Prayer Stations: Listening to God

When Samuel hears the call of God, his response is "Speak, Lord, your servant is listening." (1 Samuel 3)

Rather than preach an entire sermon about listening to God, I wanted people to try it. To experience and/or practice listening. 

So we worshipped with a series of prayer stations:

Scripture-Speaking. What might God be saying to you? ...choose a scripture and use a stone to mark where you are.

What keeps you from hearing/recognizing God's voice? Put your distractions on the cross--visibly blocking it--then pray for space and remove them  

Open station for creative reflection...

...and several others that I didn't photograph (breath prayer, silent meditation, imaginitive narrative where God calls YOUR name--and you give a written response, communal reflection: "how do YOU listen to God?")

Overall, I think the experience (and response) was good from the congregation. 

In the sanctuary services, most people remained in their seats and focused in the meditation in the bulletin, so my own response from God came when I complained about all the work for the unused stations. "Do you want people to hear you? Or Me?" 

The contemporary service had mason jars and small stones for the scripture-speaking station, so when people chose a scripture, there was an audible 'plink' throughout the room. The sound of filling jars, for me, affirmed that Gods word never comes back empty. (Isaiah 55:11). One worshipped loved the sound because she said it meant that people had found their verse. :) 

It was a lot of work to set up, so if I did this again, I would HAVE to enlist help (meaning more delegating and less procrastination). But that's a resounding theme for almost everything I do...

All Saints Day 2015

Each year, we read the names of church members who've passed away the previous year. It's a beautiful and meaningful tradition, but it still leaves of lots of names (I know several folks in my church grieving family who aren't members of our church and I still think we should remember others who died several years--even centuries--ago. 

So we allowed each person to remember. After recieving communion, the congregation was invited to choose a cross or a dove shape--both symbols of resurrection hope--and write a name or names of those who we hope live in Christ. 

Then we hung them up! 

Gold cord hung around the sanctuary to visibly express that we are surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses:

And in the family life center, we nailed string to room dividers:

I honestly just wanted a quick and simple way to hang the names, but the finished design was really powerful to see:

Which is exactly how it should be. The communion of saints brings the cross into further clarity for us. 

Conviction and prayer

Tomorrow is Florida's turn in the world-round prayer vigil for General Conference.

A lot is happening at General Conference, but the most public conversation concerns questions of inclusion--especially marriage and ordination for LGBQT disciples.
So--of course--as I googled "pray for general conference 2016" (why should I reinvent the wheel if someone else has already made a beautiful guide?) there were tons of articles with varying opinions.

One article, in particular, was followed by extremely hurtful, bigoted and small-minded comments. There, in black and white social media, I watched Christians bite, sneer, and slander other Christians--and it made me angry and embarrassed to call them part of our faith family.

I sat there; horrified and furious at these people who appeared only as screennames and profile pictures... and then my computer chirped that a new e-mail had arrived. And Sojourners sent me the following conviction:

This is the message we have heard from [God] and proclaim to you, that God is light and in [God] there is no darkness at all. - 1 John 1:5

For myself, I find I become less cynical rather than more — remembering my own sins and follies; and realize that men's hearts are not often as bad as their acts, and very seldom as bad as their words. - J. R. R. Tolkien

Prayer: We rejoice in your light, O God. Help us to bask in the light of your love as it emanates from our neighbors and from the rest of your creation.

I was NOT looking fto be convicted of my own sins, but there it was. So now I'm praying for my own humility and non-judgment of others. Thanks General Conference prayer initiative. Thanks a lot.

(P.S. the e-mail came from Sojourner's 'Voice and Verse'. I definitely recommend it.)

Bold. 4 on the 4th

Someone shared this a long time ago but since it's part of today's reading, I had to post it:

Notes/reflections from Luke 4:

• on the temptations of Jesus in the wilderness: Food/comfort. Power/fame. Safety/self-reliance.
    Jesus is faithful ...but what are my temptations? And where do I fail?
• vv 16-40
  ...the people are fine with Jesus until he calls them out. They pat him on the head with nostalgia and appreciate his 'gracious words' --but when he suggests that all of them might not be faithful, they run him out of town. Courtesy turns to critique and they stop listening.
  Do I allow the Gospel to convict me? Am I open to critique from Christ? ...or is my faith safe?

Mostly, though, I keep noticing this theme of authority.

Jesus is matter-of-fact with the devil (leaning on the authority of Scripture). In Capernaum, the people are astounded at Jesus' teaching, "because he spoke with authority. ...He commands the unclean spirits, and out they come!’"

Similarly, Acts 4 opens with Peter and John "speaking the truth" while the temple leaders are "much annoyed."

On trial, the disciples are equally truthful and the leaders "saw the boldness of Peter and John and recognized them as companions of Jesus."

                     Boldness. 

                                    Wasn't it always a companion of Jesus?

The leaders realize they can't refute the disciples, so the command them not to speak.

                   ...so the disciples respond by praying for boldness.

(a prayer that I should totally pray more often)

‘Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth, the sea, and everything in them... grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.’ 

When they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness.

Lord, grant me boldness.
in life.
in word.
in deeds.
Help me to testify with great power to your resurrection.
so that great grace may be upon us all.

Deferential. 3 on the 3rd

Luke 3 (from The Message):

"the people were filled with expectation...wondering, 

“Could this John be the Messiah?”

But John intervened: “I’m baptizing you here in the river. The main character in this drama, to whom I’m a mere stagehand, will ignite the kingdom life, a fire, the Holy Spirit within you, changing you from the inside out."

Acts 3
(After Peter and John heal a crippled man in the temple)

All the people ran to them, utterly astonished. 

When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, 

‘...Why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus..."

Altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald

In both of these passages, we see incredible biblical figures turning attention away from themselves and towards their God. It's not about our power or our piety. It's about the God who works through and in us. ...and when God does wondrous things, then we have the opportunity to point others towards Christ! (or, as Rev. Dan Bell has said--'like John the Baptist in Grunewald's painting, we gave to give people the finger that points to Jesus').

Amazed. 2 on the 2nd

Yesterday, I started a chapter-a-day challenge through Luke and Acts (chapter 1 on the 1st, 2 on the second, etc...). A few folks from the church are joining me and I'm hoping the accountability will keep me focused. 

It seems that we have a wondrous capacity to be amazed and then immediately disinterested. I'm in chapter 2 of Luke (after Gabriel appears to Mary and after Elizabeth and Zechariah AND Mary proclaim wondrous thing about Jesus) and as soon as Jesus is born, a bunch of shepherds show up talking about how angels appeared and filled the sky with the proclamation of this kid's wondrous birth... but eight days later, Mary and Joseph show up for a typical temple ritual like everything is normal. 

Trip to Jerusalem? check. 

Name for the kid? check. (epic name, true, but it's been chosen for a while)

Doves for sacrifice? check. 

Strange guy filled with the Holy Spirit who shows up to take your baby and say incredible things about his future? ...wait. what??
"The child’s father and mother were amazed." ~Luke 2:33

The disciples are amazed at Pentecost, too. (And they just finished up 40 days with a previously dead guy--you'd think resurrection would be amazing enough).

Why are we constantly surprised by grace? At some point, you'd think we'd get used to God showing up in our lives... but we never seem to take it seriously. (or maybe our experience fades due to our own preoccupations and then we suddenly re-remember God's goodness when it catches our attention?) I don't mean normality or boredom--we SHOULD delight in the awe and wonder at being in God's presence--but eight days after angels fill the sky and you'd think people would be a tad more expectant  (less 'whaaa???' and more 'wow! It's just like God to do that').

But I confess: it's only been a week since Easter and I'm certainly fighting the temptation to leave it like pastel chalk on the calendar behind me...  Resurrection feels less like a present miraculous reality and more like last Sunday's sermon. 

But what if I expected God to keep showing up? What would unabashed Easter-life look like even after the baskets are packed away? What WOULD it look like for me to expect the fullness of God's life and Spirit? 

Ashes and Myrrh and breath that scatters sin

I'm home from today's stations of the cross--smelling like campfire, myrrh, and frankincense--and filled deeply with gratitude. 

At our stations of the cross tonight, we were supposed to have a fire in the courtyard (because that's where Peter denies Jesus in Luke). But it rained/drizzled/threatened to rain again all morning, so we pushed the fire pit under an overhang and invited people to sit by a pile of logs. (Dark weather is perfect for Good Friday, btw, so the tradeoff wasn't so bad). 

However, when I returned from a break, I was delighted to find that the other pastor (Allen) and our youth minister (Austin) had those logs roaring away! 

Moreover, our last station included packets of 'grave spices' for people to take home (myrrh, frankincense, misc. herbs etc). Well Austin had the great idea of emptying one into the fire, which was perfect since those first two ingredients were solid chunks of incense anyways. The whole place smelled holy. It was beautiful!

...and we finished the night by burning the same slips of paper that people brought to the altar on Ash Wednesday. One of them simply said "sin"; I know because it flew open when I tossed it into the pit and I watched it slowly curl into itself--from the edges in--and shift from white to umber to embers. Soon, the sin in the center was consumed and the whole thing was a powdered remnant that scattered with the toss of a breathe.

"And Jesus called out with a loud voice, 'Father into thy hands I commit my spirit.' And having said this, he breathed his last." --Luke 23:46

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. 

And now we wait for resurrection.  

Wind, weddings, and wine bars

I spent the evening (waif dessert at a wine bar) with a couple who drove into the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. They shared story after miraculous story of generosity and grace (a serendipitous can of orange juice for someone craving it. Diapers and baby food that arrived just as the supply went out. Women who had nothing, but just wanted to be hugged...) but my favorite story involved their reason for driving into the devastation. 

Their son was getting married. 

The wedding had been scheduled long before the hurricane arrived, and while many would have canceled because of crumbling buildings or weeks without power, this couple chose to say their vows. The extra festivities (food and dancing, live band and white dress) would happen later at a "second celebration" but the core of what a wedding should be (prayers and vows and worship) --the deep heart of a wedding's purpose can't be blown away by any wind. 

So the bride spray-painted "worship Sunday at 10am" onto a torn sheet, stretched it across the church front and invited anyone who wanted to join them. Most of the church members had driven north to escape the storm, so the wedding took place among strangers (survivors) who genuinely gathered to worship God --even after storms devastated their lives.

One woman was in tears: "my whole life--everything I have--is destroyed. I don't even have a single shard of a teacup to remember how things were... Yet here you are. Making a new start. A new life amid wreckage. Thank you for letting me witness this! It gives me hope."

Someone brought flowers (to this day, the couple has no idea where they came from or who brought the bouquet and altar flowers). A complete stranger from down the street managed to cook food for the ten or so in the party's family. And the bride spent her honeymoon days sleeping on the hospital floor because she was a nurse and patients were filling all the beds. 

Faithful people are amazing. 

The boats were full

Our Tuesday worship service has settled into a communal bible study --sort of a group lectio divina. And, since I've been reading Luke, our passage this week was Jesus' calling of the disciples on lake Gennesaret (Luke 5:1-11). I've read the passage a million times, but someone else noticed this week that the disciples left everything behind to follow Jesus. Not just the boats and nets and gear, but EVERYTHING--including the miraculously gigantic haul of fish that almost sunk the boats. It may be because artwork usually depicts the boats as empty, but I never realized that the boats left behind we're full. 

 After an exhausting and disappointing night of catching nothing (meaning no fish to eat or sell for their families) they obey Jesus and experience an incredibly successful endeavor. Fishing was their livelihood--Their business--so those boats and nets were full of profits. Success was right in front of them; 

they were going to make bank! 

And they left everything to follow Jesus. 

Now, granted, leaving a boat full of old fish might not seem great for passerbys or downwind neighbors, but what about the crowd who gathered to hear Jesus--what if they were still around? And who listened to Jesus better than the poor? (It was an 8-year-old boy named Elijah, actually, who suggested the fish could go to the poor). What if the would-be disciples landed ashore with boats full of fish and immediately encountered a hungry crowd of Jesus' poor. 

If so, then THAT is the context where Jesus said they would be fishing for people. That's the context where disciples left their profits behind to feed the poor and follow Christ. 

Segregated Heaven

A woman from my church came into the office today looking for a book. She was preparing a program for her women's circle and wanted something about a woman who faced adversity and struggled through--so I gave her Delores William's Sisters in the Wilderness. I warned her that it was a theology book and a little on the heavy side, but especially recommended the first chapter about Hagar the slave-woman from Africa. If ever a woman faced adversity, surely it was Hagar as interpreted through the lens of a black woman.

The woman, in turn, shared with me a story about a black woman who worked for her family--raising the kids and helping with laundry.

"I loved to watch her iron," she said, "because she was always singing. Worship songs, usually. 

One day, I asked her--'May? Is there a white Jesus and a black Jesus?'' 

And she said, 'no child. There's only one God--it's the same for all of us. Why?'

and I said, "because when I get to heaven, I want to be where you are."

...the woman smiled at the memory, laughed about the way that children think--and then said it wasn't all that strange of a question. In the midst of a segregated world, why wouldn't a child think about a segregated heaven? Scripture, of course, insists that--even with our differences--there's only ONE Christ and only one heaven for all of us (Ephesians 4:1-6; Galatians 3:27-28) but the injustices and systemic sins of our world can warp our view of God.

But the flip side is true too: If our heaven isn't segregated, why on earth should our world be?
I doubt that Christ has a giant wall up in heaven to separate one kind of culture from another.
...so why on earth would we build one here? Why would that even start to be a viable political question for people who are praying to make this world more like the Kingdom of God?

Water into Wine

It's been a while since I've posted anything (even though I have plenty to post--there is a ton of material from my trip to South Africa, notes/reflections from prayer stations we used for All Saints Sunday--not to mention pictures from Advent when we followed traced the story of God's presence through the entire Jesse tree)...

But this past Sunday, I preached on John 2:1-12 Jesus' miracle at the wedding in Cana (otherwise known as Jesus turning water into wine).

At first I was drawn to the servants--those who listened to Mary's words ("Do all that he tells you" she said, pointing to Christ) and their willing obedience to Jesus.
They must have drawn a LOT of water. (six stone jars holding 20-30 gallons of water, filled to the brim; that's 120 gallons on the low side. ....calculate that a gallon of water weighs about 8.5 pounds and those servants hauled over a half-ton of weight in water--On TOP of their normal duties as servants). What incredible faithfulness!! How powerful that Jesus' first miracle relied on the participation and obedience of servants.

Then I kept thinking about the miracle itself: the transformation from one substance to another. 

This particular lectionary cycle put that text in the first Sunday of ordinary time--immediately following the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday. Which meant that I was contemplating John 2 while Allen was preaching about baptism and the power of the Holy Spirit that brings transformation into our lives and the lives around us. That's the miracle of sanctification--our pursuit of holiness and Christian perfection happens by God's miracle and our participation (obedience) of that grace.

That's when I noticed the shift from water into wine foreshadows the story of Christ's ministry-- From the waters of Jordan to the wine of the last supper. from baptism to the blood of crucifixion.

So, too, does our Christian faith follow this shift from baptism to a gradual transformation into being Christ-like. Our communion prayer asks that we, like the blood of Christ, would be poured out in obedience and service to the world. And, indeed, the ACT of servant obedience and active participation in God's grace is the very means through which we are transformed and changed.

Thus my final sermon image--a call to holiness, obedience, participation and action (so that as we do everything Christ tells us to do, we would be made into the image of Christ):