I had misunderstood. How could one pathology department give a diagnosis of cancer, complete with description, size and grade, and another say there was none? As the good news attempted to sink in the doctor kept talking.

She said although they had determined no cancer in the left breast there was a suspicious spot on the right. It would need to be biopsied to determine if it was cancer or not. And, there it was….another good news bad news moment. I thought it had been difficult to walk around with a cancer diagnosis, but this was actually feeling no better. I have figured this out about myself. I can take fear, sadness, and I’m learning how to carry uncertainty. But, it is confusion that sends me into a tailspin and I was now confused.

For the next couple of weeks I tried my best to get back to life but I dreaded this biopsy more than I had dreaded the first surgery. This good news bad news journey was taking a toll.

When I arrived at MDA to have the biopsy I was met by a stern but nice nurse who told me it was really going to hurt and I’d have to lay still face down for about forty five minutes. She said I would want to move but not to because they would have to start over. Confusion was moving over so terror and dread would have room. I asked if I could have something to relax me. She said she would use some aromatherapy on me…which meant she would waive a lavender sachet in front of my nose at the crucial moments…

She took me to a holding area in the center of a group of rooms. I sat awaiting my fate, trying to keep my breathing to a dull roar. Perhaps they’d let me snort some lavender. Each room had a closed door with a sign on it, meant to inspire and comfort. One room was named Hope. Another Love. Another Peace. I looked at the room the nurse had shown me would be mine.

It’s name was Relax.

The nurse had been right. It hurt and staying still was maybe the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I think I realize I may have a little problem with fidgeting. But she was also right about the lavender sachet. I called for it frequently. I told the nurse I would dream fondly about her that night.

A week later I got another phone call. Much like the phone call I had received all those weeks before. Quick and to the point. But this time it was just good news. No cancer. No cancer. No cancer. So, I had not actually crossed the threshold after all. Relief is an understatement.

Even after writing all this down I do not understand what this experience was all about. Maybe I never will. Maybe I’m not supposed to. There were gifts during those weeks I thought I had cancer though, as there always are if we’re open to them. One was, I quit worrying about what causes cancer. There was no reason to worry about that anymore. I can’t tell you how liberating it was.

Another was the still calm presence of peace that patiently and persistently nudged my heart, amidst all the fear. There were actual moments when I surrendered completely to this peace, trusting that no matter what the future might hold I knew Love was there with me and I’d be ok. I would have never thought it possible before. Oh, that I would be willing to do this in all areas of my life!

One more gift. My scars. My scars are small and insignificant compared to what so many have to endure in the battle with disease. But they are my scars and I have come to realize they are a gift and reminder I’m still here and I’m still me. When I see my scars I am reminded of the scars Jesus bore when he reunited with his disciples, showing them the love he brought was a love stronger enough to endure anything. A love most visibly seen through vulnerability and , yes, through our scars.

I have a little bit of survivor’s guilt, for lack of a better word, when I think of the many who receive a cancer diagnosis. So many are pushed through the unwanted threshold every day. So many who are brave where I was a coward. Who are strong where I was weak. I pray for them. I pray for their healing. And for their openness to see the gifts of Love along the way. And, I pray if I am forced through that threshold again I will have the courage to do the same.
Something to chew on…

Painted in Waterlogue

Posted in cancer, Christianity, healing, Lessons Learned, Life, life and death, Spirituality, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

other fears

Posted on July 8, 2016 by isplainasjane

This morning I suspect I feel like many of us. Dismayed at the news from Dallas. Still confused and heartbroken at the news from Baton Rouge and St. Paul. Disheartened by the unrest and divisiveness that is prevalent in any day’s news. And, yes, afraid. Afraid of what I might hear next. Afraid of where this is all leading. Fear. That is the great enemy isn’t it.  Fear that breeds hatred. Fear feeds ignorance. Fear leads to fight or flight…Maybe that is why scripture tells us not to fear so many times.

There are many things to be afraid of. Fear of loss. Fear of rejection. Fear of economy failure. Fear of violence. Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear of war. Fear of Donal Trump being elected, or Hillary Clinton being elected, depending on which particular camp one resides in. Or, fear of either being elected. I think perhaps, though, the driving fear of all other fears is the fear of the other. The other color. The other religion. The other party. The other theology. The other ideology. The other language. The other culture. The other opinion. The other idea. The other way. The other perspective. The other race. The other gender. The other sexual orientation. The other person. I’m sure there are other others I’m forgetting.

As a white middle class heterosexual Christian female, a place of privilege in our country, I have no right to speak to the fear of being the other. I don’t know what it is like to have grown up fearing my place in society because of my race. Or my religion. Or my sexual orientation. And, except for only slightly when I was a sales secretary in the 70’s for an oil company, my gender. And you couldn’t really call it fear, more irritation at some jerky sexist comments now and then. It is impossible for me to know the depth of fear that so many feel on a daily basis. Only once have I had even the slightest glimpse…

It was some years back when I took my dad back to South Carolina, where he had been raised, to visit one of his siblings. While there we attended a football game in which one of my cousins was the center for the team and the only white player on the team. In fact, he was one of a few white students at the school. I remember walking into the stadium and seeing anger on the face of a young man of color as we approached. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk so we had to go around him in order to enter. I felt fear.

When we walked into the stadium and up the steps to our seats there were stares. Lots of stares. I felt fear. Once seated I looked around and saw no one of my skin color. I felt fear. After a while I felt as though I had become invisible, as if I had been absorbed into the crowd. I know that probably sounds weird, but I lost sense of who I was, what I looked like. I felt separated from myself and from those around me. And it struck me hard. Was this what it’s like to be the other? It was lonely, disorienting, and yes, scary.

Of course, I was in absolutely no danger that night. These were lovely people enjoying the game and each other, and it was completely my white privilege and racial conditioning generating the fear. I confess that loud and clear and repent of being so self-centered. And, I share it because it was a waking up moment for me. It was the only time in my life when I wasn’t part of the majority.

I have always tried to see and love people as people, regardless of all the other stuff. To love people right where they are. And for the most part, I think I do. But that night I was awakened to the truth of how deeply rooted my own fears of being the other are and how much I have always depended on the security of being one of the majority. It is a sobering and humbling realization.

This morning as I sit, think, and pray for all of those who have had their lives ripped apart by hatred and violence, and fear in these recent days and weeks,  I am remembering something I heard a long time ago.  I heard fear is false evidence appearing real. There is so much to ponder here. Especially when it comes to our fear of the other.

I think the false evidence here is the notion there even is an other. We have created these separations for ourselves, out of ego, out of power, of greed, of fear, and apparently we’ve been doing this from the beginning of time. And, the truth is, we are all born into this life, given the same gift of breath, share the same planet, and will leave this planet the same way, through death. No one is immune to pain, or vulnerability, loss, or death. Everyone is born with purpose, to live the gift of life and to live their lives as a gift in any way possible. And to do it alongside all the other Life breathed vessels walking around.

Religions and faiths of all different kinds tell us the measure of life depends on how well we do it in community. Community with the Maker, with each other, within our own soul. Jesus said the two most important commandments were to love God and love neighbor as oneself. And he clearly illustrated each and all are neighbors.

Unity within diversity is the call. Allowing for the other (idea, language, ideology, theology, race, ethnicity,gender,orientation, perspective, ideas…) to be included in our love of one another. And, even for those who do not practice faith, common sense should tell this is true. We are connected by the very notion that we are living breathing humans. The survival of all depends on the harmony or connection of each and all.

We live so far from this truth though. It is frightening. Where do we start?

How can we re-member ourselves back as brothers and sisters of all race, creed, and color in such a way that all live free from fear? And, so all experience hope? What can I do? I want to look this false evidence appearing real smack in the face and say, “No more! No more violence. No more brokenhearted families. No more hatred. No more prejudice. No more separation. No more other. From now on let there be unity, and peace, and love, and forgiveness, and grace. And us. ”

And, I don’t have a clue how to even begin to do this in such a way it will make any difference. But I can try. In spite of the fear. It’ll work better if we do this together.
Something to chew on…

Painted in Waterlogue

 

Posted in community, connection, country, current events, Lessons Learned, life and death, life purpose, people, Uncategorized, unconditional love, world peace | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

now boarding

Posted on June 7, 2016 by isplainasjane

I’m sitting in the airport, waiting to board a plane. I’ve been awake since 4:00AM – well, really, every hour since 10:00PM. What is it about knowing I’ve got to get up early that makes sleep so elusive?! I look at others around me and guess that I’m not the only one who lost sleep over this early flight. I’m thankful for the Dunkin’ Donut coffee shop in the airport, just down from my gate. I’m thankful for the large cup of caffeine that is helping me focus. Of course, I’ve already blown my firm resolve to eat healthy on this trip. But, what good is Duncan Donut coffee without a Duncan donut?

Painted in Waterlogue

I’m on my way to a writers’ conference at Princeton Seminary in New Jersey. Hoping I’ll take myself more seriously as a writer if I listen to some folks who – actually write consistently. I haven’t done a very good job of that lately. I keep getting too distracted by life. The life which I have committed to write.

I always get a little (no, a lot) nervous flying. Maybe, it is not so unreasonable in this day and age but I’m aware that this fear, if not purposely given perspective, can be a hindrance to fully participating in what life has to offer. I write this from painful and shameful experience. Seven years ago I had a gift of an opportunity to travel to Egypt and Israel with a group from the seminary I was attending. It was to be led by my Hebrew professor and advisor, a gifted and kind individual who had been traveling extensively in the Middle East for thirty years. From what I knew of him as a professor I knew that this trip would enrich not only my ministry path but my path as a human being as well. I found it hard to believe that I was really getting to go!

As the departure date neared a small creeping fear began to grow inside of me. At first it was just a tiny twinge of concern but, it grew until it became a raging and fear filled pain. I had let some news accounts of unrest in the Middle East unnerve me. Seriously, when is there not unrest in the Middle East. Sadly, as my gnawing fear grew my level of trust waned. I didn’t trust that the seminary, including this experienced professor, would have the good sense to cancel the trip if necessary. I didn’t trust that my husband, who loves me and wants me safe at all times, would not hesitate to tell me if he thought I shouldn’t go. Oh, I didn’t consciously doubt them. I just let my emotions get in the way of my trust in general.

So…three days before we were to depart I backed out. Called my professor and told him I was too afraid to go. Even as I write these words I am filled with the echoes of regret and shame. It is the big coulda, shoulda, woulda moment of my life. The other thirty folks in the group, the ones who actually went on the trip, had life changing, life enriching experiences that they joyfully shared upon return. The next time I saw my professor I cried my apology. It was an ugly cry. He, on the other hand, was full of grace.

This professor was so completely full of grace that he accepted the invitation to speak at my ordination into ministry two years later. He spoke what is known as the “charge” to me – words of encouragement and exhortation meant to fortify the new pastor for the rigorous journey ahead. His words were full of kindness and affirmation. And then, he said he thought my greatest challenge going forward was going to be my struggle with my own credibility. With one word he woke me up to a new discovery about myself that was totally unexpected. It has taken me a while to fully process the impact of his words.

I have realized the times in life when I have held back from going forth, moving forward, diving in, participating, putting myself out there, writing it down, contributing confidently, living in fullness, getting on the damn plane – it has been largely because I don’t accept that I belong, or am qualified, or have been invited to be. I’m waiting for permission instead of giving it to myself. I remember thinking that since i was going on the trip to Israel for my own education and perhaps edification, instead of on a mission to serve others, that I was being selfish and should not expect safety. I had some twisted notion that I hadn’t earned the right to go on the trip. I’m confessing my craziness now not because I think my life and my quirks are the least bit extraordinary or interesting but, rather because I’m realizing, as humans, we all have our quirky fears and perceptions that speak to our own sense of, or lack of, credibility which can determine how fully we embrace our calling to live life to the fullest.

Best of all, I have, or am in the process of realizing that ultimately credibility is not something bestowed on us by an ordination, diploma, job title, financial rating, or by any other person, but is rather an innate gift from God, given to us in the very breath of our lives, given in order to equip and encourage us to live our purpose and to live it fully. What is this credibility?  The online definition I read….the quality of being trusted and believed in.  Hmmm. Being comfortable in your own skin. And sometimes it takes some perspective adjusting in order to recognize how important this healthy sense of self allowed credibility can be in conquering the fears that crop up from time to time. Is there something that holds you back from fully recognizing and allowing your own sense of credibility. Are you waiting for some kind of outside permission before you’ll fully immerse yourself into this amazing ocean of life into which we have all been invited, commissioned, and called to swim?!

We’ve taken off now. I’m on my way to learn more about this persistent itch I have to write. I still have some fears – not crazy about flying, especially the turbulence we just hit. And, I have to say – it feels so much better going forward rather than retreating. I’m glad I got on the plane this morning. Now, I realize New Jersey is not Israel. And yet, it just may be as important of an experience in my particular life. At the very least it will be one that, this time, I won’t miss.

Painted in Waterlogue

Something to chew on…

 

Posted in breathing, connection, credibility, fear, Lessons Learned, Life, life and death, life purpose, Uncategorized, unconditional love, wholeness; | Tagged , , , , , , | 13 Comments

learning in lavender

Posted on May 4, 2016 by isplainasjane

A little over a month ago I found out that a lump in my breast, although it was thought to be benign, had grown significantly and needed to be removed. We were planning to move the next week so I scheduled the surgery for after the move. The day before the surgery Tom and I drove to Houston and stayed at a hotel close to the hospital. That night I had to shower with a surgical scrub and was instructed not to use any lotion after. And I had to shower again with the same surgical scrub the next morning. I didn’t like it. I have really dry skin and by the time we left the hotel the next morning at 6:15, without the protection of lotion or makeup I was beginning to feel very old and wrinkly. And itchy.

When we arrived at the hospital we were promptly, and politely, ushered back to a hospital room and I was given a lavender paper gown and bright green socks with grippers on the bottom to put on after I took “everything off”. I had held on to a strong resolve to take this whole surgery thing in stride. This was nothing in comparison to what some people I know and love are going through. But, that resolve was abruptly shaken when I felt that paper gown in my hands. Bluntly I thought to myself, “Oh sh**, this is real!” I was getting ready to have surgery!

A way too cheerful chaplain came by. I didn’t like him. I like being the one to offer pastoral care. Not the one receiving it. This whole surgery thing was beginning to mess with my mind and heart. I had a growing desire to bolt.

In spite of my growing unease I obediently changed into the gown that was clearly one size fits, or rather doesn’t fit, all. There were poufs of paper puffing out all around that were hard to control. Tom did his best to tie me into the thing but about the best I could do was jump in the bed under the thin white blanket and allow the poufs to overtake me. What I would later learn, to my surprise and kind of delight was that this gown was equipped with a connection and tunnel and would later be hooked up to a warming hose. Such modern technology!

The nurses and technicians were so very nice and did their very best to make me feel at ease and comfortable. Which strangely made me feel more anxious. The guy who put the iv in did so in one stick and for that I was extremely grateful. When I saw the IV bag hanging overhead and the needle sticking out of my hand I felt the harsh reality…I was now a patient. I lay there under the stark overhead light, bare faced and pale, an old lady waiting for surgery. I looked at Tom and said in my sweetest voice I could muster, “I like it better when you are the patient.” What kind of loving spouse says a thing like that! My baser instincts were surfacing.

After a while a nice woman came in to wheel me and my bed down to the holding area. She only bumped into something once as she safely navigated us through the crowded hall. People were coming and going, passing me by. Some looked down at me, the pale paper clad figure being rolled by. I tried to smile like I was comfortable with the whole thing. I wasn’t. Then the strangest thing happened. This woman began to sing. And she had a beautiful voice. She sang that old song that Doris Day sang (in an Alfred Hitchcock film)… “Que sera, sera. Whatever will be will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera sera” Wow. She sang as a prophet and it struck me as truth. I had absolutely no control over what was getting ready to happen. I was completely vulnerable. I resist vulnerability with everything I have. I will do just about anything not to ask for help. My friends and family find me very stubborn about this. I don’t try to control what other people do (I hope!) but I am fiercely determined to be able to be in control of my own situation and to do for myself. And here I was completely and totally NOT in control. How funny she would pick that song to sing. I determined to cling to it as a message, and gift, from God and I felt a peace that went beyond my understanding. I realized in that moment I was being held in Love, and I trusted this Love to be in control of all things and all time. It was a clear reminder I only live in my illusion of being in control

In the holding area I would have one more jolt of “aha” when a class of medical students walked through. They all looked straight ahead as they made their way through, careful not to look at any of the poor specimens waiting to be cut. Except for one young man. He couldn’t help himself. He just had to take a peek. The awkwardness between us was palpable as we greeted one another. And so was the humanity. At the heart of it we humans are all the same. Curious. Vulnerable. Scared at times. Relieved at times. He was relieved he wasn’t me. But we were connected, in spite of our intention to remain separated from one another. Yes, it is our vulnerability that actually unites us. And the fear of it often divides us.

The anesthesiologist was my friend of the day. She gave me whatever it is they give people to infuse them with euphoria right before they put them out. Ah! Finally. I had been asking for that since 6:30 AM. The next thing I knew I was awake and it was over. And I felt good! There was a poor guy across the way who was sicker than a dog. I felt bad for him. I think I kept saying so. Not sure what other “insightful” things I might have also said.

I’m back at home now. In full control. Ha! Glad to have it behind me but still considering what I have gained from the experience. I’m hoping it will make me a better support or encouragement to others when given the opportunity. I’m hoping I won’t forget that being vulnerable is not a sin, but rather a calling to faith. I’m hoping I won’t forget that it is in our vulnerability we are most likely to experience the love of God.

In the Gospel of John there is much talk about love, how we will be known to the world by our love. Jesus showed his love by being vulnerable. He allowed his fate to be determined by the hands of those who would harm him, kill him. Because he knew this vulnerability was ultimately held in the hands of Love. And in that Love, well, there is only more love. This is the source of life. This is a Love that makes Que Sera Sera a song of good news. Whatever will be will be….and all will be well.

Something to chew on…

Painted in Waterlogue

Posted in Christ, connection, Faith, fear, Lessons Learned, Life, life and death, peace, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, unconditional love | Tagged , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

in the midst of it all

Posted on March 24, 2016 by isplainasjane

It has been two years since I have served a church in a full time capacity as pastor. Two years since any official duties at Easter. A lot has changed for me in the last two years. A lot is still changing. I’ve changed too. For the better, I hope. I’ve gotten older, that’s for sure. Hopefully, wiser. Still foolish in many ways. It’s never one thing or another though, really, is it. The world has changed too. Scarier. Complete chaos by all news accounts. The Presidential campaign makes me feel like I’m in an episode of The Twilight Zone. (Imagine what they would do with that show now!)

This morning as I listen to the thunder and rain of a predicted weather front I wonder at the sounds. I notice a stark contrast between the chaotic force of the thunder overhead and the gentleness of the rain against the window. One sound is threatening. The other is reassuring. Both of the same weather pattern.

I think of the journey to Easter and all it holds within it. The triumphant cheering of Palm Sunday. The intimacy of a dinner party where Jesus’ feet are anointed in a most beautiful foreshadowing of his sacrifice to come. This beauty comes in the midst of the grumbling criticism by some at such an extravagant show of adoration. I think of the bittersweet tenderness of another dinner party where Jesus lifts up the cup of encouragement and reassurance to the motley crew he loved so dearly, all the while knowing of Judas’ brutal betrayal at hand. What a contrast of Jesus’ clear understanding of his purpose in life and Judas’ blind misunderstanding of his.

I think of Jesus in the garden, agonizing over what was to come. the calm beauty of the evening holding the stormy torment of his heart. Oh, some may say he was never afraid. Him, being God and all. But, if he was also fully human he would be terrified at what he knew was coming. We humans are created with a strong will to live. To willingly let go of it is counter to every instinct we have been given. So, yes, there was struggle and conflict in the garden.

I think of Jesus’ arrest. And Peter’s brash show of bravado in cutting off the ear of the perceived foe. This aggressive engagement of the moment stands in sharp contrast to his sleepy stupor just minutes before when he was asked to stay awake and stand watch. Although, he now stands fully awake and ready for battle, he only proves his continued unconsciousness to the message of Jesus. To love the neighbor before him. No matter what. And, although he is ready to maim, Jesus continues to heal, even the ear of one who reaches to him in harm.

I think of that fateful Friday afternoon. Jesus, stripped, beaten, humiliated and hung on a cross to die. He should’ve been terrified. Instead he is full of resolve. He should be filled with contempt and condemnation for the injustice done to him. Instead he assures forgiveness to a criminal. He should saved his own life. Instead, he gives it freely.

As the thunder outside subsides I’m struck by the deafening quiet it leaves behind. I think about the excruciating silence that held the followers of Jesus in the aftermath of his death. I remember the times I have experienced such grief in my own losses of loved ones. It is puzzling, yet comforting, to me how strong one’s presence remains in those first few hours of their departure.

I think about the light of the morning sun as it shines down on Mary that bright Easter morning, as she, embraced by the darkness of grief, makes her way to the tomb of Jesus. The warmth of the morning a stark contrast to the coldness of her heart. She thought she was approaching death, but she was met with the wonder of life. She thought this was the end, but it was really just the beginning.

Jesus’ death on the cross did not eradicate death. It puts death in it’s proper place. As the threshold to new beginnings. That is the paradox of Easter for me. Jesus said that in order to have life we must give our lives. I’m called to death every day. Death of my selfish desires. Death of my worries. Death of my negativity. I’m called to allow those things in me to die so that I can truly live the new beginnings of joy that have been prepared for me. This is the only way I can be a vessel of life to others. I can’t receive new life if I am clinging to the old. Jesus told Mary at the tomb not to hold on to him. This was a new beginning she would miss if she clung too tightly to the past. It’s counter intuitive, but it’s the only way through.

Jesus stands in the midst with us. All the chaos. All the noise. All the pain. When we look around us and see hatred, destruction, and death, what the cross of Christ assures us of is there is a Love that holds us, strengthens us, empowers us, enlivens us in the midst of all the thunder, all the chaos, all the uncertainty of life. What we see in the moment is not all that is going on. What we may feel in the moment, the fear, the anger, the shame, does not define who we really are. What we see as death in the moment is undergirded by Life that takes us through each and every moment. Because there is a Love that holds us through it all there can be peace in the midst of war, hope in the midst of despair, beauty in the midst of destruction, love in the midsts of hatred, and life in the midst of death.

Jesus embodied this Love. And, we are called to do the same. What was thought to be the end was really the new beginning.

Something to chew on…

 

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perch of peace

Posted on January 3, 2016 by isplainasjane

It’s been way too long since I’ve written anything. And, I’m learning it’s true. Use it or loose it. But here goes….
As one year closes and another begins there is no denying there is much violence in the world today. We have experienced a loss in our collective sense of security in this country, and the world. The last few months I have pondered, worried, fretted, and wallowed the hair off the world situation and where my place might be in all of the hatred and violence. What can I possible be do to make one positive iota of difference. Some people, I observe, buy guns. Big guns, small guns, tasers, shotguns, semi-automatic guns. Maybe to them, being prepared for possible violence is the way to maintain a measure of peace in a world gone ballistic. This is frightening to me. To think that people are walking around with guns in purses and cars seems like moving backwards. Others, I observe, say that gun control is the only answer to the madness. If no one has a gun, no one can shoot innocent victims. This seems unrealistic to me. People who want to do violence are going to find ways to be violent. People who want to do violence do not care about the rules. I keep wondering why people want to do violence to others in the first place. What is the pain and cause behind the anger? The problem is complicated so I can’t expect my little brain to have the answer to the violence of the world.

The only thing I can do is to try to find some way to assimilate the fear of the “what ifs” into my life in such a way that I can maintain my peace. To find a way to digest the inevitable worry that I feel from the news reports so I can appreciate the beauty and joy of this amazing gift we know as life. To find a way to be peaceful….and to be peace…in spite of the chaos of the times. I’m thinking of a picture I saw years ago of a bird, a tiny bird in a nest perched on a twig growing out of the rock of a waterfall, the water rushing all around the twig while the bird sat securely in the nest. The caption was “peace”. I saw it years ago and only thought of it recently. Isn’t it amazing how our brains file things away for later use. So, I’ve been hanging on (pun intended) to this image as of late in an effort to discern where I am to be in the world today.

In a contemplative Bible study I’m in there has been much discussion of how we, as followers of Christ, are to be peace in a world that is polarized in so many ways. From the Gospels I continue to “hear” violence is never the solution to violence. Only peace can bring about true peace. But that seems naive and scary. And weak. Counter to everything that seems logical. But then, isn’t that the scandal of Christ, turning all our preconceived notions upside down of who’s right and who’s wrong, who’s in and who is out.

Recently I officiated the wedding of a young couple. They are like many young couples today. They have been together a long time and they came to this decision to get married intentionally and unhurried. (Unlike Tom and I who were 21, barely formed embryos!) The bride was raised as a Christian protestant and the groom’s immediate family heritage is Persian, Islamic. The couple is not particularly religious but wanted to get married by a Christian pastor and to honor both of their family heritages. When we met to discuss the service they told me his family wanted his uncle wanted to do a traditional Persian blessing and said they thought maybe it could happen as an add on after the Christian service. The more we talked the more I realized the opportunity before us. This needed to be one wedding service in which both cultures and faith traditions could be recognized, honored, and celebrated. I really sensed this was important but I wasn’t sure how it was all going to work. Walking in to the rehearsal the day before the wedding I worried how this would go. Would the uncle resent a Christian woman officiating the service? How did the groom’s family feel about this as well? Would the bride’s family think the way I would handle the service be Christian ENOUGH? I shouldn’t have worried so much.

A gracious partnership developed as we prepared the service together and, as a result, all present had an opportunity to experience love of God and love of neighbor. During this wedding service passages from the Bible were read. Passages from the Koran were read. Christian prayers were offered and Persian blessings were offered. Each faith tradition was celebrated with integrity and each was respected by the other. It was a little chaotic in places, maybe even a little awkward in moments. But Love was present. Peace was present. And it seemed, from the response of many there, it was a welcome moment of connection at a time in history when there is so much disconnect. Connection in our joy for these two as they pledged their lives to one another. People of the world may have many differences, polarizing differences, but we share a bond in our common humanity and our desire to understand what that means in the larger picture. If that can be celebrated in peace and in love….well, it’s a start. A baby tiny pebble of a start, but a start. We were all just like that little bird, held in the moment of unity amidst a world of rushing polarity. And it felt great! At least to me it did. And to others, I think.

The Bible records Jesus’ first miracle as being when he changed water into wine at a wedding. His mother noticed the host had run out of wine and prodded Jesus to do something about it. He told her it wasn’t his time yet but, being like most mothers who “know” our children’s gifts better than they do, she wouldn’t take no for an answer and told the servers to do everything Jesus told them to do. So, he told them to fill up the large jars that had earlier been used for ritual cleaning and were now set aside with water. They did as he said. He then told them to take some of the water to the wine steward for tasting. They did as he said. The wine steward was blown away by the quality and flavor of the “wine” and remarked that normally the host would serve the best wine first and then the inferior wine after the guests were all wined up, but this wine he was tasting was so much better than what had been served earlier. This was a pivotal message for the world, much larger than the taste of the wine. In transforming a sterile ritual vessel into a source of true communion and hospitality, Jesus was calling the people then, and us today to a new way of being in relationship with God and with one another. A way that moves past rituals and rules to true community. And in true community peace can grow. At this recent wedding I felt that Jesus had performed such a miracle in my own heart as I did my best to follow his commandment to love God and love neighbor. Maybe it is as simple (and difficult) as that. To offer up our ordinary selves in trust and let God, who is Love, turn us into peace. It’s a start. A tiny twig of a start but, a worthy perch don’t you think?

Something to chew on….

Painted in Waterlogue

Posted in Christ, Christianity, community, connection, country, Faith, fear, friendship, Lessons Learned, life purpose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

seeking perspective in pain

Posted on November 14, 2015 by isplainasjane

As I sit in horror watching the news reports today of the tragedy in Paris I can’t help but think about my one brief moment there. It was in 2007 and I had gone on a mission trip with a group of young musicians and youth leaders and other young emerging missionaries to Budapest. I have written a little about this before in my post, “park bench prophet”. It’s crazy to say a mission trip is magical, maybe even wrong to say that, but it was for me. Transformational. From the inside out I began to wake up to how big the world is, how we all yearn for love, and how connected we are as part of the human family, each created in the image of God.

On the way home we were grounded for the night in Paris due to some mechanical failure, or missed connection, or weather. I can’t remember the reason. I only remember that it was serendipity. Since it was the airlines “fault” they put the nine of us up in a hotel near the airport. Each of us had our own room and vouchers for dinner and breakfast. Pretty nice. Of course none of us had luggage but we didn’t care. We were just excited for this unexpected opportunity to experience a bit of Paris. After dinner we rode the train to the Eiffel Tower. We bought champagne and drank it out of paper cups, toasting and taking pictures of each other in front of this most magnificent wonder. I especially loved the twinkly lights that came on periodically. The thing I remember the most was the sweetness of the night. It seemed a little like a fairy tale to me. Peaceful and joyful. Everyone milling around having fun, smiling and talking. Even in a language I didn’t understand I could hear words of connection and love. We bought chocolate croissants and ate them on the sidewalk before taking a cab back to the hotel. I’m not sure I’ve ever tasted anything more delicious.

Today I saw where the Eiffel Tower has gone dark in memoriam of all those who died and who are injured. It breaks my heart to think of the contrast of today to that night eight years ago. Darkness where there was light. Sadness where there was joy. Death where there was so much life. Once again I am reminded of the brokenness of humanity. And the enormous consequences, a result of a faith becoming radicalized to the point of violence. How can we do such evil to one another. I sit in fear, worried for my granddaughters. Will they live in safety or fear? Will they know peace in their lifetime or war? What has gone wrong and how can it be set right? So many questions, so few answers.

When we got back to our hotel rooms that night in Paris I spent an hour trying to take a contact out of my right eye, only to realize later I had never put it in the morning before. I prodded, and tugged, and poked my eye in an all out effort to remove the nonexistent contact, never thinking for one minute that I might be wrong or of the damage I might be causing to my eye. I lost perspective. I had assaulted my eye for nothing. My eye was sore and red for weeks. I’m lucky it wasn’t severely damaged. Today I remember the injury I caused to myself I think of those people who have become radically misguided to this point of violence. What will it take for them to see this perceived call to violence is nothing but a tragic distortion of their true call to faith and peace? Will they gain perspective before it’s too late? And I wonder in my own life, where have I lost perspective? And who might I be hurting by my words or actions in the process of protecting what I think is important? Jesus said to love God and love our neighbor. Even the neighbors we hate. Jesus died loving neighbors who hated him. And he rose to show love survives hate.

I have so many questions. So few answers. So, I pray for all of the victims in Paris and elsewhere who are victims of these senseless, cowardice, faithless acts of violence. And I pray for the misguided souls who believe they are actually doing good by doing evil. I pray for us all. I pray that there will be a time when we feel and truly are safe. And I pray the power of Love will prevail, that Jesus’ commandment to love God and love our neighbor might be made manifest in all humanity. That it might be on earth as it is in heaven.

Something to chew on…

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a seeing matter

Posted on October 25, 2015 by isplainasjane

“I see!” said the blind man who picked up his hammer and saw.

Remember that silly saying? For some reason it just popped in my mind. There is a story in the Bible about a blind man who came to see. He had been blind for a long time. Back in those days if you had something wrong with you physically you were not considered fit for society because, back in those days people thought if you had something wrong with you physically you must have done something really bad, God must be punishing you for something. And everybody wanted to be on God’s good side so if you had something wrong with you and God was punishing you for something, well, you were on the outside of the good side of things.

So, that’s where this man was, on the outside. He just sat around in the dirt, outside of Jericho, waiting for someone to notice him. Hoping and praying for someone to see him. Just sitting there with nothing in the world but an old cloak wrapped around him, wondering about his purpose. What good was he to himself if he was no good to anyone else.

And then, one day he saw an opportunity for change. The man might be blind but he was not deaf or dumb. Or stupid. He had heard about this Jesus guy and how he said things. And did things. Things that made a difference in people’s lives. So much so that the religious big wigs were getting nervous. They worked hard to keep things under control so that the government would stay out of their business and this guy was getting out of hand. But the blind man didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted to see.

This Jesus guy seemed to always be on the move and everywhere he went a crowd followed him. So, when the blind man, sitting in his usual spot, like he was every day, heard and smelled a crowd walking by talking about Jesus he knew this might be the only chance he would have to be made whole, to find his purpose, to be seen, to see. He listened carefully and waited for his moment. And sure enough, after a while, he heard him. Jesus. The blind man could tell that people were leaning in close to hear what this man was saying as they made their way from the village of Jericho. It was now or never.

“Jesus! Hey Jesus, you, the guy who everyone has been waiting on, and talking about! Please! Have mercy on me!” Had he really just done that? That might have just been the most dangerous and stupid thing ever done by a blind beggar. Outsiders knew their place and it sure wasn’t to make a scene like this. The crowd around him told him in no uncertain terms to shut up.

For an eternal moment he held his breath and listened. And then, the same crowd called to the blind man again. This time they didn’t tell him to be quiet. They told him to get up and go. Apparently Jesus was calling him forward. Jesus was calling him to come to him. Apparently, Jesus had heard him. And now wanted to see him.

Without delay the blind man let go of his only possession, his only security, his cloak. And perhaps, the thing that was holding him back. Without his cloak he was completely vulnerable. And the Bible says he “sprang” up and came to Jesus. And then the craziest conversation takes place. Jesus asks the guy what he wants him to do for him. Can you imagine? This outsider, this nobody, this loser who had seconds earlier been told by the crowd to shut up is now being asked what he wants? By Jesus! That in itself must have felt like a miracle. The blind man knew, for maybe the first time in his life, he wasn’t invisible, he wasn’t a nobody. For the first time he was being included. In gratitude he responded to Jesus by calling him rabbi. For he was already learning much from Jesus. And since he couldn’t turn back now, and he knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted, he boldly asked…”Let me see again.” And he waited another eternal moment, which was probably just a nano second. Then Jesus told him to go. Jesus told him that his faith had made him well. And boom! Just like that he saw! He saw everything as it was. He saw Jesus. He saw the crowd around him with their wide eyes and gaping jaws. He saw his own hands and cloak-less body. And more significantly than all of this, he now saw that he had purpose. Nothing would ever be the same again. He would not go back to the old way of being, of believing the lie that he didn’t belong. He would move forward. He would continue to follow this life giving force, this Jesus. This path of life.

What gets me about this story is that, even though this guy was blind, he saw so much more than those around him. He saw enough to call out to the one who he knew could restore him. He saw enough to risk everything for the chance to be seen as he truly was. He saw enough to, when called, let go of everything and follow that calling….without seeing in the moment, where it would lead. He saw enough to know that it’s ok to ask for what we need. And to believe that we’ll be met in those needs. He saw enough to know that somehow our needs and our purpose are woven together and that Jesus held the power to see both. He saw enough to know that when our needs our met, our purpose is set. We are to move forward with what we have been given, leaving behind anything that would hinder us or hold us back. He saw enough to know that, once called, there’s no going back.

The other thing that blows my mind is Jesus tells the blind man his faith has made him well. It is already a done deal. Blind or not, wholeness was inside him all along. Jesus helped him see this.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing today, or feeling today, whatever your needs, your strengths, your weaknesses, your joys, your sorrows….please know that you have been fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of a Love that will never leave you, but rather sees you and gives you purpose for life.
On second thought, I guess that silly old saying isn’t really so silly after all….

“I see!”said the blind man, who picked up his hammer and saw.
Something to chew on…

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