Weird Gifts, or Answered Prayer

      I was going through my unposted blog writings yesterday.  I write a lot, but much of it I discard as not appropriate for the public eye, or too personal at times, or easy to misinterpret, or simply unfinished: I never found the time or the words to finish the post so it was never officially posted.  But I sometimes go through the old half-finished posts, and occasionally I will find a writing that I want to revisit, edit, finish or rewrite into something that I can post.  

     Yesterday I found something I wrote in 2017: "I'm really missing my lectionary group in Cleveland these last few months.  I miss their friendship, their camaraderie, their support, their wisdom, their commitment to action, their faithfulness and their steadfast presence in my life.  The group size changed while I was there as life circumstances moved some away and brought others in, but we were a solid 12 most of the six and a half years I was in Cleveland.  We met every week to study scripture, to offer each other support and care, to share food and to pray together.  We were a house church in the truest sense of that word: a small community of folk studying, working, praying and eating together: boosting each other up for the work we would do in our churches and in the world. I miss that. I think we are called to have that kind of supportive 'house church' kind of small community. It has been difficult to create something like that among my pastor colleagues here (I probably shouldn't say this, but Bay Areans tend to get much of our self-worth from being busy and needed, which means taking the time to be with people, to slow down and simply study scripture and pray together weekly is hard to make happen).  But this makes me very aware of the real gift that it was for me, and that it continues to be, for those who are a part of it."

      I found that writing.  And it was weird for me because I realized that that was a prayer, a request, an ask of God and the universe.  It was a need, not just a want, to have that kind of community.  And while God's timing is never my own, it was a prayer that was, in fact, answered.  And it wasn't answered by a substitute, it was answered by the real thing.  What I mean is that when the pandemic started and everyone moved their normal meetings to Zoom, my lectionary group in Cleveland moved their meetings to Zoom also and then invited those of us who had moved away to rejoin them.  I joined back right away and have been faithful in meeting with them weekly, even though their 9:30am Eastern meeting time means I have needed to be up, dressed, showered and ready by 6:30am Pacific time every Tuesday morning.

      I have said on many occasions that re-meeting with my lectionary group has been the greatest of the pandemic gifts for me.  I want to be clear: I am NOT saying the pandemic is a good thing.  What I am saying is that there are gifts to be found in every crisis, in every difficulty.  And for me, this ability to be part of this group again was the best of the gifts I received during this time.  And even though other groups have started to re-meet in person, our lectionary group has continued to meet through Zoom, which means I am still able to delight in this gift that has been so valuable to me.  

      I want to acknowledge that I recognize there are losses (for them, but also for me) in meeting like this.  The "eating together" part of the group no longer happens as we meet on Zoom.  Side one-on-one conversations really can't happen in the Zoom format, which means that the individual connections and closenesses maybe aren't as strong.  I miss those things too, as I'm sure they do.  I used to meet more one-on-one with a few of the folk in addition to the weekly group and we don't do that anymore.  But the gifts in weekly community, weekly "church" for me, weekly connection to other pastors, weekly study, weekly prayer in this way: those gifts just can't be underestimated or understated.  Seeing my old writing, my old lament, reminded me again of just what an amazing gift, not one I can ever take for granted, this has been.  

        It also called me to look again at some of the other prayers that have been answered, sometimes without my acknowledgement or even awareness.  I've shared this story before, but to say again: my uncle was angry at me (over a misunderstanding that I could not correct) for years.  I had tried to reconcile it without luck.  But I continued to pray, constantly, for that relationship to heal.  I prayed for ten years.  Out of the blue, almost 10 years after that rift had taken place, he decided to let it go and we were able to reconcile.  That happened just two months before he died, unexpectedly, of a heart attack.  That was an answer to prayer for which I will always be incredibly grateful.  

    The ability to take on this job at Clayton Valley, at exactly the point in time when my kids were each graduating from a different school, to move back home, to be present for my parents as my mom's health needs escalated, and to start my work here: that too was an incredible answer to prayer.

    I could go on and on with examples, but there is a point I'm wanting to make here.  I lifted up my lament about my lectionary group in 2017.  That was answered in 2020.  I lifted up prayers about my uncle for about 10 years before that reconciliation happened.  My journey to Clayton Valley was also long: certainly longer than I had planned.  As I've said before, God's timing is not my timing. 

     I currently have a hand-full of desperate prayers on the table.  And I can become frustrated, scared, sad when I am not seeing an answer to those prayers.  But my job, as always, is to keep lifting them up:  to do what is in front of me to be done: to do my part, what I can do.  Sometimes prayers are answered with ideas about what else we can do to move forward.  So it is also my part to listen.  To listen for movement, for wisdom, for guidance.  And finally, it is my part to trust and to wait.  Because the big prayers, the really important ones all have been answered.  That is my history, that is my experience.  I have to trust that the God who has made my life good and strong and healthy to this point will be the God who will answer my prayers when the time is right, a time rarely to be recognized or determined by me.  

    The reminders of the gifts I have received, the prayers that have been answered, the many wondrous experiences, connections, reconciliations, and healings that have come - those reminders, those memories are empowering and are the foundation on which I must stand with patience for the journey.  For sometimes the journey is long and the wait feels eternal.  But I can look back and remember that in the scheme of things, the wait has also had lessons within it.  And the journey has also been deeply valuable and full of experiences, learnings, and other gifts.    

    Hang in there, my friends.  And keep your eyes open to seeing God in this place, in this time.