The Sermon, Stripped Down

Spoken sermons are one thing. God at work through you, a stage, some lights, just the right music and you can get swept up in it all. It is a beautiful thing to stand in that space and herald the word of God to the people of God. When it’s all said and done, you have this built in measurement, you know how effective your ministry was because people respond. They teach you in seminary that this is not how you measure, but you do. Even the humblest of preachers walk away knowing that God has allowed you to connect by the power of the Spirit to the folks who have gathered in God’s name to hear God’s word.
It’s not like that in the strip club, in the dark corners of the smoke filled bar where sex and lust and greed and poverty of spirit confront you at every angle. You do your best, you serve the meal, talk with the dancers and the staff and work hard not to stare while they earn their keep. You hope, no you pray that they don’t render you useless because you have several degrees hanging on your wall and are therefore not able to relate to their reality. You talk with them about their day, their new apartment, their new perfume, what it’s like to walk in 10 inch heels, and you hope. You hope that just by showing up week after week, offering love instead of the judgment they have come to expect from people like you, that they will begin to see and experience the relentless love of this Jesus in whose name you have come.
You don’t leave the lived sermon feeling lauded or in any way qualified to do what you are attempting. You don’t leave being praised for your preparation or acumen. They hug you and say “thank you” and go back to practicing their trade as if your warm food and friendly embrace has made no impact on their lives.
You come home and wash the stench of the strip club off of you in a hot shower and you ask yourself, “What am I doing? Is this a waste of my time?” And then you sit quietly collecting your thoughts in front of the Christmas tree while cyber shopping at Overstock.com and the utter ridiculousness of your dream confronts you, the uncertainty of the outcome, the lack of strategy, the sheer impossibility of it all.
But then you remember this other ridiculously, impossible story, of a baby born to a virgin who was the hand made of God. This ridiculous love of God that sent this baby into the world, weak and fragile, to grow and live among humankind hoping some would hear his words, believe in him and follow his teachings knowing still others would reject, mock, shame and betray him. What an insane risk! What a feeble plan, and yet, love came down. And you remember that as the ages proclaim of every force known in the universe there is nothing more powerful than love, love is stronger than the grave; the flames can not burn it out and the waters can not drown it out (Song. of Sol. 8.6). And you remember that this love IS the entire plan, “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col. 1.37), and you are bound up in it.
So you decide you will go back again, and you will love because love, divine love is what has sent you and is the power that changes the world.

Homegrown Abundance: For Papa John

My Papa John is the reason I grow my own tomatoes, fell in love with pina coladas as a toddler (sorry and the reason I have a salt addiction. He’s the first person to introduce me to flavor, to enjoying food for it’s beauty and it’s delicious, delectable benefits. As the first grandchild, I got to spend lots of the early years at my papa and granny’s house. When in season, these hours always included trips to the garden to pick whatever was fresh and then enjoy the fruits of the earth on the front porch, the only utensils to be used were a piece of newsprint and a salt shaker. I remember being very young and biting into a juicy, ripe pink watermelon and feeling the warm sweet, salty liquid drip from the corners of my mouth to my chin and splatter on the newsprint below, not to be topped by the spewing of the seeds onto the said newsprint. Tomatoes were honored in the same resplendent way, as a fruit from the bounty of God’s garden paradise, not be be deluded by a sandwich bread or meat but to be enjoyed alone of its voluptuous self–and a salt shaker of course.

As the years progressed papa would move to Florida, so that we’d get to see him each year on vacation and at Christmas. When we would visit we wake each morning to the smells of bacon frying on the stove next to a pot filled with bubbling gravy destined to be turned in to chocolate and blanket buttermilk biscuits made from scratch. After a day at the beach we’d return home to fresh seafood and the making of peanut butter candy– ribbons of peanut butter wrapped in a sugar coating.

If it sounds like most of my memories of my grandfather are related to food, that’s because it is so. My papa well into his 80′s now has always been a connoisseur of good food, he knows how to grow it, harvest it, cook it, serve it up and enjoy it. He also knew how not to get bogged down in the guilt of it all.

Maybe it’s because the years I have known my grandfather have been the years of his retirement, but it strikes me that there have been some pretty profound and consistent characteristics to him over these years. In my 37 years, I have never seen my papa lose his temper, become angry, fly off the handle at someone provoked or otherwise. I have seen him face hard times, the loss of spouses, family and loved ones, I have seen him in grief and sorrow but there has always been joy in his eyes. It goes without saying that this joy comes from some place other than his circumstances, however, what strikes me is he’s always been able to find the good, the yummy, the special in the simplicity, the ordinary, the seasons of life.

He’s always enjoyed good food, travel, a good story, some good southern gospel music and he’s shared this joy with his family. His life speaks to us, even now and says, “go ahead, enjoy, drink in to the fullest all of the goodness that God has provided. Don’t wait, don’t worry, drink, eat, be merry!” Now that I think of it, my papa’s life philosophy sounds a lot like something Jesus said, “I have come to give you life in abundance” (Jn. 10.10).

Maybe there’s something to be learned here, maybe a path toward true joy is embracing, appreciating, honoring and taking in every day all the good that God has given us. Maybe God’s goodness is out there to be picked each morning like ripe succulent tomatoes on a vine. Maybe, like my papa we need to become, farmers, harvesters and sharers of this goodness, maybe that’s where life in abundance can be found.

My Mama

Grilled cheese and tomato soup when you’re sick, a little extra money to buy those shoes you want, wisdom that you didn’t want but are glad you have it on recall at just the right time, stories that run on and on until she forgets why she started it at all, laughter and chocolate gravy, never ending coffee pot and early morning prayers, red roses and fancy, swishy, sparkly dresses when she goes out to dinner, knitting basket full of blankets she’ll never finish and walls, covered, no, plastered with photos of her and me and him and them and a cedar box filled with memories, cards and letters and clothes she’ll never throw out, fighter, survivor, always giving, always smiling, my Mama

An Afternoon on the Couch

Today is one of those days; you know, you’ve had one of them. The sky is gray and cloudy, drizzles of rain come and go ushered in by gusts of cold wind from somewhere in the Great Plains.You take your sinus pills, fix your hair and set out to conquer the day confessing that there is no way it will get you down. And then somewhere about noon after you’ve blown your nose so many times that you have no make up left, and you are failing to form words that sound coherent, you give in and decide you can’t face it anymore…the day has gotten you. That’s where I am today; gave it a shot and then had to throw in the towel…I now sit on my couch in my exercise clothes wrapped in a fleece blanket waiting on my soup as it cooks in the slow cooker and my tea to simmer on the stove. I am trying not to fight it, concerned that my whole exercise program will fail if I take two days off–in a row; worried that I have papers to grade and shopping to do before the sale is over. I have bootcamp and bible study prep and laundry a mile high.”Martha, martha,” Jesus said, “You worry and fret over so many things but only one thing is needed” (Lk. 10.41,42). Today what is needed is rest for the mind, body and spirit. The sanctuary of a quiet place where I can hear my own self breathe in and out so that I am reminded that I am not the one sustaining that breath. To find a moment to be grateful for a cough and a runny nose whose presence call me back to the truth that rest is needed. Perhaps today–this gloomy, heavy day, a gift has been given to me. The gift is an awareness that I am a creature in need of sustinence and solace from my Creator. The gift of an afternoon to sit on the couch with my cat and a box of tissues and in the stillness, catch a glimpse of the Savior who bids me “rest.”

Upside Down Kingdom

Graduation

So there’s been a lot going on since I last blogged. In May, I completed my doctoral degree and went on a cruise to celebrate my graduation and ten years of marital bliss with my husband Kevin.

In June I began leading a wellness program at my church for women who wanted to live a life of balance, growth and grace. With professional and personal achievements celebrated, I decided it was time to begin to give some attention to an area of my life that has been neglected these last many years.

So, in mid-June I began a personal fitness and health program myself. It is a wonderful and rigorous program that demands 30 mins. of cardio each day in my target heart rate, strenght training 2-3 times per week, and a diet of less than 30 fat grams, 24 sugar grams, 24 grams of carbs and 80 grams of protein.

I started the program with great zeal and lost five lbs. the first week. The second week was a bit slower due to my travel schedule,but I still lost. The following week, I gained 1/2 lb. and this week I lost that 1/2 lb. I’m finding this to be one of the most difficult challenges of my life, I can’t get my body to let go of the extra stuff I’ve been carrying around for the past several years.

The puzzle is this: my trainer says, I need to eat more!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS??? Apparently, my body is holding on to fat because I an training at a much higher level than that for which I am eating. It sounds so bizarre, so counter cultural, so upside down. I always thought you eat less to lose, now I’m learning I’m wrong!

Not sure why this concept is so difficult to get, when you think about it, Jesus taught us to be counter cultural too. He introduced the “upside down kingdom” as Kraybill calls it. And so, I have to begin to think about eating the way that I’ve learned to think about living a life of following Christ. I have to learn new habits and dismiss the worn out, old myths that seem to be true but really leave you empty–hungry.

And so, I press on, acknowleging that this will never be an easy journey for me, but I am comforted to know that my body is now following the path that my mind and spirit have already taken.

Awake

I am awake today like I have not been awake in a while. Here in central Indiana, we’ve just experienced our first weekend of 80-degree temperatures and the trees are all in bloom and the scent of lilac is pungent and sweet in the air. There is much to celebrate, as my doctoral dissertation is now complete and my cap and gown adorned with the blazing scarlet stripes of theology now hangs in my closet. The invitations have been sent to family and friends and we look forward to a wonderful time of rejoicing together; acknowledging that this has been a community journey.
There is also much that is unsettled around me just now; there are critical issues that exist for loved ones and there is much to mourn and grieve and there is plenty of sorrow to go around. But today, for some reason, I am awake to all of it and I feel incredibly present to both the joy and the pain. I feel awake in both body and spirit and I feel covered and blessed and kept by this eternal God who sees the purpose of winter and spring and summer and fall; who moves and works and speaks in life and death and resurrection.

All Things New

At long last, today is the first day of Spring and I think this is a wonder that calls for celebration. My husband and I are conspiring to discover a way to mark the end of the long winter and the break in the cold weather of Indiana. Of course, in Indiana all things weather related are subject to change at any given moment.

For me it is celebration enough that Kevin is working from home today and he is with me in our home with our beloved Monkey. Every now and again we make eyes at each other as we watch Monkey stretch and yawn in between his long naps in the sunshine.

In our March into Spring, we’ve also taken time to watch the entire 2nd season of Rome, an epic tale of Octavian’s rise to power as Caesar and I’m reading two books this week; one, Caesar’s Women-the fourth in the Master’s of Rome series by Colleen McCullough (what can I say; I can’t get enough of these ancient people–I am a NT teacher) and two, Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequest which is a light easy read about the celebrations of everyday circumstances.

This has been AU Spring Break, so I’ve had the lovely opportunity to catch up on lunches with some good friends and do some serious shopping and planning for my Easter ensemble. It’s silly, I guess, to make such a big deal about what one wears on Easter, when this has absolutely nothing to do with the theological importance of the day, but I am a Southern girl and there is sacred ritual in shopping for that new dress to mark the good news of the day of Resurrection.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been in school, forever, but I tend to see theological significance everywhere. There is something significant about donning a new outfit; the shedding of our dark winter colors, coats and boots in exchange for bright hues and open toed shoes when it is actually safe for our skin to come out and let the air kiss it again. There is something holy about shedding the old and putting on the new, being aware that at winter’s end we find ourselves in the rehearsal of life, death and resurrection…the cycle of life.

Of course, it is more than a new dress or open toed shoes, it is knowing that because our glorious Christ rose from the dead, all things can be made new again in him. Just now, I am in awe of this newness as I watch things outside the window begin to turn green and shoot up from the frosted earth. In the living room in a tiny crystal etched glass filled with water sits our trophy, the first flower of Spring from the backyard and bows gracefully in the promise that there will be many, many more.

Today I am grateful, and humbled and I sit in my living room in wonderment of this great God who can restore what the locusts have eaten, who promises to be our very present help in times of trouble, who is the one who causes things that though they were dead to live again.

Amen and Happy Spring!

I finally have photos posted, click here. Thanks for checking them out!

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Home at Last

Thank you for your prayers and thoughts. I am home safe and sound. I’ll post more photos soon.

Grace and Peace.

Filled to Overflow

Tonight we are in Jerusalem. It is our last night and as we arrived back at the Grand Court Hotel, I said, “We’re home!” … since this is the first place where we stayed. I do feel a sense of “home” here; my experience on this journey has been for me like a reunion with an old friend, like finding a place has been mine all along. If not for loved ones at home, I should be quite content to stay.

On the Hill of Sephorus (Click Photo to View More Images)

The past couple of days have been like every other, filled with spectacular sights and archaeological wonders and spiritual renewal and physical exhaustion. On Sunday, we spent the day driving North along the Dead Sea, exploring the land that is believed to be the ancient site of Sodom and Gomorrah. Along the way, we visited two magnificent sites that are especially held dear in the hearts of Bible teachers : ) We first visited Masada; this was originally built as Herod’s winter palace, but late, it became the last fortress of the Jewish zealots in the war against Rome. The story ends in a mass suicide of Jewish people, who draw lotteries written on pot shards to decide who will kill whom, believing that it was better to die at the hands of a Jew than to be taken as slaves for the Romans.

As if finally seeing Masada with my own two eyes wasn’t enough, then we traveled to Qumran, the site of the Dead Sea Scrolls discovery in 1947. Here we walked through what remains of the community of Essenes, who were pious Jews who left Jerusalem during the Hasmonean Period (160 BC), due to their belief that the priesthood had become corrupt.

From here we made our way to HaGalil or The Galilee, which means “The District.” We toured many of the villages where Jesus walked and taught and healed and cast out demons. We visited Bethsaida and Chorazim and Capernaum; in all three places, we were able to visit the synagogues where Jesus spoke and in Capernaum, we saw the site of Simon Peter’s house. We were also able to visit the Mount of Beatitudes, to see where it was that Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount, and to visit the spot believed to be where Jesus multiplied the fish and loaves. Here, we also read again the Sermon on the Mount and imagined what it would have been like to have been in the crowd that day.

We spent the afternoon riding on a boat, a replica of the one Jesus and the disciples would have used, and sailed across the Sea of Galilee. The stories reverberated in the sound of the waves and we remembered that Jesus himself had walked across this sea and had provided fish for his disciples here…that it was Jesus who had calmed this very sea.

Galilee is a beautifully breathtaking place and one can instantly see how it was that the news of Jesus spread throughout the entire region in rapid fire, as the towns are nestled close together and are tiny in comparison to the grandeur of Jerusalem.

Today we traveled further around the Sea of Galilee and have seen Migdal, the home of Mary Magdalene and Sepphoris and Nazareth; including the home of Mary, the mother of Christ the Lord. We also visited Har Meggido or Armageddon and traveled through the Jezreel Valley where Elijah fled from Jezebel…this was all before lunch!! This afternoon we traveled to beautiful Cesarea and saw the place where Paul stood trial, and walked along the shores of the Mediterranean and into Joppa to see the sunset over the sea–unbelievable!!

So, tonight we sleep in Jerusalem, filled to overflow…we, the thirty three pilgrims, who have traversed this land in search of what we already know; Immanuel–God is with us.

Amen.

Our group at the Mediterranean Sea at Caesarea