Living Water and Desert Voice

Weeds and Holes

2011-07-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

I’m contemplating some of Jesus’ one-liners this week: mustard seeds and yeast. They are both parables about small – almost invisible - stuff growing big over time and after lots of waiting.

At first, I conjure up images of Mom telling me just to wait for something or some time – usually things like Christmas, or my birthday. Those events and all the goodness that comes with them WILL come eventually. Then, since I’m a pastor, I think of church-y things: small churches growing big, small seeds of ideas taking root and growing wider and more far-reaching in influence, things like God’s love, or justice, or peace, or maybe even my own humble ideas taking off and spreading and growing in huge ways.
SUCCESS!! ACHIEVEMENT at last!!

But, now I’m thinking I might have had it all wrong.

What is a mustard plant anyway? It’s a weed more often than not. And, what does yeast do? It makes holes in bread…big empty spaces of nothing but air. Was Jesus saying that the Kingdom of God was like a big weed or big holes in your bread?

Apparently.

Weeds and holes are relatively undesirable things to most in “normal” society, the Establishment, those in control. At least they were to society leaders in Jesus’ day – the religious leaders, the Romans. Who would take notice of a few weeds – even if they had grown large, or some holes in their bread. Weeds are good for nothing, and holes are…well…nothing. Who cares if someone is growing good-for-nothing nothings. The Kingdom of God is like things that look like good-for-nothings…growing into something that still looks like nothing to the more influential and powerful of the world.

But, what do you know…when good-for-nothing weeds become trees…they become good for something – a home for all manner of creatures. And after baking, holes do something to bread…it is softer, sweeter, more savory - holding invisible flavors and aromas released in the eating. Hmm. Invisible stuff that really offers the savory richness and sustenance of our lives.

I still thought a little church-y. What if…the Realm of God is like a tiny little church, struggling to survive. God makes it grow! No, not in size, silly. But into a thousand other small churches struggling with the mighty and powerful definitions of success and security in the world. Like leaven and mustard weeds, creating the spaces and homes for God and ordinary creatures to reside.

An Unknown God

2011-05-24T17:05:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking about "unknown gods" today ( fr: Acts 17 - Paul's sightseeing trip to Athens where he stumbles upon the statue dedicated to the "Unknown God" - Athenians apparently liked to have all their diety-bases covered).

We like to know things, don't we? We generally don't like the unknown. And, we REALLY hate unknown gods - at least in our dominant US culture these days (remember when the "goddess" convention happened in Minnesota a few years back? Whew! One thing we hate more than a strange god making an appearance is if it is a godDESS!).

We will do just about anything to avoid the unknown. We will try to have all the answers so when the unknown makes an appearance, we'll know what's happening and have everything under control. We like to have our ducks in a row, our "i"s dotted and "t"s crossed, and our contigency plans laid out. We buy insurance. We have all our escape routes mapped out, and we tie up ourloose ends.

We are really not like the Athenians. I'm not sure they enjoyed the unknown...but they seemed to think it was worthy of some honor, at least a statue. Yes, it was an idol - a thing they worshipped, but I think it was because they believed that something very valuable and worthwhile could very well be beyond their knowing and beyond their understanding. And they gave homage to that. And, of course, the philosophers loved to argue and discuss all the finer details.

To worship an unknown god is quite intriguing, really. It strikes me that it's a little like sitting in a jungle or a forest and knowing that a wild animal could come upon you, face to face, at any moment. Yet, still you sit there. Watching, enthralled and fascinated. And indeed a wild animal does come. And you look at it. You know you can't change it, you can't run away from it, you can't control it...it might very well eat you, but you know deep down it is worthy of your homage. So out of respect and some curiousity, you sit and watch and wait for it to teach you something.

I think we all have an unknown God waiting just beyond our sight, beyond our reach, and beyond our comprehension...waiting to teach us something. We need to stop screaming and running around in fear, feeling threatened as if it were an enemy, or pretending it doesn't exist. Rather, just watch and learn.

True Colors

2011-05-21T18:31:00.001-07:00

There's been a lot of changes in my life since I last posted at Christmas...new job, first grandbaby born, new and unfolding perspectives on myself and the world:
1. I'm old enough to be a grandmother, and that is wonderful!
2. Being an associate pastor in a BIG church is very different (so far) than being a co-pastor in a tiny church...and that's okay too.

Both being a grandmother and being an associate pastor in a big church may seem like very different worlds...maybe they should be the stuff of different blogs, but they are right now my true colors. I'm learning and growing in each of the new roles.

I've spent a lot of time and energy trying to discern what my "true colors" are...as if God has created a unique path that leads to fulfillment, but camoflaged it to keep it from being easily found. Lately it's felt like it was camoflaged very well.

But, it strikes me that maybe the task is more to see the possibilities of the present here and now, and create of them true colors in my own life. Maybe that's the task...at least in later life when I've become more picky and preferential. (I can see the "downside" of way more things in way more ways than when I was 20!)

Maybe my divine traveling companion is heaving a heavy breath and saying, "Wait, let's just slow down a minute and take a rest. Let's notice what's here before we miss it. I'll bet we can find some pretty amazing things." So, I'm trying that.

(Did you know just how many faces a 2 month old baby can make in 15 minutes?!)

In the Midst of It All...Love Has Come

2010-12-23T13:04:00.000-08:00

In the midst of it all…
a government tax, a burdened journey,
a burgeoned town,
no room
in the midst of it all.

In the midst of it all…
each single life, here and now,
walks the hard pavement of ordinary life,
wading through
the sinking mud or flash flood
of waking tasks,
worried racks of anxious unknowns.

But, somewhere in this night,
the desert night of long ago,
or this daily desert of a road—
a twinkling here, a shining there,
a flower blooms
in deepest winter.
Love has come
and calms the shiver.

A warming kiss
a soft embrace,
a lighted window
a stable place.

In the midst of it all…
a hard won labor,
grace is born in fleshly groans.
The baby cries his birthday song
as angels weep and sweep
the heaven-to-earthbound glory.

And, love has come,
to each and every one of us
whether our eyes are open
and we perceive,
or closed in lonely fear.

We will receive
this love come to us –
whether open-hearted
in abundant waves,
or in unsuspected
and surprising ways.

Love has come.
Love has come…
Arise and shine – with the sun!
Love has come
in newborn grace
to offer truth
and God a face.

At the Core

2010-09-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

I've wondered what we are most afraid of as believers and disciples. At times I think we're most afraid of other people's beliefs. But, during an interesting post-worship discussion last Sunday, I think some of us got a bit closer at deconstructing some of the primary fears that plague us in our highly-partisan society - especially when it comes to diverse belief systems and faith expressions. It's not other people's beliefs that scare us the most - extremist or otherwise. I think what scares most of us the most is to be discovered as inadequate to express what we ourselves deeply believe...or NOT believe.

What emerged for us was three different dominant perspectives regarding belief:

Perspective #1: The people who know what they believe firmly and fundamentally. There is really little or no desire to talk or dialogue with others except for the purpose of prostelytizing for their own beliefs...because of course, they are the truth. If others disagree, they are wrong, and maybe even a dangerous threat.

Perspective #2: The people who know what they believe - some very firmly and fundamentally, others perhaps in a more general way. They are interested in dialogue with others. In some cases, dialogue can be clarifying, often it is enriching, sometimes it might even result in some creative and productive compliment or compromise. But, generally it is clear that the two or more sides will not give up their beliefs to come over the others.

Perspective #3: The people who either do not have a strong set of core beliefs, or simply have a belief in inclusivity for inclusivity's sake. They not only want dialogue with other beliefs, they want to become whatever the other wants and needs, so as not to be found guilty of exclusion. There are very few boundaries or definitions.

It seems that #1s view all others as either completely wrong and misguided...or that they are #3s, wishy-washy and superficial.

It seems that those who hold to #3 perspective fear that everyone who attempts to define or create boundaries and clarity in belief are #1s.

Most of the people that are drawn to mainline Protestant churches probably fall in the #2 perspective. But where we find our conflicts and fears are that some of us fear the #1 perspecives more, and some of us fear the #3 perspectives more. We most fear we will be compromised in our beliefs, and find ourselves in one or the other extremes.

But...the issue is NOT really about other people's beliefs. It is about our own. Our own core. I'm not talking doctrinal language here. I'm not talking what you said during confirmation, or even new members' vows. I'm talking about the beliefs you hold in the deepest hours of the dark night when you lie awake wondering -- the deepest beliefs you hold when you hear the preacher say something in the sermon that makes your stomach flip over or your heart beat faster -- Those deepest beliefs we hold, but so often can't articulate.

Ironically - It's these very beliefs that the author to the Hebrews pointed to in his litany of the people who endured all things for faith (chapter 11). These are the beliefs that allow people to stand firm in the lion's dens, and in the fiery furnaces, or hanging on the crosses they may find themselves on. Yet - it's these beliefs we as clergy and churches have neglected to help people to identify and articulate...particularly because of the passion they incite. We much prefer the tried and true doctrinal statements, that have had their jagged edges of revolution dulled by centuries of acceptability. We prefer the statements that have become so general and universal, that they make great hiding places for doubt and disagreement.

So, I say - let's get down to nitty-gritty and jaggedly honest discussions about what we really believe... as individuals, and as congregations. Our world is yearning for something authentic, something that is true to somebody. They are finding it on the extreme polarities...and they are gravitating to those extremes. To those of us holding the middle ground - let's find our core and stand on it. Let's let our roots, our peace, our integrity, and our character sink deep so that we might be able to bend and sway in the winds of extremism - yet not splinter or break. Let's strengthen our core.

Bridges

2010-08-31T22:38:00.000-07:00

Bridges in my city most often cross over dry washes. A even a "wash" is a misnomer. Rarely does a wash wash anything. It's a dry riverbed that sometimes will flood in a heavy rain. Otherwise it stays dry most of the time. But we need bridges for those occasional rain storms. In my church there are a lot of stories about before the bridges over the dry riverbed were built. At times, our part of the city was cut off from the rest, requiring long detours to the neighboring cities (now suburbs) to cross the seasonal swell of rain water.

I was thinking about bridges last week when I read some scripture stories about Jesus. We're often obsessed with getting to the other side of things we are concerned with, or - especially these days - getting people on the other side over to our side. There was a lot of that with Jesus. Pharisees watching him, plotting, waiting to find him on the "wrong side," then pull up the draw bridge and condemn him.

As a child, there was a large footbridge that crossed a deep ravine at my grandparent's house. At the bottom of the ravine was a small creek that drained out into Lake Michigan. My brother and I use to love to run back and forth across that bridge, throwing rocks and sticks into the green leafy forest below. We could cross that bridge and go to the large, old and kind-of-mysterious house of some friends of my grandparents that had an old swimming pool in the back yard...sometimes it had some water in it, sometimes it didn't. I think it depended on whether it rained. It was quite an adventurous place for a young child.

It seems that more often than not these days we're not much interested in crossing bridges. We want and expect that everyone should come across to our side. We are on the right side afterall. Who in their right minds would want to stay on the wrong side? But, really, I don't think Jesus was very interested in which side people were on. He seemed more interested in the bridge itself. Being the bridge. And I think that's what he may have wanted us to be as well.

For him, stories about common things like seeds, wheat and weeds, fishing, birds and flowers, were bridges to get over the dry fears of people's close-mindedness. Food and feasting was a bridge to connect people across deep ravines of culture. Healing was a bridge. The Sabbath was bridge - even though the Pharisees thought it was a ravine that could not or should not be crossed.

This painting is by Marsha (Sasha) Porter, called "Bridge of Sighs." I think it was painted after the collapse of the bridge in Minneapolis-St. Paul a few years ago. It caught my attention because it reminds me of what happens when we ignore our bridges. They crumble and cause chaos. People die. The same is true when we ignore our bridges. If we're too concerned about bringing people over to our side - which of course is the right side...the bridge only becomes a means to an end. Our own end. Because, the important thing isn't getting everyone over to our side... but the adventure of exploring the worlds beyond ours, running back and forth, being able to cross back when we need some familiarity, and being able to get to places and meet people we could not know before. I'd like to see us strengthen our bridge-building skills a little more.

Forward Through the Fog

2010-08-18T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm very good at discerning when to stay put and not go out into bad weather. Too good, really. I'm not a brave driver who wants to conquer anything. When I lived in snow country, I was basically a wuss. When it's foggy outside, I stay put. When the "fog" is proverbial...I am good at waiting. I don't like it, but I can wait.

When I'm trying to get through the proverbial fog in life and discern a direction, catch a vision, grab a conviction...I can usually do that too pretty well. As soon as there's a break in the fog of confusion or a lifting of the blanket of the unknown, I can often quickly discern a direction and go for it.

What I've learned I cannot do well is push myself forward through the fog. As I said...I'm a wuss. I'm finding that somewhere around 50, a heavy blanket of fog set in and my life felt like it came to somewhat of a wussy, wavering stall-out. I suppose some would call it a "midlife crisis." Mine felt more like a midlife muddle. In some respects I'm still in it, yet I'm learning something about it.

I'm trying to get better at continuing to move forward through the foggy times in my life. Even if it's just one step at a time. The truth is, of course, none of us knows if we have another step to take. So, fog or not, all we really can do is fill that one next step ahead of us with all the purpose, conviction, vision, and fulfillment possible, just in case there isn't a next step. If you can only see the distance of your arm held out in front of you, well...fill that arm's length with all the purpose and intentionality you can. No, it may not be a huge accomplishment, or a world-changing phenomenon; it may not be the end goal you've always been dreaming of, but it will at least be an arm's length of knowing you lived fully and faithfully.

I've also discovered it's really a matter of trust. In the fog, you use your past experience to know the road is there, even if you can't see it. I'm learning to trust that all I have been and all I will be as God intends and is shaping me for is true. It is still present within me even though I may not be able to see it or feel it in the murky mud of midlife. There is a road I'm on. There is a destination I'm heading for. The road is good. I can keep taking those steps forward, trusting myself to the foggy way.

Rain

2010-08-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

It's raining today.

I know it's not big news for the summer in most places. It is big news, however for the desert-dwellers. Television stations in my city carry video footage of puddles on both the six o'clock and ten o'clock news when it rains. But, I'm not in Phoenix, I'm in the Pacific Northwest where rain is a usual thing.

I'm amazed at the affect it is having on me today. The water is gently washing all my rough edges to roundness; it is smoothing the sharpness and soaking the soreness. The rain is bringing me a serenity I've come on vacation to find.

It's good to change climates if you can on vacation. We need that shift of environment and sensory input, and be refreshed by the differences. We desert-dwellers need to be reminded of puddles and feel the cleansing of a steady rain. Those who live in the land of heavy clouds and humidity, need to feel the dry, unencumbered sun sinking into their bones once in awhile. Those that live in level lands, need the taste of mountains, and vice versa.

If we are fortunate to love where we live, we will love it even more if we can manage a little variety. The earth feeds us with her diversity...and it's a food that nourishes deep into our souls. I had a friend who commented once on how uncomfortable it was for her, as a Midwesterner use to being surrounded by tall trees, to venture into the desert or the plains with all their immense openness. She felt intimidated and exposed. Others feel claustrophobic in the midst of a forest. These fears are probably good to feel on occasion as well. They remind us that the earth really is not under our dominion, but has a life of its own and qualities far beyond our reach. They have the power to refresh us and to remind us that not all is under our control. We need to pay attention and open ourselves to the gifts.

Vacating

2010-08-04T16:14:00.000-07:00

There's something very holy about vacation. For us clergy-types, I'm afraid it at times seems like more of a pain that it is worth. I'm vacating right now, and trying my best to empty out, shift gears, slow down, savor, and hope that in two weeks the pressures built up within the tectonic plates of my life will shutter and quake enough for a resettling to take place. A more comfortable fit.

But, somehow, sometimes we get suckered into believing the great lie. Our absence - even for a week or two - will be so sorely missed as to wound the church irreparably. Somehow we will become abandoners, not caring for those who count on us to be at bedsides or gravesides. Especially when we are lolling away our time dangling our feet in a cool stream or watching a video at home with the curtains drawn mid-afternoon. It's a great lie - not that parishioners tell us, but that we tell ourselves.

Let us love our people enough to entrust them to the caring hands and attention of others that might speak a word of God or have a touch of God so slightly different than our own so as to catch our beloved parishioners by surprise and let them perhaps meet God in a new way.

And, let us love ourselves enough to trust ourselves to the great vacation void, where God may be waiting to meet us in the empty, surprising space of a blank schedule or a new location.

A deep-body thanks to those who are enabling and enriching my holy vacating! Rich - far away but always close; April - "Anam Cara;" Christopher, Jaylin, Cara & Jenole - sharing sacred family space like a down comforter!

Strangely Warmed

2010-07-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

The Psalmist said, “Behold how good and pleasant it is when people dwell together in unity.” Easier said than done, I say. When it’s not happening, it has a kind of 1950’s veneer of superficiality in the sound of it. But – when it does happen, it catches your breath in mid-inhale, John Wesley’s “strangely-warmed heart” grabs your chest, and the flush of it overflows through your cloudy eyes.

It happened yesterday -- right in the living room of our “church house.” Twenty people gathered for a noon prayer service for the effects of the current anti-immigration legislation. Now, for many, twenty people may not sound like a lot. But, with only three of us representing our own church (including my husband and I as pastors) 17 or so from the community is an astounding number. But – of course, numbers don’t matter. Which is very true – but, they feel darn good.

The more meaningful effect was that these people were almost all from other small churches in the community. It’s a tiny sign. A seed of hope. Our community is divided by diversities of race, economic levels, theologies, background. It can be a poor and violent place, but one can walk to the next block and find new, lavish homes and golf courses behind coded gates. It’s becoming impossible not to rub elbows with each other, and the churches with the more adventurous pastors and people are beginning to sense that whispering call of the Spirit.

Evidently the word passed from a few emailed invitations, and other church folks came. Not ours, but others. Not our predominant color, but others. Not our theology, but others. Not our predominant economic status, but others. And together we sang, and most of us stumbled through Spanish – the language of the current immigrants – and we prayed together. And, I believe, we all found our hearts strangely warmed.

Starting Again

2010-07-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

There’s a writer in me trying her best to cut a path through the saturated rain forest of my everyday life. I’m 53 and this has been going on about 40 years. This writer in me is getting more irritable, and a bit more frantic. So, I take my keyboard in hand like a machete and begin to slice.

Did I say my life was a rain forest? I meant a desert. Somehow it often feels like both or either on any given day: sometimes frenetic, overgrown, and slogging –And at other times, parched, crusty and thirsty. I’m a pastor of a small urban “mainline Protestant” church trying to cut that path to the promised land. I think these days, most of us are lost. If it’s a rainforest day – we’re stuck in the mud of the millions of details and demands of trying to be pastor/CEO/monk/non-profit director/marketer/first-responder/building supervisor/justice advocate/easy-going pal. If it’s a desert day – well, we lay our heads on our stone pillow at night and wonder where God is.

This blog, I hope, will offer some reflections and images helpful for both kinds of days, maybe some “living water,” if you will. I write from a pastor’s perspective, but also as a spiritual pilgrim through a weary land. I’d love to have some company along the way.

God's Call to the Visionary

2008-09-01T15:44:00.000-07:00

O Visionary – take heart!
The depth of your dark valley will only make
the mountain-top transfiguration
shine more brightly.
Arise, shine, your light is coming!
Indeed it has come,
yet not fully broken into your
closed eyes.

You are exactly where you are to meant to be.
Just because you do not in this moment hear the call—
does not mean the call is not there.
This dark night is part of it.
Dawn only comes when the night is darkest and most weary.

Come away with me, dear one…
Come away and rest with me.
Come away where you will hear my whispers
and where you can see the faint glow of vision
that you will paint into being.

O Visionary – take heart!
You have dwelt in the lands of practicality,
You have eaten the food of realism and common sense
for too long.
You are dying of hunger while gorging yourself!
Now is the time to feast on the stuff of dreams and imagination…
this is what makes your heart sing!

Come away with me and be made whole once again!
Walk the desert, sleep in the quiet shadows of solitude,
listen to the silence, taste the chill of the breeze,
dance among the stars.

I have so much to tell you!
So many secrets to share!
I am making a path for you, and it is almost ready.

My people are waiting for vision. They hunger as you hunger.
They pray for the manna to fall,
but their Visionary is dried up, clean cut off.
Come away, and find me again!
I have what you most seek.
I am waiting for you.

Glutton for guilt

2008-08-11T16:07:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me recently what I thought the connection was between food and guilt. Wise question. My response: "are they different?"

My compulsion has always been food. The question was prompted because I had recently been to a social gathering where I didn't follow the food plan I had made for myself. It was a wonderful event, and as I looked back on it, I didn't feel guilty at all. I thought I should have. In my life guilt and food are usually intextricably linked.

I was propelled to consider the question: just what is guilt anyway? I spend a lot of my time trying to avoid it...or at least avoid the risk of incurring it. But, with my food--here I am looking for it when it's not there!

I decided that guilt is a kind of indicator of conscience--a little red flag waving to indicate that somehow I've missed the mark. I'm use to missing the mark with my food, so I was looking for it. It turns out: I actually was doing what I wanted to do. Wow. Go figure.

Guilt tells us that we haven't quite gotten to the truth yet. We've gotten a bit off the path, or maybe we've gone really astray. But, either way, hopefully, it can be a growth lesson. So, I concocted a little acronym. Guilt is: Growing Until I Learn Truth.

I like the concept of growing...learning something new...pursuing the truth in any given situation. I don't need to be afraid of a little guilt. I can learn from it. It helps to give some courage to take risks, to try things out, make mistakes, learn from it, and try and new path. I don't have to be a glutton for it...but a little can be useful.

Looking for the Oasis

2008-08-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

In the desert, we can see where the water collects by looking for the trees. There may be a subterranean spring, but usually it's more likely that the rain water collects there on those rare rainy occasions. But, nevertheless, there's something there, some hidden or rare moisture enough to feed the foliage, to make it put down roots and grow, to offer shelter and sustenance to the other desert dwelling creatures.

A community of faith may be like that. There are obvious ones--housed in buildings that have a certain look to them. Or there are others that are harder to spot because they don't "look" like a church, you have to be guided by signs. They may be borrowing a space that blends in with the landscape...a storefront, a school. You might happen to visit one that looks like a church, but once you get inside...you wonder. Is there "water" here...really? Or, conversely, you may suddenly find yourselves in a circle of friends or acquaintances gathering at any random place, and suddenly you are overpowered with a sense of something sacred, something spiritual occurring, living water that you didn't expect.

My suspicion is that most of us are not looking so much for a "church," or a "church" experience...as we are looking for an oasis. As we sojourn through our lives, we are looking for a space that can offer some shade to rest, but also some source of living water, some spring, some cool collection of moisture that can quench our deep thirst for something that matters. We know it when we find it...but we also know, despite appearances, when we don't find it - when what we find rather is dry lifelessness.

We can keep looking for the oases in our lives. We need them. We need to find rest and acceptance. We need to feel refreshed and reconnected to what really matters in life. We need an oasis in our desert sojourns.

The F-Words

2008-07-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

Our community experienced a trauma this past week - someone shooting their way through an argument in a college computer lab. It's a piece of news that seems to appear too frequently these days, and shakes us to our core.

What does it mean for us to try to create safe communities and neighborhoods in a societal culture that is so addicted to fear and violence? Do we know how to argue with each other--experience conflict--without pulling out a gun and shooting?

They say human beings have three physiological responses to threat: FIGHT, FLIGHT, or FREEZE. The first is the epitome of strength, while the other two are usually seen as weakness. If we have guts, we turn and face the threat with teeth gritted and muscles readied (or guns drawn!) ready to fight. But, if we're weak and cowardly, we either turn and run the other direction, or we freeze like a deer in headlights waiting for our brain to kick in and tell us which of the other two options to take. Psychologists would tell us that there is no right or wrong, good or bad...all three are natural and programmed into us.

However, I suggest there is a fourth F-word that we could get a bit more proficient in when we encounter threat or conflict of some kind: FOCUS. Perhaps this response is best exemplified in the animal world by the maternal instinct of protecting one's offspring in times of threat and how apparently super-human feats of strength can result. When her child is threatened, suddenly a mother's strength, energy and ingenuity can become hyper-focused.

Most of the time, threats or conflicts that come into our lives are not life-threatening in the immediate moment. We need to be careful not to react to them as if they were. We can use the adrenaline to focus ourselves, let it teach us, push us to open ourselves to myriad of options we may have for response, open us to clarity, lift us to a higher understanding and perspective rather than a more desperate one. With FOCUS, conflict can open a doorway for us to become a better person--gaining greater skill, greater wisdom, deeper connections and more inner strength. We can allow the conflict to focus us more deeply on what our motivations, our expectations, our bedrock foundations, and our values are.

Creating Sacred Space

2008-07-25T11:27:00.000-07:00

Today I'm considering creating sacred space. It's a calling for me these days. What does it mean for me in my life...for my small congregation in the middle of a busy city, on a noisy intersection, and be sacred space? I suspect it has to do with time, with relationships, with aesthetics, and grounding.

A space becomes sacred when somehow God's presence makes an appearance. Or...more likely...God's presence has always been there, but our eyes and hearts become open to recognize it.

I'm sitting here at my computer, hoping that this corner of cyber space that is my blog will become sacred space at least for a few moments for whoever might happen upon reading it. I watch and dream of our little historic church offering the engagement and enrichment of sacred space to those who happen upon us. I like to think, in both spaces, God might make an appearance. Both spaces require time from me and others, they embrace relationships, aesthetics of template and temple have been important, and both are grounded in themes and theology.

I'm enamored at the moment with an image from Celtic spirituality, written about by Margaret Silf, in a book called Spaces: Stations on a Celtic Way,(Brewster MA: Paraclete Press, 2001), of groves and springs. Groves of vegetation and springs are few and far between in this desert climate, though they are here, and called "oases" or just simply "washes." But there is something sacred about them...a clump of diverse trees, underbrush, sharing common ground that is fed by the life-giving water of a spring...or an occasional collection of runoff rain...or a hidden reservoir.

This type of sacred grove has long been a place of rest, rejuvination, and reconnection to weary travelers. Silf retells the story of the weary band of Hebrews wandering through their desert land, grumbling and complaining for many long years...yet continually finding God's surprising sustenance popping up here and there. I pray that our community might continue to be and become even more such a "sacred grove."

Intentions

2008-07-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

I believe that when God speaks...no, usually whispers...it's very much like living water in the desert.

We're at the start of our monsoon seasons here in Arizona, and during that time thunderstorms spring up out of nowhere; they disappear just as fast; they may rain down vital moisture - but the atmosphere is so dry the rain can't get to the ground...or it might come down in such fast and furious torrents that the rocky ground can't soak it in and it turns into flash floods. When God speaks to me, to any of us really, we may or may not be able to listen. We may be overwhelmed, flooded out...or we may stand with our heads turned skyward and tongues out wishing a few drops would survive the fall to the ground where we stand parched and waiting.

This blog will be an attempt to allow living water...as it flows to me...to flow out again. I hope it will be a voice in our desert experiences of life and faith. If nothing else, it will be a time for me to wait and watch and listen for God's living water and desert voice to speak so that my thirst may once again be quenched.