More Reflections On This Time

    I've had some time to reflect more on my sabbatical time, and what I found, once again, was that the parts I enjoyed the most were the unplanned and unscheduled surprises.

    Starting with my time with eldest and youngest as we toured the gardens in CA, the two gardens that we enjoyed the most were the unexpectedly large gardens of Davis, and Descanso garden in LA.  Neither were on the list of gardens we planned to see, neither made it into my sabbatical grant application, and yet, these two gardens were by far the most interesting, most beautiful, most serene gardens we saw.  Our time in both was the best we had of any of the gardens, and I find myself looking at the pictures I took from those two especially.  

    Then when David and I were on Iona, the hikes I took to parts of Iona that I didn't even know existed were an amazing gift.  The view from our room as well as the view from the hotel conservatory were also unexpected gifts.  The conversations I had with strangers were an amazing addition to my time there, and even the extended train trip back to Glasgow was a gift of scenery and time to just rest and be with David. The little hotel we stayed at in Glasgow was also a gift.  From the street it looked like a dive, a hole in the wall, difficult even to spot.  But when we went into the building and ascended to the 6th floor where the actual hotel was, we found a truly lovely place that had set out free homemade cakes and tea for its guests.  I ate an amazing mocha cake with my tea, that was a very unexpected surprise.

    On our UK tour, too, while there were scheduled visits I really enjoyed (such as listening to the story teller and the time with the forager), most of the times that I reflect on and enjoyed the most were the unexpected and unscheduled times.  I loved that the day David and I arrived in London, we learned that the Mousetrap was running that evening, tickets were available and we had time to go see it! What a gift for this Agatha Christie fan!  I also had time to hike out to Hyde park on my own and spend time really enjoying that garden.  The Kew garden in London as well as the gardens I found in Bath, in Weymouth and at St Fagan's National Museum of History that weren't on the tour, but that I took the time to find, stepping out of the scheduled events to do so... these were by far the best gardens we saw!  While others went shopping in Windsor, David and I found a garden with a Ferris wheel that allowed us an incredible view of the river and of Windsor Castle.  The hikes I took by myself in Lulworth and Lynton, also while others were shopping, were incredible!

    Even coming to Porto to begin the Camino was filled with unexpected and wonderful gifts: I loved walking around Porto with David, even though it was in pursuit of a dentist to look at my tooth.  With Middle, I loved walking around Porto to try to get him a better backpack.  As I mentioned before, we didn't find one for him, but instead, we found this amazing garden that overlooked the river.  This was completely off my radar, and yet, it was beautiful, serene, and to just walk around it with my son incredible!  Even needing to go home early had its gifts.  My friend who helped me set up my time and stays for the Camino kept in constant contact with both Middle and I as he finished out his pilgrimage.  Having that extra support and connection with someone I value so very deeply was also an unexpected but deeply appreciated gift. 

    Now I'm back and trying to garden in the mornings.  Here, too, I've found some unexpected gifts.  For example, last night I dreamed that one particular plant in my garden was crying for help and was sagging and not doing well.  This morning I went out to look at it.  I have planted over 30 plants this summer, but this was a very particular plant that I dreamed about.  Sure enough when I went out to look over all the plants, it was this very plant that needed a little extra TLC: it was wilty and struggling.  None of the others were.  I don't know what you might make of that, but I have my own interpretation.  It is wonderful to feel so connected to this life that I've been surrounding myself with.  

    As I mentioned in other posts, I can focus on what went wrong and was a disappointment, or I can take the space to focus on the unexpected and lovely gifts that come my way every day.  Today I am remembering and enjoying what was unplanned but beautiful.  I am grateful that for me, there are by far more unexpected wonders than unexpected disappointments.  

And so it goes...

     As I've written before, I was unable to spend my time on the Camino, per my sabbatical plans.  Then, returning home, I've found that the last part of my sabbatical, which was supposed to be fixing up my own garden, has also been "sabotaged" in many ways.  First, the expense, even with dental insurance, of dealing with the infection in my tooth and jaw was extreme, which has made the buying of plants and mulch difficult.  Secondly, the excessive heat has also meant that while I can go outside for an hour or so in the morning, that really just allows me to do maintenance on what is already there.  Anything I would plant right now would have a hard time surviving, and my time outside is limited by my ability to endure the heat.  

    At any rate, all of this has caused me to do some serious reflection on the very nature of my life, and probably, all lives.

    Things don't go as planned.  Again, I can really only talk about my own life here.  But I've had dreams and plans, big and small, and very rarely have any of them gone the way I wanted or even expected.  Examples:

    I thought I would be married fairly young, but in fact wasn't married until I was 29.  I also didn't expect trauma, betrayal, divorce, or any of that, but no one ever does.

    I thought I would be a missionary; working for justice and empowerment overseas.  In fact, I really wasn't very good at that work when I tried it so that did not pan out.

    Then I thought I would settle into a home and raise my kids and be a permanent active part of a community throughout my life.  In fact, the longest I've ever lived in a home as an adult is 8 1/2 years, and that is my current home.  Before this, the longest we'd been in a house was 6 years. And I've lived all over: from the Southwest to the South to the Midwest and back here to CA.  

    My vacations have rarely gone as planned.  When Middle and I planned a hiking trip to Yosemite, the car broke down on the way there.  On a family trip to Tahoe, Middle and David had to return early for a school requirement we didn't know about until the last minute.  Another trip to Tahoe, I had to return because of a church situation.  And these stories go on.  As a matter of fact, this problem with vacations never working out the way they are planned is so consistent for me that I was certain before we left that something would go wrong.  As you know, it did.  I don't know why, then, I was so upset by it.  I mean, I expected it at some level, but just hoped so deeply that I was wrong and it would all work out.  

    As I said, small things, big things...

    But as I've sat with this, I've also remembered that many things have worked out better than I expected.  I've made friendships where they weren't expected.  I've connected with people who have shown up in my life in truly unexpected ways.  David was a surprise, a very good one.  I've also had surprises in my career.  I didn't expect to be asked if I wanted to co-moderate the Presbytery, for example.  That was a wonderful surprise!  All my jobs as a musician: not one of them have I applied for: they have all come to me, been offered to me, and each one has been a wonderful gift allowing me to play piano and do other things musically, and to experience the joys of doing so.  My job at Bethel came as an incredibly wonderful surprise, working with Sarah was a gift that has continued to give, even though neither of us are at Bethel any longer.  My job at St. Andrew's was also full of incredible surprises: the people and their care and generosity being number one.  The opening at Clayton Valley was a great surprise and getting the position here has been a wonderful gift. Having a publisher reach out to me repeatedly to publish my blogs into a couple books was also an amazing, wonderful surprise, as was being asked to write devotionals for These Days for a couple weeks.  The list goes on!

    Can we weigh these things?  I don't know that that would be helpful.  But I'm back to feeling that what I'm being called to do, both with this time and with the situations that have arisen in my life is to look for what is good, to look for what is beautiful.

    I've needed to name for myself, honestly, that I can tend to focus more on the negative, when there are good things all around.  My personality does not sit in the good as much as it struggles with the challenges.  But I have some choice in this.  I know gratitude is always a gift, and it is one that lifts spirits, brings joy, and helps us connect more fully with God, with Love, with Beauty.  So, as always, my lesson in this remains to spend the time each day that calls for me to reflect on what has come that has been good, that has been surprising but also gifting, where God has been and continues to be in my day, in my life.  

    Three weeks of Sabbatical left... and I am going to be intentional about this time.  It will go quickly!

Plant Lessons

     The last two days we explored Bath, home of my favorite author Jane Austen (and we went on a tour of her presence in Bath as well as spending time in a Jane Austen museum) as well as place of the Roman Baths (which we visited to learn the history throughout the years). I was also able to visit and experience a number of gardens including the Botanical Gardens within the Royal Victoria Park, the Parade Gardens and the Sydney Gardens. Today we drove through the countryside to Wales where we will spend the next couple days.  Soon after entering Wales we visited a well known kitchen garden (attached to a fantastic restaurant) and then had the extraordinary experience of meeting and being taught in an interactive outdoor classroom by Adele Nozedar, an author and foraging expert who talked about reconnecting with our roots, with the earth, with the plants around us.  As she talked about the spirituality of the plants, their sacredness and the lessons they teach, I felt I had met a kindred spirit.  After our lesson, she and I talked about books we both love and the power of gardening and being in relationship with the plants around us.  But there are two things she said that are really sticking with me this evening.

    She said she really hated the word “weed.”  “What is a weed?” she asked.  It is only a label we put on some plants and don’t put on others.  It labels some as “bad” and in need of being uprooted.  She said every plant has gifts to give, lessons to teach, and when we label some as weeds we stop seeing them.

    Hm.  I could take this in so many directions.  First, we do this with people as well.  When we label someone a criminal, a bum, an illegal, it is a way of dismissing them, of no longer seeing them, or, as with most times when we label someone, never seeing them in the first place. It is unjust and dangerous: for it separates us from one another and gives us permission to avoid really getting to know one another fully.  But secondly, I agree with her about our labels around plants. Yarrow is a common “weed” but also a beautiful plant in its own right.  Wild flowers are often seen as weeds.  I started to wonder as I planted my garden, and now continue to wonder, how to make the decisions about what plant should be allowed to live and grow and what should not. When I decide I don’t want a plant in my yard (and two that come to mind are thistles of various kinds and scarlet pimpernel), what is best to be done about it?  I struggle with this. Scarlet pimpernel, for example, is really quite lovely.  But it takes over everything in the yard, strangling and spreading as it goes. It is invasive, a non-native plant to the Americas and toxic.  But as I’ve read about it, it, too has gifts to give and has been used medicinally for centuries in many different cultures. Should I label it a weed?  Or is there another way to remove it without vilifying it?  

    The second thing that Ms. Nozedar said that I want to share is actually a story of a practice in Llanfrynach, Wales where we had our foraging lesson.  She said that there were times, as there always are, when two people would be feuding within a community.  If it became too much for the community, they had a practice.  They would send the two people to “the tree.”  As the two people walked towards the tree they were permitted to argue and bicker as harshly or loudly or argumentatively as they wanted until they reached the edges of the Tilia tree (linden tree) which creates under it’s big branches a quiet refuge.  Once the two came to the edge of the tree, they were to step inside the tree in silence, and stop talking.  They were required then to sit together in the silence under the tree until one or the other was moved to apologize.  Only then were they allowed to leave to return home.  

    What a powerful story!  I think we have forgotten how to fight with each other, or rather, how to reconcile and deal with our differences.  Perhaps it is time to resurrect this practice, first speaking honestly about our own thoughts and feelings, and then sitting quietly together, thinking about what the other said, being in the stillness until there is movement in our hearts and a place and space to see our own culpability in any conflict and to forgive one another.  The tree plays a big part in this.  It creates the sacred space of listening and quietly waiting for healing, for answers. It also acts as a witness. It stands as a testimony to all who have entered under its boughs and been brought to consciousness of their own failings, moved to repent and to ask for forgiveness which then opens the door to reconciliation.  It is a reminder as well as a symbol of what is possible when people are intentional about working through their disagreements.

    I am so grateful for these stories and all that I learned today.    

Becoming

We’ve only been on this journey 3 and days.  But so far the number of interesting conversations I’ve had with strangers has been beyond my expectations. Below I name just a few of those interactions:

On the bus bridge between BART stations I had a conversation with a woman who had just come back from walking the Porto-Santiago part of the Camino: the same path Middle and I will be walking. We had a wonderful conversation about knee problems and how to make the walk pleasant and possible.  We talked about our sons (she walked with her adult son as I will be walking with mine).  It was truly a delightful and unexpected conversation.

While waiting for the ferry to Mull, I ended up in a conversation with a stranger who worked on Iona for 24 years.  She shared with me about her life, her time on Iona, her little house on Fionnphort, and then she also shared that her husband had died 9 months ago, what happened, what that has been like for her and how she is surviving it.  While that part of the conversation was not necessarily “fun,” it was valuable and deep.

In my blog post yesterday I shared about the conversation I had with the young man studying to become a Jesuit priest.  That conversation about our lives, faith, trust, spirituality, continues to cause reflection and learning for me.

This morning at breakfast I ended up in a conversation with a couple at the table next to us.  The man worked as a head librarian for the highlands while his wife owned a book store.  Now retired, they are active in the Church of Scotland as elders and we spent an hour discussing all of our connections and what Iona has meant to each of us.

At lunch today, I ended up talking with a large group of folk who are here on pilgrimage from the US.  Many are pastors, some Presbyterian, and some from the Bay Area! They encouraged me to join a group called “clergy with cats” on FaceBook so we can stay connected.

These are a few of the conversations I’ve had so far.  I’m sure there will be more conversations like this: we have only been on the road since late Saturday, and much of that time involved confined travel situations.

But what I have learned from reflecting on these is a couple things: First, almost always there are ways we can connect with those around us: there are things we share in common, and opportunities to learn from the differences.  Each of these connections with strangers included gifts.  Each conversation provided chances for me to learn more deeply about the world and about others, to restore some faith for me in humanity in general, in the kindness of the world, and in the deeper connections and similarities we all share. 

Secondly, with each conversation, as I looked over at David, he was laughing and shaking his head.  I asked him if it bothered him that I was having all these conversations with strangers, and his response was, “No, of course not!  This is just YOU!”  But what I realized is that I don’t, or at least I haven’t, seen myself this way.  What I mean is that I generally self define as shy, as introverted, as socially awkward and as withdrawn.  I see myself as a person on the outside of what is happening around me much of the time. But seeing myself through David’s eyes, I have come to realize that maybe the shy, withdrawn version of myself was more about my own sense of insecurity than anything real about who I truly am.  I’m growing past those insecurities, and as a result I feel more able to be who I really am.  I’m moving more into a place of not caring as much about other people’s judgements of me.  I am more willing to take the risk of being disliked and feel less intimidated into trying to be the person I believe other people want me to be.  I’ve seen this in other parts of my life as well. My eldest child has much of my social awkwardness, but they also are not afraid to be who they want to be.  They wear clothing that doesn’t necessarily fit into current styles, and they still (at the ripe old age of 24) are willing to grab my hand in public.  They burst into singing in places like grocery stores and while walking.  It’s not that they are unaware that others find these behaviors odd: they simply don’t care.  And I’m finding that I don’t either.  Eldest gets to be who Eldest chooses to be, and I feel nothing but pride at their decisions to live as they want, even when that means others around them don’t or won’t understand or appreciate their choices.  Being around Eldest has also given me some courage to choose for myself as well.  When they start to sing, sometimes I will join them, just because I want to, for example. 

Moving past other people’s judgments also encourages me to move beyond my own self-judgments.  Today, for example, we are on the incredible Island of Iona.  As I planned my time here, I saw it mostly involving walking, hiking, meditating, praying, and attending services.  I did walk this morning and it was wonderful and lovely.  But currently it is raining, it is extremely windy with a bitter gale that I simply don’t enjoy.  So, I am sitting in a beautiful conservatory in the inn and writing.  I am listening to the wind and the rain, but within the confines of a dry and comfortable space.  My inclination in making this choice was self-condemnation, “Barbara Ellen, you SHOULD be taking advantage of your time here to walk, to hike!  You will regret it if you don’t!”  Maybe… or maybe I will appreciate that this is my time, and I am doing what is making me happy in this moment, looking out at the ocean while sitting surrounded by geraniums and listening to the sounds of nature around me. Life doesn’t always happen in the ways we expect.  And that is more than okay. 

The conversations I’ve been having with strangers are just one part of moving into being who I want and choose to be.  Sitting and writing instead of walking in the rain and wind is another piece of that as well.  I am so grateful for today and for this time.

Season of Change

           Last week I wrote a letter for our church newsletter that focused on the nature of change.  I want to include part of what I wrote here, but take it a step further.  

          Every change involves grief.  Even good changes mean there is loss: something that was is now no longer and we have moved into something that is different from what was before.  While some of these changes are easier to get through than others, they all invite us into a process where we can either grow or stagnate, learn and develop or become angry and bitter.  When we try to skirt around the feelings of grief that change brings, usually it ends up hurting us in the end: we are not as able to truly move forward, to grow through the healing process, or to do the inner work required to become the whole people God calls us to be.  

          As I write this, I am preparing to go on Sabbatical.  This is a joyous time: both for me and for my congregation.  For me, I will have intentional and extended time off.  I don’t believe I’ve ever had a vacation or even a day off that was completely free from work in my years serving as a pastor.  There have always been phone calls, texts, emails that need my attention and I’ve been happy to give it.  I love my work and that call has shown me that my work has been valued and appreciated.  At the same time, I am tired and taking a true step away for a few months will be different for me. I will be turning off my computer for these months, stepping away from phone calls and texts.  For much of the time I will be out of the country and unable to receive contact of any kind, but even while I am in the country, a sabbatical requires a stepping away, a silencing of these modes of contact. That will be new for me, but in 28 years of ministry, I’m hoping it will be a time of spiritual renewal.  Jesus modelled stepping away to pray and to regroup and I am trying to learn from his example as I take this time apart.

For my congregation, they will have the experience of a wonderful woman coming to fill in for me who is a colleague, friend and mentor whom I'm hoping will be able to lead them in a different way for a few months.  She will bring different visions, different insight and will be able to lead and walk with the congregation in new ways.  These are all good things.  I will return in August and that will also be a good thing: I hope to come back with renewed energy and vision and I look forward to hearing what my congregation has learned during my time away. 

               But I also need to name, as I began, that every change involves grief.  Grief can include feelings of sadness, depression, anxiety.  While my hope is that these feelings will be minimal for my congregants, I can honestly say that they are rising steadily for me.  I worry about life transitions that I may not be here to support or to walk through. I wonder what my parishioners feel and how they will move through this time. Personally, I worry how it will be for me to not be defined by my ministry.  I have anxiety about the transition back when I return in August.  

            Our session (executive council) for our congregation met yesterday.  We are reading together a book about family and church systems and the chapter we read for yesterday discussed how the anxiety of grief can cause people to "act out."  I feel called to name that despite my understanding this to be true, it is still the case that I find my anxiety causing me to behave differently than I would choose. Today I was snippy and unusually direct with a congregant about something that had hurt someone I love.  Normally I would step back, take a breath before reacting, and be able to be more pastoral in my response.  But today I acted from that reactive anxious place.  I apologized, and fortunately was able to see it for what it was: a reaction based in anxiety and the grief of change.  Even more fortunately for me, he was also able to see that as well and so did not take it personally.  Still, my own behavior was a call to pay attention, and to breathe more deeply through the next couple weeks as I prepare to go.  

            As with all transitions, this is an invitational time for me to pay attention.  As with all feelings, the anxiety calls us to listen and to be honest in our feelings.  But once again, God did not leave me alone in my anxiety.  In the middle of today's drama, I received a phone call from someone I haven't spoken to in nine years.  It was a delightful and unexpected "catch up" conversation with a parishioner from my last congregation. I left the call with several gifts.  

         First, it was a reminder to me that even if I were not returning (and I am returning!!), there would be people who had valued my time here.  I do not need to be anxious that my presence has been unvalued or unimportant.  Even parishioners who experienced me for a much shorter time and during an unusually dramatic and difficult time value what I had to give.  

       Second, it was a reminder that even when we are apart from one another, we remain connected.  Our hearts, our experiences together, our walks together matter.  They continue to be part of who we are even when we are separate.   

      Finally, and always, it was a reminder that God never leaves us alone. At the moment when I most needed reassurance and comfort, I was given the gift of this re-connection.  The ways in which God binds us to one another and is the glue, the love, the communion in community is so important and essential.  And for all of that I am deeply grateful.

     During this season of change I am striving to walk with my eyes open.  I will make mistakes.  But none of us are alone, and with love and intentionality we will walk through the struggles to emerge in a better place on the other side.  Thanks be to God.

Longing for Childhood

    Today as I sat in my office and heard one of the kids in our children's center crying his eyes out, I realized that there are things I really miss about being a child.  Okay, yes, I realize that sounds odd: I'm hearing a child crying and I'm missing childhood.  But at the moment that I had that realization, I truly wished I could have been crying my eyes out too.  There are too many moving parts in my life right now and expenses piling up this month that are deeply worrying.  I have felt like I can't draw breath over the last few days because of all the many different things that have demanded my attention: sick kids needing to go to urgent care, the car breaking down again, the cat also needing to go to the cat eye doctor (an hour's drive away) for possible melanoma of the eye, helpers hired for a problem with our backyard who need to be supervised and paid, window shades and material for drapes needing to be bought to block out the intense heat that's been making our kitchen and family room into a sauna, people in my circle of influence being hurt and offended who need consolation, compassion and perhaps a different understanding of comments and events, issues at Presbytery that need addressing yesterday, trips out to the airport and even an overnight "step away" that just went wrong as well as my regular work...And all of this hit at once.  

    As I sat listening today to the boy crying I thought, I want to be able to do that.  I don't want to have to be responsible in every single moment, following the rules and expectations when I just would rather be having a temper tantrum and hoping someone like the teacher outside with the crying boy was there to hold and comfort me.  

    I miss other things from childhood too: daily nap time, snack times that don't add pounds to one's body, the tiny squabbles that erupt from concerns no bigger than who gets to play with what toy in this moment rather than over how to pay the bills.  I miss being able to just be whoever I am, and say whatever crosses my mind rather than needing to be thoughtful and intentional about saying the right thing in the right way.  It's exhausting striving always to live up to others' expectations as well as my own.  I miss being able to just BE. 

    Don't you feel that way at times too?

    I found myself saying to my kids today that I look forward to retirement because at that point I'm just going to say what I want to say and act how I want to act, but I know it's not true.  That time of being exactly who we are and saying exactly what we want to say has passed.  It was a gift we didn't recognize we had when we had it, and now it is gone.  I care too much about what other people think and feel to be able to return to that obliviousness or carelessness.  I don't ever want to be someone who is thoughtless in the face of other's potential pain, so I won't choose that, ever.

    But the reflection today did give me two gifts.

     First, it caused me to think about what gifts I currently have that I take for granted and will miss at a later time.  One of those is having meaningful work.  I need to be more appreciative of this time when I can and do work.  Another is a functioning body that allows me to exercise and move in the ways I want.  I also still have a sharp mind, and that too may not be permanent.  I need to pause and remember that these gifts, like all gifts, are temporary and fleeting.  I need to appreciate them now.

    Second, I found myself thinking about how to reclaim some of those things that I am missing from childhood.  How can I express myself more honestly, but in a way that is not damaging or hurtful to others?  Can I take five minutes to cry my eyes out before returning to my work, just to give myself permission to have those feelings and to express them?  How can I create room for my needs as well as the many pressing needs of my family, work and friends?  How can I create some space to step back and breathe?  

    Each age has different gifts.  Recognizing them now can be a gift in itself.  Recognizing them in hindsight can give us insights into what is missing from our current lives that call us to change, to try something different, to adjust.  My yearning today for those earlier, easier times of childhood was a bit of a wake-up call to make some adjustments in my life.  What are your yearnings and longings saying to you?

Our Children as Mirrors

             Yesterday when Youngest came home from school, I saw that she was wearing makeup.  She doesn't usually, so it surprised me.   I said, “you are wearing makeup.”  And she became defensive about it, saying she hadn’t been feeling confident that morning and thought it might help.  I told her there was no reason for her to feel defensive as I had no judgment about it. And I truly didn't!  I wore makeup in high school, and I occasionally wear it now. But she did not believe me.  And as I thought about the fact that she is often very private with me, often does not choose to share what she is thinking and feeling, I had the revelation that she is not sharing with me because she believes I will judge her.  “I don’t judge you,” I said.  “I think you are absolutely brilliant, creative, interesting, dedicated, hardworking, artistically gifted, hilarious (when you choose to be), and I adore you!  I don’t judge you.” 

          Her response was, “Yes, you do.  You judge everyone.  When you talk about other people, it’s always judgment.” 

               I was stunned.  I’ve often wondered if I share too much with the kids.  For the longest time, I was very careful about what I shared with them.  After all, it is not their job to take care of me, and I've always been very clear about that.  But after a conversation with a friend about this, I had started to think differently.  My friend had shared that she felt it was important for our kids to hear our struggles as it taught them to step out of themselves.  It gave them practice in listening to other people, and in being compassionate and empathetic to what others experience.  Also, two of my three kids are now "adults" at least in the sense that they are over 18.  My middle child frequently asks me what is going on with me, and when I don't have much to share, he pushes me on it.  He seems to genuinely want to know what is happening in my life, what I'm feeling and thinking.  So, especially with the older two, I have started to share more.  But Youngest sometimes hears these conversations, just as she often hears the conversations I have with David.  And while I have never seen or experienced myself as a judgmental person, I realized as I’ve thought about this that I am much quicker to share my frustrations or hurts at the hands of others, and slower to share the amazing good I see and experience at the hands of others.  That needs to change.  

      At first my reaction was "I will need to be more careful about what I share with the kids."  I envisioned myself "going quiet" in terms of my own personal struggles.  But I think that will not correct the mistake.  Instead, I think I need to be much more intentional about sharing the positive of people, the good I experience and see, than the negative.  This will not be a bad change.  I think about gratitude practices, and the spiritual and psychological disciplines of remembering each day what good has happened and what good has been experienced.  There is great power in these practices.  They help with depression, they help with healing.  As far as I can see there is no downside to sharing the good rather than the negative.  But focusing on the good, reporting the good, remembering to share where people have been kind and unexpectedly thoughtful: these are practices that will require a change in me.  The mirror that Youngest held up to me yesterday hurt.  But that mirror is an opportunity to grow.  One that I will accept as a challenge in my moving forward.

Being Blessed

 

Genesis 27:1-4, 15-23; 28:10-17

Mark 9:38-50

John 1:50-51

               Today we hear a story about Jacob stealing his brother Jacob’s blessing from his father.  This follows after Jacob has stolen Esau’s birthright, too.  Jacob is a trickster, he is a con.  He lies, is disrespectful to his father, cheats his brother, schemes and steals and in every way is NOT the hero we would expect to be the patriarch of Israel, but in fact he is exactly that: the patriarch of Israel.  It is later in Genesis that Jacob’s name is changed, in fact, TO Israel. 

The truth is this whole story may seem very strange to us.  It may seem strange to us at many, many levels.  First of all, why can’t Isaac bless BOTH sons?  After all, they are twins.  Esau was born only minutes before Jacob.  What is this blessing that is so important but also so limited in who is to receive it and who can receive it?  And if it is created simply by a word, why can’t Isaac take back those words, change those words, amend those words?  If he was tricked by lies, why can’t he reciprocate and say the words spoken in response to a falsehood are therefore themselves false?  And then, why is it that God seems to bless Jacob, this trickster, to choose him to become Israel, to BE Israel and to lead the people forward?

These are all legitimate questions.  Real questions.  Some of which can be answered by saying that these ideas of blessings rested on social conventions which were difficult to challenge.  That the blessing was a promise of inheritance, in this case land and power.  That once those promises were made, the only thing that Isaac could then do would be to offer mitigating promises in addition. 

In terms of God’s response, Lewis Hyde stated, “Tricksters always appear where cultures are trying to guard their eternal truths, their sacred cows. New cultures spring up whenever some trickster gets past the guard dogs and steals those cows.”  And this is what Jacob does — He breaks the rules, creates a new pathway and therefore opens up possibilities.  The implication here, then, is that God uses tricksters to break us out of our cultural ruts, to challenge the paths we have gotten stuck on and to encourage us to see life and rules and even conventions from a new vantage point, one that is willing to alter, change and amend things.  In this case, Jacob actually challenges the idea that it is always the first son who gets everything.  In this case, Jacob and Esau were twins, born moments apart, so the idea that one son gets it all and the other nothing appears especially ridiculous.

But I think the bigger question for us today is what does it really mean to be blessed, in the first place?  I don’t mean what was this blessing that Jacob stole.  I mean, we all seek blessings, God’s blessings.  We want them.  We invoke them for others, “Bless you” we say when someone sneezes, which was supposed to be a way to ward off death.  But we also use it in other ways. “God bless you!” we say when we are leaving or sending someone off.  “Blessings,” we may say to sign our names at the end of correspondence.   We also use it in sentences such as “bless his heart” by which we often mean, “That person can’t change, won’t change, so the best we can do is bless him and send him on his way.”  

But again, what do we really mean by that?  And what really is a blessing?  We experience God’s blessing in places that we don’t expect, in places that don’t look familiar to us.  We also experience God’s blessings in ways that we don’t usually call blessings.  Jacob, though he stole the “blessing” from his brother, ended up out in the wilderness: running away from his family out of fear that Esau, out of anger, will hurt him.  He struggles, he does not have an easy life.  The “blessing” that he stole cost him everything that he valued, at least for a time.  And we know this often plays out for us as well: that which we strive for, work for the most, sometimes ends up costing us a great deal, costing us everything we thought we valued most. 

I remember reading this wondering article by Scott Dannemiller entitled, “The one thing Christian’s should stop saying” (click to read article):

Whew.  And Amen!

But it is also important to note that “blessing” does not mean ease of Life.  Jacob’s life after this is not easy.  Just as he tricked, so too will he be tricked.  He will be tricked by his uncle in trying to marry Rachel.  He will wrestle with God and be forever limping afterwards.  He will be tricked by his own sons who will try to kill his favorite, Joseph, and sell him into slavery instead, telling their father only that he has died.   

But still, is he blessed? 

Yes.  And not only by his father.  He is blessed by God’s presence with him, and that takes many forms.  Sometimes it is God’s presence in the struggles.  Sometimes it is God’s presence in the good times.  The blessing is the ability to experience God in those times, to hear God, to see God and to choose healing and growing that God offers.  The alternative is to become bitter, cynical, angry, cranky.

“Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want.”  Well, isn’t that an incredible blessing?

 

I think the bottom line is that when we say “blessing” what we mean is “gift”.  But our ideas of what are gifts, what comes to us through grace and not just LIFE, has to grow, has to expand a bit.  And the lesson for us today in this is that we should not miss out on a blessing because it isn't packaged the way that we expect.

I’m reminded of a lovely poem by an unknown confederate soldier:

I asked God for strength that I might achieve.

I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things.

I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy.

I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.

I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.

I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all men, most richly blessed.

 

I want to end with a poem by Jan Richardson called

 

Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light

Blessed are you

who bear the light

in unbearable times,

who testify

to its endurance

amid the unendurable,

who bear witness

to its persistence

when everything seems

in shadow

and grief.

 

Blessed are you

in whom

the light lives,

in whom

the brightness blazes --

your heart

a chapel,

an altar where

in the deepest night

can be seen

the fire that

shines forth in you

in unaccountable faith,

in stubborn hope,

in love that illumines

every broken thing

it finds.

 

- Jan Richardson

 

The thing is, we are most richly blessed when we are giving and caring and loving others.  That is when we are most richly and most meaningfully blessed.  And that is a blessing we bring to and on ourselves through our own choices and our own decisions to care for and offer care for others.  This is a blessing we can claim for ourselves, not through the trickery of Jacob, not through the anger of Esau, but through the decision to love.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

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.

You are Not Less Worthy

Luke 4:14-30

1 Corinthians 12:12-31

1/17/21

        Which part of the body are you?  Are you the eyes, seeing everything that goes on, observing, and through that seeing, helping us to be guided forward as a church, as a people, into the future?  Are you the ears, hearing the concerns and hearing the gifts, hearing the wisdom and the direction that God is calling us to take?  Are you the feet, leading the body of the church into the world to do the work of serving people?  Or are you the shoulders, holding up those who have burdens to bear?   Are you the guts of the church, keeping it going in terms of numbers and finances?  Are you the brains of the church, called to make decisions about the direction of the church?  Maybe you are the mouth, called to speak up about injustices, or to speak God’s Good News to one another and to the world.  As you reflect on this, I want to remind you that being humble, walking humbly with God, is NOT about denying God’s gifts to you.  Instead, it is about recognizing that all talents are gifts from God and that one talent is not more worthy or more honored by God than another.  My gifts are not more valuable than yours in the service of God and God’s people, the gifts God has given me do not make me a better or more beloved person.  Each of our gifts is a gift God has given us for the purpose of serving God in the world.  All jobs are needed, all gifts are needed.  Recognizing that is humility.  When we deny God’s gifts to us we are being ungrateful to the God who has gifted us with our talents.

      But I think one of our biggest challenges is simply figuring out what our gifts are.  And I would challenge you to consider that everything about who you are is a gift to the community.  

      I want to share with you about a person who was one of the members of another church in which I worked.  This is a person who was - well, annoying.  Some might have said he was abrasive.  But whatever you want to call it, he was a difficult person in the church.  He always questioned every idea that came forward, never satisfied with simple answers, never just saying "let's do it!"  He spoke his mind and when he didn't like something, he spoke out, which was often.  When he heard someone say something with which he disagreed, he challenged it right away.  He also came with his own ideas, but these ideas challenged the norm, challenged the status quo at every level.  "Let's try this kind of music."  "Hey, I'm going to start an anti-gang program here at the church.  Anyone want to join me?"  "I think we should go out every Friday evening with a big sign about our church and stand on the street corner at the mall talking to anyone who passes by about what we do here."  He didn't go through the right channels and he was always a pain in everyone's life.  Do you know people like that?  People who are part of your communities who irritate and cause your life to be difficult?

      Eventually "Jason" got called away to a job out of the area and he had to leave the church.  It was only after he had left that we realized the huge hole he had left in his leaving.  He had brought so many gifts to our congregation.  He had challenged us to grow and to expand our thinking.  He had challenged us to be clear in our explanations of the visions and ideas that we had.  He had called us to think through our positions and to be open to differences.  He had challenged us to be open to the movement of the Spirit in a new way, one that didn't go through the long chain of committees, but instead moved into ministry and action without fear and with a great deal of true and deep faith.  I don't know if Jason was aware of his gifts.  I don't know if he recognized that he was in so many ways the head of our body, thinking, dreaming, leading us forward.  I do know that he realized that for many of us he was a pill, he was a challenge.  I know he knew that he wasn't the most popular guy and that people hid when they saw him coming.  I can only hope that he also came to see that the things we all struggled with the most in him were the deepest gifts he had been given by God.  And that his sharing of those gifts brought all of us spiritually, and faithfully deeper and more genuine in our relationships with each other and with God.

     The evil vice- principal character in Joan of Arcadia manifests his evil in a number of ways.  But one of the principal ways is that when a kid feels he is gifted in something, Mr. Price asserts, loudly and clearly that that kid is not gifted in whatever area it is.  Mr. Price declares that the child has no talent in the area.  He denies the child’s gift, and in doing so, often robs the child of the gift altogether by convincing the kid that he does not have it.  That is evil in the series Joan of Arcadia.  And it is evil in our real lives as well.

    C.S. Lewis in the second book of his space Trilogy, Perelandra, wrote, "Don't imagine I've been selected for ...any task...because I'm anyone in particular.  One never can see, or not till long afterwards, why any one was selected for any calling.  And when one does, it is usually some reason that leaves no room for vanity.  Certainly it is never for what the ...person...themself would have regarded as their chief qualifications."

    We don't see all of the gifts God has given to each of us ourselves.  And we don't see all of the gifts God has given to those around us.  Sometimes we fail so completely to see those gifts that we limit their expression, how much good God can bring out of them, how much we allow others to help us grow in our spiritual journeys.  

Everything that you are is a gift to the community.  That means that even our great differences, not only in terms of gifts but in terms of perspectives, are gifts to the community.    Unity of the body, working towards the same goal of furthering Christ’s body in the world does not, for example, mean that we see the world, the church, our faith, any of it, in the same way.  The perspective of the feet is going to be different from the perspective of the head.  They are in different places and therefore see the world very, very differently.

I want to share with you a poem:

It was six men of Indostan, to learning much inclined,

Who went to see the elephant (though all of them were blind),

That each by observation might satisfy his mind.

The first approached the elephant, and, happening to fall

Against his broad and burly side, at once began to call:

"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a wall!"

The second, feeling of the tusk, cried, "Ho! What have we here?

So very round and smooth and sharp? To me 'tis mighty clear

This wonder of an elephant is very like a spear!"

The third approached the animal, and, happening to take

The squirming trunk within his hands, thus boldly up and spake,

"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a snake!"

The fourth reached out his eager hand and felt about the knee:

"What most this wondrous beast is like is mighty plain," said he,

"'Tis clear enough the elephant is very like a tree!"

The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, said, "E'en the blindest man

Can tell what this resembles most. Deny the fact who can,

This marvel of an elephant is very like a fan!"

The sixth no sooner had begun about the beast to grope,

Than, seizing on the swinging tail that fell within his scope,

"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan disputed loud and long,

Each in his own opinion exceeding stiff and strong,

though each was partly in the right, and all were in the wrong!

So oft in group endeavors, the members of the team

Rail on in utter ignorance of what each other mean,

As if it were an elephant not one of them has seen.

We don’t often see the whole picture.  And the perspectives and gifts of others help us to get a greater glimpse of the whole, when we stay open.  Others’ visions and insights help us to grow, to see, to be closer to God.    

     It is not completely clear whether Paul was writing the passage from Corinthians to a group of people who were putting each other down, refusing to value equally the gifts, talents, and perspectives of one another, or if he was writing to a group of people who were insecure about their own gifts.    But in most of our congregations I think we tend much more towards the latter problem, refusing to acknowledge our own gifts, let alone honor them as valuable.  

      Marianne Williamson said, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I think about the gospel story for today and why the people got upset with Jesus proclaiming, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And then saying, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”  Why did people get upset about that?  Because they felt it lacked humility?  No doubt.  But the truth is that this call is for ALL of us.  God calls each and every one of us to proclaim good news to the poor, to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  This is all of our call.  Each of you could say today, “this scripture is being fulfilled now” as you do this work in the world, in your lives, in your personal relationships.  We are all called to do this.  Claiming that call, owning that call, naming that call as FOR YOU is not lacking in humility.  It is recognizing that God has called you to a task and that you have chosen to accept that call and to answer it with a “yes”.

       We do have different gifts.  So we answer that call in different ways.  But the call to follow Jesus, the call to live in this way, the call to be the people of God – that is a call for each and every one of us!

       I would like to encourage all of us to think beyond what we normally identify as our gifts, to be open to the possibility that God can and does use our differences but also, will use our hidden gifts if we stay open to seeing what they are, towards the furtherance of God’s realm.  You are valued in the body of Christ.  And your gifts are valued.  You are more worthy than you know as you contribute to the body just by being you.  

Prayer from God: Lord’s prayer (as it might be prayed by God to us):

My children who are on earth:

You reverence my name

But you do not celebrate my will for you.

You pray my kingdom come,

But how can it

When you ARE what I mean by my kingdom?

You pray for your daily bread,

But you have enough-and to spare.

You pray for forgiveness of your sins,

But how often you will not forgive each other.

You ask me not to lead you into temptation,

But what can I do for you

That I am not already doing?

Use the gifts I am giving you

And you will know my power and glory

Forever and ever.

Amen.

(by Rev. Dewane Zimmerman)

Finally, I want to end with another poem, this one by Howard Thurman:

"When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among people,

To make music in the heart.”

That is what our gifts are for.  I pray that we might all use them well.

Epiphany: Gifts and Giving

Luke 2:41-52

Matthew 2:1-12

       Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh were gifts we are told were given by the Magi because they were some of the most valuable things that people could have at that time.  It was a statement that Jesus was valuable beyond anything.  And, as you also know, it was more than that:

       Frankincense – was (and is) often made into incense and used in worship.  So it represents who Jesus was as “God with us” - It represents life.

      Myrrh was used to embalm mummies, especially those of rich, important people.  So it symbolized the suffering and death that Jesus would experience when he was grown up and the honoring of what was to come.

      There is more in this story than even that.  The magi or wise men also travelled a very long way with their gifts.  They gave to Jesus a huge gift, then, of their time and their energy as well as their material gifts.

            We understand their value, we understand that they had deep meaning, that these gifts were the most important and valuable things they could give, materially but also in terms of their energy and time. 

            If Jesus were born among us today, and you knew about it, knew who he was and why he was coming.  If you were invited to go to the birth of Jesus, what would you give, what would you bring?  I invite you to think about that for a minute.

            In the Advent Devotionals that went out, Lisa and Lynn Justice mentioned the story in the blog, Hyperbole and a Half called, “The Year Kenny Loggins Ruined Christmas.”  We have enjoyed Hyperbole and a Half for a long time, but I did not remember this story, so we looked it up and I read it out loud to the whole family.  It is hilarious and I laughed so hard I was crying by the end.  In the story, the author describes a childhood event in which she was trying to get her family to act out the Christmas story and she assigned parts to her family members to play in the story.  Her aunt and grandmother were to be the Magi and the writer insisted that they bring gifts for the baby Jesus.  Apparently her aunt and grandma were a bit tipsy at this point in the story and so they grabbed whatever they could find to give as gifts.  This included a pack of cigarettes, the remote control and a Kenny Loggins tape.  My kids were not nearly as impressed with the story as I was.  They didn’t find it nearly as hilarious, in part because they sympathized with the author as a little girl whose needs were not being attended to in the story.  But it did kick off a conversation for us about what presents would be appropriate and what presents we might bring to Jesus today.  The first suggestion was diapers.  After all, that’s a really useful, needed thing for babies, and we all know that if a person is poor, diapers, even if you use cloth and just need to be constantly cleaning them, they amount to a cost that is not insignificant.  “But,” I challenged, “diapers is really a gift more for the parents than for the baby.” 

            “Also,” I reminded them, “the gifts brought to Jesus signified the best that people had, the most valuable things and gifts and resources that the Magi, or anyone at that time, had.”

            That led into a discussion of two of my favorite Christmas stories – the Littlest Angel, and the Little Drummer Boy.  If you recall the story of the Littlest Angel, the one thing that made this little boy angel happy was a box of his favorite collected stuff – depending on the version of the story it’s a small box of things that would make a young boy happy, like string and a stick, the box itself, the collar of his pet dog, a stuffed bear.  Before getting this box he was very unhappy in heaven and it was the one thing that brought him consolation and joy.  But when he hears about Jesus’ birth, he wants to give him the best that he has, the thing he values most, so he adds this box of everything that gave him joy into the pile of gifts.  He is running away in shame, feeling that the gifts he has are not worth anything when God chooses that gift to be the Star over Bethlehem.  Now while I realize there could be a lot of critique about the story (if it becomes the Star, for example, it’s still not a gift that the baby can actually play with…), none the less, the gift he gave was one a small boy would appreciate and would love, and it was also the thing that was most valued by the Littlest Angel in the story.

            I like the Little Drummer Boy even better because what he gave was his talent, was his ability.  He gave the gift of his music to the baby: the best he had, all he had.  I like it because it was a gift that babies really do value – music, especially drumming, perhaps.  And I like it because it also was the best that the Drummer Boy had.

            So for me, giving our best involves two things: giving what is needed, will be appreciated, will be valued by the recipient; and giving what we value, what is the best we have to give.

            And as I thought about this, I realized that this is the same answer to the question, “what is call” – it is when your greatest gifts, your greatest joy, and the world’s greatest needs meet.  That is our call: that which brings us joy, that which we are gifted in, and that which is most needed by the world. 

            Those are the gifts that we should be bringing to the Christ child, those are the gifts that we bring to God.

            But I was thinking that perhaps we should take this a step further.  When we give gifts to anyone, they should also be given with these same intentions.  We want to give our best to those around us because they are God’s children and we are called to love them as we would love ourselves.  We would want the best – so we should give the best.  Not only to God, but to our neighbors, to those around us.  We give our best time – perhaps that is Sunday mornings when you could be out golfing or sleeping in, but we give our best time every day as well: maybe at dinner with a prayer and with attention to those with whom we are eating. We also give our best energy to serving those around us, to loving those around us, to caring for those around us.  And we are called to give our best material gifts as well: things that we value, things the other will value.

            I’m reminded of a praise song, “My Own Little World” by Matthew West.  These are the lyrics:

In my own little world it hardly ever rains

I've never gone hungry, I’ve always felt safe

I got some money in my pocket and shoes on my feet

In my own little world, population -- me

I try to stay awake through Sunday morning church

I throw a twenty in the plate but I never give 'til it hurts

And I turn off the news when I don't like what I see

It's easy to do when it's population - me

What if there's a bigger picture, What if I'm missing out

What if there's a greater purpose, I could be living right now

Outside my own little world

Stopped at a red light, looked out my window

I saw a carboard sign, said 'Help this homeless widow'

Just above this sign was the face of a human

I thought to myself, 'God, what have I been doing?'

So I rolled down my window and I looked her in the eye

Oh how many times have I just passed her by?

I gave her some money then I drove on through

And my own little world reached population two

(Creator,) break my heart for what breaks Yours, Give me open hands and open doors

Put Your light in my eyes and let me see, That my own little world is not about me

What if there's a bigger picture, What if I'm missing out

What if there's a greater purpose, That I could be living right now

I don't wanna miss what matters, I wanna be reaching out

Show me the greater purpose, So I can start living right now

Outside my own little world,

             We started today’s scripture lessons with another scripture, and in that passage from Luke we are given the sole glimpse into Jesus’ childhood years.  He was sitting in the temple listening to the teachers, learning, growing.  But it caused his parents, who didn’t know where he was, to worry at his absence and to be very upset when they couldn’t find him.  His response was that he needed to be in his Father’s house.  And perhaps we might find this response to be snippy and less than giving.  But this is another time when perhaps our ideas of what is loving, what is giving need to be challenged.  Being loving and giving does not always look like “being nice”.  Sometimes the most loving thing to do is to speak truth to the other, sometimes the most valuable thing we can give is a different way of looking at or understanding something.

            I found myself reflecting on this during this week after looking at our church’s YouTube channel.  As you may know, we have several interviews with Roger Woolsey from his time here, posted on our YouTube channel.  He is well known, and because of his non-fundamentalist ideas about Christianity, he also has quite a few people who really hate what he has to say.  Those who believe in a very judgmental, very angry, very hierarchical God are not going to like what Roger has to say.  As a result, because he is so well known, most of the comments we receive on our YouTube channel are comments left in response to Roger’s interviews and most are proclaiming that Roger is going to hell because of his beliefs in a loving, accepting, compassionate God.  Roger knows his scriptures very well and quotes them often in his arguments for that God.  But those who respond are mostly just angry, attacking, and even threatening.  But as I thought about what giving from our hearts, giving what is most valuable to us looks like, I found myself thinking of Roger.  Despite the commenter’s anger, despite the fact that he is challenging their thinking, their very world view, their rigidity and judgments, he is giving to them a different world view, from his heart, from his sense of call and purpose.  He is giving to God by speaking words of adoration and praise for a God of love, grace, and compassion. 

            We are to follow Jesus and Jesus gave everything – even his life for us.  We, too, are called to be givers, like Jesus, but also like the Magi, of that which is most valuable to us, that which uses the best of who we are, that which is most needed and wanted by those in our world, and that which is a giving back of what has been given to us – our talents, our resources and our time.