faith – Page 4 – Southwest Conference Blog

What languages do you speak?

When the day of Pentecost had come…all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages….[Everyone] heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that…in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power[?]” (Selected verses from Acts 2, NRSV)

Question of the day: What languages do we speak? Do those around us hear us speaking about God in languages they can understand?

In my late teens and early 20’s, I learned to speak Portuguese and Spanish fairly fluently, living for a time in Brazil and Mexico. I was proud of myself, as I’d wanted to become fluent in another language since I was young.

As I think about it now, it occurs to me that well before that, I had become fluent in several other “languages.” By that time in my life, for example, I had learned to speak the language of people-pleasing very well, and I was also pretty fluent in perfectionism. The language of judging others came all too naturally, as did the language of “laying down my life for others”—the practice of serving others and putting others’ needs almost exclusively before my own.

Sadly, my fluency in Portuguese slipped away effortlessly over the years, as I used it less and less; in Spanish, less so, as I’ve had some occasions to use it since college, but certainly I’m nowhere near where I used to be.

Thankfully, my fluency in the other “languages” has also decreased somewhat over time, although that hasn’t happened nearly as effortlessly as it did with Portuguese and Spanish. Rather, it has taken more of a concerted effort on my part as I’ve recognized that while those ways of being may seem desirable and praise-worthy, they can all too easily cause deep harm to both my self and those around me.

There are other “languages” I’ve tried to pick up in recent years–ways of speaking, ways of communicating, ways of being in the world–that have taken equally as much effort to learn as those others have taken to unlearn. And, depending on your perspective, they may or may not be viewed as equally desirable.

These new “languages,” however, are much more likely to lead to healing rather than harm, for both my self and those around me. Some of these are the language of acceptance and inclusion, and the language of mistake-making and grace. The language of forgiveness and courage and trust. The language of belovedness.

I hope that in these “languages,” more so than in those of perfectionism and judgment, people-pleasing and self-denial, not only can I move toward greater ease and even fluency, but that as I do, others around me might more readily hear me speaking about God and God’s deeds of power in ways they can more easily hear.

Because that acceptance and grace and forgiveness and courage–that belovedness–is not just for me; it’s not just for us. It’s for “them,” too. It’s for all. But how will they know if we don’t speak a language they can hear?

Peace be with us all.

Deb

Almighty God, in this season of Pentecost, fill us with your Spirit, as you did the first apostles, and send us to those who need to hear about your deeds of power and Love. Open our hearts that we might learn to speak in languages that are not necessarily our own but that will allow others to hear in ways they can understand. Amen.

What If One Word Could Say It?

by Kay F. Klinkenborg

What if one word could provide clarity for the wide range of emotions we have all felt during COVID-19 since March 2020? Try: languishing. Dr. Adam Grant wrote an article: “There’s A Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s called Languishing” for the NY Times, April 19, 2021.

I have heard a wide range of emotions this year: anxiety, fear, empty, listless, depressed, trouble concentrating, and life without a defined direction to name a few. And there have been many sad experiences of loss and resulting grief of loved ones and friends. Also grief of the loss of our normal routines, limitations of what, how and when we could do our predictable routines.

Grant notes that “we think about mental health on a spectrum from depression to flourishing… being the peak of wellbeing.” Prior to COVID many have experienced or known someone close who experiences depression. When depressed you feel despondent, worthless, no energy to move forward. “Languishing is the neglected middle child of mental health” states Grant. One of Webster’s definitions: to lose vigor or vitality.

Remember acknowledging that you weren’t functioning at full capacity, but couldn’t say why? You had no overt symptoms or behaviors to indicate mental illness. I recall days of ‘trying to make myself focus.’ Maybe accomplishing one or two of five goals I would have normally set for the day. I have read other articles that comment that during COVID, people were struggling with the long-haul impact of restrictions and the unknown.

Languishing is the void between depression and flourishing—an absence of wellbeing, but you don’t quite feel yourself either—your motivation is dulled, notes Grant. The potential risk of remaining in ‘languish’ is that one might not notice you are slipping toward depression. You might not be experiencing joy or delight and suddenly realize you haven’t felt that for some time.

Say it aloud, languishing, name it. Grant writes that might be the first step to learning more about it; because we haven’t done many studies on languishing. “Languishing is common and shared.” And thus, is not an abnormal reaction. We have not been through a pandemic before.

The professionals admit there is still a lot to learn about this term.

Grant proposes one of the first things to do in coping with languishing is to ‘be in the flow.’ Fr. Richard Rohr in his book, Divine Dance, writes in numerous chapters about the concept of “flow.” To be in the flow is the experience of trusting the moment and staying focused on the smallest of goals. Being present and not letting your mind wonder hither and yon. Don’t spend energy trying to figure out how to control the situation or others or debating solutions for the biggest of problems that professionals/ elected officials are set out to do. Take a deep breath and remember the Creator designed you, and lives in you and all of creation. Don’t go the judgmental path…go the path of discovery the smallest awes.

I find that spiritually to own languishing means I have to name it and experience it and claim that God is a verb in the midst of all that I am witnessing, hearing, and experiencing. Where is God in what I see today? Where is God in what I heard about today from others? Stay in the flow. We have not been alone in this pandemic; nor are we alone post-pandemic.

Second, set boundaries as to when you are not to be interrupted. You need breathing space to rest and process all that has transpired…even…especially even now… as we see a ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ in America as more are vaccinated. All processing doesn’t happen in the exact moment…when we can’t name what is happening. We need to bring some grace to ourselves and others for quite reflective time. A time for energy to be restored. Maybe it is a time when you read a novel, do some craft work, have a project. The important thing…it is your time with boundaries and no interruptions.

Third, pick small goals (Grant). This pandemic was a BIG LOSS. Maybe a short word game, one meaningful conversation with a trusted friend 1-2 times a week to own the gift of that friendship to you and to them. Maybe you color in an adult coloring book. It doesn’t matter the goal…make it a small one. No one is here to judge you about how you spend your time or what you need to do to complete a goal that feels satisfying.

One of the most important sentences in Grant’s article is: “Languishing is not merely in our heads…it’s in our circumstance.” You didn’t cause this…you aren’t making it worse. Many journalists, mental health professionals, and trauma psychologists remind us we are entering a post-pandemic reality. And with that will be some who have some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for which they need to seek some professional health; particularly if they aren’t eating, can’t motivate themselves to get up, are isolating from others, and feel ‘blue’ beyond what they can manage.

We can now begin with the lists above to address how the post-pandemic awareness of what languishing is and has been in our past 15 months. Give voice, name it, there is power in naming what is happening with you. Your courage to name it…will encourage others to name it too…and that empowers each of you to move forward with positive steps into more ‘thriving’ modes of living.

Kay F. Klinkenborg © May 2021

Church of the Palms

Kay is a Spiritual Director; Retired: RN, LMFT and Clinical Member AAMFT. She chairs the Life Long Learning Board at Church of the Palms, serves on the CARE TEAM, and the W.I.S.E. Steering Committee.

An Antidote for My Racing Mind

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Happy are those…[whose] delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on [God’s] law they meditate day and night.
They are like trees planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season…”

(from Psalm 1)

As I lay in bed last week, for hours and hours…and hours…, waiting for my body to recover from whatever bug I had caught that laid me up (or more accurately, laid me down!), there were times when my mind went in a million different directions. On occasion, as it raced, in an attempt to calm it down, I found myself reciting some of these simple phrases: “God is good…God is faithful…God is with us….”

Those phrases are not necessarily found among the 613 commandments found in the Hebrew Bible–“the law of the Lord”–and as such, are likely not what the psalmist was referring to when he wrote about those happy people who “delight in the law of the Lord,” meditating on it nonstop.

But to me, those phrases–God is good…God is faithful…God is with us–encapsulate much of the truth and beauty and power of our faith.

And when I can think about those things rather than the things that cause me anxiety or fear, then I become more solidly grounded–kind of like a tree.

When I can think about those things rather than all the things I don’t know or don’t understand, then I become more deeply nourished–kind of like a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water.

When I can think about those things rather than trying to desperately figure out how I can solve, fix, or help everyone or everything around me, then I become less tied to both my efforts and the immediate outcomes and tangible results, and more trusting of things happening as and when they need to–kind of life a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water, whose fruit grows when it’s time for the fruit to grow.

I’m pretty sure I will never find delight in meditating on the 613 laws found in the Old Testament. But I trust I will continue to find meaning in meditating on the simple and profound truths found in phrases such as “God is good” and “God is faithful” and “God is with us.”.

I wonder if you do, too?

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Photo by Michael & Diane Weidner on Unsplash

He makes me lie down

by Rev. Deb Worley

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures….”

(Psalm 23:1-2)

“He makes me lie down…”

I have been struck by that phrase for years. In fact, I looked back last night at something I wrote in April 2017 about it, and it felt surprisingly relevant to our current COVID experience….

I’d like to share that reflection here. Here goes:

The 23rd psalm–such a familiar and beloved psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….”

Unlike many other familiar Biblical passages, it is, perhaps, a passage that remains most familiar to many people in the language of the King James Bible:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me….”

Even the rhythm of the words seems to bring comfort, in addition to the assurance that the words themselves convey! It’s a psalm of trust, a song of comfort, a declaration of quiet confidence in the power, the compassion, the benevolence, and the Goodness of God.

There’s one verse in particular, however, that is speaking to me as I read this psalm today. One part of one verse, in fact, that is calling me to deeper reflection:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” (Ps. 23:2a, NRSV)

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” What’s not to like? Lush, green pastures, with pillowy tufts of grass inviting me to lie down and rest. Lush, green pastures, ready and waiting for me to pause, sink down into them, and be rejuvenated.

Of course, God would want, would invite, me to lie down in such a place if God’s purpose was that my soul might be restored (cf. vs 2b)!

Would my soul be restored by, say, lying down in a barren, parched desert? I don’t think so….

Would my soul be restored by resting in a crowded, noisy shopping mall? Not so much….

Would my soul be restored if I tried to unwind in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language or understand the culture? Not likely.

So God, in God’s infinite wisdom, would understandably invite me to stop, to rest, to lie down in a peaceful place, a comfortable place, a place of obvious restoration. God would invite me to lie down in green pastures….

But wait–that’s not actually what the psalm says–God doesn’t invite me to lie down in green pastures, as it turns out. The psalm says that God makes me lie down in green pastures….

Hmm….Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place? Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Today [mind you, this was April 30, 2017!], I find myself considering the idea of being made to lie down, of being forced to rest, of having no choice but to accept a period of inactivity and stillness–all of which seem to imply some sort of resistance, some degree of reluctance, some level of unwillingness on the part of, well, me….

Where might that resistance to “lie down” come from? Does it come from me not wanting to stop doing what I’m doing? Does it come because I’m afraid I won’t know who I am or what my purpose is if I stop doing what I’m doing?

Where might that reluctance to rest come from? Does it come from me being comfortable where I am? Does it come because the place where I’m being made to “lie down” seems somehow uncomfortable?

Where might that unwillingness to be still come from? Does it come from a feeling that it’s not okay to not be active? Does it come from an impression that it’s a sign of laziness and/or selfishness, or something similarly unacceptable, to not be busy, or productive, or useful, all the time?

Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place?

Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Maybe, from my perspective, the place where God wants me to “lie down,” to be still, doesn’t look like green pastures at all, but more like an empty, parched desert–lonely…uncomfortable…too quiet…devoid of water and life… Or maybe, from where I stand, my assigned place of inactivity appears more like a shopping mall–noisy…crowded…overflowing with too much stimulation…. Or maybe, the place that God knows will be “green pastures” for me feels for all the world like a foreign land–a place totally unknown, with practices I’m not familiar with and a language I don’t understand….

Perhaps it feels like God is forcing stillness and inactivity on me, that God is making me lie down, in a place that does not seem peaceful, that does not feel comfortable, that does not fit any notion I’ve ever had or could even ever imagine as being the least bit restorative to my burdened soul….

Yet here I am, being made to lie down in green pastures, so that my soul might be restored….

“Clearly, God, You don’t know what You are doing, if You think this—

[desert/shopping mall/foreign land…health crisis/job loss/loved one’s death…

whatever it is that forces us, reluctantly, into a period of inactivity and stillness…]

–is a green pasture!”

…or could it be that we don’t know what God is doing??…and that “this” is, in fact, in spite of what it may look and feel like to us, a place of green pastures, meant for the restoration of our souls??….

Amen.

And peace be with us all.
Deb

Make the Change During Lent

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

We have found some Lenten inspiration in rocks and minerals collected from around the globe: some samples from six of our seven continents are placed on the mantle of the kiva fireplace in our living room. (We have yet to make it to Antarctica and it is unlikely that we would bring back any rock specimens from that frigid place anyway.)

To these ancient rocks, we added dry sticks collected from the arroyo (the steep-sided gully that is bone dry most of the time) in the high mountain desert where we have made our home (for now). Rocks and sticks… seemingly lifeless. After the Festival of the Epiphany (January 6), we had plenty of used, spent, short, stubby white candles on hand. The tired candles from Epiphany were recycled into new symbols for our Lenten journey.

Each Sunday, another candle is lighted. Purple cloth is added now for a bit of color.

Eventually, all six of these candles will be aglow (one for each completed week of this journey through the desert), the stones will be rolled away for good, the purple cloth will be replaced with something else (yet unseen and yet unknown).

So it is with the human heart this Lent. Heavy rocks, dry sticks, leftover candles are symbolic reminders of what might be hiding in our hearts. Specifically, if your life seems out of balance, move things around. (Restructure your work week so that you can balance work, relaxation, and sleep.) If your days are too busy and your life is too full, get rid of what is no longer needed. (Don’t sign up for another socially distant online study group, if another Zoom meeting does not bring you joy.) If you need more meaning in your life, find a place where you can safely volunteer or give back to your community. (Perhaps there are safe volunteer opportunities through your church, the schools in your city, or at the public library.) If darkness seems to surround you and the sky seems gray, then add more light to your home and perhaps a bit more color to your wardrobe. Real, lasting change is hard! Here is a link to article that might be helpful to you if you choose to make changes in your life.

Lent is a time for transformation. As we have counted the days of Lent, beginning on Ash Wednesday (February 17), we have made intentional changes every single day on our kiva mantle. At first, the changes were small – barely noticeable. As the days moved along, the changes have become more obvious. The spent white candles, leftover from a joyful season gone-by, were replaced with purple candles. The rocks and minerals were moved about daily and exchanged for others from our collection. Finally, the sticks were transformed. The random sticks were lugged out to the garage and prayerfully handled, then cracked, snapped, and then broken apart to be made into something new. The straightest parts of our random sticks were fashioned into a simple cross, secured with twine to hold them securely together.

It is not too late to join us on this transformational journey towards new life. Be open to a whole new look and expect a complete transformation in your heart by Easter!

Prayer for Transformation:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.*

*This is what Wikipedia says about this prayer: “The Serenity Prayer is a prayer written by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971). Niebuhr composed the prayer in 1932-33. The prayer spread rapidly, often without attribution to Niebuhr, through church groups in the 1930s and 1940s and was adopted and popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous and other twelve-step programs. Niebuhr used it in a 1943 sermon at Heath Evangelical Union Church in Heath, Massachusetts. It also appeared in a sermon of Niebuhr’s in the 1944 Book of Prayers and Services for the Armed Forces, while Niebuhr first published it in 1951 in a magazine column. Early versions of the prayer are given no title, but by 1955, it was being called the Serenity Prayer in publications of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

What does it mean to offer a sacrifice of praise?

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!…
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!”
(Psalm 150:1,2,6)

I’ve had the phrase “sacrifice of praise” stuck in my head for the last few days. I’m not sure where I saw it, or how it got there, but it’s been there, rolling around, forcing me to think about it. What does it mean, to offer a sacrifice of praise? Those two words don’t really seem to go together easily.

Doesn’t offering a sacrifice usually imply some sort of hardship? Doesn’t the idea of making a sacrifice generally include the understanding of doing something that’s not comfortable or easy, but in fact, is inconvenient, difficult, or even painful? And isn’t offering praise, on the other hand, the sharing of something good and encouraging and uplifting, the offering of which usually comes easily and willingly, and even naturally?

So why are we invited to “continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise”? (cf. Hebrews 13:15; emphasis mine).

People are struggling right now. And not just “right now,” but for close to a year. A year. For almost twelve months we have been living with the restrictions imposed by COVID-19–which I do not need to elaborate on; we all know them all too well. Of course, people were struggling before that, too; life was not all rainbows and roses pre-coronavirus.

But the COVID-related restrictions have made everyone’s struggles even greater.

People are struggling. People around the world and across the street. Our neighbors and co-workers, our educators and political leaders, our relatives and friends. You who are reading this, and I who am writing this. We are all struggling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to try to deny. I dare say it’s a fact of life in this season through which we are living.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Suddenly, the idea of offering a sacrifice of praise makes sense. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, there may not be a lot that we want to say to God that is good and encouraging and uplifting. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, offering praise to God may not come easily or willingly or naturally. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, praising God is not necessarily easy or comfortable. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, I dare say that praising God may very well be difficult, or even painful.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Perhaps it doesn’t come easily. Perhaps it doesn’t feel natural. Perhaps it’s even painful.

But maybe, just maybe, as people of faith, we can dig deep and offer a sacrifice of praise to God–praising God for God’s steadfast love and abiding presence if nothing else–right now, in the midst of these struggles.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Thank God I Don’t Have a Demon…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“That evening, at sunset, they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed with demons….And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons….” (Mark 1:32, 34)

When I read passages like this in the Bible, I’m immediately grateful that I don’t have a demon. There are stories where someone has a demon who throws that person into the fire, or onto the ground; there are stories where someone with a demon is mute and another howls and cuts himself. In all of these stories, Jesus casts out the demons and restores their former “hosts” to wholeness; but still–I read them and feel very grateful that I don’t need that kind of healing from Jesus.

I’m especially thankful that I don’t have a demon that throws me into the fire–because this is where I’ve been spending a LOT of time in recent weeks:

But…as I think about it…I realize that there is something within me that can pull me away from wholeness, and forcefully.

There is no demon within me that pushes me to the ground…but there is, sometimes, something within me that does try to push me down–telling me things like I’m not good enough, I’m not capable enough, I don’t know enough….

Similarly, there is no unclean spirit within me that causes me to be mute…but there is, sometimes, something within me that influences me to be silent when I should speak up, that keeps me from speaking what I know to be true when that truth feels too uncomfortable or painful or risky….

As for cutting myself, there is no evil spirit within me that has led me to do that…but I have, at times, listened to something within me that has allowed me to chose to harm myself in other ways–by not addressing unhealthy relationships, for example, or by not listening to my own voice among all those I listen to for wisdom and guidance.

I am more comfortable calling the “something within me” that puts me down, my “inner critic” instead of the voice of a demon, but it is similarly destructive. And while I’m more likely to think of those thoughts that try to silence me as coming from a place of fear and insecurity rather than an “unclean spirit,” couldn’t fear and insecurity be considered something similar?? And the variation on self-harm? Well, the voice within me that persuades me to not value myself appropriately could perhaps be considered an “evil spirit.”

Maybe I do have demons that need to be cast out by Jesus–demons within me that cause me to doubt my goodness and my capabilities, to doubt the truth that I know, to doubt my own wisdom and authority.

Maybe I do need Jesus to cast them out, so that there will be more space for a sense of my belovedness, and so that I can more fully trust God’s goodness and truth and wisdom within me.

Maybe I do need “that kind of healing” from Jesus….

Do you?

Heal us, Jesus!

Amen.

“Put a muzzle on it!”

Rev. Talitha Arnold, United Church of Santa Fe

As a pastor, I probably shouldn’t confess this, but I have a hard time with some of the stories the Bible tells about Jesus. His zapping a fig tree for not bearing fruit (when it wasn’t the season for figs) is one. (Mark 11:12-25) His chastising Martha for being busy in the kitchen is another. (Luke 10:38-42) How else was dinner going to get fixed?

These days—eleven months into the pandemic, economic upheaval, and virtual church—the story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41) is at the top of the list. According to Mark’s Gospel, one night Jesus decides he wants to get to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Peter and the other fishermen-turned-disciples humor him and set sail. Before they reach shore, they get caught in a storm that threatens to swamp the boat and dump all of them into the drink.

But in the midst of the howling wind and crashing waves, Jesus calmly rebukes the storm. “Peace, be still,” he says, according to the King James Version. J.B. Phillips translates Jesus’ words as “hush now” and the Wycliffe Bible as “Wax dumb.” The Message translates Jesus’ command as “settle down,” as if Jesus were talking to an errant child, and not a raging storm that’s about to drown them all.

Given the myriad of storms that swirl around us—from the pandemic to economic upheaval to “alternate facts” to conspiracy plots—I need a Jesus who does more than say “hush now” or “settle down” to the howling winds. Speaking personally, on a day in which my computer was hacked, my dog figured out how to unlatch the back gate to get out, and a backlog of work swamps my desk, I need a Jesus who stands up to the chaos and pushes back at the waves of disruption, be they global or part of daily life.

Believe it or not, that’s the Jesus in this story. In the Gospel’s original Greek, he snarls at the screeching wind and crashing waves: “Put a muzzle on it!” That’s the literal translation of how this story was first told. It’s a far cry from the gentle, long-suffering Jesus of some later translations.

I find Jesus’ snarl to the wind and waves comforting. When the storms of life rage around us and within us, it’s good to remember that Jesus didn’t stay safe on the shore but was in the boat with Peter and the others that night—and is with us as well. When like those fishermen, we’re caught in storms we’re not sure we can weather, I’m glad for the One whose power can silence even the loudest clamor. When we can’t calm our own waves of doubt or quiet the inner howls of despair, I’m thankful for the One who can put a muzzle on it all.

Most of all, I’m thankful for the One whose voice we can still hear through such an ancient story that still offers new life. Perhaps you are, too.a

Blessings,
Talitha

P.S. Nizhoni came back 🙂

Attitude

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle….I am about to punish [Eli’s] house forever…’

“Samuel lay there until morning…afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son….What was it that [the Lord] told you? Do not hide it from me….’ So Samuel told him everything…. Then [Eli] said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.'”

(1 Samuel 3:10-18…ish…)

The above passage is a significantly abbreviated version of the familiar “Calling of Samuel” passage (cf. 1 Samuel 3), wherein “the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under [the priest] Eli” (1 Samuel 3:1). Prior to what we read above, God had already called three times: “Samuel! Samuel!” And all three times Samuel had gone to Eli, saying, “You called?” The first two times, Eli said, “I didn’t call you. Go back to bed.” The third time it hit him: “Ah! GOD is calling you! If it happens again, say, ‘Yes, God? I’m listening.’”

That’s where we pick up the story: “Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’” Often, it seems, the focus of this passage is on God calling, and on listening for God’s call. When I read it this week, however, there were a couple of other parts that stood out to me.

One is just Samuel’s response to hearing what was going to happen to Eli–he “lay there until morning” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:15). So, I’m not the first person (nor, I suspect, will I be the last) to lay awake until morning, my mind spinning over things (especially bad things!) that are out of my control. In fact, not only am I not the first person to spend a sleepless night, fearing what lies ahead, but I’m in good company!

The other thing that spoke to me was Eli’s response to what Samuel told him. Samuel had just delivered some pretty unwelcome(!) news–that God was “about to punish [Eli’s] house forever” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:13). I don’t know exactly what that would look like–to have your house and family punished by God forever–but surely it’s not a good thing. Surely, in fact, it’s a terrible thing.

And how did Eli respond? Did he say, “What?? That’s not fair!” No. Did he say, “What?? Why me??” No. Did he say, “Surely ‘forever’ doesn’t really mean forever…” No. Did he otherwise moan or whine or complain or rage? No.

He said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

And I thought, “Wow…if only I could adopt that attitude….” That speaks to me of trusting in God, no matter what. Of claiming God’s goodness, no matter the circumstances.

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of trusting in a bigger picture, even though it can’t be seen. Of claiming to be part of a bigger–and better–story, even though this part sucks.

“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

That speaks to me of faith.

Does that mean in every situation that is “unwelcome,” we are to simply sit back and accept it, without complaining or raging? Or doing anything to change it? Of course not.

But perhaps there are times–particularly when the unwelcome situations are out of our control (not that any of us can relate to that concept…!)–when an attitude of “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him” could be helpful.

Just a thought.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Epiphany 2021

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

Sometimes God seems so invisible … trying to see God is like trying to see the white paint along the edge of the highway … while we drive white-knuckled through a white-out snowstorm. Sometimes God seems so silent … listening for God is like listening to the snow falling during the bleak midwinter… can you hear the snow falling?

Some of my earliest Christmas memories date back to when my brother and I were very young. We sat on the light blue shag carpet in the den by the crackling fire in the fireplace. Our great-grandmother Lulu sat in her chair by the fire, wrapped up in a crochet afghan that reminded me of a multi-colored, warm waffle. Our grandfather Emmett looked out the big picture window and asked me, “Can you hear the snow falling?” “No,” I replied, “but I can SEE it.” And then my grandfather taught my brother and me that we must use our imaginations and listen to the stories of our ancestors to “hear” God’s voice. My mother reinforced these stories as we grew in faith and now I have passed them along to my own children. Listen to the stories of our spiritual ancestors and then use your imagination (and what science and history have taught you) to fill in the blanks in the story.

After Christmas had passed and we were counting the days until Epiphany, my grandfather pulled out his well-worn old King James version of his Bible with a genuine leather cover. He turned to Matthew and read selections from chapter two. The story that he read to us sounded something like this:

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is this child who has been born king of the Jews? For we have observed his star at its rising, and we have come to pay him homage.’ Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was…they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:1-2, 7-11, New Revised Standard Version)

Much of what follows has grown out of my (mostly) German family traditions which have evolved as our ancestors told stories near the fireplace. Some of this is fact, some is fiction, some is what might have happened or what could have happened… some of what follows can be proven and some cannot. But all of this is the story that my family has always told as we counted the twelves days from Christmas to the Epiphany. Giving credit to appropriate historical sources to back this up is impossible here… this is the story my family has always told as we roasted … “chestnuts on the open fire.”

Magi on dining room table with four candles lit

Epiphany follows the Twelve Days of Christmas (which usually are counted from December 26 until January 6, which is the Twelfth Day). The four Advent candles in our Advent wreath have been replaced by the twelve white candles on our fireplace mantle, representing the supposed twelve-day journey of the wise kings to Bethlehem. Thus, in our home, the three kings with a camel or two and a few rocks painted gold start at the east end of our 8-foot dining table. Each night for twelve nights, we march the kings forward, inching more closely to the baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph who are set up on the west end of the table. Each night as the kings move from east to west, we light one more candle, indicating one more day on this long journey to Bethlehem.

The colors of Epiphany are white, representing newness, and gold, representing kingship. The word, “epiphany” means “to show” or “to make known” or “to reveal.” We remember the wise ones who brought gifts to the Christ child and they “reveal” to all the known world that Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Were there really three kings? We do not know how many kings (or magi or wise ones or astrologers) there were. But the scripture indicates that these wise ones brought three gifts. What is important is not the number of kings, but the gifts that they brought to Jesus. We were taught these were symbolic gifts, foreshadowing what Jesus would be for us and for all humankind. At our Epiphany feast each year, my mother would put out the gifts by our place-settings that the kings brought to the baby Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

1. The gold represents kingship. When were we young children, chocolate coins covered with gold foil represented the gold the kings brought to Jesus. The significance of this gift was the foreshadowing that the baby Jesus would grow to be our king.

2. The frankincense represents the priestly function of Jesus (as the “great high priest”). Burning a bit of frankincense in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of how holy, other-worldly, and “God-like” Jesus must be. Frankincense is highly fragrant when burned and was (and still is) used by some priests in worship.

3. The myrrh represents the humanness of Jesus. He had a real body and one day he would die and be buried. Myrrh is made from the sap of a tree and was used in biblical times for embalming the dead. A few drops of myrrh essential oil in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of a damp, decaying, and musty forest.

2020 finally has ended. Seeing God and hearing God in 2020 was challenging for so many as we navigated a global pandemic. And now we begin our journey forward into 2021. As we move into the year ahead, listen, look, give your gifts to the new-born Christ child in the manger, and recall the lyrics to a familiar Christmas carol (written by Gloria Shayne Baker and Noel Regney):

Said the night wind to the little lamb:
“Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite
With a tail as big as a kite”

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy:
“Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song, high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea”

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king:
“Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold
Let us bring Him silver and gold
Let us bring Him silver and gold”

Said the king to the people everywhere:
“Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people everywhere!
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light”

featured image credit: Robert Bisser

other images credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben