Southwest Conference Blog

What Does God See When God Looks At Me?

For Mothers

by Deborah Church Worley – May 2013

I dedicate this poem
to my mother, Joyce Mary Payne Church–
who put up with me as a kid;
to my kids, Sarah, Ryan, and John–
who are putting up with me as a mom;
and to all moms everywhere,
who are doing their best every day
to love their kids!

God bless you all!

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see my elbows?
Does God see my knees?
Does God see my nose
and my misshapen toes?
The shape of my chin?
the color of my skin?
Does God see me in the morning,
when I’m looking quite scary?
Does God see my legs,
when they’re scaly and hairy?
Does God see those bags
I’ve got under my eyes?
Does God see jelly jiggling
when God sees my thighs??
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see that bulge
where my waist used to be??
Does God see the [mark of honor] stretch marks
that adorn my lower belly?
…and the muscles underneath
that have now turned to jelly??
Does God see the parts of my body
that will never again be lifted?
…and how my view of the world around me
has forever shifted…
because I am a mother?
The toughest job I could ever love (well, mostly!…)
is being a mother…
Does God see my gratitude for this gift
that is truly like no other?
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me when I’m buried
under dirty laundry?
Does God see me stagger out of bed
to feed my crying baby?
‘Cause I’d do it with a smile
if I thought God was watching…(maybe!)
Does God see the moments of panic
when I realize how true it is
that I really don’t have a clue
when it comes to this mothering biz?!
Why didn’t You send an instruction book, God,
when You sent this child to me?
What You saw in me when You gave me this gift,
I’m not so sure I see…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…

…and you are more beautiful
and more capable than you know!”

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me putting band-aids
on banged-up knees?
Does God see me steal a cookie
when I’m making all those lunches?
I can’t help it, God–sometimes I get
those early morning munchies!!
Does God see me put thousands of miles
on the car, going back and forth?
And that’s not even counting their activities–
that’s just trips to the grocery store!
Do You see when I get frazzled, God,
trying to keep everything straight?
I’ll tell You, it’s a good thing I’m married
‘cause I sure as heck don’t have time for a date!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me as I really am?
or as I’d like to be?
I hope God sees me when
I’m being sympathetic, patient, and kind,
and hears me when I’m inconvenienced,
saying, “It’s okay, I really don’t mind!”
I hope when I’m being crabby,
God has looked the other way,
but when I’m loving & sweet again,
has just happened to turn back my way!
Does God see me when I’m short-tempered?
Just ask my kids–I get downright mean!
But it’s only when I’m being a good mom
that I really want to be seen…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me….

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me cleaning up vomit
at a quarter to three?
Does God see me when I stay up late,
just to wash my son’s favorite shirt?
Does God see when I want to shake him and say,
“Stay away from her–she’s just a big flirt!”?
Does God see me when I’m trying
to scrape that old gum off the couch?
Does God see when, sometimes in seconds,
I go from “loving mom”
to “screaming grouch”?!?
I try to always keep my cool, God,
I really, really do…
but some of what I deal with from my kids
would even be trying for You!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…

…even when you’re frazzled and crabby!
But keep breathing–you’ll make it,
and remember–all shall be well….”

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see my heart stop
when my baby screams?
Does God see I feel the same
whether she’s five or fifty-eight–
when I know my child is hurting, God,
my heart just breaks…
Do You see, God, how deeply I long to shelter
my child from life’s pain?
Yet I know that if I somehow succeeded in that,
there’d be more loss than gain…
While no one wants to go through hard times,
it seems to be how we learn best…
Does God see me pray for my child,
for strength & wisdom when facing life’s tests?
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see the pride that fills me
from my head to my feet?
Does God see the delight I feel
when I hear kindness in my son’s words?
when there’s compassion in his actions?
when genuine caring is felt and heard?
Does God see the disappointment I feel
when he chooses to do wrong?
and how I pray for courage for him,
to do the right thing and not just “go along”
with his friends, without thinking,
just part of the crowd…
God, help him be true to himself…
If not for his own sake,
then, God, please, for mine,
for the sake of my fragile mental health!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me hold in my concern
as I watch her climb that tree?
Does God see the slight sadness in my heart,
though overshadowed by great joy,
when she walks down the aisle in her lovely white dress,
on the arm of that wonderful boy [or girl!]?
Does God see I just want what’s best for my child,
with all of my soul and heart?
I know I can’t live her life for her, God…
I’ve tried my best to give her a good start.
Help me to trust that she’s in Your hands,
that You love her even more than I,
And help me to remember that she belongs to You, God,
that You’re just sharing her with me for a while…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…
Your child is my Beloved…
and I have you both in my hands…
Trust me…”

What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see my abiding thankfulness
for my family?
Does God see my gratitude
for everything that we have shared?
for all the ways and times and places
that we’ve shown each other we care?
I admit there have been moments, God,
when I’ve wanted to run away,
when it all just seemed too hard,
and I didn’t think I could do it for another day…
But I hung on, I said a prayer,
I took a deep breath, I called a friend…
And I got up again the next morning,
trusting that the rough times would eventually end…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

But here I am, God, still a mother,
and a mother I forever will be.
It doesn’t matter whether my child
is one week old or 103!
I’m an imperfect mom who makes mistakes,
but who hopefully gets some things right–
I hope my child knows he’s loved
when he goes to sleep at night…
I hope she knows she’s cherished and valued,
and that she’s beautiful, too…
And I hope at some point they will know for themselves
how deeply they are loved by You…
That is my deepest and most heartfelt longing;
it’s for that I most fervently pray…
And I have to trust that You will answer that prayer, God,
in Your time and in Your way…
God, sometimes I wonder what You see
when You think to look at me…

“I see YOU, my child!
I see it all…
and to you, my dear one, I continue to call:
You are my Beloved!

I see you as a mom,
trying your best…
Just keep loving that child–
don’t worry so much about the rest!
You are beautiful, you are capable,
yes, you’re grouchy once in a while–
but you’re allowed! After all, you’re human!
And that’s a good thing to show your child…
You’re not supposed to be perfect–
that was never part of my plan.
I only want you to be you,
as courageously as you can!
Don’t be afraid, my dear one,
to be who I made you to be!
Accept my Love deep within yourself,
and you will truly be free–
Free to love and accept your child,
and who she is at her very core…
That’s the best gift you can give your child;
he couldn’t ask for anything more!

You ask me what I see in you
when I look your way?
I see a beautiful, capable woman
to whom I continue to say,
‘You are my Beloved!’
Hear it…Let it sink in…Accept it…
and go love on your child!”

I hear it…and I let it sink in…and I accept it:
I am God’s Beloved!

Awesome. 🙂

And you are God’s Beloved!
Let’s go love on all of our kids!!

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Other Pandemic

by Rev. John Indermark

Not long after I had pre-enrolled in seminary, my pastor gave an essay to me written by one of the Niebuhr brothers. The paper explored the theme of freedom and responsibility, and Pastor Pollmann asked me to present a series of short presentations on it during worship. I no longer have what I wrote, which is no great loss. I no longer have the original essay, which IS a great loss.

Fifty years later, the core of that essay looms large – not just for me, but I believe for the viability of democracy. Niebuhr’s core idea, at least the one I grasped, was basic: freedom and responsibility cannot be separated from one another without significant danger. For an individual. For a church. For a nation.

Responsibility without freedom goes by many names. Drudgery. Blind obedience. Slavery. Consider the destructive possibilities of such a state of affairs. Nuremberg comes to mind: I was only following orders. Or three-hundred and fifty years of slavery in this nation followed by a century and more of Jim Crow and segregation, whose consequences still erode this nation– especially when some refuse to grasp (or admit) the affront of those days, reminiscing instead about “lost causes.” Responsibility without freedom is a dead-end street –in its worst cases, it becomes a literal killing field of human spirit and community.

But responsibility devoid of freedom is not the only danger when those two are separated.

To some, actually I suspect to many, freedom has become deified into an unqualified good – which is to say, freedom trumps all other qualities and serves as life’s ultimate arbiter. Absolute personal freedom is to be unfettered by anything or anyone. Or is it? This is the other pandemic now ripping our nation apart.

Freedom without responsibility also goes by many names. Licentiousness. Anarchy. The disintegration of community bonds. Consider the destructive possibilities it has unleashed among us. The transformation of masks and vaccines from public health tools to save lives into a political battlefield where MY freedom to do as I choose is everything, regardless of any consequences for the lives of others. Or the freedom to vote for a chosen candidate becomes a license to lie about the validity of the choices and votes of others, a cancer seen in: 1) the lies about the truth of the November election; 2) the abortive attempt on January 6th to violently install the losing candidate over the choice of the majority; and 3) the efforts now underway to legislate voter suppression to eliminate the franchise of those pesky “others” – whether “other” is defined by party or race or country of origin. Freedom without responsibility dis-members society.

The bottom line is this. We have vaccines to combat Covid. We do not have vaccines to combat the collapse of community when “my freedom” is exalted over all, including truth. Jesus once said the truth will set you free – NOT you are free to invent your own truth. For church, for democracy, to hold together: freedom must be yoked with responsibility. If it is not, the lines of the Irish poet Yeats come to mind, written ironically in the wake of the 1918 flu pandemic and the first stirrings of European fascism:
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . .
While the worst are full of passionate intensity.

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

Reflections on Orientation-Disorientation-Reorientation (from an Exempt Minister)

by Rev. Jim Fredette

In his sermon Sunday on April 11^th, Pastor Adam Hamilton noted that Walter Brueggemann once wrote that Israel had three circular phases in its life: Orientation, Disorientation, and Reorientation. As I listened to the sermon it struck me how closely the same pattern has been in my life.

Throughout my ministry in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Syracuse, NY., El Paso, TX, Escondido, CA., and Sun City I experienced all three phases. For the most part “Orientation” was my foremost and fulfilling experience. Doing a new church start at Desert View in El Paso was a wild ride between all three phases. My other congregations were far easier and very fulfilling.

When I retired from United Church in Sun City, I wanted to do the “right thing” in ministry. I asked John Dorhauer to lead a service of release of my call to United Church. Nancy and I did not attend or barely drive by the property for more than two years. I was asked by the search committee to meet with Brady, and I assured him of my support and I hope I didn’t do anything that wasn’t supportive.

Nancy and I enjoyed worshiping at the First Congregational Church in Phoenix. We thoroughly enjoyed Steve Wayle’s ministry and the church’s involvement in the community. We probably would have joined the church, but it was 25 miles from us and Steve retired.

We eventually signed a three-way covenant with United Church, the Conference and me defining my “role.” We attended several months, and we felt Pastor Brady was supportive. But we finally decided, we needed to move on. We eventually joined Church of the Palms, and two years ago decided to relocate to southeast Kansas to be near family.

All of this information (I hope I’ve not bored you to death) leads to my viewpoint of being a retired/exempt pastor. I sought exemption status; we were moving to southeast Kansas and attending boundary training and other meetings was not financially or physically possible.

From my experience (which may be uniquely mine) retirement in some ways is a period of disorientation. In my case I found it very difficult to find a role wherein I could still be involved and of some service and yet not intrusive. The Church of the Palms was very welcoming and if we had stayed in Sun City, I probably would have found some role.

What I don’t feel the denomination has really addressed is pathway for some of us to feel we still matter or that our ordination means anything anymore. I don’t want to preach or lead worship. But I also think in some ways exempt status and ordination are almost a contradiction in terms.

Some exempt pastors may find their new status isn’t an issue. I am not exactly sure what the denomination might or could do for some retired clergy. Some retirees may find a new church home and feel “orientated.” Some of us may need more pastoral care and help in finding our footing. In any case I thought maybe my experience might be something that would provide you food for thought.

When there’s nothing good to thank God for

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Give thanks to the Lord because God is good,
because God’s faithful love lasts forever.”
(Psalm 118:1)

In reading this verse I was once again struck by my tendency to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God is good, but because of my perception that God is good to me. If I’m honest, I have to acknowledge that I want to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God’s love lasts forever, but because of my sense that somehow, that love has shined on me.

But what about when bad things happen? What about God feels absent? I confess that my default tendency in those moments is not to “give thanks to the Lord.” How can I thank God when there’s nothing good to thank God for?

And there it is–when it feels like “there’s nothing good to thank God for,” perhaps I’m missing the point of giving thanks. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God is good, not because God does or doesn’t do good things for me. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God’s love is bigger and broader and deeper and more eternal than anything else in my life–good or bad.

As a person of faith, I’m invited to accept the invitation of the psalmist and give thanks to God because of who God is and how God loves. Period.

And you are, too.

May it be so!
Deb

Inclining our Ear Toward God: Listening As A Church

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

In a world full of solutions, opinions, and advice, listening is one of the most important gifts we can offer one another. It is an act of healing and vision. For people of faith and their communities, the gift of listening both to one another and God offers a path to spiritual renewal and grants congregations a vision of their identity. In a time when congregations are experiencing a steep decline in membership and facing significant uncertainty, learning to listen deeply to one another and seeking through listening to discern God’s path for a faith community’s future just might be one of the most important acts a church can engage in.

Rev. Chad Abbott and I minister in a denomination (UCC) that believes “God is still speaking.” The phrase expresses the reality that God is much more mysterious and far-reaching than we can understand. While the Bible continues to serve as the primary source of revelation for Christians, God is still being revealed to us in this world, in a culture the ancient world could not have imagined.

Sadly, it is evident to us as leaders in the Mainline American church that many Christians do not know how to listen for God, despite their deep longing to connect with a God who still speaks. Just as individual Christians struggle to listen for God, faith communities labor to listen for God together. Many are not able to slow down and approach church life in a reflective, contemplative manner.

Chad and I have written “Incline Your Ear: Cultivating Spiritual Awakening in Congregations” (Fortress Press, 2021) to encourage spiritual growth and vitality in faith communities in this listening pursuit. Throughout our book we share spiritual practices designed to help your congregation “incline its ear” toward God. Notice we used the singular “ear.” We believe congregations need to understand themselves as unified — one body, rather than a collection of individuals. As we are both spiritual directors, we explain the principles and practices of contemporary spiritual direction so that congregations can understand and use them. We even outline a “Congregational Spiritual Road Map” at the end of each chapter with step-by-step instructions for leading spiritual practices in awareness of God, reflection on the congregation’s life together, discernment, and creating an action plan to move forward on what is discerned.

With each important decision we make, with every relationship we build, with every church mission statement or ministry we design, and in matters of vocation and prophetic witness, the skills of discernment and listening in the spiritual life will make for vital congregations. While we face declining membership and generational shifts in loyalty to the church, it is clear to us that it is both a challenging, and exciting time to be the church. We have the opportunity to imagine a new future as we listen for God’s leading. All the spiritual resources we need to become that newly-imagined and future church is already within and around us if we will but incline our ear to the work of the Spirit.

We believe this work is so important. The world outside church doors will not wait around for clergy to figure out how to connect contemplative life at home with congregational life at church, so naturally the spiritually curious turn to yoga studios, meditation mats, healing stones, and spirituality apps — and who can blame them? Yet, the church has a deep and abiding tradition of spiritual practices that can help spiritual pilgrims in our time get to the heart of their yearning. In particular, the work of spiritual direction has the potential to not only enhance spiritual vitality in the church, but to push us toward congregational vitality that helps churches more fully live out their mission in the world in a time when a vibrant church is desperately needed.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is the director of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC Phoenix. Rev. Chad Abbott is Conference Minister for the Indiana-Kentucky Conference of the UCC.

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.”

Lingering Stories

by Rev. Jim Briney

A member of a congregation I once served no longer was able to attend services. From time to time I sat with her and visited with her in her 1 room accommodation in a long term continuing care facility. I had seen her though the aftermath woes of her early married life, and learned of her peculiarities. She encouraged me to tell her stories of my life, one of which follows this introduction. She told me I should make a list of such stories, which I did several years ago. There are some 230 of them. She is gone now. The stories linger.

Over the last two years of his life, Duke Ellington and I met up at various venues he was playing. Among them, the Meadow Brook Amphitheatre, a private club in Michigan, and the Shamrock Hilton in Texas. Few people knew how ill Duke was, or how close he was to the end of his life. I marveled at his ability to perform while keeping his commitments, honoring his contracts, respecting his audiences, and employing his orchestra.

Duke summoned me to sit near him during the Meadow Brook intermission. As Duke rested on the small bed backstage—belt undone and shirt untucked, to ease his pain—I wondered if he would be able to get up. On cue, he rose to the occasion, re-took the stage, and gave the audience full measure. I was surprised when Tony Watkins sang In The Beginning God, and dedicated it to me. I think that was Duke’s way of saying I was ok with him.

On another occasion Duke spotted me in the audience at a private club. Duke motioned for me to come down and sit with him on the bench at his piano. Duke knew my maternal grandfather had been a concert pianist and composer. I whispered to him that I barely knew two pieces: Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I was not competent to play Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, so I played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with one hand. Duke turned it into something—as if we had rehearsed it.

There was a beverage in a glass on the piano, within reach of Duke’s left hand. Before returning to my seat, I asked Duke if he drank alcohol. Without missing a beat, Duke said, “No, I retired undefeated.” Another time I asked Duke how he sustained such a pace. He was doing 200 dates a year. He told me he stayed in good hotels, slept in, and ordered the best steak and a bowl of chili that he poured over the steak. Duke said it was his main meal and it could be his last, so he ate what he liked. He drank hot water, not coffee.

Duke told me about his early days and promotions that had elevated the careers of The Duke and The Count. I count myself lucky to have had a late dinner with Count Basie and his band several years before I knew Duke. Duke wrote most days, knowing that his audiences wanted to hear what had become his old standards. Duke figured it would be 30 years before anyone would listen to the music that occupied his prolific mind. He was writing every day.

A fond memory of Duke Ellington has to do with his kindness to my eldest sister. Upon my arrival in Texas, I asked her what she wanted to do to celebrate her wedding anniversary. She told me she had tried to get tickets for the Ellington concert and dinner at the Shamrock Hilton. They had been sold out for months. When I said let’s go, she did not know that I knew Duke and his son Mercer. Mercer saw me in the hotel lobby while I was talking with the general manager, who stood at attention as Mercer approached us.

The general manager explained to Mercer that he could not accommodate the birthday wish of my sister, then asked, “Do you understand?” to which Mercer replied, “What are you doing for entertainment tonight? Do you understand?” Without another word, a table was prepared for us in front of the others. As dessert was served a spotlight was focused on my sister. Duke beckoned her to the dance floor with her husband while Paul Gonsalvas played an extended solo of Satin Doll.
That evening was a joy for everyone, with the exception of Paul Gonsalvas. Paul had some sobering up to do and Duke was going to teach him a lesson. Each time Paul’s tenor sax was winding down, Duke spurred Paul on with shouts of praise for “The great Paul Gonsalvas.” My affection and respect for Duke Ellington is for the man as much as his music. Duke was not a disciplinarian, but he had his ways.

My memories include Mercer and I sharing a bottle of Cognac in a paper bag. I preferred Courvoisier VSOP. Mercer had a taste for Hennessy. One time we sat on the ground while Money Johnson, Cootie Williams, Paul Gonsalvas, and others passed a reefer behind a stage door. They had been with Duke Ellington since his Cotton Club days, and when Mercer was young.

Mercer and I met for lunch in a Chicago steak house a week after the funeral for his father. When Mercer greeted me he said, “Pop left me 12 million dollars. I didn’t know he even liked me.” I have learned that my friends are where I find them. I connected with Duke and Mercer at Meadow Brook when they performed for 30,000 fans, at a private club for a few hundred, and at an elegant affair for high paying guests, thankful that Mercer treated.

Mercer had a mind for math and music. He beat the odds, winning at Keno in Las Vegas. Mercer scored his own compositions, including Reflections Indeed. Throughout the course of my life and ministry—along the arc of seemingly random disjointed encounters—all sorts of memories occupy my mind. Duke, Mercer, and Julie—the woman who asked to hear my stories—are long since gone. Remembering them has led to a time of my own reflections. Indeed.

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

Love Letter From God

by Rev. Deb Worley

“And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11)

Yesterday–Sunday, February 14, 2021–happened to be both Valentine’s Day and Transfiguration Sunday, both of which celebrate belovedness.

In honor of that, I am taking the liberty of sharing something I wrote in 2002, as I was leaving my position as the youth pastor of The United Church of Los Alamos, in order to stay home with my soon-to-be-born baby girl.

I had asked myself the question: “If the youth group hasn’t learned anything else in my time with them, what do I hope will stay with them?” This was the answer. I hoped something in it would speak to the kids then; perhaps something in it will also speak to you today.

Please enjoy this “Love Letter From God”…

To my Beloved Child…

That is, indeed, a good place to start—
by reminding you that you are my Beloved.

You are a beloved child of mine. You.

Do you know that?
Do you know how much I love you?
Do you really, really know, deep in your soul,
how much I, God, the Creator of the Universe,
love YOU?

And do you know that the reason I love you
is NOT that you are a good person?
Although you are.

Nor is it that you are a kind person.
Although you are that, too.

The reason I love you is not all the good you do
(and I know even better than you how much good
you have done, and how far-reaching its effects),
nor is it all the smiles you share,
nor all the times you’ve reached out
to help someone in need–
whether someone in your family, a friend,
or even a stranger.

No, it is not for any of those reasons that I love you….

Oh, beloved child of mine, I love you so much!
If only you knew how much….

And do you know, and truly believe, that I love you
even though I know your secrets?

I know the things that you’re afraid of….
I still love you.

I know the things that you’re ashamed of….
I love you anyway.

I know the things that you wish you’d never done….
I still love you.

I know the things that you wish you’d done differently….
I love you anyway.

I know your doubts…your judgments…your fears…your failures…
…and yet, I love you.

None of those things, nor anything else,
could ever keep me from loving you….

I love you, my dear child, because I created you.
I love you, precious one, because there is no one else like you….
No one else.

I love you, Beloved, simply because you exist–
because that is what Love does
and Love is who I am.

I love you, now and forever and always,
and there is nothing you can do to change that.

There is nothing you can do to make me love you any more,
and there is nothing you can do to make me love you any less.

I.love.you.

Deeply.
Totally.
Passionately.
Unconditionally.
Forever.

Please, my dear child, let me love you….

God”

Peace, deep in our souls, be with us all
as we claim ever-so-slightly more fully,
our belovedness.
Deb