Lenten Fast 1: Who is Jesus?

My Lenten journey this year... Day 1:  "Who is Jesus"...

Drawing from the text found in John 1:1-18 which begins with a bold statement: "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.  All things came into being through Him..."  

Right off the bat we are told of the ETERNAL nature of God.  In the beginning, God was already there.  So eternal... before the worlds and beyond the worlds!  This is our God!!  Nothing came to be except through God.  WOW.  What amazing power and greatness is found in our Lord.

Then the passage tells us: "He was in the world, and world came into being through Him, and yet, the world did not know Him.  He came to what was His own, and yet His own people did not accept Him..."

So often we cannot see what is right in front of our faces.  God is so "right-before-our-eyes" that many of us miss seeing God at all!

Oh, God, let my heart know you.  Let my heart welcome you.  Let my heart be true and faithful.  Let my life accept you.  Amen.

Calendar Girl

My husband handed me the large white envelope.  "Here, this is for you," he said.  As soon as I saw the size and packaging, my eyes lit up with anticipation.  I had been wondering when it would arrive: My new desk calendar from the United Church of Christ!  I eagerly began ripping into the envelope.  "I wonder what the cover will say this year.  I wonder what color it will be!  I wonder what..."

And then it was in my hands-- this crisp, clean calendar, boldly proclaiming, "GOD'S VISION:"  Behind the white words, printed in capital letter's and cleverly using a red comma in place of the apostrophe, there were other words in varying sizes and shades of gray.  Hospitality, Restore, Redemption, Revive... Dream, Diversity, Welcome, Breathtaking, Together, Wondrous, Inclusive...and in larger fonts, words such as: LOVE, GRACE, ETERNAL, FAITH, HOPE.  Largest of all, screaming from the lower right-hand corner-- JOY!

In Stephen Sondheim's musical, "Sunday in the Park With George", there is a moment when the artist, George Seurat, contemplates a blank canvass.  It is, for him, perhaps even more exciting that when a work is "complete".  Many year's later, his son, reading from his mother's journal, speaks the words she wrote as she watched his father paint: "White. A blank page of canvas. His favorite. So many possibilities..."

I opened the calendar and looked at the clean boxes... month after month of empty dates.  I could feel the excitement in my soul.  I wonder... What will fill those days?  Where will God take me in the coming weeks and months of this new year?

Wherever it is, I pray that it will be filled with moments of discernment, smiles, artistry, transformation (all printed on the cover of the calendar)... I pray that God's vision speaks to me and through me, that I will foster places of hospitality and welcome, that I will be enriched by the diversity of God's kingdom, that if there is a small role for me to play in restoring people to God, I will find courage to play it.

Prodigal Mother

The text came this morning as I dressed for the day:  "Call me when you get a minute."  It was my husband.  Immediately, I began to wonder about possible emergencies from our two parishes.  I had spent the night with our two younger children, both of whom were still sleeping peacefully upstairs, so I knew that they were okay.  Perhaps my husband had misplaced the mapquest directions I had given him for our meeting spot today... 

We planned to meet our oldest son for lunch, and meet the son and wife that he claims to have. ("Claims" is the word I use, because his mental illnesses have made telling the truth a challenge, and he has claimed falsely to be married before.)  But we were to meet today.  Today is his birthday.  I made a cake this weekend-  the first one I have made in 15 years for him- to celebrate his day of being born.  It sits in the back of my car even now, heart-shaped, and frosted with ooey-gooey pecan caramel icing on German chocolate cake.  It's what he asked for, and I smiled-- also his father's favorite.

It's been 15 years since I gave him a cake because he has not lived in our home since just after his 15th birthday.  Abused in his birth home, he became an abuser, and had to spend time in detention centers.  First, he was in a therapeutic placement; later in a juvenile facility.  Since turning 21, he's been in and out of jail repeatedly, usually involving assault charges-- sometimes towards women.  Because my physical health has improved, I was willing to begin building a relationship with him again, and it seemed quite timely that our reunion was planned for the day after I preached about the Prodigal Son.

But the call came to my husband's cell phone last night, shortly before midnight.  An inmate at a county jail was trying to reach him.  He didn't get the message until this morning- hence, my text message.  And, sure enough, when I checked the online data-base, our son is in jail, and his birthday cake will not be eaten by him yet again.  We have done this before.

As I drove through the foggy morning, I made a choice not to give in to the "poor me" mentality that was beginning to pull me towards a "pity party".  I prayed:  "God, show me whatever it is I can learn from this."  When I pray like this, and honestly mean it, I am ALWAYS given clarity.  The clarity that came this morning is this:

• This is not personal.  This has been our child's pattern in the 22 years we have known him.  He sabotages the good things in his life because he doesn't really believe he deserves them.  (God, plant Your love deep in his heart so that someday he may know that he is worth loving.)
• It IS personal. God is protecting my heart from deeper pain. If I had met the child that may or may not be my grandson, I would not have been able to keep from falling in love.  That's just who I am.  It's not time yet to make that commitment of love.  Maybe there WILL come a time, but it's not now.
• I have been blessed beyond belief!  My two younger children are the delights of my heart.  They do not have to DO or BE anything other than who they are already.  They don't have to "make up for" the heartache of their prodigal brother, for they are enough-- just as they are.
• I may be surrounded by "prodigals" (brother, son, friend...), but I can always choose to show grace and forgiveness.  I can choose to celebrate those days and moments when they wander home.  I can choose to cling to hope and not despair.  I can choose to give the burdens of worry over to God, remembering (as the new Danny Gokey song says) Who it is that has carried me this far.

I will serve the heart-shaped cake tonight to two children and a husband who also deserve to know how much they are loved.  Maybe we will sing, "Happy Birthday" to our prodigal. We will say a prayer for him and perhaps shed a tear.  And I will cherish the memories of a little boy who is still searching to find his way in this world.  I trust that God will carry him all the days of this life.

What the Wise Ones Seek

In my stack of Christmas cards, there are some very lovely pictures... There are lots of angels, several nativity scenes, mother and child... There are cards with pictures of St. Nicholas and Santa, Frosty and other snowpeople... There's one of fox in the snow that I particularly like.  There's even one of the Grand Canyon from our attorney (who happens to be Jewish, but always sends "Happy Holiday" cards) and a card with the president of a seminary and his wife featured on the cover.

There are very few, however, depicting the 3 Kings or Wisemen.  This drew my notice as I was preparing a Children's Message for this morning, the Second Sunday of Christmas or Epiphany Sunday.  I was looking for images of the kings, and found only two. I wanted to talk with them about what or who the wise men were seeking, what or who WE are still searching for, why the kings brought gifts (and what they were) and lastly, what gifts we bring to the manger and the altar of God.

The wise men weren't exactly sure what they were going to find when they arrived at where the star was leading.  They were expecting a king.  Surely they were not expecting to find him in a manger!  Their gifts reflected their expectations: gold, frankincense and myrrh.  Had they known that Jesus was lying in a manger, they might have brought clean linens, soft bedding, sweet cream for Mary's breakfast.  Or would they, perhaps, have thought this child unworthy of their notice?  Would they have ignored the celestial light that beaconed them to follow?

What is it that draws our attention and affection to the Christ-Child?  There were many others who did not find the expected king in the manger.  Their image of what and who the Messiah would be was too far different from the reality of this Infant King.  Surely there are many today who ignore the signs all around them, and who chose to turn their backs on the manger, on the child, on the Christ who comes to save.

"Come and worship!  Come and worship!  Worship Christ the new-born King!"

What gifts will we bring to the manger... to the altar of God?

While we may not have fine oils and perfumes... while our "gold" takes the form of paltry coins or crinkled dollar bills, there is a gift far greater, far more precious, far more difficult for us to part with.

"What can I give him, poor as I am?  If I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb. If I were a wiseman, I would do my part. But, what I CAN, I give him:  give my heart."

Our hearts, our lives, our devotion to the way of Jesus Christ.... These are the gifts that we bring if we are wise enough to seek the True Light for our lives.

May we seek and find this Light and Love, and may we share it with all the world.

No Strings Attached

While digging through papers on my desk, I found a hand-written paper.  It was obviously written on Christmas Day several years ago.  I likely tucked it away to add to this blog, but it never made it past the pile of "things to be done... SOMEDAY."  Although I wrote it on Christmas Day, I share it today- mid-June.  The sentiments are timeless and for all seasons...

Today (Christmas Day), if you haven't done so already, most of you will gather, as I will, around a Christmas Tree to give and receive a multitude of packages.  We will be carefully watching to catch the look on our loved ones faces as they open their gifts, hoping that the one we chose for them will be as "perfect" in their eyes as it was in ours when we chose it.  We may plaster smiles on our own faces to hide disappointment or our eyes may fill with tears as we open those handcrafted presents from our children and grandchildren-- hearts full of love.

Today, we will be given gifts.  How we use them-- what we do with them is up to us.  Today, we will give gifts.  How they are received and what is done with them is out of our control.  Gifts, if they are really gifts, are not given with strings attached.

This can be hard for us to accept!  Many of us may smile to remember the countless toys our toddlers ignored in favor of the boxes they came in!  Even our teens can be heartless without meaning to hurt our feelings.  Several years back, I searched in every store I could think of for the perfect mp3 player for our son-- I was so excited to finally find it at a home improvement store about an hour from our house.

It didn't work.  I returned it- driving the hour each way and haggling with the clerks.  The second one did not work either.  This time, I asked for a refund.  I searched online for a better player, and spent more than I really wanted to, but at this point, I knew that I wanted a name-brand.  It arrived.  It worked.  All was well with the world... until...

He attended a school event and won an i-pod.  From that point on, the gift from me was put aside in favor of this new one.

Every instinct in me screamed: "FINE!  Give it back, then!!"  But a small voice inside said: "But it was a GIFT."

God has given the world a gift-- the ultimate gift.  Salvation is ours through Jesus Christ-- a free gift to ALL.  There are no strings attached except this:  we must believe and accept it.  When we try other ways... other "gifts" besides this wonderful gift, God does not "take it back".  God's grace, love, mercy, and everlasting life are gifts for all the world and are free for the taking any time we make the choice to receive!  They are gifts.  What we do with them is up to us.

When Children Worship

Something exciting is happening in our rural Indiana church.  Children are worshiping God.  Let me say that again:  CHILDREN ARE WORSHIPING GOD!!

On Good Friday, this became abundantly clear.  Between one young boy's excited questioning of what we would be doing at the service ("Is it like Ash Wednesday? Are you handing out nails again this year?  Can I extinguish the candles?") and the sound of his younger sister's sweet loud voice trying to read along with us on the responsive readings, I realized.  These children are worshiping God.  Let me say that again, with the emotion I feel.  THESE CHILDREN ARE WORSHIPING GOD!  Even as I write these words two months later, I smile.

After I wrote about this in the church newsletter, other parents and grandparents shared stories.  I was told of the little girl who was excited to receive a $5.00 bill on her third birthday because now she would have her OWN money to give to the church.  When her grandparents offered to give her five $1.00 bills so that she could keep some of it, she became indignant, and insisted on putting the whole thing in the collection plate.

I was reminded of my own daughter's tears at the age of four when there was criticism from a few members of the church we were serving because our children took communion before they had been CONFIRMED!  Through her tears she wailed: "BUT I WANT TO WORSHIP GOD, TOO!"  If I had needed to be convinced, that would have done it.

Congregations make promises at a child's baptism or dedication to be part of the faith-building process.  We promise to nurture the children and provide opportunities for them to grow in faith.  It's up to the parents to take advantage of what we, as a community of faith, have to offer.  it's up to the families to follow up on what they learn in church.  It's up to the parents to choose to get them here-- even if and when that means choosing church over sports or going to bed earlier on Saturday night to be able to rise for worship on Sunday morning.

The best hope your children have for maintaining a faith relationship lies in these formative years.  Even if they leave church for awhile after they leave home, there is a better chance they will return to the roots of faith when (not if) they face obstacles and challenges as adults.

As children learn to worship, here are some things that congregations can do:

• When reading responsive readings, litanies or unison prayers, slow down a little so that children who are learning to read can keep up with us.  Otherwise they might give up.
• Talk to your children or grandchildren about your own faith.  Let them know why faith is important to YOU.  If you don't know the answers to their questions, include your pastor in the conversation.
• Invite families to Sunday School. Offer to pick up the children and bring them with you.  In rural communities like ours, some of the parents may still be trying to feed the animals on the farm!
• Make a commitment to attend faith-building opportunities for a month or two. Once you are in the habit, it's easier to "rise and shine and give God the glory!"

Jesus said, "Let the children come unto me."  That's a good enough reason for me.

Plugged In or Tuned Out?

Does improved technology “plug us in” to one another, or tune us out from life?

Recently, I was part of a group of parents and teens who shared a table at a Steak and Shake restaurant. We had just sent their older siblings off to Germany for a three-week “young ambassador” trip. As we were seated, one of the adults suggested that the kids, who we are hoping will be the “next generation” to represent our conference overseas, might like to sit together at one end of the table so they could "bond". It's not like the kids don't know each other-- the two boys have been at church camp together for years and the girl has known one of the boys since she was about four years old.  

The parents have shared camp experiences, conference activities and long friendships, too. We chattered almost non-stop, pausing only to order our food and take periodic bites of it when it arrived. We talked about the wonderful opportunity our older children were embarking upon. We shared memories about the German youth who had stayed with us the previous summer, and would be soon reunited with the American partners. Occasionally we received an update from the travelers: “We're on the plane. We're about to leave. Can my girlfriend pick me up at the airport when we get home?” Those messages were shared with everyone at the table.

Our younger teens sat at the other end of the table, texting, checking emails and saying few words to each other at all!  So much for bonding!

It reminded me of a band trip to New York City that I chaperoned two year's ago. It was somewhat disconcerting to discover just how “plugged in” the others on the trip were to their electronic devices. Not just the kids, but also the adults, all seemed to have cell phones, laptops, portable music devices... They spent their time sending messages, watching videos, talking to friends on the other bus, or doing work. I suppose if the trip were taken today, they might also be reading books on their Kindles!

This was fine for the long bus ride to New York City, but it continued even on the short tours! At one point I even noticed my own daughter, who did not have a cell phone at that time, passing another student's phone back and forth across the bus aisle-- texting instead of talking! It was almost tragic when we dined at a special restaurant, designed to look like we were on Mars. The other adult and I looked at each other from either end of the table, helpless as we could not get them to stop texting friends at other tables long enough to talk to each other! They were so plugged into technology that they missed the wonders around them!

There were a few who noticed the daffodils blooming in Central Park, and others who delighted in the rich baritone voice of a homeless man who sang for donations outside of the Guggenheim Museum. But even those soon returned to cell phones for communication. I cannot help but think there were missed opportunities because of it.

As we sat in the airport, waiting the return of our young people, we again gathered the teens at one table and the adults around another. We shared what had happened in our lives in the past three weeks, as our children were overseas. We laughed at pictures that had been shared on Facebook and as cellphone messages began to come in, those were shared, too: “We've left Atlanta. They say we are 10 minutes out. We've landed. Is my girlfriend there yet?”

The “next generation” finally began to talk, bond a little, and, at the very least, passed their iPods back and forth to share music or websites that were of interest to the others. Tuned out? A little less than before. Hopefully plugged in to new friendships and opportunities yet to come.

God Doesn't Hate Figs, Either!

Let me start by going on record: I don't believe that God hates homosexuals. I also don't believe that God hates Chick-Fil-A owners, Democrats or Republicans, Jews or Muslims... The God who hung on the cross and cried out to heaven, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”, does not hate PEOPLE. God detests some behaviors-- sins—and I might add that no one particular group of humans seems to have a monopoly on either Christ's condemnation or grace. And God certainly does not hate figs, despite what a cartoon making its way around Internet Social sites seems to indicate.

I feel compelled to say something about this cartoon, for it generates in me feelings that are almost as strong as the disgust I feel every time I hear that members of the Westboro “Baptist” group (I refuse to use the words “Christian” or “Church” in relationship to this hate group.) have spewed their “God hates fags” mentality again. The cartoon I am speaking of show a drawing of Jesus with a headline that reads: “OMFG, guys. I said I hated FIGS.”

Some of my dearest friends have re-posted the cartoon saying words of affirmation such as “I love it!”. With sincere care and love for these friends, I have to respond: “I am appalled.” This cartoon comes precariously close to being blasphemous.

First, I know what OMFG stands for. “Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain.” One of the “Big 10” commandments is pretty definite. Taking the Lord's name in vain can take on many forms. Cursing, while using the word “god”, is certainly one example. To use the word frivolously, such as by saying, “Oh my God!” (OMG) is an example of using the name in vain. Adding the “F” word into thet equation simply makes the statement doubly offensive, at least to me. Perhaps even triply offensive.

I've never been comfortable with billboards, T-shirts, buttons or pencils that put words in God's mouth. However, if this cartoon had simply said, “Guys! I said I hated FIGS”, I might have simply giggled and even appreciated the point. But that isn't the case.  By using God's name in vain, by mis-using Christ's name (even to combat other mis-use of Christ's words), this cartoon has been made into something that isn't funny at all, and the "point", for me, is lost.

The truth is, God—Jesus-- actually liked figs, according to the Bible. When he cursed the fig tree, it was because he wanted figs, and the tree in question was not bearing any fruit. It seems to me that God hates behaviors... Jesus spoke out against, even showed anger, when people cheated others. He did not like sanctimonious or judgmental behaviors (such as exhibited by Sadduccees or Pharisees). He cursed the tree that bore no fruit.  

And yet, this is also the One who hung on the cross and asked for forgiveness for the very people who persecuted and killed him. I can only imagine that he begs for forgiveness for people today who, in the name of God, make terrible gestures of faith. He may not like the behaviors. He may not like MY behaviors. But I cling to the hope that in spite of it all, I am loved.  I pray that my life bears fruit, and that my actions find acceptance in His eyes.

Killing the Fatted Calf

Tomorrow, my "prodigal son" returns... Well, he is not really a "prodigal".  He is not reckless or extravagant, except with his grace and ability to forgive.  Still, I have already begun to prepare the "fatted calf", in a manner of speaking.  I have bought some of his favorite snack foods.  I am searching the Internet for just the right blackberry cobbler recipe.  We will grill out hamburgers (the fatted calf, indeed!) and his father has painted a sign to welcome him home at the airport (in case he has forgotten our faces in the past three weeks).

Our son, along with two American leaders and thirteen other American youth are flying home tomorrow after spending three weeks in a Partnership Activity with youth and leaders from our partnership congregations in Germany.  This culminates three years of planning and meeting, which included the German Partners spending three weeks with us last summer.  The time together may be ending, but it is clear that the connection will be life-long, and the changes... no-- the TRANSFORMATION in these young lives cannot be measured in financial cost or time commitments.  They are forever changed because of what God has done in and through their lives.

When the planes crashed into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, I was in Germany, having just attending a conference on Overcoming the Decade of Violence.  The first day that the delegates from the US spent in our host homes was the day our world changed forever.  In spite of that, because of the genuine hospitality shown to us, there was never a time that I didn't know I would be fine... no matter what.

So, tomorrow, as my son (who is no prodigal... nor is he a "boy" any longer) boards the plane to come home, he brings with him the prayers and good will of new friends with whom there will be a "forever connection".  And I do not fear his safety, for I know he flies in the palm of God's hand.

Let the welcome home party begin!

The Elephant in the Room

It has been more than a year since I posted to my blog... Thank you to my brother-in-law for words of encouragement to get "back in the saddle again".

It is said that the best thing to do when there is an "elephant in the room" is to introduce it.  In this Sunday's sermon, I plan to introduce my congregation to the one that has been living with us for a while.  It's name is "FEAR".  We have several other individual elephants who accompany us from time to time:  Pride, Prejudice, Apathy...  The permanent dweller seems to be Fear.

I am well acquainted with Fear-- we are old chums since childhood.  Sometimes Fear stays at my house.  Sometimes Fear grows so large that there is scarcely room for anything or anyone else in my life.  These days, Fear can be contained pretty well, and sometimes even just sits on a shelf, forgotten.

But lately, Fear has come to dwell in our church.

There are some good reasons.  Indiana is one of the regions in a very serious drought.  Our local area has been missed by most of the rain that HAS come (and that's not much.)  I've even begun to wonder if the Weather Channel really knows where my zip code actually is, because yesterday there were periods where we had 100% chance of rain, and it's still as dry as cornmeal out there!  Our town, our county and our state have issued ordinances for the conservation of water.

On top of the drought, we can add the sad state of the economy, a lack of trust for any governmental officials, and, since 2001, a feeling that we are no longer as "safe" as we once were.  And, because the area we live in is a "dying community", that makes us, as a church, all too aware of having fewer people in the pews and fewer coins in the offering plate.  Yes, there seem to be good reasons for Fear to be spending time with us.

And yet... This week's Gospel reading from the Gospel of John tells us the familiar miracle story of Jesus feeding the 5,000.  It's the only miracle story that is told in all four Gospels.  The disciples and Jesus have no food to give to the mass of people who have followed him out to a hillside.  A small boy has five barley loaves and two fish.  Jesus blesses this food, distributes it to those gathered, they eat and are "satisfied" (the Greek word used has messianic overtones and speaks of being truly filled-- spiritually and bodily, perhaps).  When they are done, there are still twelve baskets leftover.

In light of our fears, I can't help but read this passage this week and be reminded that we worship a God who PROVIDES!  All it took was one person, one small person, to share what they had, and Jesus was able to multiply it so that there was more than enough.

In this nation, most of us have far more than enough.

We lament the loss of security since 9-11, and yet, I can walk through the streets of my town and be fairly sure that I will not step on a landmine, be ambushed by snipers or assaulted in my home.   There are many places in the world where I could not do that.

We cry over the forced restrictions on water, and yet, we should be doing them anyway!  There is still water from my tap when I turn it on, and while it is not the "best water", it is at least clean.  There are many places in the world where people have to walk a mile or more to get water, and then it is often contaminated.

We lament the rising cost of food and gasoline, while our paychecks remain the same or dwindle, and yet, most of us has far more than we really NEED.

In John's Gospel, the miracle of feeding the 5000 is followed by the story of Jesus walking on water through a storm that he calms.  The disciples are terrified.  Jesus says, "Do not be afraid.  It is I."  Once the disciples invite him into the boat, IMMEDIATELY they are "on the land to which they were headed."

We worship the Risen Christ.  Can we not find words of hope in these passages, words that will, at the very least, bring that darned elephant back to a manageable size?  Can we not be like the young boy, and share what we have so that Jesus might multiply it and bless others through our gifts?  Can we not invite Christ "on board" in the midst of our storms, and IMMEDIATELY find ourselves in a better place?

Wishing you all peace.

SpiritSong

I Lift My Eyes Unto the Hills

After planning for months and months (actually years and years) for our "Great Family Vacation West", I spent our four days of vacation in Cody, Wyoming in a hospital room—the first day following surgery was spent in Intensive Care and the last three in a room on the third floor. The sun shone brightly in my room each and every morning. Not only that, but I noticed immediately that I had a room with a view!

The nurses thought I was kidding. They would come in and ask me if I was sure that I didn’t want them to close the blinds a little. “No, thanks,” I would reply. “I like the view.” Usually that was met with a snort and a comment about my “at least having kept a sense of humor”. You see, the nurses could only see the construction zone for the new hospital wing from my window. I was looking beyond to the mountains.

“I will lift mine eyes unto the hills. From whence cometh my help? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Those words were my source of strength during some frightening and painful hours. During my stay, those mountains were my spiritual anchor.

Mountains, while not exactly “timeless”, are certainly enduring. As we crossed the Big Horn Mountain Range, there was periodically a sign telling us the age of this section of rock or another. One section might be 37-40 billion years old while another is a mere 25 million. It served, to me, as a wonderful reminder of the enduring nature of God. Perhaps, mountains “call to me” as a reminder of God’s eternity. God was before the mountains, created the mountains and will endure long after these mountains crumble.

On Sunday morning, our family gathered in the lovely little chapel just down the hall from my room. Behind the altar was a picture window and the view was of another mountain range of Cody. During my stay, I had watched the sun rise and set on these mountains. On this morning, there was a mist of clouds hiding the top of the highest peaks. I was reminded, in this, of God’s comforting nature, surrounding us, enveloping us with His love and strength when we are weak and broken.

I had a lot of time for reflection and prayer last week. There were prayers of anguish in the midst of pain that echoed the psalmist: “Out of my depths I cry to you, O Lord. O Lord, hear my voice!” There were prayers of faith when we did not know what kind of bacterial infection we were up against, and the doctors feared the worst. There were also prayers of gratitude for nurses who blessed me—only one or two were “just doing their job”. Most of them were God’s own agents of comfort and healing. I can’t even remember all their names, but I have committed myself to praying for them.

· For Elizabeth who will go to Nambia in Africa this summer for her yearly medical mission trip. She had shared with me how powerful recent experiences in the Dominican Republic had been for her, and how much she looks forward to this chance to serve.

· For Kris who showed me such compassion when she found me crying over the menus I was supposed to fill out on my tray because I had thought I was going home that day, not planning my meals for the weekend! ("If I don't know when you're going home, I assure you the kitchen staff sure as hell doesn't!") She sometimes came down to just chat, even the night that I wasn’t her assigned patient.

· For Sue, the ICU nurse who fixed me a bowl of beef broth (incidentally the best thing I tasted while there) in her own coffee mug, and then gave it to me as a gift—probably knowing it was going to be my only souvenir of Cody!

There are blessings that I am claiming from this. The biggest is that I saw God all around me—the staff, the mountains and the unquestionable answer to prayers.

My doctor told me on his last visit that I had presented all the classic signs of someone who would have that flesh-eating bacterial infection. I was run-down. I am diabetic. I had a massive infection. “There’s no good reason why you didn’t have it”, he said. I just smiled. There is a very good reason, for it. You know it. I know it.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore." (Psalm 121)

My help comes from the Lord. Each of you has either faced, or will face that dark time in your life when you desperately search for a spiritual anchor. Whether it is this scripture verse or another… or even a hymn… cling to the words and the promise that will give you strength: Our God will keep our going out and coming in from this time on and forevermore. Thanks be to God!

Things My Kitten Knows #1

Lesson #1: There is no such thing as TOO much happiness.

About a month ago, our family dealt with the natural death of a beloved pet. My husband pointed out that I was taking her death harder than he expected. It wasn't unexpected to me at all. You see, Shadow-- a "non-pedigree, long-haired farm cat"-- had come into our family on the same day as our oldest adopted son. In fact, she was part of the package deal: one six-year-old boy who had been abused in his birth home, and less-than-a-year-old cat, who had been tormented by the boy.

She was as skittish as he, and as unwilling to trust. She hid under beds and barely tolerated us noticing her, let alone petting her or (God forbid!) picking her up. The boy was amenable to hugs most of the time, but could cuss like a sailor if pushed into a corner. She was easily de-clawed. His claws came out from time to time, along with a violent streak that simmered just below the surface. She wouldn't have dreamed of running away- too timid to venture outside. He usually ran away from school once a year-- always with the intention of running HOME.

Gradually, he learned to trust his new family. Gradually she learned to trust me. Eventually, she even allowed me to pick her up and hold her for a moment or two, knowing that as soon as she began to twist out of my arms, I would gently place her on the floor and allow her to be free. And once in a while, she would even lay on my lap-- as long as there was a blanket on it. This prompted the boy, about six years ago, to give her to me. "She's your cat anyway, Mom."

As difficult as it was for her to acclimate herself to transitions, it was even harder for her boy. Because of his mental illnesses, past abuse and learning disabilities, his path has not been an easy one. Psychiatric hospitals, treatment facilities, juvenile detention and now, prison time have made his "place" in our family one that is precarious at best. He has not lived in our home for the past six years, and at times, we do not even know how to reach him.

Shadow was the last living link I had to him in our home... other than, of course, my husband.

The grief for her dying is layered with grief for so much more.

Of course, the relationship with our son has been "dying" for years. Oh, we love him and will continue to do what we are able when we can.... But we will never have that "ideal" relationship that all parents hope for.

I wasn't aware of just how much sadness surrounded that until my husband came home two weeks ago and announced, "It's not fair!" It seems that a little puff-ball of fur had planted himself on my husband's shoe while he walked home from work. "I could shoo away any other cat in town", he claimed, but this one had big blue eyes. As soon as I saw him, I was smitten. He was smitten. Our two teenagers were smitten.

Cass (for Cassanova) has brought our family together in a way that surprised us all. We sit together in the living room and laugh at his antics. We take turns telling each other the silly things he has done now. We snip at each other less and laugh WITH each other more. We compare our "battle scars" (he still has his front claws and knows how to play with them!) and the love that we shower on him seems to spill over into love we show each other.

And we are ALL taking note of the patience being shown by our old black cat.

Lesson #1: There is no such thing as TOO much happiness!

What I "Gave Up" for Lent

My children are chomping at the bit to know the answer! "Mom, are you going to tell us on Sunday (Easter) what YOU gave up for Lent?" It has been our family's BIG SECRET since Ash Wednesday. Usually, I give up something like potato chips or peanut butter. Last year, I gave up Internet access at home, which wasn't a huge sacrifice since at that time, we had dial up only.

This year, as Lent approached, I pondered. I prayed. I "tried on" different options in my head, much like I might do a new Spring wardrobe. Nothing seemed to fit.

And then, one evening, after I had ranted at our son over yet one MORE thing he was forgetting to do..., after yet another round of rhetorical questions that he, a teenager with some special needs issues would try to answer: "How many times do we have to tell you?..." I realized that I had fallen into a terrible and deadly pattern. I was only seeing the negative actions of my two precious and beautiful children.

As a former teacher, I know the power of positive reinforcement. And I know the damage that negative reinforcement can do as well.

I didn't wait for Ash Wednesday to arrive. I began right then and there to practice my Lenten "fast". I challenged myself to look for at least three good things my children (and my husband, too-- though he doesn't know it) were doing. I pledged that "even if I have to ignore a few mistakes", I would focus on the positives. I would not take the "weenie way out" (breaking the fast on Sundays), and other than the day I got home from the band trip to New York City, it's gone rather well.

In fact, last night at the Passover Seder, my daughter asked about it. "I've been trying to figure out what you are doing," she told the table. "I don't know. Maybe being nicer?"

YES! She noticed!

For the record, I am thinking that, for the first time ever, I might actually be "getting it", in regard to the whole purpose of giving something up for Lent. After all, in years past, I would have been counting the days, minutes, hours until I could eat chocolate, watch television or have a peanut butter sandwich. And I would have missed the whole point of Christ's sacrifice of love. God has made us a new Creation. I like the change.

Stealing Christmas

Last year, I remember reading an account of a church that was taking steps to keep their outdoor nativity set in tact. Tired of having to replace their baby Jesus because of theft (pranks or otherwise), this church had put a GPS- global positioning system- in their baby Jesus, so that they could track the statue if it was stolen. Their story is not unique. All across the nation, churches are resorting to hi-tech tactics to keep people from stealing their Christmas scenery.

I wonder if we couldn't all learn something from an old Christmas episode of the TV show "Dragnet". I watched it over Thanksgiving break with my family. In that episode, the two cops were called to a Catholic Church by priests who noticed that the infant Jesus was missing from their creche. Worried that the worshippers who arrived for midnight mass on Christmas Eve would not be able to celebrate the Christ's Child's birth if the piece was not recovered, they called the police.

Suspects were interviewed. Pawn shops were visited. Hands were wrung in despair. Just when all seemed "lost" (including the baby Jesus), a small Hispanic boy entered the church, pulling a red wagon behind him. In the wagon was the missing baby. "I prayed for a red wagon," the boy explained. "I prayed very hard to baby Jesus. I promised him that, if I got one, that he would get the first ride."

A young boy's faith... A young boy's faithfulness. A young boy who understood the part of Christmas that no one can steal. Not the ACLU... Not a group of frat boys pulling a prank... It's when we celebrate Christmas in daily acts of faith, so sure of our relationship with the One whose birthday it is all about that we will keep our promises to God, and recognize God's faithfulness to us; when we are willing to give Christ the first and the best of the blessings we have... That's when we are living Christmas every day.

And we won't need a GPS to find the Christ Child in our hearts.

Can a 'Holy War' Be Justified, if Not 'Just'?

Is there such a thing as a 'just war'? In his Nobel speech, was President Obama right to speak in these theological terms about war? He also stated that 'no holy war can ever be a just war.' Do you agree or disagree?

President Obama's acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize was filled with truths- some of them surprising and others difficult to hear, but perhaps none that I want to be true more than the president's statement that "no holy war can ever be a just war". Oh, how I want to believe that truth with all my heart!

The reality is that this truth is not as "black and white" as our president might like it to be. By his own arguments, there may be times when a holy war can be justified, or justifiable. The president believes that there are occasions when force can be justified on humanitarian grounds. He seems to understand that there are people of faith who believe there is no such thing as a "just war", and yet the reality is that there have always been and always will be “wars and rumors of wars… for this must take place.” (Matthew 24:6)

One definition of Holy War is "a war declared or fought for a religious or high moral purpose, as to extend or defend a religion." As a member and faith leader of the United Church of Christ, I must agree that any war fought to elevate one religion over another, or to suppress one religion in favor of another, is, as the president asserts, wrong. But what about defending a religion or religious rights?

In the past week, millions of Jews began their celebration of Hanukkah, in remembrance of the miracle that took place during just such a rebellion when the Maccabees fought to restore religious rights to the Hebrew people. Was that not a just holy war? If religious freedom were lost in this country, would that not be just grounds for fighting? It’s not simple enough for a blanket statement such as the one President Obama offered in his speech. I suspect he knows that.

Holy war is also defined as "any war fought by divine command or for a religious purpose". It would be safe to say that the truth the president spoke "lives" in dichotomy with a number of conflicting realities, not the least of which is that the Hebrew Testament is filled with examples of wars that were fought "at God's command". The president acknowledges that simply desiring peace will not be enough to achieve it, for as he says: "Make no mistake: evil does exist in the world."

The president acknowledges the hardest truth of all: “…we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations… will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.”

The prophet Isaiah informs us that a “new age” will come— the age of peace, when swords will be beaten into ploughshares and spears will become pruning hooks; “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” (Isaiah 2:4)

Until that time, the world looks to its leaders to use restraint, govern with wisdom, and practice peace.

Damned if You Do, Damned if You Don't...

This week's question:Christmas decorations at the White House include a crèche in the East Room (despite reports that White House social secretary Desirée Rogers suggested that the Obamas were planning a "non-religious Christmas.") Should the White House, whose residents serve all Americans, display a crèche or a menorah or any strictly religious symbols during the holidays?

The President may as well follow his heart and his conscience on this one. He will not be able to please us all. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.

The Obamas are a devoutly Christian family. President Obama may serve “all Americans” in a public and professional sense, but as a Christian, he serves God first. As a Christian leader, I would be sadly disappointed if he felt compelled to “hide” his faith “under a bushel”. I would be disappointed if any governmental leader felt that pressure, whether they were of the Christian faith or not.

But that isn’t the main issue here.

“A man’s home is his castle”. If that old saying is correct, then isn’t it also true that America’s “castle”- The White House- is also a home? As such, The White House reflects not only the values of the people, but also of the family who lives there.

Is it his home or isn’t it? I’ve wondered the same thing about my own home from time to time, which, for the past twelve years has been in a church-owned parsonage. We have refrained from posting political signs in our yard, so that there can never be a question of the church’s tax-exempt status. However, anyone who was entertained in our home in the months before the last presidential election would have seen a political bumper sticker attached by a magnet to our refrigerator.

I make no apologies. It’s our home. The White House is a home, too.

The White House may belong to the people of this country, in a figurative sense, but it is not our “home”. Our president and his or her family have a right to choose which, if any, religious beliefs are to be represented in their home. If they are going to be criticized either way (and likely they will), they should be true to their faith.

The Swiss Have Lost Out

It seems that the assumptions made by many journalists may be right: The decision to ban the construction of minarets in Switzerland was based in fear and prejudice. The Swiss people have, in my opinion, lost respect, ground and have lost the right to be called a "center for diplomacy".

If this decision had been made for the purpose of protecting the cultural heritage reflected in the architecture of the country, one might see some sense in the decision. But, the examples I have viewed of the minarets that have been built in that country do not tower over or detract from the cathedrals of Europe.

Some say the decision reflects the fears held by the Swiss that their country is being inundated by Muslim immigrants and that simply it mirrors attitudes from around the world fearing Islamic extremists. I have read the rhetoric of a variety of news reports, most of which see this decision as a major error in judgment on the part of the Swiss nation, calling it discrimination and bigotry.

Even the Swiss Bishops issued a statement from the Vatican saying that the decision presents "an obstacle to interreligious harmony".

Whatever the case, one thing is certain. The decision has moved the Switzerland out of its usual "neutral position" and into "reverse". This is surprising from the country that has been considered by many to be a "center for diplomacy". Since 1919 when it became the seat for the League of Nations, the city of Geneva has been "home" to the headquarters of international agencies, including departments of the United Nations and the Red Cross. Geneva has been the site for numerous "Peace Talks" and the Swiss government has maintained a "neutrality" in foreign relations for hundreds of years.

From personal experience, I can attest that it is not always easy to keep a neutral position, as the Swiss government lays claim to. When we moved to our small town of 300, I told our children that the parsonage we live in is "Geneva"- neutral territory. My intention was to stay out of the politics of feuds between families or organizations in this town. On a professional level, we take no sides. On a personal level, it's more difficult.

It would appear the same is true in this case. The Swiss government may be able to remain neutral about things, but clearly the Swiss people cannot. This decision is anything but neutral!

When I fail to remain neutral in town politics, I "lose ground" in the effort to move my community forward in their thinking. The Swiss have lost ground and lost respect in this maneuver.

The Woman in the Mirror

The former Miss Argentina died yesterday following plastic surgery. The surgery was an elective procedure, reportedly on her buttocks. If it weren't so tragic, there would surely be any number of tasteless jokes being bantered about... There probably are some anyway.

For some reason, this 37-year-old woman felt that she needed to change her looks, and that it was worth whatever minimal risk was involved. She is not alone...

In March of 2008, the awareness of just how dangerous plastic surgery can be was raised when a Florida teen died after corrective breast surgery due to a rare reaction to anesthesia meds given during the "routine surgery".

A fellow blogger- a "nurse turned writer" named Marjike, points out that while complications from plastic surgery are "rare", they do happen. The problem, she says, is that people don't take plastic surgery seriously.

She writes on her blog: "Many people don’t see plastic surgery as “real” surgery. The thing is, it is very real surgery. It involves anesthetic, which has risks of its own, and the procedures – all of which have some risk. Is it worth it? Is this search for never-ending youth worth it? Some people think so."

This, for me, is the crucial question. In 2004, ABC News reported that some 9 million Americans had gone under the knife for some form of plastic surgery during the previous year. Some of those procedures were possibly not just "elective" surgeries, but still, the number is staggering to me. Really? 9 million people who are not happy with the way they look?

Oh, I believe that there are many, many more of us out there who aren't really happy with the way we look. We look in the mirror and see those extra pounds screaming at us, or the wrinkles laughing... Even "beautiful people" sometimes have a difficult recognizing their beauty in the reflection that stares back at them. Any 12-Step program or therapist worth their salt will tell you that you have to become content with the inner beauty or it won't matter how you look... You'll still feel ________________. (Fill in the blank: fat, old, dowdy, worthless...)

As for me, I don't like the extra pounds, and have taken many of them off in the past two years. There are many more still juggling there in the mirror's reflection, but they don't scream quite so loudly. I have come to accept the wrinkles that are laughing at me, although, yes, I use face cream much more regularly these days as the 50th birthday quickly approaches.

Most of all, I am trying to recognize the beautiful woman that God created... the child that He/She "wonderfully and fearfully knit" in my mother's womb. (Psalm 139) For, as the Psalmist says, "God's works are wonderful."

I am the mother of a young teenage girl. So far, when we watch reality shows on TV that feature models, such as "Project Runway" or "America's Next Top Model", we are able to appreciate the way that the "right" hair or makeup can enhance what a woman already has, and talk about how the pressures of that "perfect" body image are a bit ridiculous and somewhat impossible to attain. That's how it is so far, anyway.

And we celebrate how beautifully God has created her, inside and out. God's works are wonderful. Let's help our young girls (and boys) learn that. As the song of my childhood goes: "Jesus loves the little children... red or yellow, black or white, they are precious in His sight..."

When we look in the mirror, may we see that we are each a child of God, and oh, so very precious.

I'm Lobbying to Speak the Truth in Love

It would be easy to criticize the U.S. Catholic bishops for the actions involving them in the health-care debate. I doubt that Jesus would approve of the use of lobbyists to forward His Gospel message. And yet, as a pastor in the United Church of Christ, if I point a finger at the Catholic Church for this, there are "three fingers pointing back at me". The UCC is well-known for taking positions on any number of issues.

Am I being critical of the actions taken or am I critical of the stance itself?
Religious leaders have a duty to raise concerns about the moral implications surrounding any number of issues. However, the role of religious leaders in government policymaking should be as the “prophetic voice” and not as the “coercive arm”. There is a fine line between speaking "with authority" as an "agent of Christ" and speaking or acting in ways that abuse the power of that role.

My husband and I have taken care not to abuse the power that comes from being the only pastors living and preaching in a town of 330 people. During last year's elections, while some may have suspected who we intended to vote for, only our children knew for sure. On the other hand, when there is an opportunity to preach and teach "progressive ideas" like: peace, the responsibility to care for Creation, or the worth of all people as part of God's Creation, we believe it is our duty to "speak the truth in love", as is pledged during the ordination service of the United Church of Christ.

Others, often at the level of denominations or organizations, have used more aggressive approaches. The Catholic bishops in this instance may have "pushed the envelope", but they did it legally. The same is true, just barely, of actions taken by other religious organizations and their leaders.

When one of my colleagues, both a UCC minister and a state representative, ran for re-election several years ago, a group affiliated with, but "separate from", one of the large conservative Christian organizations launched an aggressive campaign to try to ensure his defeat. Letters were mailed out to thousands of constituents, filled with half-truths about his voting record, and condemning his association with the United Church of Christ and for having performed ceremonies to bless same-sex unions, both supported and expected by his congregation.

This was "legal" because the group that pays for such activities is separate from the religious ministry, and funded by individual contributions earmarked for such. The leader who founded both organizations holds no standing in any denomination, but make no mistake, he is a "religious leader" in this nation. Perhaps if he held standing somewhere, he might be held to a "higher code".

Religious leaders, at least those in my denomination, are bound by promises made at ordination to preach and teach the gospel “without fear or favor” and to “speak the truth in love.” I would imagine the promises are similar in the Catholic church.

In the Christian faith, we look to Jesus as a model of religious leadership. Jesus had relatively little to say about the political leadership and policies of the day. “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what is God’s”. Still, when one considers that the daily lives of the Jews were governed more by religious law than Roman, one sees that Jesus did, indeed, speak out against injustices and in support of God’s love.

As a pastor, I have the duty and honor to speak out against injustice and in favor of God’s love.

Suffer the Little Children

I just returned home from my daughter's middle school. I've been there many times before... ball games, chaperoning field trips, accompanying the choirs and bands. But this time was different. This time, I was one of about 12 counselors, pastors and teachers, trying to help these young students answer the unanswerable "why?" Sometimes I listened, sometimes I gave little insights into how grief "works", sometimes I just sat with them as they held one another and cried.

There is no answer for them. There is no sense to be made of a senseless situation. One of them realized aloud, "You don't expect it be your classmate. A 90-year-old, yes, but not your classmate."

Another complained about the rumors that had already begun to surface. Yet another said she lived down the street and wondered if she would ever get the images of the flashing lights... the door being broken down... the screaming... out of her head.

My own daughter told another student that she has heard so many stories now, she doesn't really care to know "what really happened".

The reasons don't matter much anyway. Knowing what happened won't turn back the clock. I would imagine his parents are pointing fingers of blame at themselves and each other, or will be, when the shock wears off. That won't help much, either. Perhaps they could have done things differently, but perhaps they, like other parents, were "doing their best".

Jesus said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God." (Mark 10:14)

I heard more than one statement from adults in my community that "a child shouldn't have worries that big!" They are right. A child should not have to suffer. But they do. Sadly, they do. Whether their problems are real-- and some of them are-- or imagined, there are many youth who do not have adequate support systems in place to deal with those problems.

Peer pressure, eating disorders, homework, teasing... My generation faced those problems, too. But my generation was more likely to have caring neighbors, stay-at-home moms, or grandparents who lived close by to help us get through our struggles. My generation was more likely to have someone... anyone... monitoring our activities after school and on weekends. My generation was more likely to have more of what the Search Institute calls the "40 Developmental Assets".

The more assets a child has from that list, the less likely they are to be troubled or "trouble-makers." Those assets include things such as:
· families that are supportive, communicate well and stay involved in their children's lives.
· caring neighborhoods and schools.
· a feeling that their community values youth.
· three or more non-parent adults with whom the youth have relationships.
· encouragement from family and teachers.
· a feeling of safety at home, school and in the community.
· opportunities to serve in the community, as well as to just be a part of it.
· clear boundaries from parents, school officials and neighbors

Those of us who are parents, as well as those who work with or care about the youth in their churches and communities can learn something from the tragedy that took me to the school today. Children can and do have problems that are so huge to them that they cannot imagine a way out of them. Whatever else we may do, we must listen to them. We must talk with them. We must build relationships with them. We must help them to trust as many adults in their lives as is possible.

We must, must, MUST "suffer" the children to come... hopefully, to Christ, but at the very least to us, so that the children are not the ones to suffer.