A Christmas Prayer

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

God, make me more like Mary. So simply radiant in her reply to Your news.

So confident in what You can do, what You will do through her,

to bring forth love into the world.

So faithful to the invitation.

Let me believe as she believed.

And more like the shepherds, attentive to the vulnerable,

my life’s purpose to care.

Teach me to be still,

to acknowledge there are angels in the night sky

and to be as fearless as they were to run and see what they were told,

to leave my place and bear witness to miracles both on earth and above it.

Let me know when an angel calls.

God, let me be like them too, the angels with a song that will not be contained,

joy filling my heart until it spills out in music and laughter.

To be willing to keep telling the news, the good news, the life-affirming news,

God is right here! God is among us!

Let me share the message of hope.

And finally there are the wise men, people. I’d say.

Make me more like them, unwilling to put aside what I know to be true,

to put it all the line and journey the path of stardust because I must.

Because I cannot not go.

Help me to be willing to do whatever is necessary to find the truth,

even if it requires leaving comfort and familiarity,

to bring gifts because I will recognize goodness when I see it.

Let me go where I am led to go.

On this Christmas, O God,

open my heart to Your messages,

my spirit to Your call.

Let me find what You have made possible,

and honor Your miracles of Love.

Not Again…What Do We Do Now?

by Kay Klinkenborg, Church of the Palms UCC

Disappointed, angry, frustrated, discouraged, maybe even despair.  Here we are again with COVID cases rising.  We set our hopes and dreams on a different outcome and projected what our future for 2021 would hold.   But maybe, just maybe that is what creates our pain, of not accepting ‘reality’ as it is.   We had no guarantees, no promises, some stated hopes from the professional scientists. But we are in uncharted waters headed to a new land in which we haven’t lived before.  And we’re most certainly grieving that it hasn’t played out as we hoped.

Where does faith and hope fit in this current ‘reality’?  Right smack dab in the middle of it!  For if we allow ourselves to be projecting out front of ourselves as to what will be, we set up unrealistic expectations.  Faith is dealing with realistic realities, so we must practice realistic expectations for the months, possibly years ahead.

Our world prides itself that there are advanced countries with vast resources. But a fact of nature, Coronavirus, COVID has brought us to our knees. As has the ‘Red Alert of Climate Change’ announced this week by the UN report of climatic changes and predictions for the future.  But that is not the only pandemic happening in our world.  Disastrous weather events, fires, massive floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, famine, wars, racism, Afghanistan crisis, the rise of nationalism and white extremist groups in America and abroad.  Are we overwhelmed, YES and if we aren’t, we are numb or disconnected from reality.

So, what are the realistic expectations on which we need to focus?  I offer no panacea of actions, but I do offer life lessons that have brought me through tough times and documented by numerous others in memoirs and professional literature. 

First: we are not alone. Numerous scripture reminders of this truth comfort us.  Isaiah 43: 5 states: “Fear not for I am with you…” “FEAR NOT” is in the Bible 365 times.  Isn’t it intriguing to think that thousands of years ago people were leaning on those same words just as we need them today? And there is the profound gift of the Presence of the Divine in each of us, so we are here for each other.

Second: we don’t have to have all the answers.  Living with ‘unknowing’ is hard and stressful. But it is also a learned art in our spiritual journey.  Life doesn’t come with guarantees.  And if we are learning that for the first time…we must own our naivete.   We each come learning how to cope in new ways; how to be friends and present for each other.  We come learning that ‘ambiguity’, not knowing can be a personal place of growth in our faith journey.  In the book, The Wisdom of Not Knowing: Discovering A Life of Wonder by Embracing Uncertainty, Dr Estelle Frankel reminds us that “spiritual evolution doesn’t take place through inquiry…but meditating with complex questions.”   Sit with our questions…don’t be afraid of questions.   

Third: we can do this one hard thing!  Travel this journey, live with the unknown outcomes. Take one day at a time.  Believe in ourselves and the strength of God that underpins the core of who we are and lives within us.   We have all done hard things before we didn’t think we could do or find our way through. But we did. We are resilient!  We can remain resilient.   And tapping into our ingenuity and creativity and sharing that with one another is a miracle gift in time of struggle.   We can be a balm to others; we can allow others to be balm to us.

Fourth: we need to ask for what we need.  People can’t read our minds.  If we need a phone call or a visit with a safe vaccinated person and share a cup of tea, we need to speak up.  It is not a time to be shy.  Yes, some of us with underlying medical conditions must limit the size of groups in which we can participate; but we can still practice safe health measures.  And don’t forget our technology…phones and internet for some.  

Fifth: claim and practice our creativity that each of us can embody. Erich Fromm, in Man for Himself states: “Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties.”  We have an opportunity to engage with the ‘extraordinary in the ordinary’ of our daily lives.  From the dishes we wash, the smell of clean laundry, the food we prepare.  Very mundane tasks we think; but Celtic spirituality teaches us these are the moments where the sacred insights and ‘ahh’ can pop open and bring delightful surprise. Creativity is like art…it is merely anything you do or produce or participate in that expresses who you are.  You don’t have to be a formal artist, it isn’t with paint, brush, or graphic pencils…but it can be.   One such experience was in a women’s group I led in Missouri; we had a share-our creativity-day.  Women brought home canned goods from their gardens; a term paper written for a college class; a pie they baked for a sick friend.  Crochet, knitting, quilt pieces, favorite recipes copied off to share. A letter of encouragement to their children. And the list went on.  Creativity expressing who they were and how they saw themselves in the moment.

“In Jewish Kabbalah tradition, creativity is also linked with the divine realm. All forms of creative expression is linked with divine nothingness, ayin.  According to Kabbalah, all wisdom, understanding, and knowledge flow from ayin.  Oft quoted is Job: 28:12:  ‘Wisdom emerges from nothingness [ayin}.’ “ Estelle Frankel, The Wisdom of Not Knowing; p 124.

What we fear about being stymied, bored, and restricted once again is we are about ‘nothing’; not able to do what we hoped for…again what are the realistic expectations?   

Sixth: take a serious look at the skills you brought forth at other times of struggles.  Lean back into what worked before.  Maybe it was prayer, quiet time alone, talk with a trusted friend, reading spiritual literature or the Bible.  Take a virtual walk with your computer in this time of heat waves…look up beautiful scenes and use your imagination to be in that place absorbing that beauty. Grab a favorite book or picture album off your shelf.  It can change a gloomy day into one of joy.  We all underestimate the skills we have used to survive in hard times.  I found that consistently with my clients and spiritual directees.  When I helped them begin to list ‘how did you do that?” they are astounded at the skills they brought forth to make things work.  We function so unconsciously many times, we don’t claim all that has taken place that reveals quite a remarkable coping individual. 

Seventh: it is not an abnormal reaction to these times to need to seek out professional help; even for a few sessions to talk with someone neutral. We are our own worst enemies in judging our coping skills as lacking.  Seek out a Spiritual Companion/Director or Counselor.  Don ‘t expect that any of us needs to go this alone.  It is a highly tense unexpected set of world circumstances; none of us has the map. But we can journey together, and support can make all the difference.

Eighth: don’t be afraid of reality.   Look this square in the face.  This won’t change tomorrow or the next day.  We must have realistic expectations…the hoped for, dreamed about end to this is not visible.  We must live in reality to be healthy and take adequate care of our bodies, minds, and souls.   Living out into the future is wasted energy; now I am not saying we don’t make plans…but let us learn to make plans to will require us to be fluid and flexible in these times.  Learning to ‘be in the moment like never before’ can become a mantra, a sustenance, a relief.

Nadia Bolz-Weber, ordained minister and public inspirational speaker wrote on her monthly e-letter a week ago: 

“Because actual reality is also the only place where actual joy is to be found. If joy is delayed until a preferred future comes about, we set ourselves up for despair. But if there is hope in THIS day. Joy in THIS reality. This life. This body. This heart, then certainly we can prevail.

We can. We will. We are.

Be gentle with yourselves right now.”  Nadia Bolz-Weber

I have no doubt we can continue on this hard journey, find our way, find joy where we least expect it, and experience a deeper faith and understanding of the Divine within us and others.  We can do this one hard thing:  look reality in the face, practice our faith, and be honest about our struggles on this unexpected tumultuous journey.

© Kay F. Klinkenborg, MA August 2021
Spiritual Director/Counselor
Retired RN, LMFT, Clinical Member AAMFT
(Assoc. for Marriage & Family Therapists)
Member Church of the Palm, Sun City, AZ

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

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic.

by Gordon Street, SWC Commissioned Minister for Reimagining and Connecting with the God of One’s Own Understanding

Faith and spiritual practices sustain me during this uncertain pandemic era and unprecedented election season. Because my ministry focuses on helping people connect with a God of their own understanding, I want to share a few thoughts about what has helped personally these last many months.

The solution always is faith. But what does faith really mean? A quirk of the English language is that faith can be only a noun when it really should be a verb because faith is not what I think, it is what I do. Paul, in Hebrews, says “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” That means faith is the result of hope, the evidence of the unknowable. How I choose to face each day and what I do during the course of each day produces faith. Faith does not guide my actions. Actions produce my faith.

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic. Each day I begin with a prayer for wisdom, strength, willingness and courage to face the things I must face. I also pray for the world, my family, my First Church beloved community, and my friends, to help them in all their needs. Most important is my prayer that God’s will be done in their lives as well as mine. I don’t pray for outcomes. I pray for attitudes in circumstances.

I, like most people, am cooped up at home. I reach out the friends, family and even strangers every day to see how I can be of service to them and give words of hope and encouragement.

In other words, I pray for faith for myself, and the rest of my prayers are for everyone else. Take the focus off of me. I believe my prayers and actions embody Jesus’ suggestion that we love God with all of our being and love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

Faith doesn’t mean everything will be alright, and I’ll win the lottery too.

God doesn’t necessarily make everything all better. God grants me the willingness, strength, and courage to handle whatever I am facing. God is with me and embracing me through it all. Especially during difficult times. I am comforted by knowing I’m not alone in difficulty.

Finding Happiness

by Abigail Conley

In the Spring 2018 semester, Yale launched their most popular course ever, “Psychology and the Good Life.” It was a course on happiness, and enrollment skyrocketed. A quarter of Yale students enrolled in the class, and the institution struggled to meet the demands from such a large enrollment. Dr. Laurie Santos developed the course to help address rising rates of depression, anxiety and stress among students. The course was so popular, it was soon launched on the online learning platform Coursera as “The Art of Happiness.” 

I signed up for the class out of curiosity. It’s free unless you want the certificate of completion. Of course I wanted the certificate of completion, so I paid an extra $49 to get a piece of paper at the end. (Hey—maybe it counts for CEUs!) I should mention that I wasn’t particularly unhappy going in. Taking a class on happiness seems to imply that the student must be unhappy. I’m more of a taking-a-class-inherently-makes-me-happy person. 

Within about 2 weeks of starting the class, I had one major take-away not named in the class: being part of a church will make you happier. It will make you happier according to science, not just some pastor. It will make you happier even though being the Church is hard right now. It’s hard as institutions struggle through the time before resurrection. It’s hard as we face what seem like insurmountable social justice issues. And yet, time and again, polls also report that people who are part of a faith community are happier and live longer than those who are not part of a faith community. Now there’s easily accessible data to name why.

Here are some of the things I learned will actually make you happier in a way that transforms your life:

  • Stop worrying about stuff.
  • Practice gratitude.
  • Meditate.
  • Be socially connected.
  • Keep a regular sleep schedule. 

Most any of us who show up to church occasionally realize that church helps us cultivate all of those things. If you can walk or bike to church, you will manage to hit every single thing that will make you happier, clinically speaking. 

I preach often about the gifts of the church, the Christian community gathered. I love the story of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit becomes a normal, expected presence with the gathered church. That presence is a break from the occasional and extraordinary presence with the prophets, when a word from the Lord might be rare. 

And yet, it is a little shocking to be reminded that the church has a profound gift to offer just by existing like most of our churches do. We pass an offering plate each week and say, “You have enough to give away. Trust us.” We take time to name what is good and what is difficult and hold it in a space with other people. We do it on a day traditionally known as Sabbath, and keep saying that holding space for rest matters. And even when we gather with people who are so very different from us, we find people who will check in on us and love us and show up in wonderfully unexpected places. 

In this class, we were also challenged to take on one of these habits. For success, we were even asked to tell someone else our goal. It was for a finite period, with a clinical measure of success before and after. Part of the point is that it’s so difficult to make a significant change like the things named. We don’t naturally choose what is good for us. Again, not really a surprise to church people.

I am reminded that one of the most profound gifts of all is that the Church, with all its imperfections, keeps going along, reminding us to worry less about our stuff, to be grateful, to pray, to honor Sabbath, to show up—even if it’s just to be together. In our case, it is not an art that one person cultivates, but a faith we continue to hold onto for the promise of something better for our world. Happiness is only the tip of the iceberg. 

Pastors Cover the Who, What and Why; Spiritual Directors cover the How

by Teresa Blythe

As the last great generalists in our increasingly niche economy, pastors do a lot and they do it well. They preach the good news; advocate for a more just society; cast a vision for their congregation; and encourage Christians to live and work in community.

Pastors cover the “who, what and why” of the Christian faith. But where it breaks down for so many in the pews is the “how.” People want to know what it means in this 21st century world to be a Jesus follower. People want to know how to pray in their daily lives and how to apply their faith to complicated and important situations they face.

How do I do what the pastor is talking about?

The question of “how do I live out this faith I’m hearing about at church?” is the terrain of the trained and experienced spiritual director. Which is why I am encouraging church leaders—pastors, Christian educators, council moderators, church musicians and worship planners—to warm up to a local spiritual director for support, encouragement and help with discernment. Church leaders and spiritual directors can work together to fill in gaps between theology and practice.

Sermons only go so far

I remember once hearing a beautiful sermon in a progressive church about the importance of being in close, personal relationship with Jesus. (Yes the preacher defied the convention of the day by actually talking about getting to know Jesus personally). It was inspiring but she failed to address how this relationship is built. But she’s not the only one guilty. I recall as a child in a conservative Christian church that the only “how” we were given was one prayer we needed to pray to be close to Jesus.

How does a thinking person in the 21st century get to know a spiritual figure from the first century? Spiritual directors will tell you it’s by finding inner stillness within yourself (meditation), spending time in a prayer practice that fits for your personality, dialoguing with Jesus (or another spiritual figure) in your journal, putting yourself imaginatively in a scripture setting, walking a labyrinth, spending time in nature, paying attention to your dreams, figuring out who Jesus is for you, and …..well the list goes on and on. It’s different for every person because we are all made so differently.

Bridging the Gap

Some churches understand this gap between what is taught and what is practiced. They are the ones who have incorporated spiritual formation training for adult members so that this bridge can be built in community. If this is something your church would like to explore, a spiritual director would be the perfect consultant, educator or assistant to get a program going.

There are times, also, that individuals need private and confidential assistance. Pastors know who these people are because they come to their offices frequently for counseling. When the questions are of a spiritual nature or hover around practical theology, a referral to spiritual direction can be helpful. While most spiritual directors are fee-based, churches can usually work out arrangements where people who cannot pay may still receive at least a few sessions of spiritual direction.

Getting down to business

So find a spiritual director in your area and start the conversation! How can we help our people find the spiritual practice that will sustain them beyond Sunday worship? How can we assist our members in discerning where God is leading them in their everyday lives? How can we become more in touch with the movement of the Spirit within this congregation?

Let’s make sure we give the “how” of faithful living as much energy as the who, what and why.

Contact information

To find a spiritual director in the Southwest Conference of the UCC, check out this webpage. There are listings of spiritual directors at the website for Spiritual Directors International. For more about spiritual direction as I practice it, please check out my website and the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction.

Teresa Blythe is the founder of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC in Phoenix. She is a longtime spiritual director for individuals, groups and organizations and is Director of the Hesychia School of Spiritual Direction at the Redemptorist Renewal Center in Tucson. Teresa is author of the book 50 Ways to Pray and the Patheos blog Spiritual Direction 101

Okay, but why?

by Davin Franklin-Hicks 

I remember my 13-year-old self sitting on the altar of a small Southern Baptist church. The altar was brown, carpeted steps. A woman who had shown me incredible kindness sat with me. She was holding my hand. I was wracked with sadness and sobs. She listened to me as I told her about the divorces, the turmoil in my family, the fear that I was not normal (that meant queer, but I didn’t yet have the words for that). She listened. She leaned in. She cared.

After I shared, she opened her Bible and I remember her taking me through “The Roman Road”. I spent most of the time listening for Roman to show up in the story line. The Roman character never made an appearance.

The Roman Road is a fundamentalist evangelical tool often used in explaining the “Plan of Salvation”. I would come to know that well later, but for that moment, I didn’t understand any of it.

This is pretty much how the many conversations would go:

Nice lady (NL): When Eve took that apple and decided to eat from the tree, sin entered the world. We needed a path back to God and we get that through Jesus.

Perplexed 13 y/o Davin (PD): Well, why did God make that tree then?

NL: God wanted us to choose Him. When we don’t we invite sin into our lives and we need salvation.

PD: I don’t get it. If I poisoned candy and put it in a kid’s room, wouldn’t that mean I poisoned the kid if the kid ate it?

NL: blinking with a minorly irritated look.

Our session ended for that day. Two weeks later the nice lady tried again. Same place, ready to dig in, Bible between us.

NL: Okay so please remember that we chose sin.

PD: Yeah, but God kinda made that happen, right? Why did he put that tree there?

NL: Because God wanted us to choose Him.

PD: What? Why?

NL: Because he loves us and wants us to love him.

PD: Then why didn’t he leave out the tree that would ruin everything?

Our session ended again.

We met more and I had many questions:
Why did God make Lucifer if He knew that he would turn into Satan?
Who was Cain afraid of? Wasn’t it just him, Abel, Eve and Adam in the world? Who was Cain afraid would harm him when he was cast out of the garden?
If God made us and the tree of good and evil, isn’t that kinda passive aggressive?
She sighed a lot in those visits.

I was a teenager who just discovered faith community.
I liked the church a lot.
I liked the people.
I liked the adults who worked in the youth group.
I kept coming back and the nice lady kept trying to help me understand why I needed salvation in the form of repentance.

After many sessions with her, I was willing to admit I was a sinner, admit Jesus died for my sins, profess my belief in Christ, invite Jesus into my heart and promise to walk a path of faith, sharing the Good News. This is called a few things in literal, evangelical Christianity: being born again, getting saved, turning my life over to Jesus. Once I was in, I was in. The questions went away and I was determined to be the next Billy Graham.

Much of my theology in those days was slathered with fear and shame. I passed that on to those who took time to listen to my conversion messages. I was going to make sure Heaven was full and Hell was empty.

I was zealous and I was persistent. I was also very scared, brokenhearted, shame-filled and sad. The church kept me busy so my heart didn’t feel so very alone.

I was always angry back then. If you had to find me in a crowd, you could simply look for the kid with arms crossed over their chest, glowering, glaring, guarded and grrrrrr…

All the while I pushed people away, I was super offended when they did not talk to me. Hurt people often long for what they desperately try to convince others they don’t need.

I was creating an emotional wall; I was a teenage emotional construction worker with endless mortar and bricks: Sob the Builder.

There’s reasons for that wall. There’s reasons for everything we think, feel and do. Behavior is to meet a need, or at least a perception of a need. We spend so much time judging actions we rarely think about what is behind those actions. We rarely are compassionate with ourselves.

Everyone’s behavior makes sense to them at the time or else they wouldn’t do it. My fortress was built for a reason. It kept the bad out, but then it started keeping EVERYTHING out.

If I ever write a memoir I will call it “Well, that didn’t work.” And we still try again.

It’s comfortable to think in black and white because there is certainty there. It’s super hard when you let in the colorful world of all sorts of living and needing. It changes everything.

The option of truly being present with someone and learning who they are without an agenda to change them is the only way we get to have honest relationship. I didn’t get that concept for much of my life. I wanted the world to bend, not for me to bend. That’s how brokenness happens, in the not bending and the demanding it be different.

2016 has been awful for me and many I love. It has been the worst year of my life for sure. It also has been a very rich year. I have felt loved more often than not. I have given love more freely than I have in any other year. And 2016 was still the worst ever for me.

I am not someone who believes life’s trials are there to make you a better person. I don’t believe it is orchestrated in that way. I do believe, though, in every situation that sorrow exists, we can see aspects of living we never would have noticed without the sorrow. I don’t believe sorrow exists as a life lesson. I think it’s just part of life and what we choose to do with it determines a lot.

It’s been almost a year since I was harmed through sexual assault and there have been oh so many layers of pain my family and I have walked through. It has been horrendous and it has been illuminating. It has been heartbreaking and it has been healing. For me, what makes it or breaks it is my willingness to engage life in hard times vs run, run, run!

Engaging in life requires some courage when everything within wants to retreat. When that’s my reality I take the absolute smallest inching forward I can muster to just stay in the world, stay in my life. I have to get open, drop the mortar and brick, and choose to live in the elements, responding to life and love as it comes and as I co-create it. Dear ones, we are creating our inner world as we participate in life. I want my inner world to be a sanctuary and refuge.

The idea of refuge reminds me of my younger brother who tells a story that when he was about 19 years old or so, his AC busted and he had to have more windows and doors open at night to keep cool. He did this regularly in the apartment he lived in so he had adjusted and slept well most of the time.

One morning he gradually woke from sleep with the cat on his belly. He petted her, she purred and nuzzles. Then the slow dawning: “I don’t have a cat.” Yup. A random cat decided to sleep on my brother’s belly.

I love picturing this story playing out. It’s awesome, funny, and it highlights my gentle brother who awakes with welcome.

What I really love most, though, is the cat. The cat went all rogue and decided this house was as good as any and my brother’s warm belly was just the stuff this felonious cat needed to get a good rest.

What’s hurting within you? What’s preventing you from welcoming warmth and companionship into the core of who you are? What is this fortress you are building? What is keeping you from the wander and the wonder that may lead to new relationship?  What is the smallest inching forward you can muster today to answer the pain with hopeful forward momentum?

Whatever it is, I promise you this: the pain you feel in that place is made worse with isolation and vigilance. Peace to your precious, scared heart and peace to your amazing, enduring spirit.

We all have the “why” questions. Keep that up! The questions are beautiful and welcomed. The altar is within you as you seek your heart out.

Knowing this and living this is my road to salvation.

Theology of the Nursery

by Karen Richter

This blog is dedicated to all church nursery staff and volunteers! You too are loved!

Where is faith birthed?

What early experiences correlate to a lifetime of prayer and service?

What opportunities are we overlooking or missing or failing to maximize for congregational vitality?

These are the questions that occupy me, especially on my commute to and from Shadow Rock UCC. As a parent and as a church staffer in the area of faith formation, these are crucial inquiries.

A couple of years ago, we were struggling with a mid-week after-school program. So many families couldn’t commit to regular attendance, and adult volunteers available 4 pm to 6 pm on a Wednesday were hard to find. For a time, we had a low-key program with several activity centers that required minimal adult direction. Different and often more cynical questions were asked: are social and play-oriented activities worth investing in? what kinds of experiences do kids need in the midst of the school week? where’s the proper balance between relationship-building and content for children’s faith programming?

In the end, we discontinued the program, but the period of questioning bore fruit for me. A vision for what children must experience in their spiritual community emerged: Church is where people love me.

I’ll say it again: Church is where people love me.

Church is where I am LOVED.

These wacky people really care about me!

When my teenage son was a wee Cub Scout, he got a little note from a church member congratulating him on a successful scout food drive. Under her signed name, she wrote (one of the church people you probably don’t really know). When I asked him about it, he said, “Of course I know who that is. She says hello to me every week.”

All of the life of faith, all service and care of people and creation, and all growth in faith, understanding and spirituality – the whole of what we do! – hang on this kind of experience. There will be time later to learn Psalm 23 and the Beatitudes, time for skits about Jesus calling the fishermen, even time for wrestling with Romans chapter 8.

But it starts in the nursery. The warm safety of the place, the gentle hands of nursery workers and volunteers, the opportunity to make connections and first friendships… for babies and toddlers, it’s their first Sunday learning.

So this week, show some appreciation and gratitude to those people who make this wonderment happen. Hug a nursery person. They might be a little sticky (or worse!), but it’s worth it.

Making Peace With Thanksgiving

by Rev. Dr. William M. Lyons

There is nothing sinful about gathering as a family or with friends to eat a meal steeped in tradition and memories. God isn’t against football. Remember that there are people in the world who don’t have life as good as we do, and to do something nice for them, seems like a pretty good idea – dare I even say religious. Why, then, did I feel so guilty every fourth Thursday in November?

As a child I felt suspicious of the Pilgrims. There was something fundamentally unfair about strangers arriving in a new land and taking it away from the people who lived there first. A teacher’s, “Well, we’re here now so don’t worry about it,” only confirmed I was on to something. As much as I liked the day with my family, I knew families who wouldn’t be together because of the war (Viet Nam back then). When we got back to school I could tell from their silence when the rest of us compared pie counts and turkey sizes, I had friends who couldn’t have the feast my family enjoyed.

Growing up taught me a new word for my uneasiness: privilege. It didn’t help. Nor did it help to discover that the only truth in the first Thanksgiving story was that there were Pilgrims, there were Indians, and there was a celebration.  As far as we know the Wampanoag and the Pilgrims never repeated their celebration. No one much thought about what happened that autumn in 1621 for 200 years. The details most of us learned in elementary school about what our teachers called ‘the first Thanksgiving’ were little more than the creation of Jane G. Austin in her 1889 historical novel Standish of Standish. Thanksgiving observances and rituals had been part of American Indian culture for thousands of years. Spanish colonists held a thanksgiving mass in St. Augustine, FL in 1565, and celebrated thanksgiving with Manso Indians near present day El Paso TX in 1598. French Huguenots observed a thanksgiving celebration in 1564 in what is now Jacksonville FL. English colonists had celebrated thanksgiving in New England in 1607, 1610, and 1619.  

While the story of the Pilgrim’s Thanksgiving has remained relatively consistent since then, the roles of the Pilgrims and the Indians have been re-written time and again to reflect the crisis or the mood or the prejudices of the country. The Indians were hardly mentioned during the western expansion. The Pilgrims of World War 2 were hardy war-winners whose victory came from God. According to Look Magazine, the Pilgrims of the 1960s were “dissidents” and “commune builders.” How is a someone supposed to make peace with a holiday that seems always to be reinventing itself? And when I discovered that the Wampanoag people today observe a day of mourning on the day we celebrate Thanksgiving because of the pain they experienced at the hands of the doctrine of discovery, well… I needed to make peace with this holiday!  

From the doctrine of the trinity to debates about the jurisdiction of the church in matters of marriage, Puritans held deep convictions about how to practice their faith, convictions out of step with the Church of England. In any religious movement there are always zealots. Puritan zealots were called Separatists. For them there was no compromise, and no value to reform-from-within. When the Scrooby Puritan Separatist congregation emigrated illegally to the Netherlands they thought religious freedom would complete their sense of well-being. But the society that afforded them freedom of religious expression also afforded others that same freedom. They worried about the moral influences of what they considered a corrupt and permissive culture. The Scrooby congregants were not skilled in ways that permitted them to participate successfully in their new economy. Poverty and deep concerns about providing for themselves in their old age took center stage. 37 of them, along with 65 adventurers recruited by the voyage’s financiers, decided to pursue a what they hoped would be a better life in the new world.

Those passengers and crew were unprepared to endure the winter of 1620 aboard a ship anchored in Provincetown Harbor. By harvest 1621, half of the passengers had died, including 14 of the 18 married women. Of the 53 passengers remaining nearly half were children and teens, and the adults were mostly widowers, only 3 of whom were over age 40.

That anyone survived was due to the intervention of the Wampanoag people, specifically a Patuxet named Tisquantum. After a 14-year odyssey as a slave, a story worthy of its own telling, Tisquantum returned to his homeland only to find his people had fallen victim to a plague, the origin of which was most likely European traders. Evidence proves Tisquantum’s duplicity when dealing with Wampanoag and Pilgrims alike, but motives aside, he attended to the well-being of the Plimoth (the Pilgrim’s spelling) colonists.

Thanksgivings in Puritan tradition were solemn religious occasions. This is the only paragraph – 112 words – that we have from eyewitnesses:

Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a more special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain and others.

In today’s terms what the participants recorded about that event some 400 years ago reads more like what historian Robert Tracy McKenzie calls a week of “beer and barbecue, shooting and sports.” There turned out to be twice as many Indians as many as there were Pilgrims. Nothing like a good time to attract the neighbors! The scene reads like the typical human response to prolonged pain. Enough already – let’s party! After everything they had been through the survivors seem to have needed something to celebrate. And so they made the most of the legitimate reasons at hand to feel relief and gladness and gratitude, and to lay aside the concerns of the day at least for awhile. They needed to recover their sense of well-being.

The real story of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag is a story about the human quest for well-being. Christians have a word for that. The word is peace. We also have a word for how far people are willing to go to secure the welfare of others. Jesus called that peacemaking.

I have finally made my peace with Thanksgiving. No more trying to force a secular peg into a religious hole. The one-day observance we call Thanksgiving will be forever a secular holiday for me. No more outrage in God’s name about retailers opening at midnight Thursday; I choose to express my outrage in the name of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Jackson, and others! Even in a secular world families’ well-being trumps corporate profits or personal savings.

My faith, like that of the Pilgrims, teaches me that gratitude is not a holiday to be celebrated but a discipline to be practiced each day at all times in every circumstance.

My faith teaches me to say I am sorry for wrongs done against others even when my ancestors did them, especially if it leads to reconciliation with others. Thanksgiving for me will forever be a day I stand in solidarity with the Indigenous People of this land as they mourn what they’ve lost, what my ancestors stole from them.

My faith teaches me that more important than the thanks I offer to God for my blessings is the thanks that someone else will offer to God because I have used my life to attend to, advocate for, and in any way I can, supply them with a greater sense of well-being.  If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16 and one of you says to them [even on Thanksgiving], “Go in peace [or Happy Thanksgiving]; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? “You will be enriched in every way for your great generosity, which will produce thanksgiving to God through us; 12 for the rendering of this ministry not only supplies the needs of the saints but also overflows with many thanksgivings to God.” (2 Cor 9:11) 

In Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote “a false but clear and precise idea always has more power in the world than one which is true but complex.”  Oh how that lesson has played out these past few weeks. While Thanksgiving is the occasion that brings us together, we have a more urgent need. Tonight there are people in our world who are not living in peace. So tonight I ask you to embrace a more complex celebration of Thanksgiving, one in which you strive to put words of gratitude on the lips of someone else by improving their personal well-being. In these frightening and uncertain times people are looking what our brand of Christianity is offering. We are the purveyors of well-being – hope, safety, sanctuary, meaning, dignity and love.  Let us join one another on the narrow path that is peacemaking.  Amen.

Hope of Seeds

by Abigail Conley

My church is kicking off a stewardship campaign this week. We chose the theme, “From seeds to fruit.” Today, I finished up posters with images of those steps. Mostly, though, I’ve been thinking about seeds.

I grew up on a farm, with a father who worked at a farm supply store. I remember being in the back of the store with giant bins of seeds. I’m pretty sure most people, when they think of seeds, think of the kind you plant. They think of seeds that create corn, beans and pumpkins. They think of seeds that are distinct. They think of seeds that can often be eaten or planted.

When I think of seeds, though, I think of the tiny ones that are sown. Sowing seeds sounds so eloquent, biblical even. In reality, it’s far more chaotic. Seeds that are sown are tiny, and more or less strewn into rows, or maybe seedbeds, or small pots. They’re never carefully placed like seeds of larger varieties. The tiny seeds that would be sown were the ones that filled up the bins in the back of the farm store of my childhood. I never got my fill of running my hands through them. My dad knew what each one was, of course. Many of them were grass seeds. I remember the way they flowed through my hands, softer, silkier than any fabric could ever be.

Believing those tiny seeds could produce anything was an act of faith. The seeds were so tiny, no one was even worried about the ones that spilled onto the ground when they were bagged for a customer. Of course, I recall Jesus’ words, “…faith the size of a mustard seed…”

Those of us who live apart from the rhythm of sowing or planting, waiting, and harvesting, miss out a little. We miss out on the beauty of a small plant peeking out of the ground. We miss out on the worry of too much or too little water. We miss out on the goodness of going out and picking our food to eat that very night. We miss out on that rhythm that offers a deep hope in the order of the world. It is a rhythm nearly as old as humanity, after all.

So I think about seeds, seeds that point to that rhythm, and let my body grow calm and my mind cease its worry. The anxieties of life run deep for me, as they do for most of us. There are many things to be done in my own life—and after all, if not me, who? I wait for an election days away, wondering if the outcome drastically alters my life. As they should, my friends remind me of the things I shouldn’t let slip from my view because they are the things of God. They are voting early in suffragette white. They drive by the places where people of color were killed, forgotten by most only days later. They call me to vigils for those things and others, like domestic violence, one of those things that is supposed to draw our awareness this month.

I know they struggle to remember those things, too, among jobs, and marriages, children to take care of, and babies on the way.  

And I remember seeds.

I trust in the promise that they hold: our future is full of hope. Some days, that hope is evident, like a bit of green breaking the dirt for the first time. Some days, that hope is realized, like the bite of an apple when the first hint of cool is in the air.

And some days, that hope is buried beneath the earth, waiting. Just waiting. The rhythm of life long established will take over at any time, as holy as God’s ordering of the world in the first days of creation.

So today, I think about seeds.