If I were seeking to find out about God, I'd look at Christianity first. I'd move slowly and take my time to think about what I was seeking and where I might find it.
I would begin with the Bible but not think I needed to read it from beginning to end. I'd look at the first pages of the first book in the Old Testament, Genesis, and read the first couple of chapters or so. In my notebook, I'd record questions and thoughts about this account of how God made the world. How has this idea of God creating influenced history, philosophy and current events. Why does this story have to be a literal one or do I feel somehow that it is literal and I just never considered this before now?
I'd go to the gospel of John. "Gospel" means "good news". John is in the New Testament, go to the back of the Bible. Look for John in the "Matthew, Mark, Luke" area. I'd begin reading it with a desire to see the story with as few filters as possible. Not an easy task for anyone who has grown up in a christian influenced culture or environment. What is John trying to say and why? Who does John say Jesus is? What does John tell me about Jesus?
I might, in my early days of looking for God, not go to a church unless I felt comfortable. I'd want to have some information about the church under my belt and not want to be thinking I'd master God by going to church. However, if I had a friend I trusted who I could see was practicing her or his faith, I might go to worship with the understanding I was searching not finding at this point.
I'd be wary of churches whose main interest in me was getting money. Or making me say that I was "saved" until they explained, in language which made sense to me, what "saved" meant. If they handed me little folded papers with pictures and the words, "4 spiritual laws", I'd run. If they told me I was going to hell until I believed, I would run. And, if they tried to make me be like them in the first few weeks, I'd run. Honest search has integrity. I wouldn't let anyone take that from me.
I'd like to be told that no one is a finished Christian but that all are practicing. I can't stand arrogance in any situation so finding it in the faith sphere angers me. Doctors practice, lawyers practice, Christians practice. I want the journey to count for something (it does in every other area of my life) not just the final destination.
And do not try to scare me with threats of hell. Good grief! I live in a terrifying world of terrorists, politicians who care nothing for me, drug companies who do not tell the truth but push their merchandise and public schools with gun problems. I don't need any more fear. I'm not reading the "Left Behind" series to get myself to God, either.
I'd be looking for a love that won't let me go that loves beyond any love I can even understand and a faith which I can immerse myself into my entire life. I don't want a faith I can master the way I mastered algebra or driving a car. When I'm 70, I want to be asking questions and pushing the envelope with God.
Help me think this along, folks, I've been on this road so long that I've almost forgotten my own beginnings. I talk with people about faith 'bout everyday and I'd like to do right by them.
The church hasn't hurt me by theologically abusing me or teaching me stuff that ruined my life. I'm grateful for this. The hurt I've experienced with church has been the ignorance of those who think I'm missing the most important appendage needed to serve God. Even this prejudice didn't turn me away from God. Church isn't the end-all, it's the way for us all to be together on this journey but it isn't a substitute for God. I love the Church even if some church people creep me out. But hey! I'm not looking for the church to be perfect. If you are looking for this, you are setting yourself up for great pain. Church is composed of people who are as flawed as anywhere else in society, sometimes worse. As the LH says, it's good for these flawed people to be in church because it "keeps them off the streets".
More later.
Monday, April 11, 2005
How Do I Get to God?
I may be starting a series here.
I've never known a time without knowing God in my life. I was taught about God as a little child and the fascination caught me. This is not to say that I haven't had many, many times when I felt I was praying to a blank wall or wanted to punch God out. Nor does it mean I've achieved a level of holiness that you all should imitate.
But, let's pretend, I'm just starting out as an adult and I want to know about God. Where shall I begin?
I'm aware that "christians" don't appeal to many people. If it's not the stunted view of the world shown by the right wing believers, it's the goofy Precious Moments sentimentality of the pious and overly-devoted. I'm not attracted to either. Don't want a stunted world view. I want an understanding of God which recognizes God's magnitude, mystery and ability to transform human hearts. As for the Precious Moments type of faith, I'm too hungry to be fed by sentimentality. I live in a real world, not a fantasy where sweetness and light is enough to fix the problems of life together. Give me more.
I might begin my search by looking at my life and noting where I am broken. What am I missing when I look around my world? What am I paying attention to that is empty rather than life-giving? After considering these questions, and others, I may have a direction to follow. If knowing God means anything, it must have something to do with ordinary life. Life of lunchboxes, taxes, partners, death and etc. Otherwise, it's back to the Precious Moments concept of faith and it's brother "I'll just name what I want and claim it" thinking. (If this worked then all five year olds would have a pony, a real live pony, in their back yards).
I might have to spend a good bit of time thinking about my anger at God. Presumptious thought that I, a speck on the windshield of life, am worthy to have anger at God, but Geez Louise! who among us has not wanted to punch out God? As the author says, "our arms are too short to box with God." Yep. Where am I angry? Is it because my childhood taught me that authority figures aren't dependable? Do I worry that I will be abandoned, unloved and uncherished at my life's end? Has the grief of death convinced me that God doesn't give two hoots about me and my life? Have I found that when I really put my weight on God, God didn't help me?
I worked on the anger issue for years and haven't completed it, yet. For several years I ignored God because all the faith stuff was getting on my nerves. I could not relate to the christians around me. I cared about different things. I didn't want to be holy as they were holy. I didn't realize that we come to faith as individuals with all our individuality intact. It's us, as we really are, that we bring to God, not some copy of how someone else does the faith.
My anger sizzled again when I had my first encounter with infertilty. It was clear to me that I was "worthy" of having a baby but I couldn't get past all the infertility stuff. Doctors, more doctors and miserable physical stuff interfered with my relationship with my loving spouse. I believed I deserved a baby and I was being denied. Made me mad. Hurt my feelings. Made me wonder what in the heavens God was doing not making my body produce a baby. Crappy mothers conceived in the alleys of bar rooms while I was a shining example of goodness and couldn't conceive. (Try to read this without laughing at my audacity. I must have thought there was a "good girl premium" in the cosmos. I thought I deserved what I asked for and so I was angry as the dickens.)
I'll not tell you how this worked out and what I learned. This is an entry about how to get to God not how I figured it out or was led to figure it out.
Let me take a break here as my family is getting up and I have to concern myself with waffles, finding socks and encouraging children to "have a happy day". More later.
I've never known a time without knowing God in my life. I was taught about God as a little child and the fascination caught me. This is not to say that I haven't had many, many times when I felt I was praying to a blank wall or wanted to punch God out. Nor does it mean I've achieved a level of holiness that you all should imitate.
But, let's pretend, I'm just starting out as an adult and I want to know about God. Where shall I begin?
I'm aware that "christians" don't appeal to many people. If it's not the stunted view of the world shown by the right wing believers, it's the goofy Precious Moments sentimentality of the pious and overly-devoted. I'm not attracted to either. Don't want a stunted world view. I want an understanding of God which recognizes God's magnitude, mystery and ability to transform human hearts. As for the Precious Moments type of faith, I'm too hungry to be fed by sentimentality. I live in a real world, not a fantasy where sweetness and light is enough to fix the problems of life together. Give me more.
I might begin my search by looking at my life and noting where I am broken. What am I missing when I look around my world? What am I paying attention to that is empty rather than life-giving? After considering these questions, and others, I may have a direction to follow. If knowing God means anything, it must have something to do with ordinary life. Life of lunchboxes, taxes, partners, death and etc. Otherwise, it's back to the Precious Moments concept of faith and it's brother "I'll just name what I want and claim it" thinking. (If this worked then all five year olds would have a pony, a real live pony, in their back yards).
I might have to spend a good bit of time thinking about my anger at God. Presumptious thought that I, a speck on the windshield of life, am worthy to have anger at God, but Geez Louise! who among us has not wanted to punch out God? As the author says, "our arms are too short to box with God." Yep. Where am I angry? Is it because my childhood taught me that authority figures aren't dependable? Do I worry that I will be abandoned, unloved and uncherished at my life's end? Has the grief of death convinced me that God doesn't give two hoots about me and my life? Have I found that when I really put my weight on God, God didn't help me?
I worked on the anger issue for years and haven't completed it, yet. For several years I ignored God because all the faith stuff was getting on my nerves. I could not relate to the christians around me. I cared about different things. I didn't want to be holy as they were holy. I didn't realize that we come to faith as individuals with all our individuality intact. It's us, as we really are, that we bring to God, not some copy of how someone else does the faith.
My anger sizzled again when I had my first encounter with infertilty. It was clear to me that I was "worthy" of having a baby but I couldn't get past all the infertility stuff. Doctors, more doctors and miserable physical stuff interfered with my relationship with my loving spouse. I believed I deserved a baby and I was being denied. Made me mad. Hurt my feelings. Made me wonder what in the heavens God was doing not making my body produce a baby. Crappy mothers conceived in the alleys of bar rooms while I was a shining example of goodness and couldn't conceive. (Try to read this without laughing at my audacity. I must have thought there was a "good girl premium" in the cosmos. I thought I deserved what I asked for and so I was angry as the dickens.)
I'll not tell you how this worked out and what I learned. This is an entry about how to get to God not how I figured it out or was led to figure it out.
Let me take a break here as my family is getting up and I have to concern myself with waffles, finding socks and encouraging children to "have a happy day". More later.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Odd day. I've a vacation Sunday. No sermon to prepare. No bulletin to create. No panty hose and preacher clothes today.
How did I spend the day? I did nothing. Wasn't an intentional Sabbath but rather a day of feeling out-of-sorts and icky. Icky because of the theater popcorn last night which, I believe, had been popped with oil from last year. Out-of-sorts because a day I'd planned to use for holding hands with my LH during worship didn't happen. He sat near me most of the day feeling rotten, too. Between us, we went through a box of kleenex, grumbled about pollen, popcorn and feeling poorly. I like doing stuff with my LH but illness doesn't count as companionable time.
However, he is companionable, though more quiet, even when he is poorly. He's a prince and I mean it.
Today feels like time stuck somewhere not-so-pleasant because it feels like wasted time.
I'm sorry I've been wailing about needing time away from the pulpit. I'm ready to go back to my regular week with regular study time and reflection. I'm ready.
Talk to you later, tater.
How did I spend the day? I did nothing. Wasn't an intentional Sabbath but rather a day of feeling out-of-sorts and icky. Icky because of the theater popcorn last night which, I believe, had been popped with oil from last year. Out-of-sorts because a day I'd planned to use for holding hands with my LH during worship didn't happen. He sat near me most of the day feeling rotten, too. Between us, we went through a box of kleenex, grumbled about pollen, popcorn and feeling poorly. I like doing stuff with my LH but illness doesn't count as companionable time.
However, he is companionable, though more quiet, even when he is poorly. He's a prince and I mean it.
Today feels like time stuck somewhere not-so-pleasant because it feels like wasted time.
I'm sorry I've been wailing about needing time away from the pulpit. I'm ready to go back to my regular week with regular study time and reflection. I'm ready.
Talk to you later, tater.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Here's a question for you:
Are there any stories or story lines left to tell? Has anyone researched and catalogued all the plot lines of fiction? I think I remember reading about this at one time years ago but I could be dreaming.
I know that everyone has a story to tell, a personal perspective to reveal in words but what stories have yet to be told? I'm not thinking of a blow by blow report of the End Times here but have all the varieties of human experience been novelized by now?
Just wondering.
Tell me, if you will, what stories have not been told yet?
Is there a series of a clergywoman who investigates murders? I'd read this series.
Is there a novel about life written from a cat's perspective?
Tell me, what book hasn't been written as yet?
Are there any stories or story lines left to tell? Has anyone researched and catalogued all the plot lines of fiction? I think I remember reading about this at one time years ago but I could be dreaming.
I know that everyone has a story to tell, a personal perspective to reveal in words but what stories have yet to be told? I'm not thinking of a blow by blow report of the End Times here but have all the varieties of human experience been novelized by now?
Just wondering.
Tell me, if you will, what stories have not been told yet?
Is there a series of a clergywoman who investigates murders? I'd read this series.
Is there a novel about life written from a cat's perspective?
Tell me, what book hasn't been written as yet?
Missing You
Yikes! I've been off line for days! The computer tech showed up on Thursday. I've been looking for him since early Lent.
I missed ya'll. I missed my email. I missed the NY Times online.
I didn't get to read the Papal funeral stuff online and forgot to watch TV so the longest serving Pope of my lifetime went out without my minute by minute attention.
I missed reading your blogs.
I'm sure I missed the email from NPR asking me, no begging me, to become a commentator because they lack a clergywoman's perspective and want the nation to hear my accent. I promise to say "caint" rather than "can't" when they do put me on the air.
I missed ya'll. I missed my email. I missed the NY Times online.
I didn't get to read the Papal funeral stuff online and forgot to watch TV so the longest serving Pope of my lifetime went out without my minute by minute attention.
I missed reading your blogs.
I'm sure I missed the email from NPR asking me, no begging me, to become a commentator because they lack a clergywoman's perspective and want the nation to hear my accent. I promise to say "caint" rather than "can't" when they do put me on the air.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Spring Dishwashing Press Release
Today is a beautiful day here in the Backwater. A beautiful day in a beautiful month, I think. Temperate weather, blue skies, not warm enough for mosquitos or wasps with lots of pruning to be done, preachers to drink coffee with and a new dishwasher coming this afternoon. Yippee!
The Old Man Cat is venturing outside to enjoy Spring. With the Gang of Terror Cats gone he can sun on the driveway and sit on the courtyard bricks remembering his youth as Squirrel Mangler or Running For No Reason Cat or Big Cat in the Neighborhood.
I feel great, too. Pruning has upset my shoulders and one elbow but with tylenol and ice, I continue to rejoice in cutting back the straggly azaleas. I saw a pile of fire ants yesterday and heaped OT curses upon them. I hope I didn't frighten the neighbors.
The new dishwasher will be here this afternoon and the installer will place it under the kitchen counter where I will load it to the gills and turn it on. The Casserole Family dishwasher gets a workout. I realized durning the mourning period for the old dishwasher (after it's death) that no one in this family knows how to wash a dish by hand. I'd like to nominate this as one of the signs that I do too much for them. Go ahead and report me to the Mother's League of Bad Moms. I know I deserve a public reprimand. I taught the LD to wash by hand. The LS did a good job under the tutelage of his sister and the LH merely passed by the full kitchen sink and rose above the situation.
I washed dishes almost every day. I can tolerate a full sink dirty dishes and with all my travels last week, I was pushed for time. I hoped others might want to try washing dishes but this was just another fantasy. Anyway, while washing dishes I recalled my grandfather's suggestion that we learn to enjoy the tasks we have to do. He's right and I've applied this wisdom to the many household jobs which I do each day or week which if I considered them intently would make me run out of the house screaming. Do about anything around me but do not bore me.
Housework is boring. I wait for the new dishwasher with a grateful heart and enough dishes to make the new dishwasher feel welcome.
Blessings to all of you today.
I remain,
St.Casserole
The Old Man Cat is venturing outside to enjoy Spring. With the Gang of Terror Cats gone he can sun on the driveway and sit on the courtyard bricks remembering his youth as Squirrel Mangler or Running For No Reason Cat or Big Cat in the Neighborhood.
I feel great, too. Pruning has upset my shoulders and one elbow but with tylenol and ice, I continue to rejoice in cutting back the straggly azaleas. I saw a pile of fire ants yesterday and heaped OT curses upon them. I hope I didn't frighten the neighbors.
The new dishwasher will be here this afternoon and the installer will place it under the kitchen counter where I will load it to the gills and turn it on. The Casserole Family dishwasher gets a workout. I realized durning the mourning period for the old dishwasher (after it's death) that no one in this family knows how to wash a dish by hand. I'd like to nominate this as one of the signs that I do too much for them. Go ahead and report me to the Mother's League of Bad Moms. I know I deserve a public reprimand. I taught the LD to wash by hand. The LS did a good job under the tutelage of his sister and the LH merely passed by the full kitchen sink and rose above the situation.
I washed dishes almost every day. I can tolerate a full sink dirty dishes and with all my travels last week, I was pushed for time. I hoped others might want to try washing dishes but this was just another fantasy. Anyway, while washing dishes I recalled my grandfather's suggestion that we learn to enjoy the tasks we have to do. He's right and I've applied this wisdom to the many household jobs which I do each day or week which if I considered them intently would make me run out of the house screaming. Do about anything around me but do not bore me.
Housework is boring. I wait for the new dishwasher with a grateful heart and enough dishes to make the new dishwasher feel welcome.
Blessings to all of you today.
I remain,
St.Casserole
Monday, April 04, 2005
Brides, Cheese and Grooms
The LH and I went to our presbytery's annual pastor's retreat for the weekend. I tease by using the phrase "lovely husband" here in the blog but the retreat was full of preachers who introduced their wives by saying "my lovely bride." The freshest couple (as in years married) have three children so there were no "brides" present. It's just so durn cheesy to say "lovely bride." I introduced the LH as my "lovely groom" several times to the old guys just for fun. I did it dead pan and hooted inwardly.
I'm not all that fond of my colleagues in general but in particular they can be a refreshing treat. I had time to visit with some of my favorites and some of the spouses. The LH was the only man spouse attending. Hard to believe that I was the only clergywoman invited or attending. By the way, I was the first clergywoman from my denomination ordained in this state. The research has been done to verify this. I hope it gets me first seat on the plane to Chicago in November for our big celebration of the ordination of women.
The cheesy factor was high during the event. My favorites were the preacher and his "lovely bride" who wore matching shirts and pants for the weekend. Other cheesy moments included the use of sports examples to explain the ministry to us by our charming old speaker; singing antique praise music from twenty years ago and hearing some of the war stories of the old pros.
I can handle cheese. Cheese is a combination of a desire to be personable and inclusive with an out of it, really really uncool world view. Hey! I can do that!
After working out the logistics of leaving the children home and attended appropriately, I was happy to get out of town and have a break from leading Sunday Worship. The LH liked the change of atmosphere from his colleagues and usual Saturday chores. It was fun.
I like it that we have these weekends which are, invariably, advertised with the word "mandatory attendance" and I wish we'd enforce attendance. Some preachers missed because of scheduled weddings, unscheduled funerals and lack of money from their congregations to attend.
God bless all of us who are in the ministry. God lead us to find a time to rest and renew. And, thank you, God, for our "lovely brides" (and "grooms") Amen.
I'm not all that fond of my colleagues in general but in particular they can be a refreshing treat. I had time to visit with some of my favorites and some of the spouses. The LH was the only man spouse attending. Hard to believe that I was the only clergywoman invited or attending. By the way, I was the first clergywoman from my denomination ordained in this state. The research has been done to verify this. I hope it gets me first seat on the plane to Chicago in November for our big celebration of the ordination of women.
The cheesy factor was high during the event. My favorites were the preacher and his "lovely bride" who wore matching shirts and pants for the weekend. Other cheesy moments included the use of sports examples to explain the ministry to us by our charming old speaker; singing antique praise music from twenty years ago and hearing some of the war stories of the old pros.
I can handle cheese. Cheese is a combination of a desire to be personable and inclusive with an out of it, really really uncool world view. Hey! I can do that!
After working out the logistics of leaving the children home and attended appropriately, I was happy to get out of town and have a break from leading Sunday Worship. The LH liked the change of atmosphere from his colleagues and usual Saturday chores. It was fun.
I like it that we have these weekends which are, invariably, advertised with the word "mandatory attendance" and I wish we'd enforce attendance. Some preachers missed because of scheduled weddings, unscheduled funerals and lack of money from their congregations to attend.
God bless all of us who are in the ministry. God lead us to find a time to rest and renew. And, thank you, God, for our "lovely brides" (and "grooms") Amen.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Goodbye to All this Empire
Oh rats! The LH gave me yesterday's stack of mail this morning. I wasn't home until last night and flopped on the sofa as soon as I returned so I hadn't see the mail. I got a notice from a NY state attorney that "St. Casserole" is a copywrited name of a client in Italy and that I must desist using the name for this blog. There goes my empire of t-shirts, coffee mugs and tote bags, too. I hadn't even gotten around to learning how to load pictures or even a favorites list. I have some readers I would hate to lose.
The LH and I do not know any NY state attorneys to contact to help us nor do we want to spend money on fighting what seems to us to be a silly case. Why would I be confused with an Italian St. Casserole? I know 20 words in Italian, not enough to write one blog entry. I don't want to anger the other St.C so I won't say more.
I'll have to change my blog name. Do you have any suggestions? St. Fried Chicken does not work nor does St. June Cleaver or even, St. Backwater. Help me out here. I have until the 3rd to make a new blog.
Rats. Double Rats.
The LH and I do not know any NY state attorneys to contact to help us nor do we want to spend money on fighting what seems to us to be a silly case. Why would I be confused with an Italian St. Casserole? I know 20 words in Italian, not enough to write one blog entry. I don't want to anger the other St.C so I won't say more.
I'll have to change my blog name. Do you have any suggestions? St. Fried Chicken does not work nor does St. June Cleaver or even, St. Backwater. Help me out here. I have until the 3rd to make a new blog.
Rats. Double Rats.
The Bees
I love our home. It's a comfortable house for our family. We bought it years ago and have done many repairs, replacements and so on. I'd like to have a month where we do not have some kind of repair bill. I'm facing a new dishwasher soon, etc.
I've never lived in a new home. I grew up in a house built in the '20s and have lived in a succession of dorms, apartments and homes built long before I thought of them.
Our home has a history, of course. The neighbors remember the family who built the home in the 60's and the family who re-modeled it 20 something years ago. In that re-do, the family added a greenhouse which in it's day was quite the thing. The greenhouse is standing but is a shadow of it's former glory. It's a big building with a gravel floor in the greenhouse part, cement slab in the tool/lawnmower section and an additional cement floor for further storage. I'm not saying it's a British conservatory although it is a well thought out building. The greenhouse portion has slat tables for potting, a heater for the winter, fan for the summer, water hoses, etc.
Even has a phone connection from the days when a previous owner taped his spouse to see if she was whooping it up outside of marriage. (The rumors of her infidelity blew around town and have stayed in the provincial imagination after all these years with an old lady asking me if it was true that we had a mirrored ceiling in our bedroom. Nope.)
The greenhouse is on it's last legs. During the last big Blow, part of the roof sailed away. The doors were removed last Spring for some reason never explained to me by my LH and lovely children. Rather than being a pleasant place to pot plants, the greenhouse has turned into the dump for those things we keep for no reason and those we may need in the future. I am thinking of the load of french doors buried under broken yard furniture which we salvaged for some reason. Even though we unloaded a majority of stuff from the greenhouse when we had a chance last Spring, the space has filled up again. I wonder if junk walks in there at night when no one sees it.
As Spring comes to the Backwater and our piece of God's Good Earth, the carpenter bees arrive. These are big fat black bees who travel in pair and look like floating mini tootsie rolls. Their reason for living is to bore holes in untreated/unpainted wood while dripping a yellowish pollen and lots of wood dust. I love watching them. They bore round holes then bore at an angle, hibernate/reproduce then come back when the weather is warm. I see them in the Spring and Fall only. I've read that they do not sting but haven't messed with them to find out. Their buzzing is loud which makes me think they don't want me standing close enough to see if they bore at an angle.
Their temporary business then absence is a good sermon illustration. So is their ability to bore what looks like a perfect hole. It's amazing to me that God created such a thing as carpenter bees. I spend a good bit of time thinking about how bees and all other living things live together and how we share the same Creator. If I did not see the bees, I wouldn't know they exist. I wonder what I am missing of God's plan and involvement because I do not see.
I cannot wax eloquent about roaches, fleas, flying cockroaches, fire ants, gnats and mosquitoes. I'm not sure I would have made these creatures. It's beyond me to know the mind and purpose of God.
What's going on with you?
I've never lived in a new home. I grew up in a house built in the '20s and have lived in a succession of dorms, apartments and homes built long before I thought of them.
Our home has a history, of course. The neighbors remember the family who built the home in the 60's and the family who re-modeled it 20 something years ago. In that re-do, the family added a greenhouse which in it's day was quite the thing. The greenhouse is standing but is a shadow of it's former glory. It's a big building with a gravel floor in the greenhouse part, cement slab in the tool/lawnmower section and an additional cement floor for further storage. I'm not saying it's a British conservatory although it is a well thought out building. The greenhouse portion has slat tables for potting, a heater for the winter, fan for the summer, water hoses, etc.
Even has a phone connection from the days when a previous owner taped his spouse to see if she was whooping it up outside of marriage. (The rumors of her infidelity blew around town and have stayed in the provincial imagination after all these years with an old lady asking me if it was true that we had a mirrored ceiling in our bedroom. Nope.)
The greenhouse is on it's last legs. During the last big Blow, part of the roof sailed away. The doors were removed last Spring for some reason never explained to me by my LH and lovely children. Rather than being a pleasant place to pot plants, the greenhouse has turned into the dump for those things we keep for no reason and those we may need in the future. I am thinking of the load of french doors buried under broken yard furniture which we salvaged for some reason. Even though we unloaded a majority of stuff from the greenhouse when we had a chance last Spring, the space has filled up again. I wonder if junk walks in there at night when no one sees it.
As Spring comes to the Backwater and our piece of God's Good Earth, the carpenter bees arrive. These are big fat black bees who travel in pair and look like floating mini tootsie rolls. Their reason for living is to bore holes in untreated/unpainted wood while dripping a yellowish pollen and lots of wood dust. I love watching them. They bore round holes then bore at an angle, hibernate/reproduce then come back when the weather is warm. I see them in the Spring and Fall only. I've read that they do not sting but haven't messed with them to find out. Their buzzing is loud which makes me think they don't want me standing close enough to see if they bore at an angle.
Their temporary business then absence is a good sermon illustration. So is their ability to bore what looks like a perfect hole. It's amazing to me that God created such a thing as carpenter bees. I spend a good bit of time thinking about how bees and all other living things live together and how we share the same Creator. If I did not see the bees, I wouldn't know they exist. I wonder what I am missing of God's plan and involvement because I do not see.
I cannot wax eloquent about roaches, fleas, flying cockroaches, fire ants, gnats and mosquitoes. I'm not sure I would have made these creatures. It's beyond me to know the mind and purpose of God.
What's going on with you?
Monday, March 28, 2005
A Beautiful Day for Golf
The children were home today for Spring Break. Spring Break this year means Good Friday and Easter Monday vacation days. That's all! I'd enjoy having them home more. We ran errands together to finish projects, they slept late after staying up late. LD had friends over for spend-the-nights (called "sleepovers" in other areas).
This afternoon, the LH left the office a tad early and we went to play nine holes of golf. When I say "we" I mean he and I played. We left the children at home. The weather was too beautiful: bright clear blue sky and cool but not cold or chilly. I drove the golf cart (similar to being allowed to use the tv remote). I watched the LH play because I decided after two hours of early morning azalea pruning this morning that I was too sore to swing a club for nine holes. I drank Diet Coke and watched LH swing and snort. The best snort was when he whopped a chain link fence and lesser snorts erupted the three times he lost balls in the water hazards. I can laugh because he is a much better player than I am. I really play at golf rather than play golf. I'm so bad that no one wants to play with me unless they are stuck with me.
Being inept at golf is a good thing. All of us need something we don't do well but enjoy on our life lists. I love the idea of golf, the history, the accessories, the clubs! All of it! I like swinging a club and making a whack sound when I hit well. I like putting. But, I'm rotten. I'm not being humble. I am a rotten golfer. Happy but rotten.
What do you enjoy but don't do well?
This afternoon, the LH left the office a tad early and we went to play nine holes of golf. When I say "we" I mean he and I played. We left the children at home. The weather was too beautiful: bright clear blue sky and cool but not cold or chilly. I drove the golf cart (similar to being allowed to use the tv remote). I watched the LH play because I decided after two hours of early morning azalea pruning this morning that I was too sore to swing a club for nine holes. I drank Diet Coke and watched LH swing and snort. The best snort was when he whopped a chain link fence and lesser snorts erupted the three times he lost balls in the water hazards. I can laugh because he is a much better player than I am. I really play at golf rather than play golf. I'm so bad that no one wants to play with me unless they are stuck with me.
Being inept at golf is a good thing. All of us need something we don't do well but enjoy on our life lists. I love the idea of golf, the history, the accessories, the clubs! All of it! I like swinging a club and making a whack sound when I hit well. I like putting. But, I'm rotten. I'm not being humble. I am a rotten golfer. Happy but rotten.
What do you enjoy but don't do well?
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Christ is Risen!
Up early because Andy the Cat's paw is healing. He felt well enough to jump on our bed then tickle our faces with happy whiskers. Even Old Man Cat is perky this morning!
Who wouldn't be perky and have happy whiskers on this wonderful day?
Christ is Risen! The tomb is empty! The strife is over, the battle won!
Yahooooooooooo!~
Who wouldn't be perky and have happy whiskers on this wonderful day?
Christ is Risen! The tomb is empty! The strife is over, the battle won!
Yahooooooooooo!~
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Holy Saturday
Holy Saturday reminds me of a cake our grandmother made. She used salt in the scratch cake batter instead of sugar, iced the cake and served it. When the mistake was discovered, at first bite, she broke into tears at the dinner table. All of us children just looked at her but our mother, realizing the mistake and knowing the growing frailty of her mother went to comfort her. All the effort of making a coconut cake for the meal came to nothing. Inedible, repugnant, a mistake offered as a treat but not even worthy of being thrown out for the birds and squirrels. A cake of no-use.
Today is like that. Nothing ventured will be gained as the Light is out. With no Light, it’s all for naught. Today may look like a day but it isn’t a Day. We’ll move through whatever weather we have as though in a deep fog of no-light. You may be able to see your hand in front of your face in this light but what’s the point?
You and I know that tomorrow will come. We know the end of the Story but today we see fitfully because we realize that without the Light we have made for ourselves a pretty cake with salt.
Wade through today as you can. Think about what your life is like in this darkness before the Third Day. Remember your days of baking with salt. Look around to see how the world, like we children at the table, don’t know what is going on but know something is wrong.
Today is like that. Nothing ventured will be gained as the Light is out. With no Light, it’s all for naught. Today may look like a day but it isn’t a Day. We’ll move through whatever weather we have as though in a deep fog of no-light. You may be able to see your hand in front of your face in this light but what’s the point?
You and I know that tomorrow will come. We know the end of the Story but today we see fitfully because we realize that without the Light we have made for ourselves a pretty cake with salt.
Wade through today as you can. Think about what your life is like in this darkness before the Third Day. Remember your days of baking with salt. Look around to see how the world, like we children at the table, don’t know what is going on but know something is wrong.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Maundy Thursday Evening Service
Where did I read that equity is assumed by those who take the sacrament of the Lord's Supper?
I can't find it in the B of O or Book of Common Worship. Drives me nuts when I cannot find what I've read. I'll bet this bothers you, too.
I'm thinking about the practice in churches of serving the Lord's Supper to the congregation then asking the congregation to hold the elements (bread and cup) until everyone is served before eating and drinking.
We did this tonight at the LH's church. I began to think about this practice which is not in the Book of Order/Directory of Worship nor is it in the Book of Common Worship. I suppose it started so that in a large congregation when serving the sacrament takes several minutes the people can wait, then take it simultaneously to feel close with one another. Nothing wrong with that. Rather Southern when you think about it, because you are 'sposed to wait until everyone has been served to begin eating (especially you wait for the Mama to raise her fork before you "dig in.")
However, if equity before God at God's Table is assumed, then waiting until all are served makes no particular sense. We ARE God's people and we are TOGETHER in worship taking the sacrament. The Lord's Supper isn't just a personal moment, it's a corporate Body of Christ moment. The holding the sacrament until all are served then seems awkward and fussy.
By the way, sitting in a lavish sanctuary with a trained choir, wonderful pipe organ, great organist and a woodwind ensemble and a gorgeous Communion set gave me a glimpse into how some "country" churches get in a snit about city churches being too fancy. My congregation worships in a very plain Calvinist sanctuary. We have little or no adornment. Adding candlesticks to the worship space was considered a tad too "high church" when I suggested it but I think we are all at peace with candlesticks now. I'm giggling because I must have some bloggy readers who are hooting at the goofiness of church folk. Ok. Ok. We have the little battles with one another over mostly nothing because we all seem to think we are doing church the right way.
Tonight I looked around me and felt a shiver of "whoa! this is so visually stimulating that I am being distracted." And I grew up in a downtown East Coast sanctuary with a killer pipe organ, paid choir members, carvings, Louis C. Tiffany windows, and beautiful plaques and accroutements. Now I serve in country plain and see the simple beauty of this. Both types of spaces honor God.
I loved the hymns, readings and prayers tonight. I loved sitting between my LD and LH and being able to reach out to hold their hands during worship. What a treat to sit in a pew!
I can't find it in the B of O or Book of Common Worship. Drives me nuts when I cannot find what I've read. I'll bet this bothers you, too.
I'm thinking about the practice in churches of serving the Lord's Supper to the congregation then asking the congregation to hold the elements (bread and cup) until everyone is served before eating and drinking.
We did this tonight at the LH's church. I began to think about this practice which is not in the Book of Order/Directory of Worship nor is it in the Book of Common Worship. I suppose it started so that in a large congregation when serving the sacrament takes several minutes the people can wait, then take it simultaneously to feel close with one another. Nothing wrong with that. Rather Southern when you think about it, because you are 'sposed to wait until everyone has been served to begin eating (especially you wait for the Mama to raise her fork before you "dig in.")
However, if equity before God at God's Table is assumed, then waiting until all are served makes no particular sense. We ARE God's people and we are TOGETHER in worship taking the sacrament. The Lord's Supper isn't just a personal moment, it's a corporate Body of Christ moment. The holding the sacrament until all are served then seems awkward and fussy.
By the way, sitting in a lavish sanctuary with a trained choir, wonderful pipe organ, great organist and a woodwind ensemble and a gorgeous Communion set gave me a glimpse into how some "country" churches get in a snit about city churches being too fancy. My congregation worships in a very plain Calvinist sanctuary. We have little or no adornment. Adding candlesticks to the worship space was considered a tad too "high church" when I suggested it but I think we are all at peace with candlesticks now. I'm giggling because I must have some bloggy readers who are hooting at the goofiness of church folk. Ok. Ok. We have the little battles with one another over mostly nothing because we all seem to think we are doing church the right way.
Tonight I looked around me and felt a shiver of "whoa! this is so visually stimulating that I am being distracted." And I grew up in a downtown East Coast sanctuary with a killer pipe organ, paid choir members, carvings, Louis C. Tiffany windows, and beautiful plaques and accroutements. Now I serve in country plain and see the simple beauty of this. Both types of spaces honor God.
I loved the hymns, readings and prayers tonight. I loved sitting between my LD and LH and being able to reach out to hold their hands during worship. What a treat to sit in a pew!
Collared but not Collards (too early in the season for Southern Greens)
Every month I pray a meal blessing for a women's civic organization as the chaplain. I'm the first ordained person to hold this position for the group. I'd crow about this but let's be truthful:
clergywomen are sparse here and if any other clergy gal was asked, she'd be too busy.
I attend this group to visit with friends I don't see ordinarily.
In the interest of unbiased reporting I must admit that this group is one of the last places where I am a "younger" member. No further comment.
I wore my clerical collar yesterday because it's Holy Week and I'm busy. This was the first time I'd appeared at this luncheon in my uniform.
One woman told me that if she ever married again, she'd want me to do the service.
Another told me I needed to have my portrait done wearing the collar.
A third woman told me I looked beautiful.
My dress is rather plain most of the time. I'm not fashionable or drab most days but I'm no stunner.
I think I surprised the women by looking like what I am and what I do. Perhaps they don't think of me as clergy because they see me running around with my children, hugging my husband and hot-footing it through the grocery store. I doubt they see clergy women often. I can think of only one other woman down here who wears a collar.
It's taken me several years to get comfortable with collar wearing. At first, years ago, I'd find myself being called "Mother" by strangers and would forget to respond unless they were in my face. I can operate under the clergy radar scanner when I'm not "collared" and I can understand the strengths of stealth ministry. I can get into conversations with people without the initial "oh! you are a preacher!" paragraph.
But, still and all, I am clergy. I am a preacher. I do pastor a congregation. I am a public prayer.
Wearing the collar opens up conversations that I wouldn't have most days. I ran through the High School office yesterday to do an errand for the LS and was stopped by two kids and one staff member to talk. Without the collar I would be just another invisible Mom.
It's Maundy Thursday. We go to worship tonight at the LH's church. I'm looking forward to sitting in the pew with my family.
clergywomen are sparse here and if any other clergy gal was asked, she'd be too busy.
I attend this group to visit with friends I don't see ordinarily.
In the interest of unbiased reporting I must admit that this group is one of the last places where I am a "younger" member. No further comment.
I wore my clerical collar yesterday because it's Holy Week and I'm busy. This was the first time I'd appeared at this luncheon in my uniform.
One woman told me that if she ever married again, she'd want me to do the service.
Another told me I needed to have my portrait done wearing the collar.
A third woman told me I looked beautiful.
My dress is rather plain most of the time. I'm not fashionable or drab most days but I'm no stunner.
I think I surprised the women by looking like what I am and what I do. Perhaps they don't think of me as clergy because they see me running around with my children, hugging my husband and hot-footing it through the grocery store. I doubt they see clergy women often. I can think of only one other woman down here who wears a collar.
It's taken me several years to get comfortable with collar wearing. At first, years ago, I'd find myself being called "Mother" by strangers and would forget to respond unless they were in my face. I can operate under the clergy radar scanner when I'm not "collared" and I can understand the strengths of stealth ministry. I can get into conversations with people without the initial "oh! you are a preacher!" paragraph.
But, still and all, I am clergy. I am a preacher. I do pastor a congregation. I am a public prayer.
Wearing the collar opens up conversations that I wouldn't have most days. I ran through the High School office yesterday to do an errand for the LS and was stopped by two kids and one staff member to talk. Without the collar I would be just another invisible Mom.
It's Maundy Thursday. We go to worship tonight at the LH's church. I'm looking forward to sitting in the pew with my family.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Pruning Joy
So what if I have the internet access of an 18th c. woman? Why should I care? My writing program has disappeared as have all of my favorite sites for religious info, blog buddies and how can I do a bulletin if I can't publish? So what?
I am in the midst of Holy Week and the brief days of bug-free gardening. Holy Week takes care of itself but being able to work outside in our yard without gnats, mosquitoes, hornets, wasps, yellow jackets and fire ants is bliss. Pure bliss.
I've attacked pruning the shubbery with a maniacal vengenance. I have the proper pruning tools this year----brand new ones! Tools not forgotten by other family members in the bushes, drive way and left out in the rain. Fresh sharp blades to cut, shape and spurn growth. Mountains of yard debris mounts by my street waiting for the City to pick up. I saw a mountain leave today when the truck came by. Hours later, another mountain of my great bliss sat ready to be carted off. I am very happy.
Every muscle in my winter body is sore from the effort. Who cares? I don't. This is my time of year to spend hours working, plotting and planning my yard. No bugs. No heat. Not much is better than this. I have only a few more days as I'll be working on presbytery stuff most days next week indoors.
Young Andy the Cat loves having me outside swinging branches into a mess for him to throw himself into. He climbs the trees I prune, falls from the branches and acts as though he meant to look ridiculous. I love that about cats. They never let you see them embarrassed.
I don't have time to blog. There's no way for me to back up my posts so they are often lost when my computer collapses. I can count on the yard work, this effort may or may not appear here.
Have a good Holy Week, y'all. I'm giving Easter gifts this year to everyone who slows down enough to receive one. Seems to me that Easter's message presents a greater message of Gift than does Christmas. See you the next time I can sign on.
I am in the midst of Holy Week and the brief days of bug-free gardening. Holy Week takes care of itself but being able to work outside in our yard without gnats, mosquitoes, hornets, wasps, yellow jackets and fire ants is bliss. Pure bliss.
I've attacked pruning the shubbery with a maniacal vengenance. I have the proper pruning tools this year----brand new ones! Tools not forgotten by other family members in the bushes, drive way and left out in the rain. Fresh sharp blades to cut, shape and spurn growth. Mountains of yard debris mounts by my street waiting for the City to pick up. I saw a mountain leave today when the truck came by. Hours later, another mountain of my great bliss sat ready to be carted off. I am very happy.
Every muscle in my winter body is sore from the effort. Who cares? I don't. This is my time of year to spend hours working, plotting and planning my yard. No bugs. No heat. Not much is better than this. I have only a few more days as I'll be working on presbytery stuff most days next week indoors.
Young Andy the Cat loves having me outside swinging branches into a mess for him to throw himself into. He climbs the trees I prune, falls from the branches and acts as though he meant to look ridiculous. I love that about cats. They never let you see them embarrassed.
I don't have time to blog. There's no way for me to back up my posts so they are often lost when my computer collapses. I can count on the yard work, this effort may or may not appear here.
Have a good Holy Week, y'all. I'm giving Easter gifts this year to everyone who slows down enough to receive one. Seems to me that Easter's message presents a greater message of Gift than does Christmas. See you the next time I can sign on.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Palm Sunday
Before driving to my church this morning I'll cut palm fronds to take. I'm not sure the big plant is actually a palm but it's probably in the palm family and will have to do.
The church doesn't have a Maundy Thursday service, nor does it have Holy Week services. How strange to go from Palm Sunday and the triumphant entry of Jesus on a donkey to the resurrection. I've not been there long enough to make the parishoners long for Holy Week.
I've placed the solemn reproaches of the Cross to the service but unless I do a good job explaining the presence of these prayers, I'll be the only one who gets the move from happy donkey riding to the murder. And, how happy was that donkey ride for the One who knew what was coming?
Blessings to each of you who read this. The computer guy hasn't shown up but returned one phone call which resulted in instructions that didn't work. Sorry that my postings have been slow. I miss seeing your blogs and leaving comments for you, too.
The church doesn't have a Maundy Thursday service, nor does it have Holy Week services. How strange to go from Palm Sunday and the triumphant entry of Jesus on a donkey to the resurrection. I've not been there long enough to make the parishoners long for Holy Week.
I've placed the solemn reproaches of the Cross to the service but unless I do a good job explaining the presence of these prayers, I'll be the only one who gets the move from happy donkey riding to the murder. And, how happy was that donkey ride for the One who knew what was coming?
Blessings to each of you who read this. The computer guy hasn't shown up but returned one phone call which resulted in instructions that didn't work. Sorry that my postings have been slow. I miss seeing your blogs and leaving comments for you, too.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Mall and Ministry
I was useless today. Not productive. No errands run or chores completed by me. I’ve been known to value myself based on how much I accomplish. Not today. I was a slug.
I had my hair cut. I snuggled with the Old Man Cat. I went to the Mall.
I did learn a lesson today. While at the Mall, I asked a sales clerk where to find X. She didn’t know, didn’t try to find it. I smiled and walked away. At the next department, I asked a sales clerk for help finding a window valance. She said to look in the comforter and bedspreads. Ok. That was some direction for the search. I asked the third sales clerk where the "really good bargains were" and she said with a toss of her head, "Back there." Ok. I began my search for the best bargain in the department.
The window valances were not with the comforters and bedspreads. I found them in other places. I found X by myself and on sale. The "really good bargains" were in the back but when I brought them to the cashier area I was ignored by the two salesclerks standing within five feet of me who were chatting. I lost interest in one item and put it back. I bought the other item but the salesclerk was indifferent.
Granted that retail jobs at large department stores at the Mall aren’t the brain-snapping, pulse-pounding, intellectually stimulating pleasures of the Age. I know this. However, I do think that if you work in sales it makes sense to know your stock and sell it. Move that stuff out the door!
Thinking about this as I drove home in the crawling traffic of life here in the Backwater, I began to think of my experiences at the department store and it’s similarities to ministry.
For example, how often do I give directions to seekers in the most off-handed manner that does not invite further questions from them? How often do I blow off interest in the church by assuming things that may not fit the situation? Do I seem indifferent to those who approach me?
Do I know my "stock" so that I can answer questions about it? Can I move people INTO the doors of a church?
I dunno.
May God forgive me if I am indifferent to others. Forgive me when I am arrogant and withholding of myself in the face of need and questions about God. May I be approachable, please. Help me to be available to those who are searching. Amen.
I had my hair cut. I snuggled with the Old Man Cat. I went to the Mall.
I did learn a lesson today. While at the Mall, I asked a sales clerk where to find X. She didn’t know, didn’t try to find it. I smiled and walked away. At the next department, I asked a sales clerk for help finding a window valance. She said to look in the comforter and bedspreads. Ok. That was some direction for the search. I asked the third sales clerk where the "really good bargains were" and she said with a toss of her head, "Back there." Ok. I began my search for the best bargain in the department.
The window valances were not with the comforters and bedspreads. I found them in other places. I found X by myself and on sale. The "really good bargains" were in the back but when I brought them to the cashier area I was ignored by the two salesclerks standing within five feet of me who were chatting. I lost interest in one item and put it back. I bought the other item but the salesclerk was indifferent.
Granted that retail jobs at large department stores at the Mall aren’t the brain-snapping, pulse-pounding, intellectually stimulating pleasures of the Age. I know this. However, I do think that if you work in sales it makes sense to know your stock and sell it. Move that stuff out the door!
Thinking about this as I drove home in the crawling traffic of life here in the Backwater, I began to think of my experiences at the department store and it’s similarities to ministry.
For example, how often do I give directions to seekers in the most off-handed manner that does not invite further questions from them? How often do I blow off interest in the church by assuming things that may not fit the situation? Do I seem indifferent to those who approach me?
Do I know my "stock" so that I can answer questions about it? Can I move people INTO the doors of a church?
I dunno.
May God forgive me if I am indifferent to others. Forgive me when I am arrogant and withholding of myself in the face of need and questions about God. May I be approachable, please. Help me to be available to those who are searching. Amen.
I suppose it makes sense to have computer access problems during Lent. If we are to recall/relearn our dependence on God for these forty days, not being able to use the computer makes sense. We bought one of the first Mac’s in about 1983 for several thousand dollars. I doubt either of us has gone more than 24 hours without some computer contact (not counting out of the country trips or illness). The LH has wireless throughout the house so he can use his laptop while cutting the grass or sitting on the toilet. I have this computer in my study and sit here in a comfy chair staring at this screen for several hours a day. I don’t even criticize myself for how much time I may be wasting each day.
Lent is about giving up what we think makes us safe so that we recall Who is our safety, really.
Putting aside the comforts we don’t even notice to learn once more for a good look at our values.
I sure value computer access. Most of my news reading comes from the internet. Local TV news and our dreadful Backwater Gazette aren’t enough for me. Local news is distracting as we have the whitest white woman on the planet as an anchorwoman. I can hardly hear past her looks. It doesn’t help that in person she is not the brightest light in the box and that I know where she goes to get her lip and brows waxed. I may be pale but I don’t have yellow blonde hair and raccoon make-up eyes. It appears that her greatest talent is reading a tele-prompter and smiling with every tooth showing.
The Backwater Gazette is all filler from other newspapers and ads. I do like the ads. Today is grocery ad day and I look forward to seeing who has the best 12 pack prices on Diet Coke.
Lent? Oh. I got distracted.
Distraction is exactly what we hope a "good" Lent addresses. Pay attention. Focus. Be quiet.
Think.
I can focus like a pit bull when studying or listening to a lecture. Or while reading. Give me a good book and the world can blow up without my notice. Screams! Flames! What? I’m reading. Didn’t notice.
But, Lord Have Mercy, I can be distracted a zillion times while going through my day. Pay attention to what distracts, listen more closely to what is being said, honor the day by looking and considering one’s place in the world. Ok. Ok.
As I am dependent on God for each breath, I am dependent on Ray the Computer Guy Who Does Not Return Phone Calls for Jesus Or Any One Else. Until I hear from Ray, I’m in trouble on the tech front. The LH has many talents with the computer but even he is bumfuzzled about the problem.
I hope to hear from Ray. I hope to hear from God. I hope to hear from you.
Lent is about giving up what we think makes us safe so that we recall Who is our safety, really.
Putting aside the comforts we don’t even notice to learn once more for a good look at our values.
I sure value computer access. Most of my news reading comes from the internet. Local TV news and our dreadful Backwater Gazette aren’t enough for me. Local news is distracting as we have the whitest white woman on the planet as an anchorwoman. I can hardly hear past her looks. It doesn’t help that in person she is not the brightest light in the box and that I know where she goes to get her lip and brows waxed. I may be pale but I don’t have yellow blonde hair and raccoon make-up eyes. It appears that her greatest talent is reading a tele-prompter and smiling with every tooth showing.
The Backwater Gazette is all filler from other newspapers and ads. I do like the ads. Today is grocery ad day and I look forward to seeing who has the best 12 pack prices on Diet Coke.
Lent? Oh. I got distracted.
Distraction is exactly what we hope a "good" Lent addresses. Pay attention. Focus. Be quiet.
Think.
I can focus like a pit bull when studying or listening to a lecture. Or while reading. Give me a good book and the world can blow up without my notice. Screams! Flames! What? I’m reading. Didn’t notice.
But, Lord Have Mercy, I can be distracted a zillion times while going through my day. Pay attention to what distracts, listen more closely to what is being said, honor the day by looking and considering one’s place in the world. Ok. Ok.
As I am dependent on God for each breath, I am dependent on Ray the Computer Guy Who Does Not Return Phone Calls for Jesus Or Any One Else. Until I hear from Ray, I’m in trouble on the tech front. The LH has many talents with the computer but even he is bumfuzzled about the problem.
I hope to hear from Ray. I hope to hear from God. I hope to hear from you.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Mother Daughter Stuff
Computer probs continue at our home.
The St. Paddy’s day parade goes right by the LH’s office. The parking lot in front attracts the drunks at the bar across the street like magnets. An off-duty police officer helps keep cars out of the office lot and discourages drunks from toddling over to use the bushes. Just a note to let you know I live in the real world.
Further evidence of real world problems in the Casserole Family bloomed up yesterday when the LD was called by a friend’s mom who found LD’s cell phone number among her daughter’s things. While I was napping, our LD called every kid she knows at the school to help this mom find her daughter who’d not come home Friday night. LD even spoke to the police about where to look for the daughter because the mom was too upset to talk. The missing daughter, another girl and two boys (of course!)were found and returned to their homes. The mom called today to tell me how much LD helped and how much she appreciated our daughter.
Two days ago, I had a Mother-Daughter chat with LD about knowing when to help at school with her classmates’ problems and when to stay out of it. LD knows everyone, knows everyone’s social connections and is rather remarkable with these skills. Unfortunately, school personnel teach the children to keep out of fights, arguments and etc. when they are not the primaries. LD sees all interactions as her business (where did she get this idea???) so she involves herself. Not good at her age according to the school.
LD’s skills with people will be great for her when she’s an adult but now she keeps getting into trouble. So, we had our Mother -Daughter Summit on the issue two days ago.
This afternoon, when LD returns with LH from policing the office, I hug her and tell her about the phone call from the grateful mom. I tell LD thank you for helping the family and getting that girl home safely. Thank you for making all those phone calls, I say. I know it’s confusing to know when to intercede and when to stay out of it. You did very well here, girlie.
I’ll try to blog more this week. Hope all is well with you and that you are ready for tomorrow.
The St. Paddy’s day parade goes right by the LH’s office. The parking lot in front attracts the drunks at the bar across the street like magnets. An off-duty police officer helps keep cars out of the office lot and discourages drunks from toddling over to use the bushes. Just a note to let you know I live in the real world.
Further evidence of real world problems in the Casserole Family bloomed up yesterday when the LD was called by a friend’s mom who found LD’s cell phone number among her daughter’s things. While I was napping, our LD called every kid she knows at the school to help this mom find her daughter who’d not come home Friday night. LD even spoke to the police about where to look for the daughter because the mom was too upset to talk. The missing daughter, another girl and two boys (of course!)were found and returned to their homes. The mom called today to tell me how much LD helped and how much she appreciated our daughter.
Two days ago, I had a Mother-Daughter chat with LD about knowing when to help at school with her classmates’ problems and when to stay out of it. LD knows everyone, knows everyone’s social connections and is rather remarkable with these skills. Unfortunately, school personnel teach the children to keep out of fights, arguments and etc. when they are not the primaries. LD sees all interactions as her business (where did she get this idea???) so she involves herself. Not good at her age according to the school.
LD’s skills with people will be great for her when she’s an adult but now she keeps getting into trouble. So, we had our Mother -Daughter Summit on the issue two days ago.
This afternoon, when LD returns with LH from policing the office, I hug her and tell her about the phone call from the grateful mom. I tell LD thank you for helping the family and getting that girl home safely. Thank you for making all those phone calls, I say. I know it’s confusing to know when to intercede and when to stay out of it. You did very well here, girlie.
I’ll try to blog more this week. Hope all is well with you and that you are ready for tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Communion
Computer probs plague our household this week.
I drove to church on Sunday not sure what to expect. It’s not that I know what to expect any Sunday because I never do. General expectations may come to mind but the "what will happen today" expectations are unknown. I knew we were celebrating the Lord’s Supper but I was unsure if the Altar Guild of One remembered so I stopped to get po-boy bread and a four pack of tiny Welch’s cans.
I’ve prepared the sacrament once for a congregation. Churches are so good at having things ready that I’ve fixed the cups and trays one time. Sunday I was unsure about the planning so I carried my own supplies as well as my lil’ communion kit. The kit is a small black case with a plastic bottle for grape juice and box for bread along with disposable cups and a little plate. I hoped to take the sacrament to a family of shut-ins.
Earlier in the week I read again the communion information from our Directory of Worship. Bread for the sacrament may be what is appropriate locally. If wine is served then grape juice should be provided so that people have a choice. Disposal of the elements after the sacrament is to be respectful and what the Session agrees upon. Order of service for the sacrament is outlined with scripture cites. The D of W has a great deal more information about the sacrament.
The drive to church showed more signs of spring with wild trees blooming, fields becoming green and the roadside weeds blooming. It is the loveliest of drives. Hardly any traffic on an early Sunday morning so one can browse the fields and pastures to see cattle, sheep and goats along with fields of green. The road follows a canopy of trees for several miles so that the light and shadows in early morning are so beautiful.
I arrived to find the Lord’s Supper ready. Beautifully ready. The Altar Guild uses real linen cloths ironed to perfection. Fresh flowers from her yard were arranged in a vase for the pedestal.
I wish that I’d been ready. I was the hold up. My sermon was the pits. I have been muddled for the past couple of weeks and that muddling has affected my sermons. Proof of this was shown in the congregation’s faces and in my own regret on the drive back home. What’s the problem? The Gospel texts have been very long for the past weeks. Verses and verses and verses. I’ve had two Sundays of doing more teaching than preaching. Ask me later what the difference is. I studied the texts to make sure I understood, as best I could, what was going on and then couldn’t seem to condense my thoughts or focus on one verse or another. Just all of the verses which makes for poor preaching when long texts are used. I’m not a verse by verse preacher because I’m not a verse by verse hearer. The tale of the whole interests me, not piece by piece.
I’m facing another long Gospel text for Sunday. The story of Lazarus in John 11:1-45. I am considering using v.35 " Jesus began to weep"(NRSV) as my focal point but it’s Wednesday morning and the process/study/exegesis is not finished enough to know yet.
Focus, Rev. Mrs. Casserole. Focus!
I drove to church on Sunday not sure what to expect. It’s not that I know what to expect any Sunday because I never do. General expectations may come to mind but the "what will happen today" expectations are unknown. I knew we were celebrating the Lord’s Supper but I was unsure if the Altar Guild of One remembered so I stopped to get po-boy bread and a four pack of tiny Welch’s cans.
I’ve prepared the sacrament once for a congregation. Churches are so good at having things ready that I’ve fixed the cups and trays one time. Sunday I was unsure about the planning so I carried my own supplies as well as my lil’ communion kit. The kit is a small black case with a plastic bottle for grape juice and box for bread along with disposable cups and a little plate. I hoped to take the sacrament to a family of shut-ins.
Earlier in the week I read again the communion information from our Directory of Worship. Bread for the sacrament may be what is appropriate locally. If wine is served then grape juice should be provided so that people have a choice. Disposal of the elements after the sacrament is to be respectful and what the Session agrees upon. Order of service for the sacrament is outlined with scripture cites. The D of W has a great deal more information about the sacrament.
The drive to church showed more signs of spring with wild trees blooming, fields becoming green and the roadside weeds blooming. It is the loveliest of drives. Hardly any traffic on an early Sunday morning so one can browse the fields and pastures to see cattle, sheep and goats along with fields of green. The road follows a canopy of trees for several miles so that the light and shadows in early morning are so beautiful.
I arrived to find the Lord’s Supper ready. Beautifully ready. The Altar Guild uses real linen cloths ironed to perfection. Fresh flowers from her yard were arranged in a vase for the pedestal.
I wish that I’d been ready. I was the hold up. My sermon was the pits. I have been muddled for the past couple of weeks and that muddling has affected my sermons. Proof of this was shown in the congregation’s faces and in my own regret on the drive back home. What’s the problem? The Gospel texts have been very long for the past weeks. Verses and verses and verses. I’ve had two Sundays of doing more teaching than preaching. Ask me later what the difference is. I studied the texts to make sure I understood, as best I could, what was going on and then couldn’t seem to condense my thoughts or focus on one verse or another. Just all of the verses which makes for poor preaching when long texts are used. I’m not a verse by verse preacher because I’m not a verse by verse hearer. The tale of the whole interests me, not piece by piece.
I’m facing another long Gospel text for Sunday. The story of Lazarus in John 11:1-45. I am considering using v.35 " Jesus began to weep"(NRSV) as my focal point but it’s Wednesday morning and the process/study/exegesis is not finished enough to know yet.
Focus, Rev. Mrs. Casserole. Focus!
Friday, March 04, 2005
Jaye over at Winding Road in an Urban Area (http://windingroad.typepad.com/columns/) has an entry about her rules. She asks for our rules. Here are mine:
I’m a Christian and I believe it is difficult to follow Jesus. I’m not easy with unconditional acceptance, mysterious grace and hope for the future but I believe in Jesus.
I believe all politics are local and relate to territory. Everything is political if you think about it.
I believe that the insurance industry is the bad guy in the tort reform thing and that if lawyers had a better lobbying group the public might understand the truth about insurance.
Preaching is an odd form of communication. Writing a sermon is difficult work every week.
I believe that most clergy are so serious that I must buck the trend and tell you my REAL rules which are as follows:
I believe that open toed high heel shoes are unattractive unless the shoes are really Manalo Blahniks which I do not own.
I believe that white shoes are unattractive unless you are wearing them as part of a required uniform.
I believe that no white shoes, except as a uniform, or white purses or belts should be worn before Easter or after Memorial Day.
I believe that solid colors are better than patterns and that sweaters with appliques of ducks, school buses and animals make you look old.
I believe in good skin care, quality foundation make-up and good mascara. I believe that Lancome has the best mascara. I have researched this.
I believe in having friends over to dinner and serving something good but not complex. I believe that the friends care more about the fellowship than they do about the cleanliness of our home.
I believe that sterling flatware, good china and your Waterford crystal should be used daily or at least weekly. I believe in cloth napkins for environmental and graciousness reasons.
I believe that if people can misunderstand you, they will but that most people are more accepting and generous than we expect them to be.
I believe that Swiffer dusters, Mr. Clean white spongey things and Cetaphil facial cleanser are three products that really do what they were created to do.
I believe that you should not have too much decorative stuff on the front of your home or in your front yard no matter what Curb Appeal suggests. More power to you if you have a cement rabbit statue by your kitchen door.
I believe that material possessions are much more valuable and entertaining if purchased on from an estate or garage or rummage sale.
New shoes scuff if purchased at full retail. Shoes on sale neither scuff nor stain for the first year of wearing.
Wearing jewelry is good. Having purses you like is good. Shoes are wonderful and uplift one’s spirits if you have the money. Perhaps a shoe fund should be started.
A good hair cut and "conditioning" (note: we do not color our hair, we ‘condition’ it.) is a good use of one’s funds.
A Kitchen Aide mixer is a great investment, does what is supposed to do, and lasts endlessly.
I believe that a good woman friend is a great blessing and that many women friends are an even greater joy.
Never play poker with a man named "Doc."
Don’t buy anything you can’t afford. Pay cash whenever you can.
A loving marriage is one of the great benefits of adulthood.
I’m a Christian and I believe it is difficult to follow Jesus. I’m not easy with unconditional acceptance, mysterious grace and hope for the future but I believe in Jesus.
I believe all politics are local and relate to territory. Everything is political if you think about it.
I believe that the insurance industry is the bad guy in the tort reform thing and that if lawyers had a better lobbying group the public might understand the truth about insurance.
Preaching is an odd form of communication. Writing a sermon is difficult work every week.
I believe that most clergy are so serious that I must buck the trend and tell you my REAL rules which are as follows:
I believe that open toed high heel shoes are unattractive unless the shoes are really Manalo Blahniks which I do not own.
I believe that white shoes are unattractive unless you are wearing them as part of a required uniform.
I believe that no white shoes, except as a uniform, or white purses or belts should be worn before Easter or after Memorial Day.
I believe that solid colors are better than patterns and that sweaters with appliques of ducks, school buses and animals make you look old.
I believe in good skin care, quality foundation make-up and good mascara. I believe that Lancome has the best mascara. I have researched this.
I believe in having friends over to dinner and serving something good but not complex. I believe that the friends care more about the fellowship than they do about the cleanliness of our home.
I believe that sterling flatware, good china and your Waterford crystal should be used daily or at least weekly. I believe in cloth napkins for environmental and graciousness reasons.
I believe that if people can misunderstand you, they will but that most people are more accepting and generous than we expect them to be.
I believe that Swiffer dusters, Mr. Clean white spongey things and Cetaphil facial cleanser are three products that really do what they were created to do.
I believe that you should not have too much decorative stuff on the front of your home or in your front yard no matter what Curb Appeal suggests. More power to you if you have a cement rabbit statue by your kitchen door.
I believe that material possessions are much more valuable and entertaining if purchased on from an estate or garage or rummage sale.
New shoes scuff if purchased at full retail. Shoes on sale neither scuff nor stain for the first year of wearing.
Wearing jewelry is good. Having purses you like is good. Shoes are wonderful and uplift one’s spirits if you have the money. Perhaps a shoe fund should be started.
A good hair cut and "conditioning" (note: we do not color our hair, we ‘condition’ it.) is a good use of one’s funds.
A Kitchen Aide mixer is a great investment, does what is supposed to do, and lasts endlessly.
I believe that a good woman friend is a great blessing and that many women friends are an even greater joy.
Never play poker with a man named "Doc."
Don’t buy anything you can’t afford. Pay cash whenever you can.
A loving marriage is one of the great benefits of adulthood.
I’m glad Martha is out of prison. Her punishment doesn’t make sense to me. I read the charges against her and cannot believe that she, a former stockbroker, would risk her livelihood for a transaction about 50K. Doesn’t make sense to me.
I’m bothered when smart women are targeted. I realize that justice is relative rather than conclusive but when smart women are punished more harshly than their white male counterparts I get suspicious.
In the same way, I don’t understand the hostility towards Hillary R. Clinton. What has she done deserve hate? When she was First Lady and worked on health care issues it was a public service gesture. What’s wrong with that? She used her abilities to try to solve a great U.S. misery which, to this day, troubles all Americans. Our health care system is the pits.
Did I care if Sen. Clinton changed her hairstyle? Nope. Did it bother me that she has a brain in her head and spoke out? Nope. Do I care if she obtained residency in NY and ran for the Senate? Nope.
I do feel sorry for her having to cope with an unfaithful spouse. It’s even worse that all of us know about it. I’m glad she’s out and about rather than home in a dark room in a dirty bathrobe drinking bad scotch.
I’m not scared of strong gals. Why would anyone be? I’m scared of mean gals and mean men. I’m scared of people with no boundaries. I’m scared of greedy, power hungry people. I’m scared of sociopaths.
Afraid of strong women? Not me. I’m glad strong women are out there so our daughters can see assertiveness. Note to Universe: teach girls to be assertive; teach boys to be gentle because the culture doesn’t teach this to children.
I hope Martha has a good friend with whom she can vent her anger. Maybe we should all send her new cuss words to assist her. Like "hot jumping rats tails!" or " Blizzard Bunching Pustules." Some mean words to help her get the anger out. I’d be mad as fire.
I’m bothered when smart women are targeted. I realize that justice is relative rather than conclusive but when smart women are punished more harshly than their white male counterparts I get suspicious.
In the same way, I don’t understand the hostility towards Hillary R. Clinton. What has she done deserve hate? When she was First Lady and worked on health care issues it was a public service gesture. What’s wrong with that? She used her abilities to try to solve a great U.S. misery which, to this day, troubles all Americans. Our health care system is the pits.
Did I care if Sen. Clinton changed her hairstyle? Nope. Did it bother me that she has a brain in her head and spoke out? Nope. Do I care if she obtained residency in NY and ran for the Senate? Nope.
I do feel sorry for her having to cope with an unfaithful spouse. It’s even worse that all of us know about it. I’m glad she’s out and about rather than home in a dark room in a dirty bathrobe drinking bad scotch.
I’m not scared of strong gals. Why would anyone be? I’m scared of mean gals and mean men. I’m scared of people with no boundaries. I’m scared of greedy, power hungry people. I’m scared of sociopaths.
Afraid of strong women? Not me. I’m glad strong women are out there so our daughters can see assertiveness. Note to Universe: teach girls to be assertive; teach boys to be gentle because the culture doesn’t teach this to children.
I hope Martha has a good friend with whom she can vent her anger. Maybe we should all send her new cuss words to assist her. Like "hot jumping rats tails!" or " Blizzard Bunching Pustules." Some mean words to help her get the anger out. I’d be mad as fire.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Thanks to all of you who commented on my post on forgiveness.
I found Smede's book on forgiveness at the Salvation Army thrift shop.
Forgiving others is a problem for many people, maybe it's a problem for all people. I am touched that you responded to my post. I woke up in the night worrying that I shouldn't have posted my thoughts. As time passed, I realized that I need to hear what you all had to say.
I found Smede's book on forgiveness at the Salvation Army thrift shop.
Forgiving others is a problem for many people, maybe it's a problem for all people. I am touched that you responded to my post. I woke up in the night worrying that I shouldn't have posted my thoughts. As time passed, I realized that I need to hear what you all had to say.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
People Who Are Called to Lead
"The people who are called to lead are almost always the wrong people. It is almost as if God goes out of God's way to pick those who, at least on the face of it, have no virtues or qualities that suggest that they would be good leaders. I'm thinking of Jacob, Sarah, Mary, Peter and Paul here, as well as of Moses. Perhaps God likes a challenge. Maybe a Creator who makes something out of nothing considers vocation a continuing aspect of creation. Any God who could make a man like Moses into a wonderful leader must be some God."
William H. Willimon, in the April 24-May1, 2002 Christian Century
William H. Willimon, in the April 24-May1, 2002 Christian Century
Monday, February 28, 2005
Forgiveness
I’m thinking about forgiveness tonight. How do we forgive if we don’t want to? If our wills are so set against the other person that we can’t imagine a relationship with the person?
I have a rather strong will and a good imagination. I can’t (pronounced "caint" down heah) figure out a way to forgive.
I’m not proud of this. I’m humiliated by it. I am ashamed.
If forgiveness means setting the past behind us so that we can go forward into a new relationship, I don’t know how to do this.
If forgiveness means loving the person despite the damage they’ve done, I don’t know how to do this.
If forgiveness means being able to sit before God and know that I’ve forgiven as I have been forgiven, I’m lost.
As far as I am able to determine about myself, I can forgive. I’ve moved on from wounded moments to continue relationships and found good things in the future. I’ve been forgiven many times by those I love so that the relationships which mean so much to me can grow forward.
But, deep in heart, when I stand to pray with my congregation the Prayer of Confession then offer the Assurance of Pardon, I know that I do not forgive a family member. I wish this were not so.
I have asked God to help me forgive this person. I continue to pray for her.
I try to imagine having a relationship with her and I am repulsed by the idea.
I don’t have to spend time with her or see her often. I’m not sure this helps the situation.
I’ve been given a tiny opportunity to move toward her but don’t trust her enough to do it as yet.
I may never do it.
It’s not enough to hear that it is a "toxic relationship" and that I should just move on.
It’s for these hard-as-hell relationships that Jesus told us to forgive. The easy situations to forgive don’t count for much more than good manners. The entrenched wretchedness of an unforgiving heart is the ideal candidate for the love of Christ to heal.
If I told you the circumstances of this broken relationship, you’d understand that I am being and have been, tested mightily. Big time misery.
I don’t want to be let off the hook because of the other person’s awfulness. What difference does that make? My lack of forgiveness weighs on my heart because I know it is not right. It is not who I want to be.
I have a rather strong will and a good imagination. I can’t (pronounced "caint" down heah) figure out a way to forgive.
I’m not proud of this. I’m humiliated by it. I am ashamed.
If forgiveness means setting the past behind us so that we can go forward into a new relationship, I don’t know how to do this.
If forgiveness means loving the person despite the damage they’ve done, I don’t know how to do this.
If forgiveness means being able to sit before God and know that I’ve forgiven as I have been forgiven, I’m lost.
As far as I am able to determine about myself, I can forgive. I’ve moved on from wounded moments to continue relationships and found good things in the future. I’ve been forgiven many times by those I love so that the relationships which mean so much to me can grow forward.
But, deep in heart, when I stand to pray with my congregation the Prayer of Confession then offer the Assurance of Pardon, I know that I do not forgive a family member. I wish this were not so.
I have asked God to help me forgive this person. I continue to pray for her.
I try to imagine having a relationship with her and I am repulsed by the idea.
I don’t have to spend time with her or see her often. I’m not sure this helps the situation.
I’ve been given a tiny opportunity to move toward her but don’t trust her enough to do it as yet.
I may never do it.
It’s not enough to hear that it is a "toxic relationship" and that I should just move on.
It’s for these hard-as-hell relationships that Jesus told us to forgive. The easy situations to forgive don’t count for much more than good manners. The entrenched wretchedness of an unforgiving heart is the ideal candidate for the love of Christ to heal.
If I told you the circumstances of this broken relationship, you’d understand that I am being and have been, tested mightily. Big time misery.
I don’t want to be let off the hook because of the other person’s awfulness. What difference does that make? My lack of forgiveness weighs on my heart because I know it is not right. It is not who I want to be.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
I Wish You Knew My Congregation
I wish you knew my congregation.
I drove to Tiny Town in the rain early this morning thinking I might be the teacher for Church School. I prepared a lesson on the Old Testament lectionary text about Moses in the wilderness of Sin. (Sin as in a geographic place, not a moral place). It’s next Sunday that I begin my teaching so I sat down to enjoy the lesson. Our very old organist was in class this week with us and began to weep. Asked why she was crying, she told us that she felt so blessed and happy that she couldn’t keep it all in. "I wept all the way here", she said. We asked her what was going on and she said she woke up full of love for God.
She plays the organ as if we were an old-time revival tent meeting. As a stiff-backed dour Presbyie from a high church tradition (if there is such a thing with us), I think her music is dance hall splendid. I’m not saying anything to her. When I get to be in my late 80's, I don’t want a youngster to tell me my preaching is dated. I’ll know it’s dated and hope I have a place to share it. We are that place for her. I don’t know many of the songs she suggests as preludes, offertories or postludes. I pick the hymns, the service music is her choice. She offered to play my favorite song for the offertory today and I asked if she would play one close to her heart instead. I didn’t recognize the tune.
It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I don’t believe the music is very important to the service. I believe all this. I do care. I care that Miss X be given a place to blast us out of the building with her being "full of God."
I wish you knew my congregation. I’m not kidding. I see flashes of grace in such array that I come away blinded.
Do you remember how I was discouraged about my congregation not knowing the meaning of the Lord’s Supper? I felt I was plowing a rocky field trying to teach them the basics. Today I heard my Clerk of Session welcome our three new members by telling them of the Great Ends of the Church and how these were our purpose. I almost fell out of my chair. I didn’t know he knew these although we’d discussed them over a year ago.
In a nod to the Academy Awards tonight, I used the Academy, "may I have the envelope, please" idea and presented the Samaritan Woman at the Well the Award for "First Evangelist (outside of the Disciples) and had "her" explain why she won the award and what happened to her at the Well when she met Jesus. I was both the Woman and the Presenter. My sermon bordered on the gimmicky but since I seldom take the gimmick road to preaching, I jumped into character and delivered the sermon. It worked. On the drive to Tiny Town, I tossed out my prepared sermon to go with the Academy Award’s idea.
One of my members says that Tiny Town church reminds her of Jan Karon’s Mitford series. I see the connection between Mitford’s Lord’s Chapel and us. This makes me Father Tim which doesn’t quite work as he is not a girly girl. But I am Father Tim-ish because I do look around in wonder at the lives of my saints and thank God for each one of them.
I drove to Tiny Town in the rain early this morning thinking I might be the teacher for Church School. I prepared a lesson on the Old Testament lectionary text about Moses in the wilderness of Sin. (Sin as in a geographic place, not a moral place). It’s next Sunday that I begin my teaching so I sat down to enjoy the lesson. Our very old organist was in class this week with us and began to weep. Asked why she was crying, she told us that she felt so blessed and happy that she couldn’t keep it all in. "I wept all the way here", she said. We asked her what was going on and she said she woke up full of love for God.
She plays the organ as if we were an old-time revival tent meeting. As a stiff-backed dour Presbyie from a high church tradition (if there is such a thing with us), I think her music is dance hall splendid. I’m not saying anything to her. When I get to be in my late 80's, I don’t want a youngster to tell me my preaching is dated. I’ll know it’s dated and hope I have a place to share it. We are that place for her. I don’t know many of the songs she suggests as preludes, offertories or postludes. I pick the hymns, the service music is her choice. She offered to play my favorite song for the offertory today and I asked if she would play one close to her heart instead. I didn’t recognize the tune.
It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I don’t believe the music is very important to the service. I believe all this. I do care. I care that Miss X be given a place to blast us out of the building with her being "full of God."
I wish you knew my congregation. I’m not kidding. I see flashes of grace in such array that I come away blinded.
Do you remember how I was discouraged about my congregation not knowing the meaning of the Lord’s Supper? I felt I was plowing a rocky field trying to teach them the basics. Today I heard my Clerk of Session welcome our three new members by telling them of the Great Ends of the Church and how these were our purpose. I almost fell out of my chair. I didn’t know he knew these although we’d discussed them over a year ago.
In a nod to the Academy Awards tonight, I used the Academy, "may I have the envelope, please" idea and presented the Samaritan Woman at the Well the Award for "First Evangelist (outside of the Disciples) and had "her" explain why she won the award and what happened to her at the Well when she met Jesus. I was both the Woman and the Presenter. My sermon bordered on the gimmicky but since I seldom take the gimmick road to preaching, I jumped into character and delivered the sermon. It worked. On the drive to Tiny Town, I tossed out my prepared sermon to go with the Academy Award’s idea.
One of my members says that Tiny Town church reminds her of Jan Karon’s Mitford series. I see the connection between Mitford’s Lord’s Chapel and us. This makes me Father Tim which doesn’t quite work as he is not a girly girl. But I am Father Tim-ish because I do look around in wonder at the lives of my saints and thank God for each one of them.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Odd Week in Backwater
It was an odd week in the Backwater.
Our colds improved but the hacking and blowing kept the LH and me from sleeping well. We are on the mend, thank the Lord.
On the friendship front, the news wasn’t as good. A seminary classmate was diagnosed with cancer again after a 10 year respite. She’ll begin a six part chemotherapy course in a few weeks. My neighbor pastor went to see one of her elderly parishoners at home and found crime scene tape around the woman’s home. The woman was murdered by drifters. Watching my neighbor pastor cope with her own pain while searching for ways to comfort and interpret the violence to her flock made me grateful for the maturity I see in her. She’s a wonderful pastor right now. She’s got the gifts for the work she is called to do. Watching her grow is lovely to me. She’s quite my junior in age and experience so if I sound "sisterly" about her, I am.
Another preacher pal is on a downward spiral (or so I think) of busyness piling on more tasks than she can handle while searching for more. I can hardly bare to listen to her. It is NOT our job to bring in the Kingdom. It is NOT our task to save the world. I’m telling you this because she doesn’t listen. It’s like watching a train wreck. Note to self: pray, think, do. Don’t invent busyness. Move when the Spirit says move. Stay still otherwise.
I finished Sherlock Holmes’ Casebook this week and began Great Expectations. Arthur Conan Doyle is fun to read. Picking up Dickens after many years is a pleasure, too. Great Expectations is a much better book than I remembered. I read it at 12 then later in High School. Re-reading it reminds me of Dickens’ power of description and insights into human behavior.
Read the Christian Century and Presbyterian Outlook as I do each week. Southern Living came so I pondered it while watching Ballykissangel from the BBC. Thank you, Netflix. I can watch the BBC stuff even though BBC America doesn’t reach this far South. Ballykissangel is better than Father Ted but neither are as engaging as The Vicar of Dibley. I think I’ve seen all of the Vicar series. We’ve got more seasons of Ballykissangel to see. Father Ted was funny for the first few shows then got on my nerves. Not respectful enough of the work of a priest for my tastes although the cast of characters had some funny spots.
If you see this month’s GQ look for the male model wearing a yellow wide stretch head band and a large red flower pinned to his lapel. We hooted at him. Don’t know why we get GQ as sartorial elegance passed this family by. I suppose the subscription was under ten dollars when I ordered magazines for the LD’s school fund-raiser.
I did about four loads of laundry each day. Cooked meals, ate out three times, got a new collar to clothe Andy in his nakedness, watched West Wing and straightened the house repeatedly.
I worked on my sermon on John 4:5-42 looking at the text with as fresh eyes as I could muster. I preach the lectionary most weeks. Well, all the time. At first, dealing with texts assigned disciplined me to pay attention to portions of the Bible I might have ignored and got me off the habit of preaching my favorite texts. I’ve learned more Bible preaching the lectionary and reading the daily readings over the past 6-8 years. However, I have preached through the cycle at least twice now and this year, I feel less excited about the return of some texts. Like the Woman at the Well. Great text but I am recalling how I deal with it the last time and the time before that. Lord, make your Word fresh to me. It’s February, not the best month. Amen.
It’s the humdrum of the weather (rainy and gray, then bright blue and chillier this week), February itself and the toll of illness in the lives of my people and friends as well as my own sniffing and kleenex blowing. I’ve bought kleenex twice this month. Blown through the nine-box pack I bought at Sam’s Club.
Today is the 26th. Two more days and then we will have March. What's going on with you all?
Our colds improved but the hacking and blowing kept the LH and me from sleeping well. We are on the mend, thank the Lord.
On the friendship front, the news wasn’t as good. A seminary classmate was diagnosed with cancer again after a 10 year respite. She’ll begin a six part chemotherapy course in a few weeks. My neighbor pastor went to see one of her elderly parishoners at home and found crime scene tape around the woman’s home. The woman was murdered by drifters. Watching my neighbor pastor cope with her own pain while searching for ways to comfort and interpret the violence to her flock made me grateful for the maturity I see in her. She’s a wonderful pastor right now. She’s got the gifts for the work she is called to do. Watching her grow is lovely to me. She’s quite my junior in age and experience so if I sound "sisterly" about her, I am.
Another preacher pal is on a downward spiral (or so I think) of busyness piling on more tasks than she can handle while searching for more. I can hardly bare to listen to her. It is NOT our job to bring in the Kingdom. It is NOT our task to save the world. I’m telling you this because she doesn’t listen. It’s like watching a train wreck. Note to self: pray, think, do. Don’t invent busyness. Move when the Spirit says move. Stay still otherwise.
I finished Sherlock Holmes’ Casebook this week and began Great Expectations. Arthur Conan Doyle is fun to read. Picking up Dickens after many years is a pleasure, too. Great Expectations is a much better book than I remembered. I read it at 12 then later in High School. Re-reading it reminds me of Dickens’ power of description and insights into human behavior.
Read the Christian Century and Presbyterian Outlook as I do each week. Southern Living came so I pondered it while watching Ballykissangel from the BBC. Thank you, Netflix. I can watch the BBC stuff even though BBC America doesn’t reach this far South. Ballykissangel is better than Father Ted but neither are as engaging as The Vicar of Dibley. I think I’ve seen all of the Vicar series. We’ve got more seasons of Ballykissangel to see. Father Ted was funny for the first few shows then got on my nerves. Not respectful enough of the work of a priest for my tastes although the cast of characters had some funny spots.
If you see this month’s GQ look for the male model wearing a yellow wide stretch head band and a large red flower pinned to his lapel. We hooted at him. Don’t know why we get GQ as sartorial elegance passed this family by. I suppose the subscription was under ten dollars when I ordered magazines for the LD’s school fund-raiser.
I did about four loads of laundry each day. Cooked meals, ate out three times, got a new collar to clothe Andy in his nakedness, watched West Wing and straightened the house repeatedly.
I worked on my sermon on John 4:5-42 looking at the text with as fresh eyes as I could muster. I preach the lectionary most weeks. Well, all the time. At first, dealing with texts assigned disciplined me to pay attention to portions of the Bible I might have ignored and got me off the habit of preaching my favorite texts. I’ve learned more Bible preaching the lectionary and reading the daily readings over the past 6-8 years. However, I have preached through the cycle at least twice now and this year, I feel less excited about the return of some texts. Like the Woman at the Well. Great text but I am recalling how I deal with it the last time and the time before that. Lord, make your Word fresh to me. It’s February, not the best month. Amen.
It’s the humdrum of the weather (rainy and gray, then bright blue and chillier this week), February itself and the toll of illness in the lives of my people and friends as well as my own sniffing and kleenex blowing. I’ve bought kleenex twice this month. Blown through the nine-box pack I bought at Sam’s Club.
Today is the 26th. Two more days and then we will have March. What's going on with you all?
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Most Honorable Red
That's the name of the OPI nail polish on my toesies. A gal just needs a pedicure in February to get her moving and groovin' to Spring. I mean it. My feet are ready for sandals.
Get going! It's YOUR turn.
Get going! It's YOUR turn.
Privacy Here
I don’t use my real name on this blog. I’m sure this is a surprise to those of you who think my first name is "St." with "Casserole" as my surname. Realizing that many bloggers think it is goofy not to disclose one’s name, I submit the following:
1. I want privacy. The world, insurance companies, marketers and the IRS know all of my business. The police of Backwater can find me day or night.
2. I lived under the curse of politics for many years and lost any vestige of privacy I owned then.
I couldn’t put up political signs in my front yard. I couldn’t have sassy bumper stickers. I understood the reasons for being nonpartisan but it got on my nerves.
3. The blog provides me with a space to speak as I wish. I don’t want to be "punished" for my words or thoughts. I’m idealistic in many ways but can be cynical as the dickens, too. I know that people are punished for being themselves and that many words spoken or written can return to hit one in the butt. I am idealistic that I may be able to avoid having my words hit my buttage. And cynical enough to think that using a nom de plume will help protect me. Maybe I’m just not very brave.
4. I have thoughts and words I have no place for except here. I can’t think of anything I’ve written so far that fits this category but I may want to unload in the future.
5. Those of you who know me in the dimensional world know I’m writing as I speak and think. Just keep my identity to yourself. Write my name on a bathroom stall but not here.
How’s it going for you out there?
1. I want privacy. The world, insurance companies, marketers and the IRS know all of my business. The police of Backwater can find me day or night.
2. I lived under the curse of politics for many years and lost any vestige of privacy I owned then.
I couldn’t put up political signs in my front yard. I couldn’t have sassy bumper stickers. I understood the reasons for being nonpartisan but it got on my nerves.
3. The blog provides me with a space to speak as I wish. I don’t want to be "punished" for my words or thoughts. I’m idealistic in many ways but can be cynical as the dickens, too. I know that people are punished for being themselves and that many words spoken or written can return to hit one in the butt. I am idealistic that I may be able to avoid having my words hit my buttage. And cynical enough to think that using a nom de plume will help protect me. Maybe I’m just not very brave.
4. I have thoughts and words I have no place for except here. I can’t think of anything I’ve written so far that fits this category but I may want to unload in the future.
5. Those of you who know me in the dimensional world know I’m writing as I speak and think. Just keep my identity to yourself. Write my name on a bathroom stall but not here.
How’s it going for you out there?
Andy, Charles and Camilla
It is a rainy, miserable day here in the Backwater. The temperature is ok but I am concerned about developing mold running between my car and errands. I came home to find Andy the Cat naked again, without his collar. He begged to go outside even though we’ve been terrorized by a roving band of scoundrel cats who chase, bite and curse our dear kitties. Even the elderly Old Man Cat wanted to step out for fresh air. He came in fully dressed in his tartan collar, dignified as usual.
However, this is not my big problem of the day. I am concerned about Charles’ wedding to Camilla. There are legal problems ( see the London Times: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,19769_1496475,00.html ) whose resolution dumbfounds me. Despite the quality of my advice on all topics, I am not a lawyer. My knowledge of international law, particularly the Inns and outs of Great Britain is poor. I’ve done my best to understand the issues but without much success. Don’t explain it to me. I need, on this rainy day, to struggle with the theological and societal issues alone in my study.
Years ago, a great philosopher suggested that when troubled about world issues, to consider the life and plight of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I have learned over the years about her life particularly her fears about living in the violent U.S. after the murder of her husband. She returned to the states where she developed a life for herself of letters and friends. I admired her. The Philosopher’s suggestion had a great deal to do with believing that Mrs. Onassis could handle her affairs gracefully without anyone’s sympathy or concern. If nothing else, her money would provide a certain insulation.
So I’m sitting here listening to the rain and watching it soak my yard thinking about Charles and Camilla and my naked Cat. I don’t know if C and C can move along with their lives without the rest of us either being worried about the future of the Monarchy. I’m even less sure that Andy the Cat will develop modesty.
However, this is not my big problem of the day. I am concerned about Charles’ wedding to Camilla. There are legal problems ( see the London Times: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,19769_1496475,00.html ) whose resolution dumbfounds me. Despite the quality of my advice on all topics, I am not a lawyer. My knowledge of international law, particularly the Inns and outs of Great Britain is poor. I’ve done my best to understand the issues but without much success. Don’t explain it to me. I need, on this rainy day, to struggle with the theological and societal issues alone in my study.
Years ago, a great philosopher suggested that when troubled about world issues, to consider the life and plight of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I have learned over the years about her life particularly her fears about living in the violent U.S. after the murder of her husband. She returned to the states where she developed a life for herself of letters and friends. I admired her. The Philosopher’s suggestion had a great deal to do with believing that Mrs. Onassis could handle her affairs gracefully without anyone’s sympathy or concern. If nothing else, her money would provide a certain insulation.
So I’m sitting here listening to the rain and watching it soak my yard thinking about Charles and Camilla and my naked Cat. I don’t know if C and C can move along with their lives without the rest of us either being worried about the future of the Monarchy. I’m even less sure that Andy the Cat will develop modesty.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
My Ten Thing List
Because it’s all the rage at journalscape and I am a hopeless conformist and I like to copy Reverend Mother.
These are my ten things I've done that you may not have done:
1. Been investigated by Scotland Yard via the Sheriff of Tiny Town.
2. Put lipstick on cat's mouths. The cleft lip on 'em helps. Bright colors are best.
3. Was a cheerleader, head cheerleader, at the Calvin Bowl my first year of Seminary.
4. Streaked the President's Home while in college. No one saw us. I'm not sure this counts.
5. Was for many years the ONLY clergywoman many people had EVER seen.
6. Can give an old man cat an IV for his kidney disease without a medical license.
7. Have read most of what John Calvin wrote.
8. Know how to do the state dance of South Carolina and do it well.
9. Cannot sail without using a few bad words and re-newing my commitment to the Lord.
10. Have more framed things in my house than my sister has ever seen in a private residence.
Whew! That wasn't very easy. Tell me yours......
These are my ten things I've done that you may not have done:
1. Been investigated by Scotland Yard via the Sheriff of Tiny Town.
2. Put lipstick on cat's mouths. The cleft lip on 'em helps. Bright colors are best.
3. Was a cheerleader, head cheerleader, at the Calvin Bowl my first year of Seminary.
4. Streaked the President's Home while in college. No one saw us. I'm not sure this counts.
5. Was for many years the ONLY clergywoman many people had EVER seen.
6. Can give an old man cat an IV for his kidney disease without a medical license.
7. Have read most of what John Calvin wrote.
8. Know how to do the state dance of South Carolina and do it well.
9. Cannot sail without using a few bad words and re-newing my commitment to the Lord.
10. Have more framed things in my house than my sister has ever seen in a private residence.
Whew! That wasn't very easy. Tell me yours......
Monday, February 21, 2005
Frankincense in February
I ordered Frankincense incense from the Society of Christ's Church Parish (www.christchurch.org) at the suggestion of AKMA's blog http://akma.disseminary.org/archives/2005/01/index.html. The staff was lovely and filled my order by sending 40z. of the frankincense incense, a brass personal incense burner from Greece and a CD of sung chants. I tried to light the incense in the burner this morning to try the mixture but my Protty poor-liturgical-background hampered my efforts. I don't know how to light incense.
I tried wooden matches and a gas long snout lighter without success. All I wanted to do was smell the stuff and see how to use it. The jar describes the mixture as " (a) distinctive blend based on the original formula, in continuous liturgical use by the Society for over a century."
I think I can "work" the CD. I do have some skills, you know....
I tried wooden matches and a gas long snout lighter without success. All I wanted to do was smell the stuff and see how to use it. The jar describes the mixture as " (a) distinctive blend based on the original formula, in continuous liturgical use by the Society for over a century."
I think I can "work" the CD. I do have some skills, you know....
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Weeds
I’m feeling better with a nap. I am trying to conserve my strength so I can lead worship tomorrow however silly it is to think one can hold on to energy and disperse activity at will.
The LH wanted to get out even though he is hacking and droopy. We went to the bookstore. I looked for book on forgiveness written by an author I couldn’t remember with a title I forgot. Oddly enough, I didn’t find it. I have the author and title written on a scrap of paper in my other purse so I’ll pursue finding it.
I wanted to find a book on common Southern weeds. As Spring begins to edge into the yard, the weeds are bright green meadows in my yard grass and flower beds. I want to know each little sprouts real name, where it originated and how to get rid of it. Not that I’m splashing herbicide on a square inch of our yard. I have cat paws to protect, birds to keep safe and ground water to keep clean.
Weeds fascinate me. Are they weeds because they are free in cost and unintentional? Is our orderly gardening to value what we plant and detest any visitors? Is what we grow cultural or what is in fashion or something other than love of growth?
It’s the growing habits of weeds which fascinate me. They are so durn intrepid. A weed will grow in a sidewalk crack in the worst situations imaginable and prevail. Unless a RoundUp spraying herbicidal maniac comes by.
Stubborn, hardy, ubiquitous, vital. All weed words. We have dollar grass which I assume came up here from Mexico and further South as I saw it in Mexico. It’s roots are like long boiled pieces of spaghetti. If you pull the roots up, you get more roots. Crabgrass has wonderfully deep roots, too. Johnson grass is difficult for me to hand weed as it is stuck in the earth so tightly that it resists my pulls. I may have the names of Johnson and Crabgrass confused. See? I need a book to tell me their names. I don’t even know the colloquial names for many of the weeds I see.
I can be stubborn like a weed. Makes me think of my sermon tomorrow on John 3:1-17 where Nicodemus comes to see Jesus at night privately unable to face the public. He recognizes Jesus as a miracle worker but doesn’t know where Jesus’ authority comes from. He doesn’t know Jesus’ name as an identifier with God. Can’t imagine it but knows something is going on. I imagine that Nicodemus’ struggle with whether or not to go see Jesus was a tortured internal moment. But he goes, stubborn but curious.
Are weeds weeds? Trash plants, irritants or another way of looking at plant life? Another way to look at life by looking at the undesirable or unvalued? Is my view or our view of Jesus’ authority based on values which don’t make sense? I’m not suggesting that Jesus is a weed. That’s too funny! Perhaps I am the weed or the weed holder as in a holder of ideas which are not valuable and can be replaced with better values.
Just thinking. How’s it with you?
P.S. This isn’t my sermon but everything relates to preaching regardless by Saturday afternoon. It’s on my brain.
I’ve completed the sermon until it’s next revision about 10 pm. tonight which precedes the 8 am. tomorrow revision which precedes the 10am. revision....
The LH wanted to get out even though he is hacking and droopy. We went to the bookstore. I looked for book on forgiveness written by an author I couldn’t remember with a title I forgot. Oddly enough, I didn’t find it. I have the author and title written on a scrap of paper in my other purse so I’ll pursue finding it.
I wanted to find a book on common Southern weeds. As Spring begins to edge into the yard, the weeds are bright green meadows in my yard grass and flower beds. I want to know each little sprouts real name, where it originated and how to get rid of it. Not that I’m splashing herbicide on a square inch of our yard. I have cat paws to protect, birds to keep safe and ground water to keep clean.
Weeds fascinate me. Are they weeds because they are free in cost and unintentional? Is our orderly gardening to value what we plant and detest any visitors? Is what we grow cultural or what is in fashion or something other than love of growth?
It’s the growing habits of weeds which fascinate me. They are so durn intrepid. A weed will grow in a sidewalk crack in the worst situations imaginable and prevail. Unless a RoundUp spraying herbicidal maniac comes by.
Stubborn, hardy, ubiquitous, vital. All weed words. We have dollar grass which I assume came up here from Mexico and further South as I saw it in Mexico. It’s roots are like long boiled pieces of spaghetti. If you pull the roots up, you get more roots. Crabgrass has wonderfully deep roots, too. Johnson grass is difficult for me to hand weed as it is stuck in the earth so tightly that it resists my pulls. I may have the names of Johnson and Crabgrass confused. See? I need a book to tell me their names. I don’t even know the colloquial names for many of the weeds I see.
I can be stubborn like a weed. Makes me think of my sermon tomorrow on John 3:1-17 where Nicodemus comes to see Jesus at night privately unable to face the public. He recognizes Jesus as a miracle worker but doesn’t know where Jesus’ authority comes from. He doesn’t know Jesus’ name as an identifier with God. Can’t imagine it but knows something is going on. I imagine that Nicodemus’ struggle with whether or not to go see Jesus was a tortured internal moment. But he goes, stubborn but curious.
Are weeds weeds? Trash plants, irritants or another way of looking at plant life? Another way to look at life by looking at the undesirable or unvalued? Is my view or our view of Jesus’ authority based on values which don’t make sense? I’m not suggesting that Jesus is a weed. That’s too funny! Perhaps I am the weed or the weed holder as in a holder of ideas which are not valuable and can be replaced with better values.
Just thinking. How’s it with you?
P.S. This isn’t my sermon but everything relates to preaching regardless by Saturday afternoon. It’s on my brain.
I’ve completed the sermon until it’s next revision about 10 pm. tonight which precedes the 8 am. tomorrow revision which precedes the 10am. revision....
Friday, February 18, 2005
HEY
Does it mean anything that Blogger doesn't "take" all of my blog entries? Or is it my computer which boots off my blog entries? The first time my blog entry blew away without showing up on the blog, I thought, "well, it was a goofy entry anyway". It's discouraging.
Doesn't matter.
The LD is at a birthday party with girls and boys. Being free from her "double secret probation, etc." is great. The LS will go pick her up before the party ends. I don't want her standing around at closing time.
I'm supposed to be working on my sermon but I came here to....well....just...look around. Yeah. Just look around. I'm procrastinating like a pro.
Back later. Take care of your bloggy selves....
Doesn't matter.
The LD is at a birthday party with girls and boys. Being free from her "double secret probation, etc." is great. The LS will go pick her up before the party ends. I don't want her standing around at closing time.
I'm supposed to be working on my sermon but I came here to....well....just...look around. Yeah. Just look around. I'm procrastinating like a pro.
Back later. Take care of your bloggy selves....
Several thoughts this morning:
The birds are singing as if Spring were on the way. I wish I understood bird music. The confederate jasmine's blooms are lovely. The azaleas have begun to open. Only spots of pink as yet, but more to come. These pre-Spring days help my spirit. Sorry to those of you with no signs of Spring.
I suppose I should alert an elder that my cold is making me cough. I can't medicate enough to stop the cough and keep me upright when a cold hits so an elder may have to preach for me Sunday.
The LH likes to get sick when I am sick so I hope to be better today as his cough is worse.
Lent is purple for royalty and repentance. We moderns, especially those without a monarchy, don't understand royalty as those with a monarchy do. I wonder how the language of Christ as King sound to their ears?
The LD presented her mid-terms grades which all showed improvement. She is off Double Secret Probation with Lock-Down and Sprinkles. Last night she talked on the phone for over an hour with no breaks for taking a breath. Phone priviledges restored, computer priviledges still in question. She feels good about her grades and effort so her attitude is sweeter. Thank you, Lord.
I read John Grisham's The Broker this week. Good fast read as usual with Grisham's work. The man has written 18 books now. Greg Iles is a far superior writer but doesn't get the press Grisham enjoys.
My prayer list is loaded with colleagues struggling with big illnesses. God grant them the strength to cope and endure.
Note to kitsch loving Jesus painting receiver blog reader: I haven't mailed your package yet. I'm sorry for the delay.
How's it going with you all (as we say down heah)?
The birds are singing as if Spring were on the way. I wish I understood bird music. The confederate jasmine's blooms are lovely. The azaleas have begun to open. Only spots of pink as yet, but more to come. These pre-Spring days help my spirit. Sorry to those of you with no signs of Spring.
I suppose I should alert an elder that my cold is making me cough. I can't medicate enough to stop the cough and keep me upright when a cold hits so an elder may have to preach for me Sunday.
The LH likes to get sick when I am sick so I hope to be better today as his cough is worse.
Lent is purple for royalty and repentance. We moderns, especially those without a monarchy, don't understand royalty as those with a monarchy do. I wonder how the language of Christ as King sound to their ears?
The LD presented her mid-terms grades which all showed improvement. She is off Double Secret Probation with Lock-Down and Sprinkles. Last night she talked on the phone for over an hour with no breaks for taking a breath. Phone priviledges restored, computer priviledges still in question. She feels good about her grades and effort so her attitude is sweeter. Thank you, Lord.
I read John Grisham's The Broker this week. Good fast read as usual with Grisham's work. The man has written 18 books now. Greg Iles is a far superior writer but doesn't get the press Grisham enjoys.
My prayer list is loaded with colleagues struggling with big illnesses. God grant them the strength to cope and endure.
Note to kitsch loving Jesus painting receiver blog reader: I haven't mailed your package yet. I'm sorry for the delay.
How's it going with you all (as we say down heah)?
Thursday, February 17, 2005
I’m home from the retreat with all those preachers. Being out in the quiet woods for three days brightened my spirits as did eating great meals with preacher pals. Some of the speakers were great while others must have thought they were preparing for 19 year olds who were inexperienced with Bible study. I note this disparity between my interests and the presentations only because I know that being a speaker, far from home, works well at times or flops. Maybe the speakers weren’t told much about our group or were given nebulous instructions about the retreat.
My head cold meant I wasn’t my best self. Snorting and blowing into tissues while my head feels like it’s enclosed in a plastic bag of water means I may be a tad more critical than when I feel good. I’m not much better this morning although being home helps.
I had one blast-out flare-up with my focus group which was useless. Not proud of it. Wish I’d kept quiet. Between nose blows I lost my temper over the light-weight, airy discussion of how great it is to help with AIDS orphans overseas. I’m in favor of helping all children. I want AIDS orphans to have what they need: happy homes, good support as they grow up and so on. However, we have suffering children here at home. Happy slappy evangelicals strike me as unwilling to get involved with the public health issues of AIDS patients in our neighborhoods. Could be help our children and families here with all the physical, political needs our citizens need AND be available to help children around the world? Why not? It’s scandalous how we believers do next to nothing for the vulnerable among us but make sure we send cartons of Bibles to far away places.
Sanitized, manageable Christian work. Yuk. Ewwww. Gross.
My head cold meant I wasn’t my best self. Snorting and blowing into tissues while my head feels like it’s enclosed in a plastic bag of water means I may be a tad more critical than when I feel good. I’m not much better this morning although being home helps.
I had one blast-out flare-up with my focus group which was useless. Not proud of it. Wish I’d kept quiet. Between nose blows I lost my temper over the light-weight, airy discussion of how great it is to help with AIDS orphans overseas. I’m in favor of helping all children. I want AIDS orphans to have what they need: happy homes, good support as they grow up and so on. However, we have suffering children here at home. Happy slappy evangelicals strike me as unwilling to get involved with the public health issues of AIDS patients in our neighborhoods. Could be help our children and families here with all the physical, political needs our citizens need AND be available to help children around the world? Why not? It’s scandalous how we believers do next to nothing for the vulnerable among us but make sure we send cartons of Bibles to far away places.
Sanitized, manageable Christian work. Yuk. Ewwww. Gross.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The Retreat
I'm going to retreat from my home and family, the washing machine, dishwasher, the telephone and computer for several days beginning Monday morning.
I'm backing away from the table of my ordinary life and going off into the woods to think, listen and stare. I'll think about my world here and the world's of my fellow retreatants, listen to the speaker discuss "The Presence of God in Creation" and stare at trees. The tree staring is a specialty of mine. I find looking at trees very hard improves one's perspective on life.
I need a new perspective. I'm sick of preaching. I'm sick of doing the same things over and over again. This temper fit is not my usual stance on life. I like it all, usually. Happy. etc. etc.
Today, I tipped over the edge when I realized how little the adults in the church school class know and understand about Communion. I 'bout fell over, as we say down here.
I know denominationalism isn't popular with many but my congregation IS Presbyterian and by doggie! I'm teaching them what we believe and why.
I just did not realize that they are near clueless about the sacraments. We will be celebrating the Lord's Supper the first Sunday of each month in 2005. This is new for them. They've never had a regular serving of the Supper.
I'll spend more time than I had planned teaching about the sacrament. I'll go on the retreat. I'll enjoy the drive to the retreat. I'll have times of quiet. I'll pray alone and with my colleagues. I'll have better attitude later this week. I'll return ready to work, serve and love.
Keep checking in with me this week. Take care of your bloggy selves.
I'm backing away from the table of my ordinary life and going off into the woods to think, listen and stare. I'll think about my world here and the world's of my fellow retreatants, listen to the speaker discuss "The Presence of God in Creation" and stare at trees. The tree staring is a specialty of mine. I find looking at trees very hard improves one's perspective on life.
I need a new perspective. I'm sick of preaching. I'm sick of doing the same things over and over again. This temper fit is not my usual stance on life. I like it all, usually. Happy. etc. etc.
Today, I tipped over the edge when I realized how little the adults in the church school class know and understand about Communion. I 'bout fell over, as we say down here.
I know denominationalism isn't popular with many but my congregation IS Presbyterian and by doggie! I'm teaching them what we believe and why.
I just did not realize that they are near clueless about the sacraments. We will be celebrating the Lord's Supper the first Sunday of each month in 2005. This is new for them. They've never had a regular serving of the Supper.
I'll spend more time than I had planned teaching about the sacrament. I'll go on the retreat. I'll enjoy the drive to the retreat. I'll have times of quiet. I'll pray alone and with my colleagues. I'll have better attitude later this week. I'll return ready to work, serve and love.
Keep checking in with me this week. Take care of your bloggy selves.
Reinhold Niebuhr and "Speaking of Faith"
"Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore, we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore, we must be saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, could be accomplished alone; therefore, we must be saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our own standpoint; therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love, which is forgiveness." ---Reinhold Niebuhr, The Irony of American History. 1952
Krista Tippet of Public Radio's Speaking of Faith (http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/) discusses Niebuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society in the show hyperlinked above. I listen to S o F as I drive to my church two counties away. I enjoy most of her programs, this one made me nostalgic for good public talk about faith spoken by wise and educated people. The talk we hear these days confuses me with it's partisan, selfish tone. The comments Niebuhr makes about "hubris" almost forced me off the road. You can read about the program and listen to it, if you wish.
Krista Tippet of Public Radio's Speaking of Faith (http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/) discusses Niebuhr's Moral Man and Immoral Society in the show hyperlinked above. I listen to S o F as I drive to my church two counties away. I enjoy most of her programs, this one made me nostalgic for good public talk about faith spoken by wise and educated people. The talk we hear these days confuses me with it's partisan, selfish tone. The comments Niebuhr makes about "hubris" almost forced me off the road. You can read about the program and listen to it, if you wish.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Moving Slowly
I'm moving slowly today. I've got a church bulletin to finish and some finishing touches to add to Sunday's sermon. As you may know, I am the church secretary so the bulletin is only produced if I make it and print it.
I've joined a group blog http://planettelex.bur.st/lentblog/index.php?paged=2 for Lent. I'm pleased to be included and you can be too if you'll contact the directors through the blog. I've posted once on the word press blog and have no clue if I did it correctly. If it didn't work, nothing much is lost as I only introduced myself and said I had nothing to say. Whoa! I'm one hot blogger! But, if I have nothing to say I'll say nothing.
Having announced myself as slow, nothing to say and empty-headed this morning, I will be away for the first part of the week attending a retreat with clergy on theology and Bible. I'm happy to be going out of town for a few days and assume I'll find whatever the retreat offers interesting. I've been home and in a bore of ordinary days for weeks now (since Christmas) and will enjoy a change.
I celebrate the idea of ordinary days where clothes are clean and put away, meals prepared and served with as much fan-fare as a Mom can offer and where children know where I am and what I'm doing. This ordinary life of ours provides our children with constancy and predictability. Bores the dickens out of me but is a good discipline for someone with as many interests as I have to live a measured, ordered life. I had years of ricocheting around before we had children so I'm ready to provide our children with an ordinary life. This constancy provides them with security so that they can begin to ricochet knowing I'm available if needed.
My feelings get hurt from time to time when I hear my children describe my life although I know they do not know all I do and how much time I spend while they are at school doing things which I THINK are exciting.
But, I remind myself that there is a value for them in testing out their new maturity while thinking I'm the most boring mom in the world. They don't see me as a pastor because they attend church school and worship with the LH at his nearby church while I drive an hour to my congregation. They don't know the network of community contacts I maintain because I seldom mention my community work. It's ok. I'm not bored with myself although I do anticipate having a splurge of freedom driving away to the retreat. If you hear whooping and hollering early next week, it is I beating the side of my car as I drive away. I think I'll speed away, actually.
What's going on with you?
I've joined a group blog http://planettelex.bur.st/lentblog/index.php?paged=2 for Lent. I'm pleased to be included and you can be too if you'll contact the directors through the blog. I've posted once on the word press blog and have no clue if I did it correctly. If it didn't work, nothing much is lost as I only introduced myself and said I had nothing to say. Whoa! I'm one hot blogger! But, if I have nothing to say I'll say nothing.
Having announced myself as slow, nothing to say and empty-headed this morning, I will be away for the first part of the week attending a retreat with clergy on theology and Bible. I'm happy to be going out of town for a few days and assume I'll find whatever the retreat offers interesting. I've been home and in a bore of ordinary days for weeks now (since Christmas) and will enjoy a change.
I celebrate the idea of ordinary days where clothes are clean and put away, meals prepared and served with as much fan-fare as a Mom can offer and where children know where I am and what I'm doing. This ordinary life of ours provides our children with constancy and predictability. Bores the dickens out of me but is a good discipline for someone with as many interests as I have to live a measured, ordered life. I had years of ricocheting around before we had children so I'm ready to provide our children with an ordinary life. This constancy provides them with security so that they can begin to ricochet knowing I'm available if needed.
My feelings get hurt from time to time when I hear my children describe my life although I know they do not know all I do and how much time I spend while they are at school doing things which I THINK are exciting.
But, I remind myself that there is a value for them in testing out their new maturity while thinking I'm the most boring mom in the world. They don't see me as a pastor because they attend church school and worship with the LH at his nearby church while I drive an hour to my congregation. They don't know the network of community contacts I maintain because I seldom mention my community work. It's ok. I'm not bored with myself although I do anticipate having a splurge of freedom driving away to the retreat. If you hear whooping and hollering early next week, it is I beating the side of my car as I drive away. I think I'll speed away, actually.
What's going on with you?
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
For Lent Ernest T. Campbell
As we near the hallowed grounds of Gethsemane and Golgotha, we
confess to a sense of unworthiness and shame.
Our deprivations are so few,
Our scars so scarce,
Our courage so seldom summoned,
Our passion so wasted on self.
Who are we that we should bear thy name or purport to be thy people?
Forgive us, God, for we know not what we do.
Expose the games we play with thee to stave off the moments of full
surrender; and help us to come as the sinners we are, that we may obtain
mercy and find help in time of need.
Our prayers we offer in faith and with thanksgiving,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Ernest S. Campbell from Leo S. Thorne, ed. Prayers from Riverside, 40. Copyright@1983
The Pilgrim Press.
confess to a sense of unworthiness and shame.
Our deprivations are so few,
Our scars so scarce,
Our courage so seldom summoned,
Our passion so wasted on self.
Who are we that we should bear thy name or purport to be thy people?
Forgive us, God, for we know not what we do.
Expose the games we play with thee to stave off the moments of full
surrender; and help us to come as the sinners we are, that we may obtain
mercy and find help in time of need.
Our prayers we offer in faith and with thanksgiving,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Ernest S. Campbell from Leo S. Thorne, ed. Prayers from Riverside, 40. Copyright@1983
The Pilgrim Press.
From PCUSA News Leonard Sweet Cats, Toasters, Vomit and Priest Prophets
Note #8643 from PCUSA NEWS to PRESBYNEWS:05080February 8, 2005
Calling all pneumanauts
Sweet tells APCE participants to be 'sailors on the Spirit'by Jerry L. Van Marter
VANCOUVER - In a world dominated by the power found in material things, Christians must reclaim the reality and power of the spirit, renowned futurist Leonard Sweet said in twin lectures yesterday and today here. He even coined a new word for doing so as he addressed the 900 Presbyterian and Reformed participants in the Association of Presbyterian Church Educators (APCE) annual conference here: "pneumanauts" - from the Greek words for "spirit" or "wind" and "travelers." "We believe that the physical and material forces are the strongest in the universe," Sweet said, "but what does God say? 'Not by power, not by might, but by my Spirit.'" And so, in a world desperate for spiritual leadership, Christians must be pneumanauts, "sailors on the Spirit," he insisted. Scripture also reveals the chief characteristic of "the wind-blown life," Sweet insisted - unpredictability: "We know not where the wind comes from and where it goes, and it takes us even in directions we don't want to go."
Sweet outline the three "Esses" of "pneumanautics":* Simultaneity* Systems* SemioticsSimultaneity "We live in a world where opposite things are happening at the same time but they're not contradictory," Sweet said. The concept is more Eastern than Western - yoga, for instance, literally means "embracing opposites." But the Bible, borne in the East, is replete with such simultaneity. For example, Sweet said, God is one God, but exists in three persons. For another, Jesus is fully human and fully divine. And Jesus' teachings, Sweet continued, are filled with such simultaneity - he counsels his disciples, for instance, to be "wise as serpents but gentle as doves." Changes in distribution theory point to a shift in western culture toward simultaneity, he said. For generations, scientists have cited the "bell curve" as the "normal" distribution - a vast middle (the bell) with very little at either end of the curve. Scientists are increasingly relying on a "well curve" distribution theory, with vast extremes and very little in the middle. "Just look at the presidential election, or many of the mainline churches - there's no middle left anywhere," Sweet said. The key to ministry in such a changed world is to bring the extremes together and only by embracing simultaneity can that be achieved. Again, Sweet said, the Bible is replete with examples of Jesus (and his disciples) bringing seemingly opposites together.
And it doesn't happen by trying to find a lowest common denominator, Sweet said, citing Revelation 3:16 - "Would that you were hot or cold, instead you are luke-warm." Calling this the "God-vomit" passage because the Revelation author quotes God as saying, "You make me sick "(or "vomit"), Sweet said, "What's happening today is a bunch of churches are being thrown up, vomited out, because they're neither hot nor cold but just plain luke-warm."
Coining another simultaneity term, he said Christians today must be "priest prophets." "A priest represents the people to God; a prophet represents God to the people," he explained. "A priest tells it like it is; a prophet tells it like God wants it to be. A priest reaches out to where people are; a prophet reaches out to where people are not but need to be. Pneumanauts need to do both at the same time - that's what's missing in church leadership today."
Systems Christians must understand (and act accordingly) that the Bible, the church and other people are living organisms and not machines or devices. It is, Sweet said, like the difference between trying to fix a toaster and trying to heal a cat. "To heal a toaster, you take it apart, clean and repair it and then put it back together again," he explained. "You cannot heal a sick cat by taking it apart and putting it back together again. "The modern world taught us toasters," Sweet continued. "We have yet to learn how to do cat, to treat things like cats, not toasters. The challenge, fellow pneumanauts, is to figure out how to treat more of the world like cats, not toasters." Start with the Bible, he suggested. "When I was a kid I was put in a program to memorize Bible verses," Sweet recounted. "I learned a lot of Bible verses, but then discovered, almost too late, that the Bible wasn't written in verses, it was written in stories.
"We've turned the Bible into a toaster. We have to treat it more like a cat. We say the Bible is a 'living' book. Then we must trust it as a whole, not as a collection of small parts that we can take apart and put back together again," Sweet said. Churchgoers do it with sermons, too.
"Ministers are the worst listeners to sermons because they immediately start taking them apart," he said. And people. "As soon as we meet someone, we start taking them apart to see what we like and don't like about them," Sweet said. "How radically would our ministry change if we started treating them like cats and not like toasters?"
Semiotics From the Greek word for "signs," semiotics, Sweet said, is "an invitation to read the signs. The height of spiritual illiteracy is the inability to read the handwriting on the wall." Jesus continuously implored his followers to read the signs he was pointing out,.The gospel of Mark, for instance, is filled, Sweet pointed out, with Jesus' expressions of frustration and the disciples consistently missed the clues. "Mark is the 'duh!' gospel, he said. Semiotic awareness - which Sweet also called "connecting the dots" - should be easier for Christians because they have a personal stake in seeing the signs of the Spirit's presence in the world. It's like buying a new car, he said. "As soon as you drive it off the lot, you immediately begin to see the same vehicle everywhere. People aren't suddenly copying you by buying the same car," Sweet explained. "What has changed is you. You have a personal stake in that car so now you can start reading the signs."
Sweet said one of his favorite metaphors for "reading the signs of life" is South Carolinian Reggie McNeil's "refrigerator door." "We ought to think of ministry as a refrigerator door. If I go into your home, I might admire the furnishings or the art on the walls," he explained. "But if I really want to see your family's life in all its richness and creativity, I'll look at your refrigerator door - that's where the growth and vitality and stuff that's really important to the life of your household will be found."
Christians must think of their churches as refrigerator doors, Sweet concluded. "Make fine music, preach good sermons, fill the walls with fine windows and art, but don't forget the refrigerator door."
To subscribe or unsubscribe, please send an email to pcusanews-subscribe-request@halak.pcusa.org or pcusanews-unsubscribe-request@halak.pcusa.orgTo contact the owner of the list, please send an email to pcusanews-request@halak.pcusa.org
Calling all pneumanauts
Sweet tells APCE participants to be 'sailors on the Spirit'by Jerry L. Van Marter
VANCOUVER - In a world dominated by the power found in material things, Christians must reclaim the reality and power of the spirit, renowned futurist Leonard Sweet said in twin lectures yesterday and today here. He even coined a new word for doing so as he addressed the 900 Presbyterian and Reformed participants in the Association of Presbyterian Church Educators (APCE) annual conference here: "pneumanauts" - from the Greek words for "spirit" or "wind" and "travelers." "We believe that the physical and material forces are the strongest in the universe," Sweet said, "but what does God say? 'Not by power, not by might, but by my Spirit.'" And so, in a world desperate for spiritual leadership, Christians must be pneumanauts, "sailors on the Spirit," he insisted. Scripture also reveals the chief characteristic of "the wind-blown life," Sweet insisted - unpredictability: "We know not where the wind comes from and where it goes, and it takes us even in directions we don't want to go."
Sweet outline the three "Esses" of "pneumanautics":* Simultaneity* Systems* SemioticsSimultaneity "We live in a world where opposite things are happening at the same time but they're not contradictory," Sweet said. The concept is more Eastern than Western - yoga, for instance, literally means "embracing opposites." But the Bible, borne in the East, is replete with such simultaneity. For example, Sweet said, God is one God, but exists in three persons. For another, Jesus is fully human and fully divine. And Jesus' teachings, Sweet continued, are filled with such simultaneity - he counsels his disciples, for instance, to be "wise as serpents but gentle as doves." Changes in distribution theory point to a shift in western culture toward simultaneity, he said. For generations, scientists have cited the "bell curve" as the "normal" distribution - a vast middle (the bell) with very little at either end of the curve. Scientists are increasingly relying on a "well curve" distribution theory, with vast extremes and very little in the middle. "Just look at the presidential election, or many of the mainline churches - there's no middle left anywhere," Sweet said. The key to ministry in such a changed world is to bring the extremes together and only by embracing simultaneity can that be achieved. Again, Sweet said, the Bible is replete with examples of Jesus (and his disciples) bringing seemingly opposites together.
And it doesn't happen by trying to find a lowest common denominator, Sweet said, citing Revelation 3:16 - "Would that you were hot or cold, instead you are luke-warm." Calling this the "God-vomit" passage because the Revelation author quotes God as saying, "You make me sick "(or "vomit"), Sweet said, "What's happening today is a bunch of churches are being thrown up, vomited out, because they're neither hot nor cold but just plain luke-warm."
Coining another simultaneity term, he said Christians today must be "priest prophets." "A priest represents the people to God; a prophet represents God to the people," he explained. "A priest tells it like it is; a prophet tells it like God wants it to be. A priest reaches out to where people are; a prophet reaches out to where people are not but need to be. Pneumanauts need to do both at the same time - that's what's missing in church leadership today."
Systems Christians must understand (and act accordingly) that the Bible, the church and other people are living organisms and not machines or devices. It is, Sweet said, like the difference between trying to fix a toaster and trying to heal a cat. "To heal a toaster, you take it apart, clean and repair it and then put it back together again," he explained. "You cannot heal a sick cat by taking it apart and putting it back together again. "The modern world taught us toasters," Sweet continued. "We have yet to learn how to do cat, to treat things like cats, not toasters. The challenge, fellow pneumanauts, is to figure out how to treat more of the world like cats, not toasters." Start with the Bible, he suggested. "When I was a kid I was put in a program to memorize Bible verses," Sweet recounted. "I learned a lot of Bible verses, but then discovered, almost too late, that the Bible wasn't written in verses, it was written in stories.
"We've turned the Bible into a toaster. We have to treat it more like a cat. We say the Bible is a 'living' book. Then we must trust it as a whole, not as a collection of small parts that we can take apart and put back together again," Sweet said. Churchgoers do it with sermons, too.
"Ministers are the worst listeners to sermons because they immediately start taking them apart," he said. And people. "As soon as we meet someone, we start taking them apart to see what we like and don't like about them," Sweet said. "How radically would our ministry change if we started treating them like cats and not like toasters?"
Semiotics From the Greek word for "signs," semiotics, Sweet said, is "an invitation to read the signs. The height of spiritual illiteracy is the inability to read the handwriting on the wall." Jesus continuously implored his followers to read the signs he was pointing out,.The gospel of Mark, for instance, is filled, Sweet pointed out, with Jesus' expressions of frustration and the disciples consistently missed the clues. "Mark is the 'duh!' gospel, he said. Semiotic awareness - which Sweet also called "connecting the dots" - should be easier for Christians because they have a personal stake in seeing the signs of the Spirit's presence in the world. It's like buying a new car, he said. "As soon as you drive it off the lot, you immediately begin to see the same vehicle everywhere. People aren't suddenly copying you by buying the same car," Sweet explained. "What has changed is you. You have a personal stake in that car so now you can start reading the signs."
Sweet said one of his favorite metaphors for "reading the signs of life" is South Carolinian Reggie McNeil's "refrigerator door." "We ought to think of ministry as a refrigerator door. If I go into your home, I might admire the furnishings or the art on the walls," he explained. "But if I really want to see your family's life in all its richness and creativity, I'll look at your refrigerator door - that's where the growth and vitality and stuff that's really important to the life of your household will be found."
Christians must think of their churches as refrigerator doors, Sweet concluded. "Make fine music, preach good sermons, fill the walls with fine windows and art, but don't forget the refrigerator door."
To subscribe or unsubscribe, please send an email to pcusanews-subscribe-request@halak.pcusa.org or pcusanews-unsubscribe-request@halak.pcusa.orgTo contact the owner of the list, please send an email to pcusanews-request@halak.pcusa.org
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Shrove Tuesday Mardi Gras
Today is Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday the beginning of Lent. In my part of the woods, today is Mardi Gras ("Fat Tuesday") and the people go wild.
I grew up with Shrove Tuesday which meant eating pancakes with the Episcopalians at St. Martin's. Pancakes are the traditional food of the day as all the milk and eggs are used before Ash Wednesday when certain foods are avoided as an act of self-denial for Lent.
I was an adult before I experienced Mardi Gras in New Orleans which is very different from a pancake supper in a small parish hall.
The New Orleans celebration blew away my East Coast ideas about partying in the streets. Like we buttoned up Protestants ever partied in the streets.......
The day began with going to a church member's house early for breakfast and milk punch. The milk punch was mostly bourbon, the breakfast was mostly King Cake. I seldom drink so the combination of sugar and alcohol meant I was ready for a nap by 8 am. The church folks would load up in cars caravan style and head down to St. Charles' Avenue to another member's home. After parking the cars (difficult when thousands of people are converging on a small area some with RV's and all loaded with ladders and ice chests) we'd settle in on the front porch to chat and warm up for the parades. By now it's about 10 am. The time to chat and drink rolled over us as did watching families set up step ladders for children to climb to grab the beads.
Beads? Oh yeah. East Coast parades are for standing and watching. Mardi Gras parades send you home with bags of plastic beads and trinkets (doubloons, aluminum coins made for the occasion, small plastic junk and stuffed animals). If a kid is high up on a ladder, float riders can get the beads to them more easily.
Police are closing off the streets to traffic and people begin to walk in the streets from house to house. It's getting wild but only a warm-up.
The visiting gets more intense. After all, we are Southerners and we know each other. Or we know a stranger's home town or fifth grade teacher or one of their mamma's cousins. We visit, hug and drink more.
Bathrooms become an issue. The families who are "with" the homes on St. Charles' Ave. are grateful for the access to bathrooms. The City sets up port-a-potties but only the desperate use these.
It's time to eat again. The most wonderful junk food on the planet appears on Arthur Court or sterling silver trays. Everything from dips and spreads to shrimp to gumbo to jambalya to hamburgers and hot dogs.
Food and drink, food and drink; it's the New Orleans mantra.
(Time for more coffee. More later......)
I grew up with Shrove Tuesday which meant eating pancakes with the Episcopalians at St. Martin's. Pancakes are the traditional food of the day as all the milk and eggs are used before Ash Wednesday when certain foods are avoided as an act of self-denial for Lent.
I was an adult before I experienced Mardi Gras in New Orleans which is very different from a pancake supper in a small parish hall.
The New Orleans celebration blew away my East Coast ideas about partying in the streets. Like we buttoned up Protestants ever partied in the streets.......
The day began with going to a church member's house early for breakfast and milk punch. The milk punch was mostly bourbon, the breakfast was mostly King Cake. I seldom drink so the combination of sugar and alcohol meant I was ready for a nap by 8 am. The church folks would load up in cars caravan style and head down to St. Charles' Avenue to another member's home. After parking the cars (difficult when thousands of people are converging on a small area some with RV's and all loaded with ladders and ice chests) we'd settle in on the front porch to chat and warm up for the parades. By now it's about 10 am. The time to chat and drink rolled over us as did watching families set up step ladders for children to climb to grab the beads.
Beads? Oh yeah. East Coast parades are for standing and watching. Mardi Gras parades send you home with bags of plastic beads and trinkets (doubloons, aluminum coins made for the occasion, small plastic junk and stuffed animals). If a kid is high up on a ladder, float riders can get the beads to them more easily.
Police are closing off the streets to traffic and people begin to walk in the streets from house to house. It's getting wild but only a warm-up.
The visiting gets more intense. After all, we are Southerners and we know each other. Or we know a stranger's home town or fifth grade teacher or one of their mamma's cousins. We visit, hug and drink more.
Bathrooms become an issue. The families who are "with" the homes on St. Charles' Ave. are grateful for the access to bathrooms. The City sets up port-a-potties but only the desperate use these.
It's time to eat again. The most wonderful junk food on the planet appears on Arthur Court or sterling silver trays. Everything from dips and spreads to shrimp to gumbo to jambalya to hamburgers and hot dogs.
Food and drink, food and drink; it's the New Orleans mantra.
(Time for more coffee. More later......)
Monday, February 07, 2005
Transfiguration Sunday Follow-up
I don't know how my sermon on the Transfiguration went on Sunday. The texts from Exodus and Matthew are rich with detail and drama but preaching on the mystery of the Transfiguration is not easy. Mystery is mystery. To "dumb down" mystery by attempting to explain it with illustrations is very tricky and I attempt to avoid silly illustrations of profound ideas. I did receive comments from my congregation but they were the pleasant and useless "nice sermon" type.
What I wouldn't give for really helpful comments!
"Preacher, you speak so fast I couldn't follow you" or "I've been thinking about what you said and I wonder if I could talk about ____ with you?" Or, "When you wave your arms like that it makes me think of a short gorilla..."
Well, not that last one. I am active in the pulpit but do try to keep from going goofy. I keep my shoes on which is a temptation each week to take them off and pad around in pantyhose feet.
We gathered for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper after the sermon then had our annual congregational meeting following worship. The meeting went well then the best thing happened! Two of our long attending but not joining members told one of the elders that they were ready to join the church. We are ready for them! They are regular attenders and givers, eager to take on jobs, know how to ask for help and are delighted to be in worship with us. Yahoo!
For a small church, two new members is a great thing. There are many great things about the small church. I'm learning this much to my surprise and pleasure.
How's it with you?
What I wouldn't give for really helpful comments!
"Preacher, you speak so fast I couldn't follow you" or "I've been thinking about what you said and I wonder if I could talk about ____ with you?" Or, "When you wave your arms like that it makes me think of a short gorilla..."
Well, not that last one. I am active in the pulpit but do try to keep from going goofy. I keep my shoes on which is a temptation each week to take them off and pad around in pantyhose feet.
We gathered for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper after the sermon then had our annual congregational meeting following worship. The meeting went well then the best thing happened! Two of our long attending but not joining members told one of the elders that they were ready to join the church. We are ready for them! They are regular attenders and givers, eager to take on jobs, know how to ask for help and are delighted to be in worship with us. Yahoo!
For a small church, two new members is a great thing. There are many great things about the small church. I'm learning this much to my surprise and pleasure.
How's it with you?
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Things I Like
I like:
drinking the first cup of coffee in the morning in a quiet house
looking at the pine trees in the ambient light when the trees look like Japanese ink drawings
looking at the faces of my husband and children
traveling to places in my mind's eye
having a sleeping cat on my lap
looking at faces while people are talking with me
taking an afternoon nap if only for 30 minutes
reading favorite authors
digging in the earth, planting, pruning
finding a sterling something and paying almost nothing
reading the stories of Jesus
reading the Psalms when I feel sad or wounded
listening to audio books while I drive
making things out of other things
praying alone or with others
watching the squirrels and birds at the feeder
hearing my children laugh
hearing my husband purr in his sleep
a hot shower
a cold glass of iced tea
remembering my grandparents
looking at old homes and buildings
getting a new Vanity Fair magazine so I can read about people I've never heard of
wearing bracelets
smelling salt air
seeing birds in flight
listening to good sermons
thinking about those I love
What about you? What do you like?
drinking the first cup of coffee in the morning in a quiet house
looking at the pine trees in the ambient light when the trees look like Japanese ink drawings
looking at the faces of my husband and children
traveling to places in my mind's eye
having a sleeping cat on my lap
looking at faces while people are talking with me
taking an afternoon nap if only for 30 minutes
reading favorite authors
digging in the earth, planting, pruning
finding a sterling something and paying almost nothing
reading the stories of Jesus
reading the Psalms when I feel sad or wounded
listening to audio books while I drive
making things out of other things
praying alone or with others
watching the squirrels and birds at the feeder
hearing my children laugh
hearing my husband purr in his sleep
a hot shower
a cold glass of iced tea
remembering my grandparents
looking at old homes and buildings
getting a new Vanity Fair magazine so I can read about people I've never heard of
wearing bracelets
smelling salt air
seeing birds in flight
listening to good sermons
thinking about those I love
What about you? What do you like?
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Thinking about the Transfiguration
The Old Testament text and the NT text for tomorrow are both stories of theophanies (an appearance of God to a human; divine manifestation). Sunday, February 6 is Transfiguration Sunday in many churches, mine included. A friend at the clergy dinner last night asked me if I was preaching the Gospel lection for Sunday and I replied, "Yes, I love talking about the transfiguration to contemporary people". It is just the oddest thing.
Our world does not include visitations from the Almighty nor do we see holy people wreathed in "glory" as were Moses and Jesus when we go to Walmart or the golf course. We are bereft of mystery in our time. Our hunger for the Mystery doesn't disappear no matter the Age so this desire manifests itself in New Age yearnings and even worse, the wiccan search to control and inhale nature.
All my commentaries, when attempting to make these passages (Exodus 24:12-18 and Matthew 17:1-9) relevant to today's believers develop schemas such as the importance of the wait (Moses was uppada Sinai for seven days), the importance of witnesses to the event (Joshua went with Moses to the Mountain; Jesus took Peter, James and John with him); and the transforming experience of coming very, very close to God.
It's late Saturday afternoon as I write this. I am not satisfied with my sermon for tomorrow on these two texts. Nothing I've written in the sermon seems to make real this experience of Moses, Jesus et.al. It may not be my task as a preacher to make these stories real but as I believe they are included in the text for their value in explaining God, I keep searching. It is the nature of mystery that it cannot be explained but I am hoping to give a glimpse with my words tomorrow.
These passages are familar to me. I've preached on these texts at least six different times, done the exegesis on each in preparation for grading ordination exams as a Reader for the denomination several years ago and pondered the stories in devotional reading through the years. Still, I wonder if I have anything to say about them to my people tomorrow.
My experiences of theophany have been in the oddest of situations: in dreams which leave me comforted but uneasy that I am mis-interpreting my hormonal influences to "see" God; in a "vision" after a miscarriage which I cannot explain to this day; and in seeing people reconcile when I never imagined such a thing. I don't think I've had experience with theophany. Maybe in hindsight or out of the corner of my eye when I saw the Holy for a second.
Whatever happens, I WILL be in the pulpit leading worship tomorrow at 11am. God be with me to understand God's word by then.
God be with you and yours.
Our world does not include visitations from the Almighty nor do we see holy people wreathed in "glory" as were Moses and Jesus when we go to Walmart or the golf course. We are bereft of mystery in our time. Our hunger for the Mystery doesn't disappear no matter the Age so this desire manifests itself in New Age yearnings and even worse, the wiccan search to control and inhale nature.
All my commentaries, when attempting to make these passages (Exodus 24:12-18 and Matthew 17:1-9) relevant to today's believers develop schemas such as the importance of the wait (Moses was uppada Sinai for seven days), the importance of witnesses to the event (Joshua went with Moses to the Mountain; Jesus took Peter, James and John with him); and the transforming experience of coming very, very close to God.
It's late Saturday afternoon as I write this. I am not satisfied with my sermon for tomorrow on these two texts. Nothing I've written in the sermon seems to make real this experience of Moses, Jesus et.al. It may not be my task as a preacher to make these stories real but as I believe they are included in the text for their value in explaining God, I keep searching. It is the nature of mystery that it cannot be explained but I am hoping to give a glimpse with my words tomorrow.
These passages are familar to me. I've preached on these texts at least six different times, done the exegesis on each in preparation for grading ordination exams as a Reader for the denomination several years ago and pondered the stories in devotional reading through the years. Still, I wonder if I have anything to say about them to my people tomorrow.
My experiences of theophany have been in the oddest of situations: in dreams which leave me comforted but uneasy that I am mis-interpreting my hormonal influences to "see" God; in a "vision" after a miscarriage which I cannot explain to this day; and in seeing people reconcile when I never imagined such a thing. I don't think I've had experience with theophany. Maybe in hindsight or out of the corner of my eye when I saw the Holy for a second.
Whatever happens, I WILL be in the pulpit leading worship tomorrow at 11am. God be with me to understand God's word by then.
God be with you and yours.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Variety of Interests
I am fascinated with people's interests. I'm amazed by the variety of things which make people happy. I get a thrill by finding a good piece of jewelry for almost nothing at a garage sale or charity shop. I love pruning azaleas and hand-weeding flower beds. I polish silver for relaxation. I love reading history, theology and murder mysteries. So many interests, so little time.
I'm reading a thread of an online evangelical group I joined a year or so ago. I seldom respond to the issues because the first time I responded I got whip-lash from the hostile response. This group enjoys bad mouthing my denomination although all are a part of the same Church. They agree with one another on how crappy everything is going but don't ever comment on the need to renew their own commitment. Well, once or twice renewal was mentioned but they meant for someone else to renew, not them.
Great quantities of passion are being spewed on the latest round of upset with the group. The subject is the Lord's Supper with subtext of how the Roman Catholics are apostate about the Mass. Ok, ok. Protestants do this kind of thing every now and then. I keep thinking we are over it but it heaves up. The wild thing about all the passion is that many of the correspondents in this group have NO CLUE about the Reformed understanding of the sacraments so additional voices have to chime in to give them clues.
Then the group began discussing throwing out all of our confessional documents because the documents are old. Oh puleeze! I value these documents because of the historicity, clear theology and usefulness in worship and teaching. I've read and re-read the catechisms, creeds and statements of faith religiously through the years. One member did comment that perhaps the group had not read the confessional documents. No one agreed with this. Let's just throw the entire history out because it may be tainted by liberals.
Just when I was getting ill with the group (not the first time for stupid overload and POD -pious and overly devotional) the new thread began when one of the members left the blog address for his poetry.
His blog announces that he is intimate with God and further, God gives him this poetry. First, if this is God's poetry then God needs to return to Freshman high school creative writing and listen to the teacher. Second, it is appalling for an elder of the church to not understand that our knowledge of God comes from the Bible first and foremost. God doesn't select us for a chat fest that we are to put into a blog as God's own. A group member responded with a succinct 'shut up' to the blogger which pleased me no end but did make me wonder if we'd have fireworks. Heck no! The group is so insulated that they just heh-heh-ed and moved on.
What if a 'liberal' commented? The entire group would have risen up to blast the liberal.
Excuse me, but doesn't it make more sense to listen and ponder differing views? Is orthodoxy only one type of voice?
Passion for purity I understand. Passion for engagement with others I admire. Passion for sameness I do not like.
What's your thinking on this?
I'm reading a thread of an online evangelical group I joined a year or so ago. I seldom respond to the issues because the first time I responded I got whip-lash from the hostile response. This group enjoys bad mouthing my denomination although all are a part of the same Church. They agree with one another on how crappy everything is going but don't ever comment on the need to renew their own commitment. Well, once or twice renewal was mentioned but they meant for someone else to renew, not them.
Great quantities of passion are being spewed on the latest round of upset with the group. The subject is the Lord's Supper with subtext of how the Roman Catholics are apostate about the Mass. Ok, ok. Protestants do this kind of thing every now and then. I keep thinking we are over it but it heaves up. The wild thing about all the passion is that many of the correspondents in this group have NO CLUE about the Reformed understanding of the sacraments so additional voices have to chime in to give them clues.
Then the group began discussing throwing out all of our confessional documents because the documents are old. Oh puleeze! I value these documents because of the historicity, clear theology and usefulness in worship and teaching. I've read and re-read the catechisms, creeds and statements of faith religiously through the years. One member did comment that perhaps the group had not read the confessional documents. No one agreed with this. Let's just throw the entire history out because it may be tainted by liberals.
Just when I was getting ill with the group (not the first time for stupid overload and POD -pious and overly devotional) the new thread began when one of the members left the blog address for his poetry.
His blog announces that he is intimate with God and further, God gives him this poetry. First, if this is God's poetry then God needs to return to Freshman high school creative writing and listen to the teacher. Second, it is appalling for an elder of the church to not understand that our knowledge of God comes from the Bible first and foremost. God doesn't select us for a chat fest that we are to put into a blog as God's own. A group member responded with a succinct 'shut up' to the blogger which pleased me no end but did make me wonder if we'd have fireworks. Heck no! The group is so insulated that they just heh-heh-ed and moved on.
What if a 'liberal' commented? The entire group would have risen up to blast the liberal.
Excuse me, but doesn't it make more sense to listen and ponder differing views? Is orthodoxy only one type of voice?
Passion for purity I understand. Passion for engagement with others I admire. Passion for sameness I do not like.
What's your thinking on this?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Gray Grey Day
"Gray" is a variant of "grey" and may be used interchangeably. Today is gray. Yesterday was grey. What's a gal to do? I can dress in bright colors, wear more jewelry and use a red lipstick but the weather remains dreadfully lifeless.
Menu for A Grey At-Home Day:
1 can Tomato soup. Make with lowfat milk, not water. You need that extra calcium.
2 tbs. crunchy peanut butter stirred in
Heat and enjoy.
2 slices of bread. Homemade is best.
Real butter which contains an amino acid not found in fake butter, enough to grill bread in pan on stove.
Several slices of American cheddar cheese. Not American cheese, not velveeta and not no-fat cheese
Place cheese in bread. Place bread in pan to be grilled on stovetop. You may toast this concoction but I can't decision for you.
When cheese is melted, eat.
This lunch will make you feel cheery and able to cope.
P.S. Thank you for reading this post even if it has sunk to the bottom of my page. What's that about? I re-published the blog but the sinking remains.
Menu for A Grey At-Home Day:
1 can Tomato soup. Make with lowfat milk, not water. You need that extra calcium.
2 tbs. crunchy peanut butter stirred in
Heat and enjoy.
2 slices of bread. Homemade is best.
Real butter which contains an amino acid not found in fake butter, enough to grill bread in pan on stove.
Several slices of American cheddar cheese. Not American cheese, not velveeta and not no-fat cheese
Place cheese in bread. Place bread in pan to be grilled on stovetop. You may toast this concoction but I can't decision for you.
When cheese is melted, eat.
This lunch will make you feel cheery and able to cope.
P.S. Thank you for reading this post even if it has sunk to the bottom of my page. What's that about? I re-published the blog but the sinking remains.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
St. Casserole Explains Distaste for Live Theater
I'm not fond of live theater. I don't like local plays or Broadway plays. This quirk upsets my friends who think live theater is great and makes them wonder if I have any sense at all.
I don't like live productions because I feel that I must respond to what's happening on stage. I don't enjoy watching live actors "pretend" to be someone else. When I realized why I don't like live theater, I thought it was because I don't like false behavior/words. Then I realized my dislike comes from feeling I must respond to what is happening on stage. Live actors are emoting and behaving so the audience must respond. I don't want to respond to false speech and behavior. I know I am quirky.
I watch TV and films without this problem as the actors cannot see me or feel my interest (or lack of interest). I don't hurt actors feelings when I ignore them or find them false.
I go to Manhattan each Fall for my Annual pilgrimage to the Shopping Mecca. This trip involves a Broadway show or two most years. Every year I hope to enjoy theater but it doesn't happen. Checking out a museum or talking with people interests me while sitting in a theater seat watching people pretend to be someone else doesn't interest me.
I know theater is important as entertainment, a safe way to explore emotions, a way of expressing political ideas etc. but I don't enjoy it.
Local theater drives me nuts so if you are local actor, please don't expect me to attend your production even though I think the world of you offstage. Even children's programs upset my nerves but I have to watch those to support my children who are learning to speak before an audience and participate in a group exercise.
Maybe preaching is the source of my problem. When I'm preaching, I can see you and read you through your facial expression, body position and my intuition. I know if you are listening to the sermon or making your grocery list. I'm not acting or being false. I'm doing my darndest to tell you the truth in a way I think you may be able to hear the truth. I expect some response from my listeners. Therefore, when I sit in a theater seat, I expect myself to give a response to the actors. I don't want to respond. You aren't being yourself. You aren't saying your own words.
Are you following me or have I moved up on your list of Quirkiest People You've Ever Heard Of?
Comments?
I don't like live productions because I feel that I must respond to what's happening on stage. I don't enjoy watching live actors "pretend" to be someone else. When I realized why I don't like live theater, I thought it was because I don't like false behavior/words. Then I realized my dislike comes from feeling I must respond to what is happening on stage. Live actors are emoting and behaving so the audience must respond. I don't want to respond to false speech and behavior. I know I am quirky.
I watch TV and films without this problem as the actors cannot see me or feel my interest (or lack of interest). I don't hurt actors feelings when I ignore them or find them false.
I go to Manhattan each Fall for my Annual pilgrimage to the Shopping Mecca. This trip involves a Broadway show or two most years. Every year I hope to enjoy theater but it doesn't happen. Checking out a museum or talking with people interests me while sitting in a theater seat watching people pretend to be someone else doesn't interest me.
I know theater is important as entertainment, a safe way to explore emotions, a way of expressing political ideas etc. but I don't enjoy it.
Local theater drives me nuts so if you are local actor, please don't expect me to attend your production even though I think the world of you offstage. Even children's programs upset my nerves but I have to watch those to support my children who are learning to speak before an audience and participate in a group exercise.
Maybe preaching is the source of my problem. When I'm preaching, I can see you and read you through your facial expression, body position and my intuition. I know if you are listening to the sermon or making your grocery list. I'm not acting or being false. I'm doing my darndest to tell you the truth in a way I think you may be able to hear the truth. I expect some response from my listeners. Therefore, when I sit in a theater seat, I expect myself to give a response to the actors. I don't want to respond. You aren't being yourself. You aren't saying your own words.
Are you following me or have I moved up on your list of Quirkiest People You've Ever Heard Of?
Comments?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)