Noticing joy

As I write this, I am on an airplane, on my way to California for the wedding. I made it, and I even remembered to put the wedding rings in my purse!

Several people have said in the past days things like, "We are so proud of you guys," and, "You're so amazing!" I certainly appreciate that people feel this way - I have felt in these past days and weeks less amazing than I do completely overwhelmed and not quite myself. I'm used to being a pretty together person, but I can't hold a darn thing in my head these days. You should have seen me trying to pack to come home for our wedding, wandering the house looking for things I had seen only moments before, unable to find anything I needed. What normally should have taken maybe half an hour took more like three hours. 

It's understandable, I know. We have indeed had a lot on our minds, and any one of those things would have been a lot for anyone to handle. One's threshold does rise when there are so many things to juggle - you just learn to cope with whatever you are handed.

But I promised myself that I would breathe when I got on the airplane. When I arrive in California, I know it will be busy once again - we are throwing a baby shower for my brother and sister-in-law tomorrow, and there are so many wedding things to take care of in this final week. But right now, while I'm on the plane, I am trying to breathe, and trying to soak up everything that is going on in my life right now so that I don't look back on it with resentment at how stressed it made me, or fatigue to remember everything, but rather, with the joy that it deserves.

You may remember, several weeks back, that I had made it my goal to seek joy in my life. I haven't mentioned it again, but I also haven't forgotten it. I have continued to try to figure out what it means to find and embrace joy. It is somehow more elusive than peace. I anticipate that pinpointing what joy is, and especially what it is in my life, will take longer than a plane ride, but I will share what I have come up with so far.

Joy is breathing. I have done so little of this lately, and I have noticed its lack in a stress level previously unknown. Now, sitting on a plane, literally suspended in air between major life events, I am consciously breathing, and letting go of stress, and recognizing the tightness in my shoulders and trying to relax it away. And when that breath lets out some of the stress, I can see much more clearly that my life is full of joy right now! (So much joy can indeed be exhausting!)

Joy is conversation. Sometimes when I fly, I keep to myself, but for whatever reason I have struck up conversations with almost everyone I've sat next to. There was the 2nd grade teacher who had never flown on Southwest and was dubious that this unassigned seating method would work. There was the woman with several interesting pets and a conversational 8-year-old who let me pet her stuffed dog toy and wanted a picture of me and her mom together. There was the mother of two adult children who is so pleased that her 35-year-old son so willingly does dishes and changes diapers, which is not something her own husband did. I will never see these people again, but just chatting with them for no particular reason about no particular topic has actually brought me a lot of joy.

Joy is verbalizing feelings. In our moments taking a break from packing, Michael and I sometimes find times to process aloud what has been happening in our lives. We think back together on interactions that were especially strained, and with the boon of hindsight, reflect on why they were. We remember things that have gone well, and give thanks for them. What a joy to know that even if we can't talk candidly about everything going on in our hearts at the very moment it is going on, that we are able to glean something useful from it later, and use conversation with each other to learn more about ourselves.

Joy is expressing appreciation. Michael and I have spent the last four and a half days trying to set up our house. We didn't get as far as I'd hoped, but we made some good progress. As of late last night, we have everything we own in the house, and so when we get back from our honeymoon, we can work more on it. Those of you who have combined households before know that this is no easy task. It is enough to cause arguments, and hurt feelings,  and distress, and frustration, and resentment. With Michael, there has been none of this. Instead, I say, "I need you to put this higher on your to-do list," and he does. He says, "I need to focus on this right now, just give me a moment," and I do. As we have worked so harmoniously on this gigantic task before us, we have also gained an even deeper appreciation for each other, and sometimes instead of calling out, "Michael, I need you to do this!" I feel a genuine need to call out, "Michael!! I just needed to tell you how much I appreciate you." Or he looks at me with those sincere eyes of his and says, "I love you so much. I cannot wait to marry you." We agree that we are pretty thrilled to be building a home together. Even as we anticipate the growing pains that will come with living together, we know that each of us brings invaluable gifts to the endeavor, and remembering these things will help us focus on the true joy of being on the same life team as someone you love and respect and admire.

Joy is properly saying goodbye, so that you can also say hello. My spiritual director mentioned a book to me called Praying Our Goodbyes, and I bought a copy and started reading it in the airport. I also started reading My Grandfather's Blessings, written by a doctor/counselor who works with people with chronic or terminal illnesses. Both deal with goodbyes and grief and also with seeing blessings and love, and with taking the struggles of life and not asking "why" but rather, "how" and "who" - how will I gracefully make it through this suffering and who will walk through it with me? Reading these, especially side-by-side, has helped me to reflect on what I have lost in the last year, and what hellos those losses have also brought into my life. I think about my wonderful doctors and nurses, and the depth this has brought to my relationship with Michael, and a different way to understand and appreciate my health and body, and a deeper grasp on illness (from an adult perspective, rather than a teen), and a more mature relationship with God and faith. I am grateful for these things, and put in perspective, I wouldn't want to do without them. 

I suddenly find myself overwhelmed with joy to the point of tears. (Right on the airplane!) I feel exceedingly ready to celebrate this week. Bring it on!

Klaus the mouse, and adventures in home ownership

I was just sitting here writing the last blog, and Klaus was sleeping sweetly behind me, when I heard a sort of scurrying sound coming from the dining room, sort of like the sound of Klaus's claws on the laminate floor. I turned and sure enough Klaus was behind me, and not in the dining room. What could that be, then? I listened some more, and was sure it was not leaves or something, but an animal. A rat? In the dining room? Why was my dog, a supposed hunter, sleeping through this? (Poor domesticated beast...) I got up carefully and peered around the doorway into the dining room.

Sure enough, it was a squirrel! Just sitting in the dining room! We have a slider in there, which opens into a screened in porch, and someone *ahem Michael!* had left the screen door wide open. Seemed fine, since there is a fully screened porch beyond that, but apparently our little bushy tailed friend had a secret entrance into the porch, and had helped himself up the stairs and into the dining room. He was poking around, checking things out.

Klaus continued to sleep soundly through all of this.

So I took matters into my own hands. Not wanting to freak out the squirrel (I have heard they can be nasty!), I opted against throwing one of Klaus's toys at him, though the squeaky hedgehog would have been a reasonable choice for this. Instead, I sort of hit the wall in hopes of startling him away. It worked, but I wasn't sure if there might be another. (Now I was paranoid!) Klaus continued to sleep. I looked carefully around the room, between boxes, and didn't see anything. Now Klaus became interested, and came up behind me.

"Go get the squirrel!" I said. "That's your job! You're the hunter!" And what did my mousey dog do? He backed up! He backed away from the doorway and into the other room, into safety.

I guess he's only interested in bunnies. What a wuss!

I do believe our home to be squirrel free at this point, and the screen door has been closed to prevent any further mishaps, or embarrassment for my once again sleeping wimp of a dog.

A moment between major life events

So I talked to my mom yesterday and she asked if I was packed for the wedding. "Oh yeah," I thought. "The wedding is next weekend!"

That's how you know you're busy, when you forget your own wedding is a week away!

You might have guessed, we closed on our house this week! It was quite an ordeal getting to that point. I have been bugging the bank and the lawyer for two weeks about when we would close, what closing costs would be, how I would get the money in my savings account into a place where I could use it for a down payment, etc. And I kept hearing, "We'll let you know when we get this-or-that document." The first issue of the week was that my savings account is with Wells Fargo, and there are no branches in western NY, and they can't wire money between banks unless I come in and sign in person. Well, at four and a half hours to the closest branch, that wasn't an option. After calling several people with no luck, I finally suggested to someone that I could transfer money from savings to checking, write a check to myself (I also have a checking account with Wells Fargo), and then deposit that check in my First Home Club account. "Oh yeah, that would work," said the manager of the bank, who couldn't seem to figure out that simple solution on her own. (Oy...) So then to figure out how much to transfer: I looked at the estimated closing costs, took the highest possible amount, and then added a couple thousand dollars, just to be sure, giving myself a $2500 cushion for the down payment. I was set. I went on with my life, trying to be a pastor, prepare to be gone from work for two weeks, and also trying to pack my house and make sure things were in place for the wedding.

Wednesday, closing day, came around. I had checked on Tuesday for the final amount, and they still didn't have it, so I couldn't get a bank check for the down payment. They said they would email me on Wednesday. I was more tightly wound on Wednesday than I ever remember being. I was practically shaking all day. My computer would make the "you've got mail" sound and I would feel like a weight had been dropped on my shoulders: "Not something else to attend to!" I wasn't stressed so much as I was just trying to hold too many things in my head at once, and I could not take the pressure. After a visit with a parishioner, I went home to do some final packing, since we had planned to start moving stuff over that very night (the movers came on Thursday). Closing was scheduled for 4:00, so at quarter to 4, I went out to my car... and realized then that I had never heard from the lawyer about how much I owed, and hence had never acquired a check! *Expletives* Of all the things not to have!

I called the lawyer, who said, "I sent you an email this morning, didn't you get it?" No! (I also did not receive the email from the lawyer telling me when closing was, by the way, and only learned that information from being a nag! Perhaps they need to check my email address??) She told me the final amount, and off I went to the bank, trying to hold my already unraveled self together for this very important task. As I had been instructed, I filled out a withdrawal slip with the correct information, and went to the teller. She looked up my account, and said, "Um... you are short." What?! Apparently I was about $450 shy, even with my $2500 cushion that I had checked 5 times and had Michael and my realtor check! How?? I went over it one more time in my head and the only variable piece was the grant. I said, "Are you sure the grant has been applied?" She wasn't. But that, she said, needed to be approved and it was a whole process and I needed to sit down with someone and... I tried to stay as calm as possible. "Okay, so the deal is," I said, "that I am supposed to be closing on a house right now. I need this to happen as quickly as humanly possible." "Let me get my manager," she said. I ended up talking to our mortgage originator. The grant HAD been applied, but it turned out that the sellers' lawyer had accidentally charged us double for school taxes - over-charged us by $3800!! Slight miscalculation! So they are going to refund us that money. Meanwhile, I wrote myself another check to make up the difference and everything was good, and now we're going to suddenly come by $3800 in refund which will be a welcome return from the honeymoon. Thankfully, my church decided to pay me early this month because of all my expenses, and so I had just deposited my paycheck! Phew!

So off I ran to my car, and plugged into my GPS the address of the lawyer's office... and my GPS couldn't find the address! And with that, I finally broke down, right there in the Family First parking lot. Great big tears and several swear words and yelling. I called Michael, who stayed very calm, and talked me through the directions, stayed on the phone with me directing me the whole way until my phone's battery died. Once I got to closing, it was pretty fast - we were done in half an hour! And everyone was very understanding, and it was actually a fairly pleasant experience. My hand didn't even get sore. :)

So then began the moving. Some kind church people came over with the van and truck and hauled a bunch of my boxes over, and Michael had some guys from work helping him. The next day, the movers came and took all my big stuff (I still haven't quite finished packing all the little stuff), then went to Michael's and got his big stuff, then brought it into OUR HOUSE!

We were utterly amazed at these mover guys from Sheridan Brothers. So strong, so efficient, and such nice guys! We were joking around with them, and got them some treats to munch on. And the cost ended up not being too bad, for as long as it took them (extra stop at Michael's, and several large pieces of furniture that took extra long to move up and down stairs). But I tell you, they were worth every penny.

After the moving finished, the next big moment occurred: we introduced Klaus to his new house. He had been in his crate all day, poor thing, and very confused with all the strange men taking stuff out of his house. So now we went back to my apartment and got my sweet pooch. Here's Klaus on his way to his new house. He even put on his pink bow tie for the occasion.

Klaus was fascinated by the new house, especially the attic and basement. He has been exploring pretty much nonstop since he arrived. He also very much likes his yard, and the neighbor kids are his new best friends. When we brought over his crate and bed the next day, he was so excited. He sniffed at them, and curled up in them, and played with his toys and looked at us like, "My stuff! You brought my stuff!" Oh, we love that boy.

Lucky for me, I'm marrying a very handy dude, so when the washer and dryer didn't fit down the stairs to the basement, he went to work deconstructing the handrail. The next day, he went to work deconstructing the wooden bar in the basement, and connecting everything that needs connecting, and figuring out how to wire our house, and how to change some of the electrical outlets. All this he did while I worked on setting up our kitchen and making our house full of crap look and function like a home. When I need Michael to put something closer to the top of his priority list, I tell him so, and he takes care of it. We are a pretty good team!

Actually, Michael had the first idea about how to make our house a home. We put all the boxes in what will become my sewing room, and the living room is now in some sort of order, so there is one room in the house that is not chaotic, and we can go there when we need to calm down. I rather like it, actually!

So, it's a work in progress. The kitchen is mostly done, Michael has been hard at work on the basement, the living room is fine, the dining room and sewing rooms are disasters, the upstairs is good enough to live in, and we will do more after the wedding. We have told each other several times through this process how much we love each other, and how grateful we are to be on the same team, working together on this big endeavor. What a wonderful teammate he is! The very best, as far as I can tell.

As for now, I have enjoyed sitting still for a few moments to write this blog. Thanks for the excuse!

Sermon: Lord, Teach us to Pray (July 28, 2013)

Pentecost 10C

July 28, 2013

Genesis 18:20-32

Luke 11:1-13

            Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         Those of you who were here last week know that the gospel lesson was the story about Mary and Martha, about Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus to listen, and Martha bustling around being worried and distracted. We talked about how much easier it sometimes is to keep busy, to be like Martha, rather than take the time to really sit still and try to hear what God is saying to us, like Mary. We talked about how difficult it sometimes is to hear what God has to say, because it is often not what we wanted to hear, and sometime requires a change in us that we are not prepared for. But in the midst of all that, taking that time to pray, as difficult as it may be, is always an encounter with grace.

         One thing I regretted about last week’s sermon was that we didn’t get a chance to talk more about prayer, about how we should come before God, how to listen for God’s voice, how to talk to God. How convenient it is, then, that this week’s scripture readings are about prayer! So we have a chance to talk about that, after all.

         It doesn’t seem like we should have to learn how to pray, does it? It is such a central part of faith and relationship with God, it just seems like we should be naturally good at it. And because we think we should be naturally good at it, it is hard to readily admit that we aren’t.

         But it turns out, people have wanted to know more about how to pray for a long time! That’s how today’s Gospel lesson starts out: with Jesus’ disciples asking him how to pray. They should know – they lived and walked with God incarnate. And yet even they had questions about it.

         The answer that Jesus gives them is a powerful one for our own questions about prayer, too. Many, many sermons could be preached on the Lord’s Prayer alone, let alone the other parts of this passage, but for today, let’s glean just a few points. First of all, when it comes right down to it, the Lord’s Prayer is pretty simple. It asks for some very basic things. It asks that we would remember God’s holiness. It is a prayer for sustenance (daily bread), for relationships (forgiveness), and for safety (lead us not into trial). Maybe we don’t always think to pray for these basic things, or maybe we do, but the point is that even these most basic needs are worth talking to God about. I think sometimes we get in our heads that when we pray it needs to be this eloquent, beautifully worded, important prayer – for someone in great need, or when we are enduring a great trauma, or when something very dramatic happens in our lives. Not so! “Give us this day our daily bread” is about as simple and mundane as it comes, but also tremendously significant, even life or death!

         A second thing to notice about Jesus’ instructions for prayer is that it is very honest. Again, it need not be this beautiful, poetic, insightful thing. God doesn’t want to see your best side; God wants to see you. God already told us he knows our inmost parts, so what are we trying to hide?

When I was a chaplain for one summer, I sometimes wrote prayers with the patients I saw. Some of these people had never prayed with someone before, or maybe even at all. So I started by simply asking them, “If God were sitting right here right now, and you could say anything to him, what would you say?” The answers I got were so moving and profound, mostly due to their honest simplicity! As they told me things, I jotted them down, then added a “Dear God” at the beginning and an “Amen” at the end, and voila: we had a prayer. And I would pray that prayer back to them, and they were amazed at how easy it was. Here’s an example from one patient battling cancer:

         Dear God,

I don’t really know how to talk to you. 

I just have to ask why – what have I done?

How can I make things better?

I noticed that I have been different this year… not a very nice person.  And my husband has gotten the brunt of it.  I apologized to him, but I pray that you help me be a better person so that I don’t do that anymore.

I don’t know what’s going on… I don’t know why I’m asking… maybe just so I can be a better person. 

I pray for my grandchildren’s health.

I’m always asking for help like that, and I don’t know why.

I don’t know why I’m not religious.  It’s easy to fall away when it’s not right there, I guess.

I’m just trying to figure this out, God.

Amen.

Have you ever prayed a prayer that sounded something like that? I think it’s one of the most beautiful prayers I’ve ever heard, and what makes it that way is its sheer honesty. It is a conversation with God.

Along with being honest, scripture tells us that prayer should be persistent. This is sort of a weird parable that Jesus tells his disciples, about a guy going over to his friend’s house at midnight asking for something to feed his unexpected guest. This takes borrowing a cup of sugar from the neighbors to a whole new level! But what we learn from this guy is that prayer is persistent, even nagging. Even more than that, it is shameless! Now, I wouldn’t dream of going to my neighbors at midnight and pounding on the door for a loaf of bread – that is shameless behavior. And indeed, the word that is translated here as “persistent” could actually also be translated as “shameless.” There are a lot of things that I’m embarrassed to pray about – “God doesn’t want to hear about that,” I think. But there is no shame in praying whatever is on our hearts.

Our reading from Genesis is similarly shameless, as Abraham literally bargains with God. God has said he would destroy the city of Sodom and everyone in it because they are so unrighteous. “Really, God?” Abraham asks. “Is that really the God you want to be? What if I found 40 righteous people in Sodom? Would you save it?” “Yeah, I’d save it for 40,” God says. “Well let me ask you this: how about 30?” “Yeah, I’d save it for 30.” “If it’s not too much trouble, Lord, how about 20?” “Yeah, I could do that.” And so on. Abraham is shameless! On my own, I would never think this sort of praying is appropriate – I still have in my head that prayer should be eloquent and respectful and lovely. But here it is, Abraham, one of the biblical pillars or faith, bargaining with God. When times get tough, when the stakes are high, this is sometimes how prayers sound. I have certainly wanted to pray some prayers like this in the past year! Because even though, “Thy will be done” may be a more faithful and trusting prayer, this sort of interaction is the sort of prayer that builds relationship with God.

And when you come right down to it, that is the most important purpose of prayer: to build a relationship with God. Indeed, “relationship” is a powerful definition of prayer. When we want to build relationships with people, can that happen if we never speak or write or spend time with each other? Not likely! In our most intimate relationships, we spend time listening, and sharing, and sometimes we argue and forgive, and go through bad times and good times together. This is the stuff marriages and best friends are made of!

And this is what God wants from us. God so badly wants to be in a close, meaningful relationship with us, that he became one of us, walked the earth, experienced what we experience, loved and lost as we do, felt joy and pain and humor and frustration. All this he did so that when Jesus then died on our behalf, taking all our sins with him to the cross, it would be done with a true knowledge of humanity, a true intimacy with each of us, so that we might then have a sense of just how much God loves us. That God would go through all of this for us!

And so, in response, we pray. We listen. We offer to God our simple requests and thanksgivings and questions. We bare our most honest hearts to a knowing God. We are shameless and persistent in our efforts toward conversation with a God who loves us.

Normally I end my sermons in prayer, but this time instead, I’m going to let you do the praying, by leaving a time of silence before closing this sermon, and then we’ll let the congregational praying continue in the prayers of intercession. There will be a time during the prayers for you to lift up your own joys or concerns, and I encourage you, in the interest of simple, honest, and shameless prayer, to do this aloud. Jan/Sharon will speak a petition inviting you, and leave a silence for you to offer up your prayers to God. For now, please offer your own silent prayer to help me close this sermon. Brothers and sisters, let us pray…

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Movin' out...

So the good news: WE ARE CLOSING TOMORROW! By dinnertime, we'll be homeowners.

Gadzooks, finally.

It is great to have a closing date, and to be able to plan accordingly. I have movers scheduled to come on Thursday to get the big stuff, and we will spend the next three days moving the last things, setting up the new house, and trying to make our new house feel at least a little bit like a home, so that when we return from our mini-honeymoon at 1:30am in a couple weeks, we will have, you know, a bed to sleep in, and access to our clothes.

Having a closing date and all these things in place has made the experience much more real. Of course I knew movin' out was going to happen, but now it really, really is. So I had to put my lack of motivation to pack aside and finally get to work. (But I didn't work too hard, because I've heard the working too hard can give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack-ack.) I had some friends come and pack up most of my dishes, so the big stuff is packed, and a lot of stuff can stay in dresser drawers, or go in my backseat, but there is still a fair amount to do, so I set out to do it.

And then I had a bit of a melt down.

It started with growing increasingly mopey. I took down the international crosses wall (I have a collection of crosses from around the world), and Michael said, "Aww, putting that up was one of the first things I helped you with!" Yup. It went in a box. I took everything off my fridge (it looks so naked). I put some knickknacks in a box. My home looked less and less like my home.

Finally, I took down the first thing I put up when I moved in. For an ordination gift, my parents gave me this plaque that belonged to my grandparents, along with a simple brass cross. The plaque says, "Christ is the head of this house, the unseen guest at every meal, the silent listener to every conversation." My mom explained that in all the moving my grandparents had done, this had always been placed right by the entryway to each home. I was thrilled, and delighted to put it up in my new home when I moved to Rochester. It was, as I said, the first thing I put up, because having it there immediately made it feel like my home. I have admired it many times, every time I come home or leave, in fact, because just like my grandparents had, I placed it right at the top of the stairs where you first enter my apartment.

Now, I took it down and placed it in a box. This piece that had meant so much to me, that symbolized for me in some ways that I was really starting out in the life God intended, in my own apartment paid for with money I was earning doing God's work (rather than student loans!)... now it was going in a box. And I could feel the tears welling up inside me.

I tried to power through it, but I was zapped. I curled up beside Michael on the couch, and told him the whole story.

It wasn't laziness or lack of motivation that had prevented me from packing to this point, I said. It was that I didn't want to say goodbye to this. This is my first home that is really mine, that has my furniture, my art, my special things, my memories of places and people who have been important to me, and is paid for with money that I earned in my vocation. For me, it has represented adulthood, and feeling settled somewhere for the first time since I left for college. I made it into a home, and it became for me a haven, a place to refuel, a place where I could go to fill up my heart and feel swaddled in love and safety, a place where I was proud to invite people in and share a piece of myself with them... and it has done all of this for me through some pretty big things. Yes, I know the new house will become our home, too, and will have its own set of emotions and love. But it will be OURS. This one was MINE, my first go at creating a home - sewing the curtains, arranging the furniture, filling the pantry, decorating the walls to my very own liking.

And I'm putting all of that into boxes. And it is hurting my heart.

This afternoon, Michael and I will do our final walk-through of the new house, make sure everything is in order before we close tomorrow. I am hoping that we will see it empty, and will be able to envision it as ours, with our personality in it rather than its previous owners'. I'm hoping that will cheer my aching heart, and make it easier to let go of all that I have loved so much about my current home, my apartment and neighborhood that I have loved so much.

And I hope that after I have said a proper goodbye to my current home, that my heart will be ready to create a new, wonderful home with my beloved! We do have some pretty spectacular plans about what our home will be. :)

A prayer pie in the face

I'm getting married in less than two weeks! And, we're having wedding pie and cookies, instead of wedding cake. So... just wanted to throw that out there. That's the reason for the title of this blog.

As those who read my sermon posts as well as my more newsy and reflective posts know, I preached yesterday about just sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to what God is saying in our lives. It was not an easy sermon for me to write (though it was actually a lot of fun to preach!), because it was so very timely. In fact, in the clergy text study I attend on Tuesdays, I exclaimed to my colleagues, bewildered, "I can't preach this sermon because I haven't found any gospel in it for me yet!" Even as the words came out of my mouth, I reluctantly realized that it was for that very reason that I needed to preach this sermon, and find some gospel in it, doggone it!

Why was it so hard? I have written before about how difficult prayer has been for me going through this particular trial. I reflected recently with both my counselor and my spiritual director about why that might be. It would make sense for it to be because I am angry at God for all this cancer business, but the truth is, I'm not really. Cancer is what it is, and nothing more. It is not God punishing me for some reason. It is not happening to me to teach me a lesson (though lessons certainly have been and will be learned!). It is just something that happened, and I do trust that God has been present with me in it, and will continue to be present with me, and has been and will be present with the many people I have encountered through the experience.

So if I'm not angry with God, then why has this experience made prayer so difficult? And what I finally realized was that while I still believe in God and that God listens to prayer, I have lost trust in my ability to hear God's response to my prayer. I have always felt God calling me to be a wife and mother - so why did it take me so long to find a husband, and then when I finally do, to have this monkey wrench thrown into our dreams of having children? I felt called to be a pastor - so why did I get going in a promising ministry, only to be knocked off my feet by two bouts with cancer? Is it possible I was hearing things wrong? That I was misinterpreting what God has been saying to me? And if I was, then what else have I misinterpreted, or might I misinterpret in the future?

Now, my logical side sees that God could still be calling me to be a wife and mother, it just took this long to find the right person to make that so. We weren't ready for each other before this. I do still believe God called me to be a pastor, and this experience has in some ways been a boon to my ministry. Kind of a lame way to go about this, God, but you got the job done. But the fact remains, I'm feeling a little insecure about my ability to hear God's voice in my life regarding those Big Issues. So when the opportunity arose to preach about listening to God, my guard went up.

After tiptoeing my way through writing that sermon, I started to think that maybe I could practice what I preach. I was amazed how difficult it was. First of all, it took several days to actually be able to try. Finally, I could bring myself to try. But as I lay there one night in the dark, trying to visualize opening my heart and listening, I kept finding I was visualizing my heart as a wounded animal, cowering over its wound, protecting it from further harm. My prayer became less like the active listening and meditation I had planned, and more like just helping that scared creature to trust again. Stroking it, whispering soothing things in its ear. "It's okay... it won't hurt... you can trust again..."

It wasn't unlike my experience trying to run again - I was so scared to try, and then when I finally did I fell. But then I tried again, and it was successful and felt great! I'm still just easing my way back into my previous way of life, it's just that now it is in ways that other people can't see. To an outside person, I wear my clothes fairly normally, I even wore a swimming suit last week (newbie boobie looked great in it!), my energy level is back up, I once again look to be the picture of health. But of course there is more to health than my outward appearance.

This coming Sunday, the Gospel text is Luke's version of the Lord's Prayer, so once again I am faced with prayer as the topic of my sermon. I am going to count this as a gift, because it gives me reason to read a whole bunch about prayer, which I believe will help that wounded heart of mine to heal even more. And then I will preach on that... and then, one week from today, I will head home for my wedding! (This will warrant its own novel worth of blog posts, too, I'm sure!)

Come, Holy Spirit. I'm gonna need you this week more than ever!

Sermon: "Being Martha, Being Mary" (July 21, 2013)

Pentecost 9C

July 21, 2013

Luke 10:38-42

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         In a few weeks, our new Deacon, Sharon, will preach her very first sermon! (Yay!) So we worked on it a bit together this week, and as I was trying to guide her, I had to do some thinking about how I go about writing a sermon. We talked about not only thinking about a text, but also reflecting and praying on it, letting it speak to the human condition, considering what about this text makes me feel uncomfortable, and what the gospel then offers to soothe that pain. Chances are, I told her, if it bothers you, it probably bothers someone else, and will be something worth hearing on Sunday morning. It was sort of a fun process to think about, but also very convicting, because even as I know what I’m supposed to do, I don’t always do it. (Busted!)

         So then of course I had to think about why I don’t always do it like I should. And today’s Gospel text made that realization very easy. Sometimes it is simply too painful to let the text highlight my own needs, to let myself be set straight by the Word, and then to stand up here and talk about it! Sometimes I just see too much of myself and my shortcomings in these stories we hear each Sunday – and probably never more so than in this brief story about Mary and Martha. Two thousand years later, it is still so contemporary.

         Mary and Martha are sisters, preparing for a most honored guest – Jesus himself! Jesus arrives, and Mary promptly sits at his feet and listens to his every word, as Martha continues to bustle around. I can imagine the scene: Mary gazing adoringly at Jesus, soaking up his peace and wisdom. Jesus delightedly sharing in this beautiful moment with a dear friend and disciple. And Martha, growing increasingly irritated, being less and less careful about how she puts down the dishes so as to make more and more noise, grumbling sarcasm under her breath, making faces at Mary behind her back – who said passive aggressive behavior is a modern invention! Finally, Mary laughs that sweet, carefree laugh of hers, and Martha just can’t take it anymore. She slams down the pot of stew and stomps into the room where Jesus and Mary are sharing their time together, and bursts out, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all this work by myself?! Tell her to help me!” She is indignant, and rightly so! Who does Mary think she is, just sitting around like a slug? Would Martha have liked to have sat and listened to Jesus? Of course! But this food doesn’t put itself on the table! And so her most immature sibling rivalry tendencies come to the forefront: “She doesn’t listen to me. YOU tell her to help me!”

         Jesus’ response is not what Martha hoped it would be. Surely, she thought, Jesus would take her side on this. He’s the one always talking about servant leadership, after all. She had heard about the scandalous story he had only just told, about the Samaritan helping that guy in the ditch. So if he was all about helping people like he said he was, then surely he would side with her on this, rather than her lazy sister. 

But he doesn’t. Can you imagine Martha’s face when Jesus responds to her? “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Imagine her face. Something tells me she did not take this response with a smile.

         The something that tells me that is my own feelings. My own shortcomings. My own conviction. My own recognition: that I am Martha in this story.

         “Johanna, Johanna, you are worried and distracted by many things.” Yes, Lord, I am! So you could tell? I mean, why shouldn’t I be, I’m buying a house, and getting married, and packing, and anticipating another major surgery, and oh yeah, I’m a pastor of your church, trying to lead your people the best I can… wouldn’t you be distracted? Wouldn’t you be worried?

         “There is need for only one thing.” Only one thing, Lord? I find that hard to believe! Did you hear the list of things I just gave you? Which of those can I put on the back burner at this point? None of them! How can you say only one of those things is demanding my attention right now? They are all extremely important!

“Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her.” But Lord, Mary?? She’s just sitting there! She’s not doing any of the work, remember how I told you? All she’s doing is sitting there and listening to you and…

Oh.

And that, my friends, is where I am convicted by the Word. And where I suspect many of you are convicted as well.

Mary has chosen the better part, to sit at the feet of Jesus and simply listen. I could talk about this gesture as one of hospitality – and I surely will in another sermon sometime. I could talk about this gesture as one of love – and it surely is. But what I understand about this gesture on this day is that it is one of discernment. To take the time and just listen to Jesus, hear what he is saying to you and your life today, right now. That’s an awfully tall order in such a fast paced world that puts so many demands on us. And they are reasonable demands, too: feed your children, go to work, clean and take care of yourself and your home, volunteer at these worthwhile organizations, even, go to church. Martha’s demands were reasonable ones, too. And yet, it is Mary who chose the better part.

So many of us identify as Marthas. In today’s world, it is almost a badge of honor. People ask, “How are you?” and the answer is, “Busy,” as if to say, “I’m important, and contributing a lot to the world.” The millennial generation, which includes anyone born after 1980, is especially known for being excellent at multi-tasking – you almost have to be, in order to get ahead in this world, right? And yet, it is Mary who chose the better part.

What is it that keeps us from being Marys instead of Marthas? What keeps us from taking the time to just sit and listen to God’s Word? Certainly there is a time and place to be Martha as well… but if you’re anything like me, you prefer being Martha because you find it easier to be Martha, to bustle around keeping busy, rather than take some time to listen and pray. All those distractions keep us from our worries, and if we do enough stuff, enough busy work, we don’t have to deal with whatever difficult thing is going on in our heart. Because the work of the heart is hard work. Hearing what God has to say to us can be extremely difficult, because often God doesn’t say to us what we want to hear. I mean, if I could sit at the feet of Jesus and always be sure he would shower me with affirmations and nice things and promises of prosperity, then I think it would be a delight to be a Mary. But instead, when we open ourselves to be addressed by God, make ourselves vulnerable before God, then we might have to face the fact that something has to change. That something in our life is not as God would have it be. That our focus has turned from godly things to worldly things and human desires.

I know there are always things like that about my life, because I am a sinner, just like all of you. And in prayer, in those times when we truly just listen to God, we often have to face them. And that is hard work. But even as this hard truth convicts us, God’s greater truth also nourishes us, redeems us, and promises us grace and love and forgiveness. Perhaps we get so bogged down by our worries and distractions that we miss that part. Perhaps we get so turned off by the revelation of our shortcomings that we forget to keep listening for the grace.

But friends, an encounter with Christ is always an encounter with grace. It is always in invitation into relationship – relationship with God, and by extension, relationship with others. It is always an experience in which we are, finally, lifted out of the despair of sin and into the holiness that is God’s love and forgiveness. An encounter with Christ is always a promise that we are God’s beloved children, not because of what we can get accomplished on any given day, or what important worries and distractions are driving us, but because God claimed us as God’s own, promising to be with us from now to the end of time. And that is something worth sitting at the feet of Jesus to hear.

Let us pray. Gracious and loving God, we are worried and distracted by many things, but there is need of only one thing: to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to his Word and his promise. Help us to choose the better part, and to know that this will not be taken from us. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Gone running, new baby, and the case of the spitting stitch

Big news: this week I went running... and I didn't fall! I made it all the way around the neighborhood, ran for about 20 minutes without stopping, and stayed on my feet the whole time. Small victories, but I felt pretty darn good about myself. Then of course we delved into a horrible, oppressive heat wave and that was the end of running for the week. (I know, other people live in much hotter and more humid places, but Rochester, NY and its people are built for cold, not hot!)

Then, I got an email about playing on a soccer team in the fall... and I said I would like to! She's going to put me on as a sub, since I won't be able to play the whole season anyway. But I loved that I felt like I could play soccer. Yay, feeling normal-ish!

Yesterday, my best friend (finally) had her beautiful daughter!! I am beside myself, and if I weren't still waiting to hear about our house closing (argh!), I would so be in a car on my way to Cleveland to meet my new goddaughter (I've been this child's godmother since about three years before she was born!). I did get to meet her over Skype last night, mere hours after she was born, so that's pretty amazing. I couldn't stop looking at her. I cannot wait to hold her sweet little self. It was apparently an extremely difficult labor (36 hours!), so I am exceedingly grateful that both my friend and her daughter made it out okay. I was promised the whole story when everyone is less exhausted. I can seriously hardly contain my excitement about meeting her soon.

Today, I had a check-up with Dr. Skinner. I honestly didn't remember why. I guess it was just a, "Hey, come back and see me," sort of a check-up. It was at the end of the day, and I must say, Dr. Skinner was hilarious today. "It's been a long day," she said, "I'm getting punchy." I was super late, and when I walked in and was having my vitals taken, I heard someone start humming, "Here Comes the Bride." I looked up and there was Dr. Skinner! She wanted to hear all about the wedding plans, what music we were having, what my dress looks like, etc., and I showed pictures and told her all I could. When nurse Sherri finished all the info gathering and left us alone, Dr. Skinner said, "Okay, have a seat, show me your boob. Take off your shirt." I laughed. "I guess we're not being polite anymore?" She said again, it's been a long day. I love her. So I did as I was told. 

A few days ago, one of the dissolvable stitches pushed its way out of my skin, and I was unable to just pull it out like I could the other exposed stitches. I ended up having to cut it because it was scratching me in the shower. I asked about it. She said, "Ah yes, a spitting stitch." Huh? Sometimes, she said, rather than dissolve the stitch, the body finds it easier to just sort of spit it out. Hilarious image, I thought. She went to get her glasses so she could see better, and came back with a plastic surgeon. "I brought a plastic surgeon. I've been telling him about these spitting stitches, and he didn't believe me. See??" she said, pointing. "Told you!"

As the plastic surgeon tried to figure out this stitch, I commented how funny I have found it that now that I have a muscle in place of a boob (my chest muscle covers the implant), I can sort of flex it. I demonstrated, and we had a good giggle over that. Dr. Skinner told me a story about a friend of hers who did that to mess with people, just randomly flex and twitch her fake boobs. The plastic surgeon kept working on this mysterious spitting stitch while we told boob stories. Sort of a bizarre thing, this scene; in addition, I couldn't really feel anything, so as he was yanking on this wayward stitch, it felt more like a charlie horse than the sort of skin pain you might imagine. He pulled it about an inch out (I asked if he was going to just pull the whole implant out through that little hole, and Dr. Skinner guessed Dr. Langstein wouldn't be too happy about that!), and then just cut it as short as he could. Perhaps it will spit more later, Dr. Skinner said. So, I will stay tuned for more on The Case of the Spitting Stitch.

Before we were done, I mentioned the week I'd like to schedule the next mastectomy, and she said she would work on it. I also asked how long after the mastectomy I should wait before trying to get pregnant. "Oh, right after is fine as far as I'm concerned," she said. I joked, "So, in the hospital that night, or...?" she said, "Well, you could, but you know, those rooms don't have much privacy, just a curtain, so, I wouldn't recommend it..." and the plastic surgeon piped up, "Although you'd be surprised." I said we could probably wait until maybe the next day. :) (By which I mean a couple months at least!)

The whole appointment was about 20 minutes, and probably half of that was spent looking at pictures of my wedding dress and talking about plans and house and all. Everyone wanted to hear about it. Everyone was so excited, and wished us well. Again, I'm so grateful that I love my doctors and nurses so much. I'll be so excited if Dr. Skinner comes to our Rochester wedding. (Celebrity sighting!)

Sermon: "The Parable of the Dude in the Ditch" (July 14, 2013)

Pentecost 8C

July 14, 2013

Luke 10:25-37 (The Good Samaritan)

         How many of you have heard today’s Gospel lesson before? How many of you would say, “That’s a nice story, with a clear moral.” What’s the moral?

         Would any of you say this is a story wrought with conflict and scandal?

         It is a nice story! Guy gets in trouble. A couple people, respectable people, walk by and don’t help. But then another person walks by, this an unlikely candidate to be helpful, and HE is the one who helps. He goes over and beyond, cleaning the guy up, bringing him to a motel, and paying for him to be taken care of – a couple days wages! And the moral is: that third guy, he’s the one we should be like. Go and do likewise, says Jesus. Go out of your way to serve and help others. It is the quintessential story of the Christian faith, isn’t it? It is well-known, well-loved, even known colloquially. Culturally speaking, to be a kind, giving person, especially to strangers, is synonymous with being a Good Samaritan.

         So I think we’d like to fancy ourselves good Samaritans, right? At least we are pretty good Samaritans. Well, most of the time we are, anyway. Right? Definitely if I saw someone close to dead on the side of the road, I would help.

         Or would I? I heard this week about a study that was done some time ago at Princeton Seminary. There were forty students, training to be pastors or church leaders, who were asked to go from one building to another, through an alley. Half were told they were going to teach a study on the Good Samaritan, and half were told they would be talking about jobs available. Some were told they were late, and had to rush. Some were told they had no rush. In the alley between buildings, there was a plant, a man slouched in a doorway, in need of care. He coughed twice as each student went by. Guess how many of the forty students stopped? Sixteen. 24 just kept walking. Of those who were told they were in a hurry, only 10% stopped. Of those who were on their way to teach a study on this very story, only half of them stopped. And again, these were people training to be church leaders!

         It’s easy to say, “Oh what a shame, those Princeton Seminary students should have known better!” But I have a hunch we are not so different. What if you saw someone in need, but you were in a hurry? Maybe late for an appointment, or to see your kid’s hockey game? What if the person in need was someone you didn’t like? What if it was someone no one liked, a social outcast? What if it was someone who had done wrong to you, even something really, really wrong that had changed your life for the worse? What if it was someone from the proverbial “other side of the tracks,” the sort of person you are afraid to associate with, someone who could take advantage of you? What if it was someone who reeked of alcohol, probably was high, and had not showered in weeks?

         It becomes harder and harder to see ourselves as that Good Samaritan, no? And I’m not just stretching the text to paint a picture I want to paint – no, this is legitimately the question first century hearers were faced with. Here’s a little history lesson to help you understand. By the time Jesus told this parable, Jews and Samaritans had hated each other for a thousand years. When king Solomon died in 931 BCE, the united monarchy split into two factions. Under the revolt and leadership of Jereboam, ten of the twelve tribes of Israel, the ones in the north, established a new capital in Samaria. The two remaining tribes of the southern kingdom of Judah maintained their capital at Jerusalem. The result and legacy of this split was a thousand years of political rivalry, ethnic hostility, and religious bigotry. The two kingdoms hated each other with a great passion, and even though many other changes had occurred during that 1000 years, including the Babylonian exile and the fall of the northern kingdom, the hatred remained. Whenever you hear about a Samaritan in a story about Jesus, you have to know that Samaritans were seen as dirty heretics, and they were looked down upon.

         So you can see that when the Samaritan, the man from the hated former northern kingdom, showed mercy and compassion for the man in the ditch, it was not just the story of a nice guy who helped a guy in need. Turns out this isn’t such a nice, easy story with a clear moral. It is, after all, a story wrought with conflict and scandal! Although even still, the moral seems to be: show mercy and compassion even to those who are different from you, even to those you hate. That is what a Christian does. That is what Christian love looks like.

         Well I can stand up here all day long every week and tell you that, and it would never be wrong. But what if… what if this story isn’t the story of the Good Samaritan after all? What if the heading in your Bible said not “The Parable of the Good Samaritan,” but rather, “The Parable of the Helpless Guy in the Ditch”? How would that change your understanding of it? Because it is one thing to help people in need even if you don’t like them or even are afraid of them. It’s nice and all, but if you are the one helping someone in such great need, you are in the dominant position. You have the power. The much more remarkable character in the story is the helpless guy in the ditch, the guy who had to humble himself enough to be helped by someone he hated, someone he perceived to be below him, someone about whom he had made cruel comments and dirty jokes. And now he relied entirely on this man – indeed his very life depended on the man he had previously derided.

         Many were horrified a couple months ago to hear about three women being held captive in a man’s house in Cleveland for ten years. Just this week the women came out with their first public statements, thanking people for their support. The part of this story that intrigued me the most was the man who helped them get out: Charles Ramsey, a black man, looking a little rough around the edges, who as it turns out had done prison time for domestic abuse charges. He was a “Samaritan,” the guy you don’t want to see coming to help you, the guy you’re a little afraid of, the guy respectable people wouldn’t want to be associated with. But when Amanda Berry needed help, he was there, and she ran into his arms. When you need help as much as those women did, you throw yourself into the arms even of the most unlikely savior.

         You know, as much as we would prefer to take our moral from the Good Samaritan, the hero of the story, I’m inclined to say that this story is just as much about the helpless guy in the ditch, and it is from him that we can take our lesson in the Christian life. Being a Christian is not about always being the righteous hero. Just as important as helping and much more difficult is to find ourselves lying in that ditch, desperately in need of our enemy. Is that not the epitome of humility? To let yourself be helped by someone or something you hate, that has caused you harm, that has caused you grief? To take the struggles of life and to turn them into lessons, to take the frustrations of life and see them as pathways to later joy, to look at those questions in your life, and live them and love them right now, rather than long for something more or different?

         And it is with this humility that we also come before Christ – Christ, who was hated and beaten and offended, whose own friends deserted him, and who still went to the cross for us. Christ, who continues to love us and show us mercy and compassion even when we neglect or deny him. Let’s face it: we are utterly helpless, just like the guy in the ditch. We do our best to get by, but at the end of the day, our very lives depend upon this man who was previous derided. We are totally reliant on the love of God, the power of the Holy Spirit, and the saving grace of Christ. We are the helpless guy in the ditch, and Jesus is our Good Samaritan, there to help us, to save us, when we are in our most need.

         Let us pray. Merciful and compassionate God: You do give us the power to serve, and we pray that you will help us to do this. But we also pray that you give us the humility to be served, and to learn even from those whom we may despise. Thank you God for your relentlessly saving works. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Cheers to 30!

Yesterday was my 30th birthday. Cheers to the next decade! I have high hopes for it, and yesterday was a great day to kick it off.

The fact that I'm so upbeat about the turn out of my birthday shows me that I am in a pretty good place, because there was one humungous disappointment yesterday: we did NOT close on our house. More on that later. Even with that disappointment, the day was good - though last year's birthday set the bar pretty low.

Last year on my birthday, I had my very first biopsy. I went in for the mammogram on July 9 and came back for the biopsy on the 12th, right after my mom arrived at the airport to spend the weekend in Rochester. Between picking my mom up at the airport and going to the hospital, I found out that the son of members of one of my churches had been hit and killed while he was walking down the street late at night. I called them, and arranged to meet with the shocked and grieving family after the biopsy. I had the biopsy. I broke down sobbing in the waiting room, unable to bear everything going on that day, even as my phone buzzed repeatedly with facebook posts, emails, and texts saying things like, "Hope your birthday is full of smiles and happiness!" Right. You can see, it wasn't my best birthday. (Although that particular biopsy did turn out negative, so there's that.)

So this year, I woke up and read in bed for a while. I hung out with Klaus. I got creative and started trying to make a flower for my hair for the wedding - with pretty good success, I'd say!

(Which do you like better?)

I went shopping with a friend for clothes I can wear wedding week and for honeymoon. Said friend treated me to frozen yogurt. Michael got me flowers and nice gifts. We got dressed up and went out to a nice dinner and I got raspberry mousse for dessert. It was a good birthday, with a perfect balance of relaxing and doing fun things with fun people.

But if you recall, the Big Activity for my 30th birthday was supposed to be closing on our house, and that did not happen. Everyone who knows this has been outraged ("Can't you guys catch a frickin' break??"), but I'm strangely at peace about it. Sure, we're frustrated - we don't even really know the reason we haven't closed, but last I heard, we were awaiting approval for my First Home Club Grant from the Federal Home Load Bank, and then the bank can finish the HUD-1 statement, and then the lawyer can do whatever they need to do, and the approval needed is in "the final stage," whatever that is, but despite many phone calls all week, and a request to put a rush on it... nothin'. My mortgage commitment says we need to close by July 14, which is a Sunday, so I don't know what that means. And no one can seem to tell us when we will be closing on this thing, but I'm leaving for California for the wedding in two weeks, so it needs to happen before that, because when I come back I will no longer be "single" and all of my paperwork will have to be redone and together we do not qualify for the grant because Michael is not a first time home owner.

So I should be pretty freaked out about this, right? But for some reason, I'm not.

Maybe I'm just optimistic that this will happen in the next week. Maybe I've faced enough crappy things lately that this doesn't phase me like it might. Maybe I'm just done being frustrated and discouraged, and some part of me has decided I just won't feel that way anymore. Maybe I'm simply too tired.

Whatever it is, I am still feeling pretty good about being 30. I have pretty high hopes for this decade of my life - a decade free of cancer, a decade full of love and partnership, a decade which will, God willing, finally bring children into my life and allow me to finally fulfill what has been my one and only life-long dream. I am eager to see how these things will play out. How will it be to be married? What new musical instruments will Michael and I take on next? Will we bear biological children, or will we adopt? Will we stay in our new house (if we ever close!), or will we move again? How will my career evolve? What will the next decade bring in my churches, and how will that affect my understanding of my call? So many exciting things to discover!

Finding handles.

I'm feeling a little better today. Having processed all of that yesterday with my spiritual director was helpful, and then I processed it again with Michael, and then I made an appointment with my counselor for tomorrow, so I feel like I am closer and closer to having a grip on my life.

I've also been thinking today about the things in my life that are NOT changing. There is so much that is changing, it is hard to keep that from taking over. But I have many wonderful and stable things in my life.

My health, for now. When I was anticipating my last mastectomy, I knew I had cancer growing in my breast. I didn't yet know that it was invasive, but every day was a fear that it was growing, that it was becoming invasive, that it was trying to take more of my life from me. Some of that fear remains - the whole reason I'm having the other one taken off, after all, is because it is at so much higher risk than they realized. But as far as I know, there is no cancer growing in my body, and even though I had my ego-bruising encounter with the pavement (and a few lingering scars to remind me), I feel very good, physically. This is a great blessing.

My family. They ain't goin' nowhere! I have adoring, supportive parents who are so helpful to me, so caring, and would fly to the moon and back for me if they thought it would help. I have a thoughtful, concerned brother, and a sweet, insightful sister-in-law, and a niece or nephew on the way. All of these people are irreplaceable constants in my life, and while my marriage and my brother's on-the-way baby will change some things about the way those relationships are lived out (changing support systems and whatnot), the love we have for each other never changes, except to grow stronger.

My fiance. I am so blessed by him. Every time I hear a story about a marriage that struggled or fell apart because of cancer, or about unsympathetic husbands, or about an inability to talk genuinely about feelings, I give thanks for my own life-giving relationship. I mean, it isn't all rainbows and roses and unicorns (Michael doesn't even like roses), but I am so grateful for our ability to communicate our feelings and our needs and our wants, to not take offense at each other's expressions of these, to be honest, to be patient with each other while we process the more difficult things both independently and together, to pray together when the need arises, and at the end of the day to still be so delighted to see each other and smile and kiss and rub the dog's belly and talk about our days, the mundane and the unusual. What a lucky girl that this guy will be one of my stable things for the rest of my life!

My friends. I have the most remarkable bunch of friends who will listen to me blather on about just about anything, and offer insight and love in return, and then tell me about their own stuff to help me take my mind off of myself for a while. Many of them are flying all the way to California or to Rochester to see me get married - how cool is that?? One of them is moments away from giving birth to my first goddaughter (I think she might be hanging on until my birthday!). I am amazed how many wonderful friends I have, who challenge me, inspire me, comfort me, love me, make me laugh, understand me, and send me really fun things in the mail.

My job. Of all the things that are changing in my life, I can be incredibly grateful that my job, my call, is not one of them. I am immensely blessed to be in the call that I am, among these people, in this place. Changing jobs is always a stressor, but for me, losing the network of love, prayer, and support that my congregations have shown me would be catastrophic. They have carried us through this, and even though I am strung out and lacking energy at this moment, I can't wait to continue serving them.

My God. Thanks be to God! I may not be super thrilled with God at times, and we've definitely had some words over the past months, but the fact is, God is always there, even when we're not on good terms. Even when I can't find the energy to pray. Even when I'm not in the mood for God's shenanigans. God is and remains the primary and most life-giving constant in my life. My rock and my salvation. Whom then shall I fear?

Choosing life.

"Choose life." (Deuteronomy 30:19)

I went to my spiritual director today, a bundle full of anxiety on the verge of tears. I'm doing my very best to hold myself together, and as you can tell from my last (non-sermon) post, I was doing a pretty good job, at least on and off. But it turns out, I am dealing with a lot right now! Normally a very good compartmentalizer, I have been managing, but my compartments are getting full, and some things are not staying where they are supposed to, and well, today I woke up not very interested in doing anything at all. There's just so much!

There's the house. We're supposed to close this week, but now we are waiting on this person, who is waiting on that person, who is waiting on that management... and we might not be able to close until next week, which means they would have to pull my credit again, which means a ding on my credit. No fault of my own! Not to mention all our carefully laid weekend moving plans would have to be shifted to a much less easy to mange weekday night. Darn that!

There's the fact that I have never spent that much money at one time ever before. Holy smokes, it's a lot of money! And then the wedding expenses, and the fact that I need a new computer, and a new phone, and new tires, and all the new things that go with a new house... I am a saver, so that I never have to feel stressed when big financial things come up. I always have the money. But when I'm also buying a house, the cushion is temporarily diminished. Drat! Michael reminds me that every dollar we put in the house is not lost, but is equity. That helps... but equity won't buy me a new computer or pay a photographer.

There's the wedding - oh yeah, that! It occurred to me today that we had originally planned the wedding for July 20. WHOA if it were still on that day I might have a nervous breakdown. I'm actually not as anxious about that as I maybe should be, though. Michael and I both have plane tickets, as does our officiant, and many people I love will be there, and so it will be fine. The rest could be a disaster (it won't be, though!) and we will still end up married at the end, so I'm not too concerned. (Also, my dear, wonderful parents have been working hard taking care of many of the details! Thank you!!)

There's thinking about being married, and all the changes that go with that. It really hit me for the first time the other day that I wouldn't be Johnson anymore. I've always been Johnson! Joh-Joh! As important as it is to me to share a name with my husband, and as much as I want to be "The Rehbaums," I'm having a little trouble with that. Changing my name, of course, is only the tip of the iceberg!

There's giving up MY home. My home with my stuff, my closets, pictures of my loved ones, and my art, and my sentimental things. Many of these things will go with us (much more of my stuff than Michael's!), and eventually it will be OUR stuff as we build a home together, but that won't be true at first, for either of us. Suddenly this independent woman will have to make space for someone else's personality in her decor and decisions. It's wonderful and exciting even as it is frustrating and scary. I see what they mean when they say marriage is its own kind of loss that requires its own kind of grieving.

And of course, there's the fact that I am still anticipating another mastectomy. Bye-bye boobie #2. And also, as my skin and muscles get used to my new boob, and it settles in, some weird things happen. I now have a muscle that goes over my implant, where for most people the chest muscle lies flat with breast tissue over it. When I flex that muscle, move my shoulder around, whatever, my boob deforms. Fine when I'm wearing a shapely bra under a shirt, or a wedding dress, but how will it look in a swimming suit? And this seems small, but although I can sleep in *almost* any position, there are some that just don't feel right. In a time when everything is changing, do I have to change the way I sleep, too??

All of this together leads to a distinct lack of settledness. So many big things are causing so much anxiety that I can no longer pinpoint the source of the anxiety - it bleeds into everything else in my life. And I'm left with very little to hold onto.

And that's really the key. I talked about all this with my spiritual director today, and she referred to the passage above from Deuteronomy, about choosing life. How am I "choosing life" in my life right now? Because everything that is going on seems to be sucking life from me, so where am I looking to find it, to balance things out a bit? What practical things can I do to seek life? Where do I normally look for something that gets me away from it all? I'd like to say prayer, but prayer is so emotional for me. I cry when Michael or anyone prays for me, I cry when I get too invested in my preaching and Scripture study, I don't have the energy to do more than very simple prayers, so this is not a good escape, even as it may be (is) a good way to process.

So the first things I thought of were soccer and music. Soccer is great because it is active, it is fast, it gives me many short term goals to achieve: get that ball, run to that spot, kick the ball there. (Oh yeah, plus I get to kick things!) But we saw how well my attempt at exercise went a couple weeks ago. Plus running requires too much attention - I am focusing on something too far down the road, with nothing to distract me in the meantime. I'm not currently on a soccer team, nor could I play with much vigor if I was.

Music is also tricky. I can sing and play a little with Michael, which is great, but my choir that I love so much is on hiatus for the summer, and playing my oboe by myself with nothing to prepare for lacks the goal achievement and satisfaction that would feel so good. Both soccer and choir are activities I do in groups of people who are in most other ways removed from my day-to-day life, so they are an escape. They don't require an emotional investment, at least not the same kind as these other things. They are a demand on me, but one that is very easily satisfied, and I enjoy it. and I really think the goal achievement is key: I kick a ball, it gets to where I wanted it to, and it feels good. I see a phrase, I sing the right notes, I pronounce the words correctly, it sounded beautiful.

But I don't have these outlets right now. And for some reason the thought of taking on a new hobby in the midst of so much other newness is not especially appealing. (Go figure, huh?) I just want to do stuff I'm already good at, I'm already comfortable with, that already provide satisfaction. I need some handles, so I can keep a grip on my life.

Sermon: "Thy Kingdom Come" (July 7, 2013)

Pentecost 7C

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as in heaven.”

These are words that flow from our mouths so easily every week, maybe even every day or multiple times each day. Words that we promise to teach our children at their baptism. “Thy kingdom come… on earth as in heaven. Thy kingdom come.”

Do you know that Jesus talks about the kingdom of God more than anything else in all four Gospels? In our Gospel lesson today he says it twice: “The kingdom of God has come near you.” Thy kingdom come. What does that mean, though? What does that look like?

This is a question I have grappled with a lot. It is difficult to look at the world, with its hunger and violence and conflict and imagine that the kingdom of God could really be here on earth as it is in heaven. Although I cannot claim to describe perfectly what the kingdom of God is like, I think we can be pretty sure it does not include such widespread hunger and violence as we see whenever we turn on the news.

         We could wallow in the sadness of how un-kingdom-like the world is. But what is more productive for us as Christians, is to envision what the kingdom of God does look like, and to understand how we might work to live out that heavenly kingdom here on earth, even in the midst of difficulty.

Today’s readings give us some insight into these questions. Paul’s letter to the Galatians explains well some behaviors that would embody God’s kingdom. He says, “If anyone is detected of a transgression, you who have received the Spirit (so, baptized Christians) should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.” In other words, be gentle with one another, forgiving, and patient. “Bear one another’s burdens,” he goes on, “and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” So rather than accuse and condemn, citizens of the kingdom of God should help one another, stand in solidarity with one another, bear one another’s burdens. “So let us not grow weary in doing what is right,” Paul continues, “and whenever we have the opportunity, let us work for the good of all.” While these assertions cannot completely describe the kingdom of God, they are at least a straightforward start: Be patient and gentle with one another, forgive short-comings, stand by each others’ side and advocate for one another’s needs, and never grow tired of doing what is right, working for the good of all at every opportunity. Now that sounds like the kingdom of God!

A few years ago, I watched a movie about the life of Dorothy Day called Entertaining Angels. Dorothy Day was a 20^th century journalist with a heart for the poor and for social activism, and is best known for co-founding the Catholic Worker Movement. As a part of this movement, she began a house of hospitality in the slums of New York, inviting the poor, the drunks, the prostitutes and the mentally ill into her home, and they lived there together, ate together, helped each other. Such houses still exist – over 100 of them around the world. Living in such a house, side-by-side with the least in society, isn’t easy, as you can imagine. In the movie, we watch Dorothy scrub toilets and clean up vomit, comfort someone going through alcohol withdrawals, give up her own bed to fit in one more person for the night, help these people whom she loved try to break out of the traps of their various mental and physical illnesses… Watching all this, one has to wonder: is this the kingdom of God? Is this what Jesus meant when he said to care for the least of these?

Looking again at Paul’s words, he describes exactly what Dorothy Day was doing:

·               “If anyone is detected of a transgression,” – perhaps, stealing the rent money to afford a drink – “you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.”

·                “Bear one another’s burdens” – perhaps, giving your only pair of shoes to someone who has none.

·               “Do not grow weary in doing what is right,” “and whenever we have the opportunity, let us work for the good of all.” 

Yes, working toward the kingdom of God, trying to bring a glimpse of that kingdom here on earth, is not always a clean job, nor an easy one. It’s not always as simple as writing a check or volunteering at a food pantry, though both of these are also very important. Sometimes it involves taking off your shoes and stepping into the muck.

So how do we start? We can’t all leave our homes and move into communal houses with the poor in a New York City slum. But looking at our Gospel lesson today can prepare us for the journey toward seeking God’s kingdom.

         In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus sends out 70 people in pairs. He gives them several instructions about getting there and about what to do once they are there. Each of his instructions can speak to us today, as well:

The first thing Jesus tells the 70 is, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” In other words, “If not you, then who?” The work of seeking the kingdom of God and sharing the good news is hard work, but who is more qualified than you are, Nancy? Or you, Laurie? Or you, Jim? The laborers are few, and God needs each and every one of us!

Jesus warns then that he is sending us out “like lambs into the midst of wolves.” In other words, this is risky business. It might not be smooth sailing. You might damage your reputation, or have to give up something important to you. But be bold in what you do – this is God’s work! The Lord will provide.

Jesus says to “carry no purse, no bag, no sandals.” This is the hardest of all for me (and not just because I love sandals and purses!). I am one who strives to be prepared, to be ready for whatever might come up. But for Jesus to say, “Don’t bring all the things you think you need,” what he is saying is, “Leave it to the Lord.” Let go of that control you think you have on life. Just go. Again, the Lord will provide.

“Greet no one on the road,” he goes on. This is not so much about being unfriendly as it is about the urgency. Have you ever gone to the grocery store for a quart of milk and it takes you an hour and a half to get out because you keep seeing people you know? Jesus says there is no time for that! There are people out there who have never heard the good news of salvation. There are people who have not felt loved in a long time, or ever! This is the job, the call, of Christians – to share that news, to show that love – and there is no time to waste!

“Whatever house you enter,” Jesus says, “first say, ‘Peace to this house!’” This is that good news bit. While “peace” was a standard greeting, the peace Jesus is talking about here is the peace of salvation, the peace of knowing that Christ died for you and that liberation from sin and death is what allows you to love and serve even the least of society. Christ’s death is what gives you the strength to serve! Every time you encounter someone, you are bringing to them that peace that is salvation, you are bringing them the love of God; every time you engage with someone, they are experiencing that love through you. Everything you speak and everything you do reflects the grace and salvation of Jesus Christ – and every greeting you make proclaims that peace of salvation. And when you greet people in this way, with this knowledge, we can say with confidence, as Jesus also instructs, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” That love and grace and peace – that is the kingdom of God.

It isn’t easy. It isn’t always clean. Sometimes it brings you together with ruffians or crooks or other people we’d rather avoid. But notice at the end of the Gospel reading, that, “the 70 returned with joy!” They return having experienced the dawning of the kingdom, having experienced the joy one only feels when they have encountered the saving grace of Jesus Christ, the joy one feels when they have experienced the love of God in the absolute, risky, urgent, control-relinquishing, sometimes dirty, always saving love of God and neighbor.

Let us pray. Lord God, working with you and for you is risky business. Still, help us to trust you to help us show your love and grace and peace to the world, and bring about your kingdom on earth as in heaven. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.