The Kingdom of God in Bojangles Coliseum

About a minute-and-a-half after the athletes started coming in, I wanted to knock Ethan out…He’s our Minister of Youth & Families.

He was standing right beside me, and his constant “whoop-whooping” poured down on me from his 6’2” height and echoed throughout the entirety of the Bojangles Coliseum.

 

A bunch of us from the church went to support Ben – St. Luke’s own  Special Olympian (check out www.especiallyben.com ).

 

Anyhow, Ethan’s excitement and enthusiasm were, quite honestly, more than a little annoying – at least at first.

I’m fairly certain that every person there could hear him…which, of course, was the point.

 

He made sure that every Special Olympian processing during the Opening Ceremony on Tuesday knew that they were supported, respected, seen, and cheered for. And before long everyone around, including me, took up his cause – whooping and whistling and shouting and waving for every single athlete (all 1,200 + of them) – like a bunch of crazy, star-struck fans just hoping that one of the athletes might look our way!

 

At one point, I realized that I was laughing out-loud at the same time that tears were rolling down my cheeks…

And I know this sounds a little “hallmark-ish,” but I was experiencing (if that’s the right word), or sitting in the middle of, or being overwhelmed by irresistible and inexplicable joy (truly, truly inexplicable – so, please forgive this feeble attempt at making it explicable)!

 

There, right before my eyes, the Kingdom of God took shape in Bojangles Coliseum.

There, the world was turned upside down.

There, the ones society calls the least and last, were now the first - the heroes and stars and champions.

And we just wanted to be part of it! The love and joy and excitement were palpable.

 

There was not the slightest hint of misplaced sympathy or condescension in the air – not one utterance of  “that poor child,” not a single insinuation of pity.

 

There was just Ethan (who recognized the Kingdom faster than I did) jumping up and down, waiving furiously, whooping until we all could not keep from joining in – celebrating the love and the joy and the inclusion of us all together in the presence of the Kingdom.

 

I Didn't Think Anyone Was Paying Attention...I Was Wrong

I didn’t think anybody was paying attention (You have to hear that with the “pitiful,” “woe is me” tone with which I felt it.).

I was wrong.

 

My secretary (okay – let’s be honest…my “brains”) is over-run with allergies, which are threatening to become bronchitis.

Her name is Sandra, and I can’t afford to be without her…So, on Monday when she started “hacking,” about 5 minutes AFTER she was supposed to go home, I hollered:

“Isn’t it time for you to get out of here…in a loving Christian way?” (I figure, if I end comments or questions with “In a loving Christian  way” then I get a “bye.” Kind of like when southern folks say “God love her,” or “Bless her heart,” as a license to make – hmm….how to say it…”pointed” comments).

She responded by saying:

“Yes it is.

By the way…Isn’t it time for you to get something to eat...in a loving Christian way?”

I just smiled and laughed.

And then I said, “Yes it is. Thank you.”

 

Most days, she is the one who keeps me sane.

She feeds me information on who is where and needs what.

She reminds me what I can and cannot do for people…helps me stay strong in my resolve to say “no” when that is the faithful thing to do, and is a constant resource to help me figure out how to make the “yesses” actually come to pass (I’ve needed her to bail me out on that, more than once).

She takes things “off my plate” when my pile is too high.

And she makes sure that I eat, as she feeds me a steady diet of love, accountability, God-talk (she is better at this than I am), grace, coffee and the occasional “something” that she just baked at home and thought we – in the office – might like.

She puts warmed up left-over-from-the-youth-group pizza in front of me and makes sure that I know when the soup is ready for the “Soup and Study” group – and tells me: “You’d better get in there and get some before it’s all gone!”…And she’s not even Lutheran!!!

 

Without meaning to (or maybe she is aware of it), she reminds me that I among the sheep that Jesus shepherds…That I need to be fed…That I am one of those he calls to who is “Weary and carrying heavy burdens” (Matthew 11.28). That I need to go and hide sometimes in a deserted place without feeling guilty or like I am not doing my job or being productive.

 

As we head toward Good Friday and the cross next week – may we ALL die to the illusion that we are any better than Jesus (who went away to pray or just be alone well over a dozen times in his ministry – and those are just the ones that are recorded!). And having died to that illusion, may we allow ourselves to sit in the silence and soak in the presence of the One who sits with us in the tomb of our “deaths.” May we allow ourselves to be fed (left-over pizza or communion bread) by those who are being Christ to us and who are paying attention, even when we feel like no one “sees” our tired-ness.

And may we all know that none of us has to accomplish everything by ourselves…

May we all know that we are loved and precious and sheep of the shepherd. And may we all be blessed with a Sandra (who is feeling much better, Thanks be to God!).

It's All About Attitude

A couple Saturdays ago, our daughter, Lucy (Lou), had her first audition for a play!

It was for the Jungalbook (the stage adaptation of Jungle Book). I wasn’t allowed into the actual audition. But, when the director came out afterward, she said, “Oh my word! She is soooo creative!”

I said, “I know, right?!”

She said, “I definitely want her in this play!”

I said (in my most nonchalant voice), “Cool.”

 

When Lou got a call-back for the part of Mowgli, she just about lost her mind!

 

And while I did do the good mother thing of helping her understand what a privilege it is just to be part of the play, regardless of what role she might get, in my mind I thought…HOLY COW my child is going to get the starring role in her very first play!!!

 

The next morning, she decided to take her “script” with her to church. “No offense, Mom – but I don’t actually pay a lot of attention in church…I can practice my lines.”

 

Cliff took her to the call-back because I had Confirmation that day.

I got the blow-by-blow when I got home.

She and a couple others read for Mowgli (in my mind – again – I thought, “Others?!?!? Why in Sweet Betty’s name should any other child read for my child’s role?!?!”).

 

The cast list was promised to be emailed by 7:00 that evening.

 

Needless to say, 7:00 came and went.

So did 8:00 (at which point, Lucy was in bed).

And 9:00.

Around 10:00 my email “ding-ed”…It was the cast list.

 

There it was right, first name on the list, written right beside the character name MOWGLI…SOME OTHER CHILD’S NAME!!!!

 

I couldn’t believe it!!!

I was heartbroken.

I kept looking down further and further on the cast list.

Surely they wouldn’t send this to me if my child didn’t make the play at all!

 

Finally under “snake,” there is her name – one of FOUR parts of the snake!

Then, there is her name again – under “vulture.”

And then a third time – under “monkey.”

 

The next morning, Lucy sat up in bed, and the first thing out of her mouth: “Mom did you get the email?”

Oh…how to break it to her?

I’d been worrying about it all night.

I took a breath.

Sat down beside her on the bed.

Pulled her up to sit on my lap.

And just came out with it: “Lucy, you are part of the snake, a vulture, and a monkey.”

Immediately, she leapt down from the bed, spun and jumped and squealed…

”NO WAY!!!! I get to do THREE costume changes!!!!”

“Let me see…let me see…let me see!

Oh Mom…Look! There’s my name! THREE TIMES!”

“And look, Faith got the part of Mowgli. I’m so happy for her. She did such a GREAT job!”

 

There are about a dozen kids in the play.

Lucy has already started designing a sock doll (her current crafting specialty) for every person in the cast – a doll that looks like whatever role they are playing.

I guess there are some kids who will get three different dolls.

 

So, please don’t throw away your old socks…Send them to us.

 

If it’s all about attitude (and I suspect it is), then I have a lot to learn from my daughter.

“If one member is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Cor. 12.26b).

 

Learning to Be a Patient Pastor

Whenever someone shares an observation about the struggles or whatever in their congregation, I always tend to think: “Well, maybe the people in your congregation feel that way…but not the ones in mine.”

I can be sooo obnoxious like that (My sister, Leslie, if she is reading this, has just ejected milk – or water, or whatever she is drinking – out of her nose!)!

 

This past Sunday’s gospel lesson was Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes (Matt. 5.1-12). In the sermon, I spent some time talking about blessings (shameless plug…you can always listen to the sermons at stlukeselca.org). Then I tried something I had never done – I took the time to stand in the center aisle and just kind of turn from one area to another and look at people and say “You are blessed.” I just said it over and over and over. Slowly and deliberately. I don’t know how many times – but I looked people in the eye and just said those three words. And I pretty much ended the sermon that way.

I really didn’t think all that much about it – and wouldn’t have done it, if I hadn’t read one commentator (David Lose) who said that people have no idea that they are blessed…and he “challenged” preachers to do it...to tell them. I thought: “Maybe people in your congregation don’t know they are blessed…but mine know.” Then, just to prove my point, I did it.

 

My business administrator (who is an active member of the church and was in church on Sunday) came into my office on Monday and said: “We need to change the sign out front to say: You Are Blessed.” I said, “Really, Pete?” He said, “Yes, that was great.” He started to walk out of my office, turned and said, “Thank you.”

 

There is so much I take for granted…So much I assume people already “get.”

 

I think I need to back up. Not make so many assumptions.

 

My preaching professor is constantly saying (present tense…he STILL says it when we have lunch together), “People need a clear and unapologetic proclamation of God’s love (and blessing) for them…NO MATTER WHAT!” I smile and nod and say, “I do that.” Apparently, I do not do it enough. I assume people already know those things…So, let’s move on.

But, here’s the thing…They don’t know them…Maybe you don’t, either.

So, I’m going to work harder at telling you. And you can tell me.

 

The late Henry Nouwen, in his book Letters to Marc About Jesus, says: “The most important thing you can say about God’s love is that God loves us not because of anything we’ve done to earn that love, but because God, in total freedom, has decided to love us. At first sight, this doesn’t seem to be very inspiring; but if you reflect on it more deeply this thought can affect and influence your life greatly. We’re inclined to see our whole existence in terms of quid pro quo…I think it’s this mentality that lies behind a lot of anxiety, unrest, and agitation (italics mine). It’s as though we’re forever on the go trying to prove to each other that we deserve to be loved. The doubt we harbor within us drives us on to ever-greater activity…in order to not drown in our ever-increasing lack of self-respect. The enormous propensity to seek recognition, admiration, popularity, and renown is rooted in the fear that without all this we are worthless…If we had a firm faith in God’s unconditional love for us, it would no longer be necessary to be always on the lookout for ways and means of being admired by people; and we would need, even less, to obtain from people by force what God desires to give us freely and so abundantly.”

 

On the white board in my office I have these words (I think they are from Eugene Peterson – not sure): “Be a patient pastor.”

I need to work on that, too.

 

My problem is, I see so many people working so hard to be loved…spending so much energy trying to appear cool or whatever (more adults than kids!)…and I just want to say, “Get over it!” “You are loved, already!!!” “Stop working so hard!”

I am not patient.

I see so many other things we could be spending our energy on (for example: This coming Sunday’s Old Testament reading is from Isaiah 58. Verse 9b says – my paraphrase – “Stop pointing fingers at one another, and saying mean things, so that you feel better about yourself…There are hungry people to be fed and afflicted people to be cared for!”), it is easy for me to forget, that we need to spend energy on ourselves first.

 

I guess that is what Jesus was getting at when he said, ”As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love” (John 15:9).

I wish “abiding” looked more productive…And I wish God worked on my timetable!

The Body of Christ in Our Basement

I don’t think we are completely crazy! But, maybe.

 

We are in the midst of a Great Experiment!

 

This Wednesday we will – for the third week – host midweek worship at our house.

 

I keep thinking that it will get “smoother,” or that we’ll get the hang of it. But, I’m beginning to think that this is just the way it is going to be...chaotic, noisy, crowded, up close.

 

We used to meet at the church, in the Fellowship Hall. It was a cavernous setting for what, in reality, is more of a small group. So, in complete selfishness, we moved to our house; where we don’t have to pack up the kids, after school and homework, and rush from home to church and back home by bedtime (if we’re all going to participate…Otherwise, Cliff and the kids stay home and don’t participate, which is no fun!).

 

Cliff makes a couple pots of soup and some grilled cheese.

We mop the floor downstairs (Okay – for purposes of full-disclosure, Cliff is the one who mops it!)…He waits to do this until Wed. afternoon because, inevitably, sometime during the week, one of our dogs has pee-ed down there…And they are Saint Bernards…The result is nothing short of a lake. And the best we can do the rest of the week, is to pile some towels on the wetness. Not particularly hospitable! So, Cliff mops while the soup cooks.

 

The first week, we met in our living room (big, cushy furniture, nice coffee table – perfect spot to set up communion). At 22 people, we were too many. And the stairs to the entry made it difficult for some folks to make it in, easily.

 

So, last week, we moved to the bottom floor (where the basement would be, if we had one)…bought some pea gravel to re-mark the walkway from the drive that enters on that level (no stairs to negotiate), and flood lights to light the way. Moved the empty bags of dog food from the patio area, so no one tripped on the way in. Scrubbed the dog drool off of the glass doors.  Got some folding chairs from the church. Set up the space heater (it can be a little cool downstairs). Moved some pillows to the fireplace hearth for more seating. Cleaned off Lucy’s craft table, so we could put some food there. And cleared off the Lego table – new communion set-up spot.

We tell folks that food will be ready at 5:45. When the first person showed up at 5:00 (while Cliff was outside blowing off the driveway and I was chiseling the drool from the door), we asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a walk around the neighborhood for a few minutes. When the second person showed up 10 minutes later, we just gave up and had them help set up.

 

This week, we’ll have to move the Lego table out of the way to create more space (which means that the communion will be set up on a TV tray…I’m sure there’s a sermon in there, somewhere).

 

In the middle of the crazy-ness last week, I just laughed out loud and said, “What a beautiful gathering of the Body we have here!”

A retired bank executive; a man who lives in a homeless shelter; another who takes the bus to get to our home; two high school students, their single mother and her father and step-mother; a woman who has been a member of the church for 70 years; a retired pastor and his wife; a young African American woman; a former Baptist (or two); a Vietnam Veteran; our kids – who make intermittent appearances throughout the evening; and about 10 others. Not a lot. And while there are a couple of “regulars” (who used to come when we met at the church) who seem to have dropped out, we have added several who never came to the church for the midweek service.

So, for this season at least (during Lent we will move back to church…after that, who knows?), it a Great and Glorious Experiment in and Experience of hospitality (and a study of worship in the early church).

 

We are looking together at  Acts 2.42: “They (those brave folks who gathered together to learn how to do this “Christian-life-in-the-world” thing) devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

 

We straggle in, find a place to sit, get some soup, a sandwich, some sweet tea or water. Whoever happens to be up, gets re-fills. We talk and laugh and ask after each other’s health, and at about 6:15, Linda (who eats her soup from the piano bench) starts the music. Last week, we started with “I’ll Fly Away.” Cliff heard the music, hurried downstairs (he was upstairs in the kitchen, flipping some more grilled cheese sandwiches), grabbed his guitar, took up his position beside Ethan (who also brings his guitar to play), Linda hollers out “We’re in the key of G,” and off we go.

 

When we put the kids to bed later, they are still humming: “I’ll fly away, Oh Glory.”

 

 

Seeking Signs of Life

"What are you looking for?"

That's the question Jesus asks the two disciples who are following him (John 1.38). It is, in my opinion, one of the most provocative questions a person can ask, or be asked.

What are you looking for?

I'm not sure that any of us can answer that...not for ourselves, and certainly not for anybody else.

What are you looking for?

Love? In all the wrong places?

Answers?

Meaning? 

Significance?

Purpose?

Confidence?

Forgiveness?

For me...right now, at this moment (tomorrow, I may answer differently), I am looking for signs of life. 

I know, right? Such a little thing!

It seems like it has just been building...

It all started about 2 years ago, December 29 (my husband's birthday!) when our dog, Tendai died. We were visiting my in-laws, in Charleston, when it happened (which ended up being a great blessing, as they could keep the kids while we were at the vet's). We had to have him put to sleep. Telling the kids was so hard. Lucy wailed. Henry wept.

Before too long, not only did we have another dog, we also had the first of four new furry friends...all in the form of hamsters. We only had one at a time. That's right...if we've only had one at a time, that means that we have "gone through" three. Over the course of two years, we have managed to let three hamsters die (I prefer to say we "let them die." To say that we killed them sounds even worse!). They survived anywhere from 2 weeks to 308 days (Lucy, our daughter, has kept track). The fourth, and the one who is still living, is named "Hope," for obvious reasons. 

The summer after Tendai died, my mother was diagnosed with Stage IV adenocarcinoma. 

In the middle of cancer diagnoses and dying hamsters, one of whom we are fairly certain died as a result of a brain trauma suffered after Cliff, my husband, "flung" him off of his finger into the bottom of the cage (to be fair, the hamster had bitten Cliff), we got our son, Henry, a bearded dragon, because we were not going to have another furry friend in the house. Henry's bearded dragon is named Mr. Fluffypants! 

When we acquired Mr. Fluffypants, our friend, Beth, suggested that we try "growing" our own meal worms (bearded dragons love meal worms). One of her kids' teachers "grows" them in the classroom. How hard can it be? asked the family who has seen the demise of three hamsters (amazing that Petsmart keeps selling them to us!). We set up a terrarium, and her son's teacher supplied all we would need. Who knew we weren't supposed to feed the beetles to Mr. Fluffypants? He enjoyed them. Within two weeks, there was no sign of life in the terrarium.

Somewhere, in the middle of all of this, my mother has a scan that reveals, what the oncologist calls, an "angry tumor" on her thigh...it's causing a lot of pain. Probably some kind of sarcoma (that's not good). She is treated with radiation...miraculous results. No pain...apparently "dead" tumor.

Back to the mealworms...Since we seem to have fed the "life-source" beetles to the lizard, we put about a half-dozen "store bought" meal worms in the terrarium and didn't touch them, hoped, and prayed. 

Before too long, I could see that three of the store-bought meal worms seemed lifeless...fat...unmoving...stuck in a corner. "You have got to be kidding me! Why cant we keep anything alive?!" 

Back to my mother.

Six weeks ago, my mom had another "scan." It showed a new "growth" in her lung (the one that was - before then - tumor-free). "Are you serious?!" This among the dying mealworms!

"Let's not panic," said her oncologist, whom we adore (Kathryn Mileham). "We'll do another scan in 6 weeks...keep a close eye on it." 

I go home and look in the terrarium...I should really get those three lifeless mealworms out of the there...bad mojo, you know? But who wants to dig them out? Not me.

Mom has her "follow up" scan this past Thurs. 

The cancer seems to have "taken off." Most likely, the "angry tumor" come back to life.

She is in the hospital for two days. At the end of each, tired and weary, I go home and look at the dying mealworms. Even fatter...turning brown, at this point. Little "nubs" protruding out of their sides.

I look closer...they are "resurrecting"...they are becoming beetles...life-sources. They are brown and moving and the "nubs" are becoming legs. We will not feed them to Mr. Fluffypants. They will "birth" mealworms. 

"What are you looking for?" Jesus asks. I am looking for signs of life.

Who knew such simple things as mealworms could remind me that "life wins!"?

May your eyes be quicker to see signs of life than mine have been...And may all of us be quick to point out signs of life to our sisters and brothers who feel bombarded by death.

Sent from my iPad

Someone Cue the Baritone

I am not preaching this Sunday – The choir is offering Vivaldi’s Gloria, and we are building the rest of worship around that.

I am singing with them, but have only rehearsed with them in bits and pieces…And I haven’t even heard all of the pieces yet.

So, I was surprised, and quite honestly disappointed, when I saw the bulletin yesterday and noticed that our cantor does not have a solo (actually, there are no male solos in the Gloria. You probably already knew that. I didn’t.).

Jan (boy-Jan), our cantor, is an incredible musician…a very accomplished pianist and organist and an outstanding choir director. He also happens to have been the Baritone soloist for Opera Carolina as well as for the Charlotte Oratorio singers for a period of time. And, oh my word, I cannot describe how it is to hear him sing. In fact, I am holding my breath for the next couple weeks, until he sings “Some Children See Him” for the children’s Christmas Eve Service.

Anyhow – so I was quite disappointed when I realized that he wasn’t/isn’t singing a solo on Sunday…BUT I will get to hear him on Saturday. He will sing the Lord’s Prayer (Malotte’s version) at a wedding for which I am presiding and he is music-ing. When he gets to “…for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glo-ry…for-ever” someone will just have to pick me up off of the floor; because it is usually at that point (in whatever service I am blessed to hear him), that I come face to face with the reality that I haven’t been worshiping very well, at all – and have got all caught up in the choreography and “what not” of making the service “work.” But, when he sings – I have not one thing to do but listen. And, listening, my ears that had been “stopped” by the busy-ness of “running” the service, suddenly are un-stopped and I can hear. And oh my word, what a blessing as waves of beauty and comfort and peace wash over me.

 

Like I said, I am not preaching on Sunday – so, I haven’t done a lot of studying on the Isaiah text for this week (Isaiah 35.1-10). But, it talks about a remarkable home-coming, where the people who had been in exile (and, let’s be honest – that is an easy one to preach to folks today, right? I mean, we all are experiencing, or have experienced exile from time to time…Periods of disconnection – real or imagined, and hopelessness, barrenness and futility, anger and fear, and desperation, and too much choreography…All those things that keep our eyes blind and ears stopped-up)…And here, Isaiah talks about how the exiled-ones now rejoice and parade home strengthened and full of shalom-peace; that is, not just the absence of violence, but the presence of fullness and plenty and beauty and gentleness and comfort for ALL (kind of a Mandela-esque vision of peace). The kind of shalom-peace-parade where we are confronted with the ways that we stop our own ears from hearing the music that surrounds us – and then almost celebrate the confrontation, as our ears are un-stopped (sometimes by a tragedy…and sometimes by something so overwhelmingly beautiful that we cannot ignore it any longer, like the baritone soloist – as it were singing - “for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever”) and we are washed in the beauty of the sounds and sights and shalom of those parading near us…Make sense?

 

An interesting thing – the wedding that Jan and I are music-ing and presiding for this weekend, is for a deaf couple. A first for me…But one of the most enjoyable pre-marital counseling journeys that I have ever had as a pastor…Truth is, they have so much helped me hear better…Their physically “stopped” ears have helped open my perfectly good ears (“perfectly good” according to the audiologist, anyhow).

 

May we each be blessed with those moments when we can stop worrying about the busy-ness of the choreography, those times that we have absolutely not one thing to do but listen (with our perfectly good ears, or with the ears of our hearts)…And listening, may we be washed in shalom-peace, our ears un-stopped and our eyes opened as we peace-parade our way, side by side, through the world.