Milestones... Archive-Diving, June 2009

Reflections on our eldest grandson's graduation from high school - now THREE years ago. 

Well, it's here. We are officially OLD. No matter that we started 'young,' having babies in our early 20's and grandchildren in our mid-40's. Because now, we have a high school graduate. Yes, our eldest grandson, Ben - age 18, a generous, kind, smart, talented and funny young man - has graduated from Oaks Christian High School. Wow. And weird. 

I distinctly remember, like it was yesterday, the anxious early morning phone call: "Come NOW, Mom. My water broke!" Driving to the Burbank airport to catch a nearly empty flight to Oakland, landing in the densest fog I've ever seen, hitching a ride from complete strangers to get to Lisa and Mark's little house on Abbey Street in Pleasanton where I could pick up my own car, left there two weeks before, and driving to the hospital. Where Ben decided not to come, thank you very much, requiring an emergency c-section and then weighing in at 10# 5 oz. Started setting those milestones early!

He was an absolutely fearless toddler and little boy, climbing everything, jumping from dizzying heights, constructing fabulous inventions, painting early masters, figuring out how things worked. Towheaded to a blinding blonde color, blazing blue eyes, energy out his fingertips - he was a wonder to us all. Our first grandchild - nothing short of a miracle.

He grew up in much the same way he began - fearless, inquisitive, capable of amazing technical expertise and with a wonderful artistic eye. When he was 13, he showed interest and ability in photography. So I gave him my original SLR film camera when I bought my first digital.

Immediately, he figured out more things to do with that camera than I ever dreamed about. The kid had talent - real talent. And the school he chose to go to aided and abetted that talent in a big way.

Oaks Christian is an anomaly in education - a huge endowment from an invested grandparent created a magnificent campus, drew gifted administration and faculty members, and made possible absolutely top of the line technical resources. And all of it anchored in solid commitment to discipleship, commitment and mission.

Ben took every class that was offered in both photography and videography, successfully mastering every challenge. His work won first place in multiple shows and he was in demand as the videographer of choice for most of the faculty, from football coaches to dance instructors. He did good! Real good. And we are all so very proud of him.

A tableau of graduation accoutrementes -(clockwise)

robe & stole, fabulous $$ lei made by Ben's other grandmother, the senior award certificate, diploma and medallion (well the ribbon shows, at least.)

His graduation ceremony was last Thursday afternoon and I drove down to Westlake early in the day to help Lisa with flowers and errand-running. She, as usual, had everything organized to a fare-thee-well, having accomplished both a new roof and a complete re-landscaping of their backyard in preparation for this momentous day. It was a day rich with deep emotion as Mark's presence was strongly felt through every moment of it. And how grateful I am that Mark was able to participate as fully as he did in his sons' lives right up until the day he died last fall! He is, I am sure, so proud of these remarkable young men.

Family came from all around southern CA to attend the ceremonies and/or the wonderful dinner party Lisa hosted afterwards. Lisa and Joel, her youngest, held onto 3 rows of seats (Luke, grandson #2, was playing clarinet in the orchestra) and was soon joined by one great-grandmother, a great-uncle, two great-aunts, two sets of grandparents, two cousins on Mark's side, an uncle, two aunts and two cousins on Lisa's side - and those 3 rows filled right up! It was a great ceremony! Good speakers, a suitably (and intimidatingly!) impressive valedictory address and a lovely setting.

The big surprise, that hit us all in our communal solar plexus, was that Ben was one of 5 seniors honored with a special award! We knew that he had won the departmental award in art the previous week, but this one was completely unexpected. The 3 'prongs' of an Oaks education are: Leadership, Athletics, and the Arts - and Ben received the medallion and certificate in the Arts.

It was just so lovely to hear the tribute offered by the head of the department, based on the comments of all Ben's teachers and on Ben's own fine work and many contributions to the school through his technical and artistic gifts. He proudly wore the medallion for the picture above and it's inscription is shown in the one below. The actual introduction is printed in italics below the picture. It was written by Ryan Kelley, Chair of the Arts Department at Oaks.

The recipient of the Dallas Price Van Breda Fine Arts Award is a wonderfully talented visual artist. This fine young man has a passion for photography and film that he has shared with all of us at Oaks Christian School. His exceptional photography was recently featured as the cover of our poster and program for our high school art show and his marvelous film work at our dance concert, Define. His creativeness and technical expertise is only surpassed by his generosity. He never turns down a

request to help others; this includes producing numerous football highlight videos, helping teachers with various video needs all the while making full use of our incredible media studio. He is creative, inquisitive and is always the first to try out a new technique. I have no doubt that we will hear his name again - probably announced at the Oscars for best cinematography. And we are all certain that your father is as proud of you today as we all are.

The winner of the Dallas Price Van Breda Fine Arts Award is Ben Fischinger.

The party itself was grand! A great celebration - with another great-grandmother, great-uncle, two more cousins and multiple friends of all ages. And to top it all off, that day happened to be the 15th birthday of Ben's brother, Luke, another stellar student at Oaks Christian High. It was a rich day - tiring! - but incredibly blessed. We are all full to the brim with gratitude for God's good gifts of family, education, beauty, love and laughter.

On Retreat - February, 2009 - Archive-Diving

A remarkably beautiful weekend away with women pastor friends, words and photos I want to save, memories that are precious to me.

Last Friday morning, my husband was kind enough to drive me to the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank on his way to work, so that I could catch a flight to Seattle.

Since the mid-1990s, I have been 1/6th of a group of women pastors ordained in the Evangelical Covenant denomination. Sometimes I wonder what sparks friendship, what bonds people to a commitment to one another. I think we found a certain commonality in our mid-life call to ministry, our shared experiences within the denomination and a rather off-beat sense of the absurd. (As a fine example of that last point, we called ourselves the Ya-Ya Goddesses. Yes, we did.)

About once a year, we tried to gather for a period of retreat - usually about a week long - with days spent in silence and solitude and evenings spent in conversation and community. We searched for someplace beautiful and quiet, some place that would allow us time to savor the goodness of God in the natural world while at the same time enjoying the conveniences of indoor plumbing and cooking facilities. Due to a long list of stresses in all of our lives, it has been almost 5 years since we have attempted to get together and now a weekend opened up for 4 of us and we grabbed it.

I met my friend Nancy in the Seattle airport, picked up a rental car and drove 2 hours north through rush hour traffic to the Stanwood exit, following lovely 2-lane country roads to one friend's spectacular home and guest apartment on Camano Island.

Oh, my. 

      What a view. 

           What a house. 

                What a welcome. 

Because we have been unable to squeeze out travel time in these last five years, this year's gathering was filled with catching up, story-sharing, lots of laughter and a few tears here and there - in addition to fabulous food, cooked by Diane and Vicki and cleaned up by Diana and Nancy.

Basically, we had 2 days together rather than our usual 4 or 5, as one whole day on each end was spent in travel. During these years since our last gathering:

     one of us has lost a daughter to breast cancer, 

     one has lost a son-in-law to the after effects of cancer 

               treatment many years ago, 

     one has survived (successfully) a drawn-out lawsuit and 

               built a new home, 

     one has endured terrible disappointment in her job 

               situation and has very recently both remarried and 

               moved from one state to another.

So there was LOTS to talk about.

And talk we did, until fairly late into the evening on Friday and Saturday nights. And on Sunday night? Well, on Sunday night....we ordered pizza by the boxload, enjoyed hot fudge sundaes AND watched the Red Carpet and the Oscars. What more could you ask for?

Diane's home and apartment mirror each other architecturally and are both lovely to look at and live in. The apartment is dedicated to providing retreat/renewal space for weary pastors - what a glorious gift to offer the church!

When I went back to work on Tuesday, my boss asked me what I had gained 'spiritually' while away on retreat with my friends.

At first, I was stymied - this gathering was filled with more talk and less silence than most. But as I thought about his question, I was once again reminded that often very profound things can happen spiritually when you least intend it and seemingly don't plan for it.

I went away this last weekend in a spirit of openness to whatever God might do with our time together. And it was so good for me to hear something of each of their stories --- in order to make better sense -- or perhaps to have a better sense -- of my own.

For of the six of us, I am the last remaining pastor serving in a local church. Two work in retirement community environments, one teaches, two are 'retired,' though both are active in the parish churches they currently attend.

My pastoral role has been a gift to me, to my family and, hopefully, to the churches that I have served. And as I reflected on both the question I was asked and on my time away from the routines of life and work in Santa Barbara, I discovered (or re-discovered) these important truths about myself:

          1. I am a person who needs regular exposure to God's beautiful creation to function well in ministry and in life.

          2. I am a person who needs some kind of regular interaction with long-time, hold-me-accountable, encourage-my-gifts, listen-to-my-crap friends, friends who know something about me in my local setting but are not a part of that setting.

          3. I am a pastor who is called to serve the Lord in the local church.

          4. I am a pastor who sometimes needs reminding that taking a break, setting a boundary and stepping out of the routine are necessary and important things to do from time to time.

          5. I am a person who, despite being in the throes of long-term, low (and sometimes high)-level-anxiety-and-concern-now-moving-into-grief - I am a person who needs to have some order around her. And that sense of order has just fallen off the cliff during these years of illness and worry in our family.

After seeing the lovely, quiet and restful spaces that Diane has created in her home, I am encouraged and challenged to make such spaces around me in my work environment and in my home office environment. Slowly, slowly, I am going to purge my book collection, get rid of extraneous paper and create workspaces that are conducive to reflection, writing, thinking and prayer.

          6. I am a person who will very likely apply for the next go-round of the Center for Spiritual Direction, offered by our denominational seminary and ministerium. It's been on the back burner for a number of years, and I think the Spirit is nudging me to move in that direction NOW. (Applications are due March 31.)

So, yes, it appears that some things did happen spiritually during this time away. Thanks be to God - and to really good friends.

Nancy and Diana with Diane
Nancy and Diana with Vicki (Maybe next time, we'll master that automatic picture-taking thingy.)

Time Out... Archive-Diving, 2008

Written originally in the fall of 2008, right after the death of our son-in-law, I am once again diving into the draft archives as I prepare to move my blog after Christmas. This is a travel post and I'm saving it primarily for us, as a record of a fun getaway we put together during a particularly difficult time.

Both Dick and I have realized an ever-increasing sense of urgency about taking time out for a few days. A need to leave all things familiar and nest somewhere else together. It's been quite a year. Enough trauma for a few lifetimes, it sometimes seems.

So after Sunday's sermon (which was a sermon I needed to hear, and apparently a few others did as well), we went online and found a great deal at a Pismo motel we had never visited before. An ocean-front, two room, 2 bath suite for a great price.

Yes, it's foggy in Pismo this time of year.

Yes, we already live in a beach community.

But we don't live on the water and this place isn't home, with its telephones, messes needing attention, and other assorted distractions - and that, for a little while at least, makes a huge difference.

So we drove up Sunday afternoon, had dinner at a quaint place where, if you like, they'll throw an entire pot of 3 different kinds of shellfish, corn on the cob and roasted red potatoes all over your table for dinner. That was a little too much for us our first night away, so we settled for some fabulous homemade soups and seafood louie salads. Perfect.

The next day, after sleeping in a bit and enjoying what is euphemistically called a 'continental' breakfast at this lovely resort (it actually consists of a great deal more than that, including two waffle makers into which you pour a cup of batter, set the timer and enjoy), we got in the car for a little exploration.

I love to explore new places! Get in the car and drive, then get out of the car and walk. First we drove to the Pismo Pier, which we walked. (The top photo was taken from the pier, looking back toward our motel.)

Next, we went to Arroyo Grande - a charming member of the Five Cities here on the northern central coast. This is their 'famous' swinging bridge, which like everything else in the downtown area and environs, is exquisitely well-maintained and fun to see. After you cross the bridge, there is a small historical building site - with a schoolhouse, a Victorian home and a barn (all, only open on weekends, so no tours) plus a lovely town park with a regular River City bandstand in the middle.

They are currently tidying up their town for this weekend's 'world famous' strawberry festival and we had a wonderful conversation with a woman, about my age, who was very happily painting pictures of strawberries on the store windows of the downtown area.

"How'd you get into this business?" I asked. "Well, 35 years ago, I was working for a bank and they knew I had an art degree. So they asked me to do some windows at the bank. I hadn't a clue, but began to make friends in the sign industry and gradually, just built up my own little business. I've been doing it ever sense. It's a great job - allowed me flexibility to raise my kids, takes me to all the surrounding little towns and I love being in the outdoors!"

Cool!
The flowers in this small berg are beautiful, as you can see from these floribunda roses which were screaming out at us in front of the one-room schoolhouse. And soon, there will be new trees all down Branch Street, which is the main drag.

All in all, a very fun outing. We had a flyer for something called "Doc Bernstein's Ice Cream Laboratory" which we found and entered with enthusiasm. They invent their own flavors and we each enjoyed two scoops as a finishing treat to our walkabout. As you can see, Dick LOVES ice cream.

Next, we decided to follow the road out to Lopez Lake, a spot we had often wondered about, but never visited. Lovely drive, but probably no return trip planned anytime soon. It's another of California's large reservoirs that are labeled lakes and allow boating and fishing but no swimming. A few nice campsites out there and this small deer, chomping away.


We ended the afternoon at the 10-plex movie theater, watching "The Soloist." I had read such mixed reviews on this film that I was hesitant, at first. It is a bit too long and sometimes confusing to listen to - but I think in many ways, that was intentional. I love the director - Joe Wright (of "Pride and Prejudice" and "Atonement" fame) and I enjoy both Robert Downey Jr. and Jamie Foxx, so it was absolutely worthwhile just to see some of the interesting directorial choices and the acting chops of these two fine performers.

And it was deeply troubling, too. The condition of the homeless mentally ill in the city of Los Angeles, indeed, in all cities in our country, is simply devastating.

And there was a voice-over line at the end that just tore at my heart, especially in light of the sermon I had worked on last week. It went something like this. "Nathaniel is still sleeping indoors and he is still mentally ill. Some experts have told me that the simple act of having a friend for a year may actually change his brain chemistry enough to help him stabilize a little."

Having a friend can change brain chemistry??? Who knew? I think perhaps Jesus understood this powerful truth when he told his disciples, "I have called you friends."

I'm so glad I am enjoying the gift of a few days alone with my very best friend.

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 6

"I don't think, friends, that I need to deal with the question of when all this is going to happen. You know as well as I that the day of the Master's coming can't be posted on our calendars. He won't call ahead and make an appointment any more than a burglar would. About the time everybody's walking around complacently, congratulating each other -- 'We've sure got it made! Now we can take it easy!' -- suddenly everything will fall apart. It's going to come as suddenly and inescapably as birth pangs to a pregnant woman. 

But friends, you're not in the dark, so how could you be taken off guard by any of this? You're sons of Light, daughters of Day. We live under wide open skies and know where we stand. So let's not sleepwalk through life like those others. Let's keep our eyes open and be smart. People sleep at night and get drunk at night. But not us! Since we're creatures of Day, let's act like it. Walk out into the daylight sober, dressed up in faith, love and the hope of salvation.

God didn't set us up for an angry rejection but for salvation by our Master, Jesus Christ. He died for us, a death that triggered life. Whether we're awake with the living or asleep with the dead, we're alive with him! So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you'll be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. I know you're already doing this; just keep on doing it." -- 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, The Message

Generally speaking, I am not a huge fan of apocalyptic literature. Don't like dystopian novels (except for Margaret Atwood), am easily pushed to metaphor fatigue by the book of Revelation. There are days when I really, really wish Jesus had not talked as much as he did about The Last Days. 

And then there are the letters to the Christians at Thessalonica. Written early in Paul's ministry, they show us more clearly than anything else that the early church believed themselves to be living in the last days, at least initially. And for some reason, that has always bothered me a little. 

Or it used to.

However. . . this passage, this one right before us today, on the first Friday of Advent 2012, this one I have come to love. A lot. In fact, I believe it contains some of the most important teaching of all the epistolary writing in the entire New Testament. Why? Because it tells us how to live while we wait. 

And we are always waiting, aren't we? Waiting for something, someone, some time. Here is a definition of the verb "to wait": 'to stay in place in expectation of; to remain stationary in readiness or expectation; to look forward expectantly; to be ready and available.' (Courtesy of Merriam-Webster online dictionary)

While we wait -- in a spirit of expectation and readiness and availability -- Paul instructs us to: 
      *remember who we are
      *keep our eyes open
      *be smart
      *dress for the occasion
      *speak words of encouragement and hope to one another

And it is that last one that resonates with something deep inside: encourage one another. Offer good words, hopeful words, loving words. Now that's the kind of apocalyptic writing and thinking and living I can get excited about. 

How do you encourage others? And how are you encouraged as you wait?

Lord, you know how weary I am with doom-mongers -- always a discouraging word to be heard, always a fearful worldview to be touted, always an us vs. them mentality. I am exhausted by that attitude. Especially when I feel it creeping into me, into my thought life -- even into my language. Help me to read these good words from Paul again and again, especially when I feel discouraged by life, by the church, by the world. And help me to choose, every day, to push through the discouraging word and find an encouraging one; to make the move from passive resignation to active anticipation, trusting that there are good things yet to come.

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 5

These pictures were taken in 1967 in what is now Zimbabwe, at Matopos National Park. The second and third of these three shots are of the same oddly shaped and extremely large rock with a sheltering ledge built right into it. The paintings drawn under that ledge attest to it's use as a safe refuge. 

"Truly my soul finds rest in God;

my salvation comes from him.

Truly he is my rock and my salvation;

he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

How long will you assault me?

Would all of you throw me down --

this leaning wall, this tottering fence?

Surely they intend to topple me

from my lofty place;

they take delight in lies.

With their mouths they bless,

but in their hearts they curse.

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

my hope comes from him.

Truly he is my rock and my salvation;

he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

My salvation and my honor depend on God;

he is my mighty rock, my refuge.

Trust in him at all times,  you people;

pour out your hearts to him,

for God is our refuge.

Surely the lowborn are but a breath,

the highborn are but a lie.

If weighed on a balance, they are nothing;

together they are only a breath.

Do not trust in extortion

or put vain hopes in stolen goods;

though  your riches increase,

do not set  your heart on them.

One thing God has spoken,

two things I have heard;

'Power belongs to you, God,

and with you, Lord, is unfailing love;'

and, 'You reward everyone

according to what they have done."

Psalm 62, TNIV

Whenever I read this psalm, I imagine the one who wrote it sitting high in the hills, looking out over some kind of rocky land mass. I have never been to Israel, but I have been to central Africa and as I read through this song for today, I remembered the overwhelming size of the rocks we saw there. Looking at such large, looming boulders is both daunting and deeply reassuring. 

The psalmist sings out -- cries out -- for such reassurance, for refuge, for shelter, for a place to hide away, safely enfolded by God's goodness and strength. There is an expressed need for bigness, for some sort of reminder that God is larger and stronger than any enemies who might be threatening. The singer wants to feel safe. And so the 'controlling metaphor' for his song is a great, big rock. A fortress-sized rock. An unmovable refuge.

We all want to feel safe. Yet we live in a decidedly unsafe world, with enemies of various kinds on all sides. Fiscal cliffs, sick children, struggling parents, and the very worst enemies of all -- the voices inside our own heads, the ones that tell us we are worthless, useless, unloved and unwanted. 

Advent invites us to sit with that unsafe feeling for a while, to listen to it -- but also to speak back to it. Because Advent also invites us to sit with an expectant young mom and her brave husband, to join them in their waiting, in their uncertainty. And in their amazing trust. There is much we can learn from these two ordinary people, chosen by God for such extraordinary work. 

I imagine that God alone was their Rock, their safe place, during much of the journey to Christmas morning. 

I imagine that this very song was one of their favorites. I know it is one of mine.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me . . . there isn't a rock on this planet large enough to picture YOU. But somehow, these earthy reminders help us to remember that you are bigger, stronger, more sheltering, and far safer than any trouble, struggle, or enemy we may encounter along the way. You never promised us an easy road; you promise us your presence in the midst of it. Thank you for being our Rock and our Refuge.

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 4

"This is a vision that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:

In the last days, the mountain of the Lord's house

will be the highest of all --

the most important place on earth.

It will be raised above the other hills,

and people from all over the world will stream there to worship.

People from many nations will come and say,

'Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,

to the house of Jacob's God.

There he will teach us his ways,

and we will walk in his paths.'

For the LORD's teaching will go out from Zion;

his word will go out from Jerusalem.

The LORD will mediate between nations

and will settle international disputes.

They will hammer their swords into plowshares

and their spears into pruning hooks.

Nation will no longer fight against nation,

nor train for war anymore."

Isaiah 2:1-4, NLT

Sometimes I think it would be truly grand to have a vision. To see something spectacular and hopeful and encouraging, to see it in living color, larger than life and rich with meaning. 

This vision of Isaiah's is a corker, isn't it? Overflowing with such magnificent images! People moving like living water to God's holy mountain, God himself settling any disputes. And this one - no more training for war. Turning weapons into farm implements -- in essence -- turning away from darkness and into the full light of God's glorious presence. 

YES! I'd love to have a vision like that. 

And then, I realize. 

I DO have a vision like that. . . this very one, right here in front of us on this blustery Advent Wednesday. I don't believe Isaiah wrote this one down just for the heck of it -- no, I don't. I believe Isaiah, or someone writing under his grand name, wrote this down at the insistence of the Holy Spirit, precisely so that we could read it today. 

Because this is a vision that every generation needs to see, this is a picture that all peoples need to have hanging on the walls of their hearts. This is a painting dripping with the colors of life and hope and expectation. And this is a vision perfectly designed for Advent, these 24 days of paying attention, of stilling ourselves so that we can see more clearly, of expecting God to show up in ways that surprise us and slow us and save us. 

This is a vision of God's desired future and this is a promise of wondrous things to come. Wondrous things that can begin now, inside of us, and spreading through us, to larger and larger circles of others who have eyes to see what God is up to in this world. "In the last days..."  Every one of us lives in the last days. Every generation since Jesus walked the earth has lived in the last days. Every generation since Jesus has been slowly, slowly, slowly heading, like rivers of water, to God's holy mountain.

And one day soon, we're going to get there. Glory be!

We're looking for you, Lord. We're looking for you on that high mountain. We want to be a twig in that river that will stream upwards toward you! So now, while we wait, while we watch - will you teach us your ways and show us how to walk in your paths? We want to be ready. We want to be ready!

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 3

"Praise the LORD!

Let all that I am praise the LORD.

I will praise the LORD as long as I live.

I will sing praises to my God with my dying breath.

Don't put your confidence in powerful people;

there is no help for you there.

When they breathe their last, they return to the earth,

and all their plans die with them.

But joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper,

whose hope is in the LORD their God.

He made heaven and earth,

the sea, and everything in them.

He keeps every promise forever.

He gives justice to the oppressed

and food to the hungry.

The LORD frees the prisoners.

The LORD opens the eyes of the blind.

The LORD lifts up those who are weighed down.

The LORD loves the godly.

The LORD protects the foreigners among us.

He cares for the orphans and widows,

but he frustrates the plans of the wicked.

The LORD will reign forever.

He will be your God, Jerusalem, throughout the generations.

Praise the LORD!

-- Psalm 146, NLT

Whenever I read a psalm like this, I have the sense that I'm eavesdropping on the whole of creation. The green hills, the weathered trees, the surging sea -- they all know this song and they sing it so beautifully. 

Yet my song is needed in this chorus, too. And so is yours. 

Look at the list in these verses. All those lines that begin with, "The LORD. . ." Does that list seem vaguely familiar? To me, it is an overtone, in harmony with the Isaiah scroll from which Jesus read as he began his walking-around ministry, the words that he says are fulfilled in the hearing of the synagogue. 

The Lord God made the heavens and the earth and the sea and everything in them -- and the psalmist recognizes that. But over and above and around and through all of that wondrous creative genius, there is the shining thread of humanity, people. 

Like me, like you, like Jesus.

Those who are oppressed and suffering, those who are orphans and widows, those who are victims of injustice, those with broken hearts, those who are starving and those who are blind. 

And that means each and every one of us. 

Even we who are overfed and well-used to justice -- even we need a God who keeps promises, a God who lifts us up when we are weighed down. 

Here's the interesting part, though. WE are the ones through whom those promises are kept and those heavy-hearted ones are lifted. Smack dab in the middle of God's plan for creation, God's plan for salvation, God's plan for reconciliation - we are planted. Because the God Who Is Spirit needs legs and arms and mouths and eyes and ears and tongues in order to make all things new. 

Jesus came to show us how it's done. And now, it's our turn. Are you ready? Are you willing to be a piece of the Puzzle? 

I'll admit, Lord, that I love the creation parts to this song. I'll sit and look at the ocean and praise your name any day of the week. But these people you made? Well, some of them are a whole lot tougher to sing songs about. So, will you help me to BE the harmony line you've designed me to be? Help me to let you sing through me to those with whom I interact and to spread my song far and wide through prayer and gifts and encouragement? Thank you ahead of time. Oh -- I'm going to need a lot of reminders about this part, okay? Thanks, again.

An Advent Journal: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 2

"I, Paul, together here with Silas and Timothy, send greetings to the church at Thessalonica, Christians assembled by God the Father and by the Master, Jesus Christ. God's amazing grace be with you! God's robust peace!

Every time we think of you, we thank God for you. Day and night you're in our prayers as we call to mind your work of faith, your labor of love, and your patience of hope in following our Master, Jesus Christ, before God our Father. It is clear to us, friends, that God not only loves you very much, but also has put his hand on you for something special. When the Message we preached came to you, it wasn't just words. Something happened in you. The Holy Spirit put steel in your convictions.

You paid careful attention to the way we lived among you, and determined to live that way yourselves. In imitating us, you imitated the Master. Although great trouble accompanied the Word, you were able to take great joy from the Holy Spirit -- taking the trouble with the joy, the joy with the trouble.

Do you know that all over the provinces of both Macedonia and Achaia believers look up to you? The word has gotten around. Your lives are echoing the Master's Word, not only in the provinces, but all over the place. The news of your faith in God is out. We don't even have to say anything anymore -- you're the message! People come up and tell us how you received us with open arms, how you deserted the dead idols of your old life so you could embrace and serve God. They marvel at how expectantly you await the arrival of his Son, whom he raised from the dead -- Jesus, who rescued us from certain doom.  -- 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10, The Message

There are times in life when the sight of one beautiful red leaf in the middle of a rain-soaked sidewalk is enough to carry you through all kinds of puddles ahead. The day may be grim, the majority of the leaves dried up and rattling in the wind, but there it is. That one thing of beauty, the one that makes you gasp and say, "Thank you!" The one that makes you remember the joy. 

It's not that the puddles disappear or that the brown leaves are suddenly green again. No. The ugliness remains. But somehow, all that is dead and dying is more bearable, a kind of balance has been struck. I cannot explain it, I only know it when it happens. "Taking the trouble with the joy, the joy with the trouble." 

And into the middle of gray days and bone-chilling winds and too-early darkness comes. . . Advent. A small candle flickering against the gloom, a beacon of hope and promise. A time to wait, yes. But a time to wait with hope. 

Where is your red leaf today? Where do you find hope?

Adjust our vision, Lord. Help us to see the trembling flame, the single shining beacon that will lead us to the center of the fulcrum. Help us to find that balance between trouble and joy. And then embolden us to help others find it, too. It doesn't take much, does it? Just something the size of a red leaf. 

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day One, First Sunday

"O LORD, I give my life to you.

I trust in you, my God!

Do not let me be disgraced,

or let my enemies rejoice in my defeat.

No one who trusts in you will ever be disgraced,

but disgrace comes to those who try to deceive others.

Show me the right path, O LORD; 

point out the road for me to follow.

Lead me by your truth and teach me,

for you are the God who saves me.

All day long I put my hope in you. 

Remember, O LORD, your compassion and unfailing love,

which you have shown from long ages past.

Do not remember the rebellious sins of my youth.

Remember me in the light of your unfailing love,

for you are merciful, O LORD.

The LORD is good and does what is right;

he shows the proper path to those who go astray.

He leads the humble in doing right,

teaching them his way.

The LORD leads with unfailing love and faithfulness

all who keep his covenant and obey his commands."

Psalm 25:1-10, NLT

Somewhere on the internet this past week, I saw a little tidbit  about Frederick Buechner's 'last' book, one that he, one of the most popular Christian authors of the last 30 years, had a hard time getting published. To say I was stunned would be a very large understatement. So I promptly looked up the book (The Yellow Leaves: A Miscellany) and ordered a copy for myself. It was eventually published -- now fours years ago (!) -- and consists of remembrances, short essays, assorted bits and pieces from his long, literary life. I am loving it as I chew on a morsel or two each evening.

Here is a brief paragraph that grabbed me by the neck this past week and shook me pretty hard. It is part of a chapter entitled, "Bulletin Board," in which Buechner describes a variety of photographs scattered around his office, telling a brief story about each person pictured:

"Frank Tracy Griswold, presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, is smiling benignly in his dog collar and steel-rimmed glasses, that strikingly intelligent, articulate, sweet-tempered man. He told me that once when he was taking a shower, he distinctly heard a voice from somewhere saying, 'Why do you take your sins so much more seriously than I do?' His first reaction was to burst into laughter. His second was to burst into tears."

All my life, I've been taught that my sins, and the sins of everyone else in this wide, wonderful world, are the reason that Jesus came in the flesh. The love of God was in there somewhere, but my own sin sort of took center stage in the teaching of my youth. So reading a small, explosive paragraph like this one sometimes stops me in my tracks. 

Then I read through the psalm for today, the first day of Advent - the first Sunday of Advent. And I remembered: the Psalmist, singing centuries before that Baby was born in the stable, the Psalmist sings about 'unfailing love,' about mercy, about God's gentle guidance in the way that is right and true. This song is about God pointing the way, pointing the right way. 

And I began to remember, to see, to celebrate that Jesus came to show us how: how to live in this world, how to die to this world, how to live forever. And showing us the way includes pointing out the sin that cripples and wounds us. It includes the shedding of precious blood and the rending of tender flesh that we might be healed. It includes learning to live in the center of God's goodness and grace and 'unfailing love.' 

Contrition is right and good and necessary. Repentance is right and good and necessary. But focusing exclusively on how terrible we are ultimately turns the whole wonderful story completely on its head. Love comes first. Forgiveness comes first. Desire for relationship and healing and wholeness - these are far more serious than our sin. And that is cause for wonder, cause even for joyous laughter.

And that is also, of course, cause for tears. Tears of gratitude, humility, and tender homage. Because that precious Baby came -- and that Glorious Savior will come -- for love's sake alone. Imagine that!

Point us in the right direction, Jesus. As we step into Advent this year, remind us where we fall short, yes, we need those reminders. But O LORD, whisper to us of love, sing to us of forgiveness, beckon us toward holy righteousness. Because YOU are righteous and because of Jesus, so are we. Thank you!