"How Still We See Thee Lie?" A Christmas Eve Communion Meditation

I was in a state of sheer panic as I scrambled down the cobblestone streets in the marketplace in Bethlehem, petrified of getting left behind. My only recourse was to keep my eye on the bright yellow pants that our group leader was wearing, holding on to my personal effects for dear life. How I ever made it to the Church of the Nativity amidst the chaos, I'll never know!

But then something else caught my attention: the sight of the wall which separates Israel from Palestine marking the conflict between the two countries. The wall is covered with graffiti; very colorful graffiti, that is, in every sense of the word. As we entered Palestine, armed guards came onto the bus to check our passports before we could cross the border. "Americans," they said, and waved us through. One of our tour leaders, however, ran the risk of being left at the border because he didn't have the right papers. I didn't quite get it; I was on a pilgrimage to the place where Jesus was born. But where was that "how still we see thee lie?" place?

What about Mary and Joseph? They were under the rule of Emperor Augustus who had decreed that all the world should be registered, each in his or her own home town. Now there was major conflict between the Romans and the Jews. Mary and Joseph didn't have much choice but to comply, so they made the three-day pilgrimage from Nazareth to Bethlehem. They probably weren't the only ones on the road; something tells me that they could have been caught up in the sheer chaos of the throngs of people who were returning home for the census, being pushed and shoved along the way. It's not exactly the image that I have of a serene Mary perched on a donkey with Joseph walking at her side on that midnight clear.

I don't know about you, but I tend to think of the birth of Jesus in terms of the familiar Christmas carols that we love to sing and in the scriptures that we read. But it's easy to take those words at face value, especially as we hear the story year after year. I often get so caught up in the heavenly moment that I forget to pay attention to the earthly message that they bring to each one of us.

When I look at the figures in the manger scenes so beautifully displayed in our church and in our home, I forget that Mary and Joseph were real people, traveling to Bethlehem. I forget that the Virgin Mary ran the risk of being stoned to death just because she was the Virgin Mary, pregnant with an illegitimate child. But she gave birth to a real baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, not a silk blanket. He was laid in a feeding trough, not a warm cradle. But he was the one who would be called Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. Everlasting Father. Prince of Peace. Even the shepherds went with haste to this place to see the things that had been made known to them, for the angel of the Lord had appeared to them and the glory of the Lord had shown upon them.


We all made it to Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and even me, by the grace of God, that is. As we leave behind the chaos of our lives and go to the Bethlehem of our hearts, traveling mercies will abound, for the baby Jesus, tiny as he may be, awaits our presence at this holy table. In partaking of this sacred meal, we can be assured of the promise that God has made known to us in the birth of the Christ Child. Therefore, let us eat this bread and drink this cup, knowing that this meal will sustain us for the journey of discipleship. Let us join the shepherds and go with haste to greet the baby who is Christ the Lord. Oh and by the way, as we drove out of Bethlehem, I figured out what the "how still we see thee lie," part was all about, for I saw large letters painted on the wall that spelled out the words, "Peace on Earth." Indeed. Now I know what it's all about: the promise of hope. All glory be to God this Christmas night. Amen.
(Text: Luke 2:1-14)

Happy Holy Days!

As I approached the entrance to a store several days ago, I was reminded that the holiday season is here. When I noticed the ubiquitous red kettle and heard the tinkling bell, I realized that I only had a $20 bill in my wallet. "Way too much to put in the kettle," I thought. "I'll put a dollar in on my way out of the store when I get some change." And so I walked right past the bell ringer, my hands in my pockets, and wished him a Merry Christmas.

But thinking about that episode took me back to the time when I was on the other side of the red kettle. As part of a church mission project, I spent an afternoon ringing the bell for the Salvation Army. I stood out in the cold and watched people walk by without even looking at me as I called out "Merry Christmas." I watched them come out of the stores, bags filled with gift wrap and presents. But they walked right by me once again without stopping to put even so much as a coin in the kettle. "Where's Christ in this Christmas?" I asked myself. "Where's the holy in these holidays?

Ironically, it seems as though I had forgotten about that experience as I shopped a few days ago, because I paid for my purchases with a credit card and walked right out the other door to the store. I headed for my car without giving another thought to the bell ringer. Indeed. Guilty as charged. Where is Christ in Christmas? Where is the holy in these holidays?

A couple of days later, I found myself once again in the proximity of the ubiquitous red kettle, the bell ringer ringing away. But as I listened this time, I heard God calling me to the manger to bring a gift to the Christ child. So I not only opened my wallet, but also my heart as I pushed the wadded bill through the small hole. "Merry Christmas," the bell ringer called out. And happy holy days to you!

An Advent Reflection

I've been an exercise nut for many years. When I lived in Florida, I ran, biked, walked and swam practically nonstop. When I moved to Iowa, I enjoyed my constitutional with my dog Sadie every morning after breakfast, rain or shine, snow or ice. But since my foot surgery last winter, I will admit to babying myself more than I needed. I went for months without going to the Y, my swimsuit and sneakers stuffed away out of sight.

However, things have changed in the past few weeks. I was shamed back into the pool when I saw the lifeguard at a church event. All she had to say was, "We miss you," and I took the plunge the very next day. I got back onto the treadmill last week after returning from my vacation. It hadn't been easy trying to keep up with my cousin as we walked what seemed like miles at a very brisk pace every day. I'll admit that it left me somewhat breathless. Now I'm back, enjoying every step and every stroke that I take. But I had a revelation the other day as I embarked on the treadmill for my 45 minute walk, and it was this: maybe it was time to be more diligent about exercising my faith, too.

I used to have a great system for prayer in motion. It was easy to keep track of my prayer requests by counting them on my fingers or by the cadence in my step. Walking Sadie around town was sacred time spent on holy ground. I wrote a lot of sermons in my head while swimming laps in the pool. My system worked well for me in those quiet moments. However, walking on the treadmill at the Y is a whole different story, with the cacophony of televisions and radios blaring. I have to take my MP3 player and headphones so that I can drown it all out with my own music. It's not exactly an environment for prayer!

We have the perfect opportunity for a time of reflection now as we begin the season of Advent, awaiting the coming of the baby of Bethlehem. It's a great time to exercise our faith as we plunge into the waters of baptism, certain that God will fill us with the breath of life as we try to keep up with the hustle and bustle of the season. Let's not forget to put on our holy headphones to drown out the cacophony of the world, It is only them that we will hear the still, small voice of our divine lifeguard saying, "I miss you," as we make room for the Christ Child to dwell within us.

Teresa: a charge on the occasion of her ordination as Minister of Word and Sacrament

Teresa,

God has been stitching you together from the day you were born, threading his divine needle with different colors of thread as you have grown in many ways in your love for God. I invite you now to open your spiritual sewing basket as you begin this new stage in your journey.

You'll need a spiritual pattern with which to shape your ministry, being faithful to God and to your congregation.

You'll need a cutting board with divine guidelines as God equips you to make disciples and grow leaders within your congregation.

You'll need a pair of scissors to cut with conviction as you preach the gospel of Jesus Christ.

There are times when you may want a seam ripper to fix your mistakes, and that you may need a length of elastic to stretch your confidence.

God may alter a neckline or change a sleeve from time to time, pointing you in a direction where you don't think that you want to go. You may feel like you want to start all over, but be assured that the holy garment that God has crafted will be a perfect fit, a very personal reflection of who you are as a child of God.

And so may you be clothed in Christ, loved by God, and immersed in the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

"Therefore," Jesus said, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat..." I will admit that the thought of roasting a turkey intimidates me. It may stem from the memories that I have of my mother getting up in the middle of the night to prepare the stuffing and put the turkey in the oven, making sure that it would be perfectly done and on the table on time. I would go back to sleep in great anticipation of the delicious meal as the aroma of the freshly made dressing tickled my nose. Or maybe I'm insecure because I don't trust the little button that is supposed to pop up when the turkey is done. And what about the dressing? I don't want my guests to get food poisoning because I've improperly handled the stuff! And so, in the years that Larry and I have been married, we've dined on chili and crackers at our Thanksgiving table!

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat..." The harvest has been slow going for many who have been battling the rain and the inevitable mud. I don't see the grain wagons waddling down the street with the frequency that I usually do. But Jesus said, "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about what you will eat..." I don't know about you, but I've learned something today: that God will provide in abundance. And so I think that I'm ready to prepare that turkey, a spiritual turkey, that is. I will get up in the middle of the night to prepare the stuffing, the aroma of grace tickling my nose. I'll make sure that the heavenly bird gets in the oven of mercy so that it is done on time and ready to put on the holy table in the kingdom of God. And about the handling of that stuff called sin, Jesus will make sure that we are not poisoned with worldly things. "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat..." for the abundant love of God is what will nourish our souls and sustain us for the journey called discipleship. "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring troubles of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today."

Scripture quotes from Matthew 6:25-34

Let Freedom Ring!

It has taken me a long time to adapt to the fact that Sadie has turned into a real farm dog. She had been my constant companion for four years, a house dog who had never been out without a leash. But those days are history! She now has full run of the land, and believe me, I often find myself feeling way out of my comfort zone as she zips through the maze of the cornfields or makes her way down the gravel road to a deserted hog house, bringing home treats, of course!

One day as I was on my way to the church, I turned onto the highway only to see Sadie's head poking out of the ditch on the opposite side of the road. Now that's half a mile from home. She looked like she was ready for an ambush! Before I knew it, there she was, in the middle of the highway. She ran behind my car and headed up the road, the middle of the road, that is, confidently trotting straight down the yellow line. Needless to say, it scared me to death. When I honked the horn, she only ran faster. I wouldn't have been at all surprised to have seen her flattened on the highway as I made my way home that night. But instead, she came running up to greet me as I drove in. I learned an important lesson that day: Sadie knows where home is, no matter how far she strays, and she will come running as fast as she can when I call her! That makes my heart smile!

Freedom is something that we tend to take for granted, the kind of freedom that Sadie has to wander around at will, that is. But I'm not talking about that kind of freedom. I'm talking about the freedom from sin that gives us the freedom to fully love God. Jesus stepped out of his comfort zone to give us that freedom in his death and resurrection, keeping us from being flattened on the road of sin and enabling us to know the way home. And when we come running as fast as we can when Jesus calls us, we can be certain that it will make his heart smile, too!

Winsor

"Suffering produces endurance." I met Winsor several years ago. I was summoned to his bedside in the hospital; his son and daughter-in-law didn't think he'd make it that time. After I prayed with him, his response was that had nobody had ever prayed over him. But next thing that came out of his mouth was this: "If I get through this surgery, I'll be in church on Sunday." Well, he did, he was, and he never left. Third pew from the back on the south side of the sanctuary, aisle seat, was where he and his wife Joan hung out to worship. I had the honor of baptizing Winsor, age 74, this past Mother's Day along with his wife Joan and son Sam. I used plenty of water--I wanted to make sure that Winsor never forgot it! "Winsor, child of God," I said as I made the sign of the cross on his forehead. "Suffering produces endurance."

"Endurance produces character. Winsor was a fighter. After his last surgery, he wound up in the ICU. He was there for a week or so; each time I went to see him I thought it was the last. But one day, I stopped at the information desk only to be told that he had been transferred out of the ICU to the orthopedic wing. When I walked into his room, he was sitting up eating chocolate ice cream with a smirk on his face. "Endurance produces character."

Winsor liked to tease me. As he was leaving church one Sunday, he towered over me and looked down at the top of my head. "Pastor Nancy, you'se gettin awful gray!" he exclaimed! But I was particularly touched the time after my foot surgery that he limped forward to where I was sitting to greet me during the worship surface, even after the congregation was seated and the music had begun. He ordinarily didn't leave us pew--indeed, I was touched. Winsor took his church membership seriously, attending all the church events, even the women's Sewing Bee. But most of all, Winsor's pew never got cold even though it was a twenty mile drive for him to get to church!

"Character produces hope." The last time I saw Winsor, I walked over to his bed and invited him to hold my hand. He struggled to pull it out from under the covers and then he squeezed it as hard as he could. When he couldn't squeeze anymore, I put my hand on his head and blessed him. He heard me say "amen," and responded softly "amen." Winsor died peacefully the next day surrounded by his family. It happened to be All Saints' Day. "Character produces hope."

"Hope does not disappoint us." And so we can live with the assurance that death cannot take us from life with God. For that's what eternal life is all about. And it starts here and now with the promise of the resurrection. "Hope does not disappoint us."

It's hard for me to say goodbye to Winsor. He touched my heart in a very special way, but now it is time to commend Winsor to God's grace-filled care, in the faith of Christ our Lord who died and rose again to save us, and who now lives and reigns with us and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
(Scripture quotations from Romans 5:3-5)

Holy Highways

I will do almost anything to avoid driving on the interstate, particularly I-80. I find myself grabbing onto the wheel with such force that my knuckles are white, my hands are sweaty and my shoulders are tense: I am afraid for my life! I have to turn off the radio and tell my somewhat nervous passenger to hold the conversation so that I can concentrate on what's going on around me. I'm particularly uncomfortable when semis pass me at breakneck speed, although it probably only seems that way because I don't like driving the speed limit of 70 miles per hour!

When I find myself in the right-hand lane when other drivers are trying to merge onto the freeway, it leaves me in a near state of panic if I can't change lanes to accommodated them. But the worst is this: the nasty interchange where I-80, I-380 and Highway 218 come together. One vehicle is flying down west-bound ramp while another is trying to get up the southbound ramp. The tricky part is that they have to perform this maneuver by crossing over in one lane. I usually end up stopping until I can get where I want to be. And yes, I know that I am an accident waiting to happen! Indeed, I do approach the freeway with great fear and trepidation, although some might say that I drive with too much caution!

At times, it may seem as though Jesus is testing our confidence as we drive down that holy highway, however, we can be certain that his invitation to grab onto the wheel of faith is always there. We won't have to worry about our white knuckles or sweaty palms, for he won't let our hands slip off of that holy wheel even as we go flying down the ramp of sin. We can be sure that he will protect us from that worldly accident waiting to happen so that we can cross over to the ramp of repentance remembering that we don't have to travel at breakneck speed to attain the kingdom of God. But we'd better not proceed with too much caution; Jesus will leave us plenty of room to merge with the kingdom on this journey called discipleship as we spread the good news of the Gospel. And let's not forget to hold the conversation, concentrating instead on what is going on around us as we listen to the divine voice of the one who gives eternal life.

Food for Thought

I will admit that I am a compulsive nutritional information label reader. Although I'm interested in such things as sodium, fat and calories, the thing that interests me most is the portion size. For instance, the last time I looked, there were 2.5 servings in a small can of tuna! I was quite surprised when I read the label; as I recall, my mother managed to feed our whole family of five with one can! Now I feel like a glutton when I eat the entire contents of that small container! There are interesting guidelines now with regard to portion size in case you can't figure it out from the label or don't feel like measuring. A medium apple should be the size of a tennis ball, a baked potato the size of a computer mouse. Four ounces of meat measures up to a deck of cards, and a cup of broccoli, a baseball. For dessert, half a cup of ice cream is the size of a small fist; however, it is rare that I actually eat that size serving! But now that we have figured out what portion control is all about and created a well-balanced meal, we can sit down at the table.

I'd like to take the time now to prepare our plates with the spiritual food that will nourish and sustain us on the journey of discipleship. It might just be helpful if we looked at the divine nutritional information as we get ready to dish up our well balanced holy meal. We can start with a tennis ball's worth of worship. A computer mouse's worth of prayer. How about if we add a deck of card's worth of Scripture reading? And a baseball's worth of mission? Don't forget a fistful or two of giving! It looks to me like we have a rather full plate. But remember how my mother stretched that can of tuna to feed five people? We, too, can be assured that God will provide just what we need, no more, no less, as he fills our spiritual plates with a well-balanced, nutritious meal.

But no matter how dainty or voracious your appetite is, don't be afraid of being a glutton filled with the desire for Jesus' love, for it will increase your spiritual appetite and satisfy your hunger. Let's fill our plates with faith and sit down at the holy table to partake of the divine food called grace. For that, friends, is one nutritional information label that's worth reading!

Face Value

It's hard for me to believe that it's already been four months since I returned from my Holy Land Spiritual Renewal Pilgrimage. The program was structured so that there would be one retreat before the trip to Israel and one after. At the "getting to know you" retreat, the hot questions were these: "What are your expectations as you embark on this pilgrimage? What do you hope to experience?" I hadn't mapped it all out in detail like some of my fellow pilgrims had. I merely wanted to walk the paths that Jesus walked and pray in the places where Jesus had prayed, hoping to experience him daily as I listened for that prophetic word.

I'll admit that I was disappointed. Instead of having a powerful spiritual experience, I felt overwhelmed by the historical information that our brilliant guides imparted to us. I stood in awe of the crowds of people that were gathered in those sacred places, not to mention having the desire to capture each image with my camera. I wondered what was wrong with me when I heard my brothers and sisters in Christ talk about how they'd experienced Jesus; how they'd heard that prophetic word. It made me wonder: what was wrong with me that I couldn't look a little deeper? That I could only take it all at face value?

A month ago, I attended the final retreat that was a part of my Holy Land Spiritual Renewal Pilgrimage. It was great to be reunited with my friends, and I was delighted to have the chance to talk with my fellow pilgrims about how our experiences have impacted our ministries. Yes, I was overwhelmed by a lot of the things that I learned while I was away, but in the past few months, I've had a chance to put it all into perspective, looking a little deeper instead of taking it all at face value. I have realized that I did experience Jesus' presence daily, hearing that prophetic word as I walked the paths that Jesus walked and prayed in the places where Jesus prayed.

And so I invite you to look a little deeper inside yourselves on your faith journeys. Don't take things at face value; open your hearts to experience Jesus' presence daily. Open your ears to hear that prophetic word despite the distractions of life. But most of all, don't take God's love at face value. Look a little deeper, because there's so much more than we can possibly imagine. For indeed, there's love enough for all.

Risky Business

There seems to be a sort of disconnect here. We call ourselves pilgrims on a journey to this sacred place, yet here we are--vying for time on the group computer so that we can check our e-mail through the wireless connection in the hotel lobby when there is a magnificent view of the place where Jesus walked on water right in front of our faces! We yearn for our cell phones even while we are on a cruise around the Sea of Galilee seeing such places as the Mount of the Beatitudes, Capernaum, Tiberius and even the River Jordan. ( I'm as guilty as the rest of craving computer time--and am tempted to turn on my cell phone to see if it still works!)!

In Jesus' day, the Jews made an annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Passover. It was a risky trip; the roads were rocky and there was the danger of being encountered by bandits. No, they weren't riding in an airconditioned coach but making the trek on foot. But yet they went to the place where God was calling them--to his holy temple.

And so here I am on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land asking myself the question,"Where is the risk in my pilgrimage?" Should I be content with the fancy hotel, delicious food and warm bed in this place where it is business as ususal? Is it all about visiting the historic sites and hearing fact after fact? I don't know. But maybe, just maybe it will suffice to look for the extraordinary within the ordinary--and to put the camera down long enough to see it!

Rocky Road

I had the opportunity to go for a swim in the Sea of Galilee today. Actually, the call it "the lake." No matter where you are, you can see across to the other side.

It did remind me of "the lake," Lake Blanche, where I spent my summers as a child. The water was clear and the bottom was sandy. It was, however, a balancing act to get to the water over the rocky path. Once I got in the water, I found that I could go out quite deep before it was over my head, a good thing, since my goggle strap snapped before I could even dunk my head! The water temperature was delightful, the perfect way to spend the afternoon.

But when I got out of the water, I had a little problem. The path that I had followed to the lake had all but disappeared. I went this way and that, but couldn't find the way back. The only way out was over some very large rocks, and I didn't know how I was going to climb them alone. But as I headed toward the treacherous path, a voice called out to me, "Nancy! Wait! I'll give you a hand." There it was: the hand of the one who will reach out to us no matter how rocky the road to discipleship is--we only have to take it.

Am I in Iowa? or Israel?

Twenty-eight hours and thirty two minutes from door to door, here I am in Israel. Funny, though, that one of the first things that I noticed were the corn fields along with straw bales and beef cattle grazing in the fields among citrus fields, olive groves and bougainvilla! Flights were on time, meals were served (Lufthansa is a first-class airline) and wine was free, despite the short night. I, among not so many, had my luggage on arrival, although it was interesting to get the person at the Delta gate to check my bag all the way to Tel Aviv!

You might say that I've "gonet'the lake" as our hotel looks out on the Sea of Galilee, which they refer to as "The lake". This morning we visited the church of the Loaves and Fishes (the feeding of the Five Thousand) and the church of the Primacy of Peter, where Jesus appeared to Peter after the resurrection. ("Who do you say I am? Feed my sheep." )

Lunch was in a local place with a delicious falafel sandwich and "Hebrew" coke right out of the glass bottle like in the olden days.

Hope you're enjoying the trip so far--I am (although my blog page first came up in Hebrew!) Feel free to look at our group blog http://lptshlp2009.blogspot.com

Going, Going...

The time has finally come! I'm ready to pack my bag for my trip to the Holy Land which will be taking place in mid-June. I'll be spending two weeks traveling with twenty-one other pastors from across the country and from a variety of denominations. Bethlehem, Galilee and Jerusalem are some of the places that are on our itinerary. We will have a chance to dunk in the Dead Sea and celebrate the sacrament of the Lord's Supper on the Mount of the Beatitudes. I've been looking forward to this spiritual renewal pilgrimage for over a year!

I am what you might call a world traveler, having visited Europe, Australia, New Zealand, Puerto Rico and Morocco. I've filled out customs declarations and had my passport stamped many times. I've stood in line to check my bags. I've stood in line to collect my bags, hoping that I wouldn't be the victim of a wayward suitcase. By the way, are you aware of the fact that there is now a $15 fee for one piece of checked luggage? Fortunately, though, you can check it through to your final destination.

Speaking of luggage, I am a bit preoccupied with what to take with me, wondering what will fit in my brand-new duffel bag. I chose red so that it would be easy to spot coming off the luggage carousel. It needs to be light enough so that I can lift it and not crammed so full that I don't have room for a souvenir or two. As for doing laundry along the way--who knows when, where, or how!

I'm ready to embark on this sacred journey, opening up my red duffel bag so that God can fill it with his grace, enabling me to lighten my load and leave my earthly baggage behind. My holy passport is ready, identifying me as a child of God. I don't really have to worry about the laundry issue, for God will provide me with clean clothes of forgiveness along the way. I'll be wearing worship and unpacking prayer as I travel the road of discipleship with my spiritual companions, with the assurance that my grace-filled suitcase will accompany me. But most of all, I won't have to worry about paying the extra fee to check my bag to my final destination, for Jesus has already paid the price.

Every Time I Feel the Spirit...

I'm glad to see that the wind has died down in the past few days. The gentle breeze is quite a relief after the gale force winds that we've recently experienced. It almost felt creepy to sit in my living room listening to the wind howl and the windows rattle. The gravel dust blowing across the highway made visibility almost dangerous at times. Pieces of trash that had escaped the sacks set out for pick-up found their way around town, decorating the lawns with all sorts of stuff. I found that it was difficult to keep my car on the road in the forceful gusts, not to mention almost being knocked over a time or two. But worst of all were the inevitable bad hair days that come with winds like that!

We will soon be celebrating the day of Pentecost, the day on which the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples. But the Holy Spirit didn't arrive in the form of a gentle breeze. It came suddenly in a violent gale force wind filling the entire house where the disciples were gathered, giving them power to be Jesus' witnesses in Jerusalem, all Judea and Samaria.

Pentecost isn't a once a year thing. We can feel the gale force wind of the Holy Spirit every day knowing that it will provide a tailwind driving us to the destination of God's mercy. We can be certain that the Spirit will keep us from being blown over by those earthly things that keep us from walking the path of faithful discipleship. We can be assured the the holy dust that is stirred up by the divine wind won't obscure our vision of the risen Christ. As for the trash called sin that is flying all over the place and landing where it will, the Holy Spirit will give us the strength to pick up what we can as we are sent out to be witnesses just like the disciples. And I don't know about you, but I don't mind a bad hair day once in a while knowing that it is the divine wind that is blowing upon me. As we await this Pentecost day, I invite you to feel the Holy Spirit, the breath of life, as we inhale and exhale God's grace and God's love.

Humble Pie

I had quite the experience in humility following the foot surgery that I had earlier this winter. I found myself walking, or rather hobbling around in unknown territory. My independence was compromised by my reduced mobility. I was frustrated in the grocery store where the plastic produce bags were so high that I feared that my crutches would go tumbling to the ground if I dared to reach for one. I nearly caused a disaster in a restaurant that was so crowded that I had to hop sideways past a stack of booster seats and a bunch of chairs in order to get to the restroom. And forget going up and down steps; my husband graciously and gracefully hoisted me up and down as need be (don't worry; he's used to wrestling with pigs)!

However, the worst part about being on crutches was maneuvering doors. I discovered that handicap accessible buildings do not, as a rule, have automatic doors for the restrooms. On one occasion, after attempting to elbow my way in to the Ladies' Room while leaning on one crutch, my foot dangling, I found that I was stuck between the wall and the door. My entrance was not exactly what you would call graceful! As far as my exit was concerned, I was reduced to beating on the door with my crutch with the hope that some kind soul on the other side would free me from captivity! However, I did graduate to a walking cast, and although it felt like dead weight, it sure did beat crutches! Indeed, I learned a lot about what it means to have a disability, temporary as mine was.

As we enter into the Easter season, let us remember that we didn't get to the resurrection without the cross. That means acknowledging our own spiritual disabilities as well as the reduced mobility that is caused by the dead weight of sin that we are carrying around. However, I think that you will find that Jesus is handicap accessible. He is there to open the heavy doors for those who are held captive by their disbelief. He'll hoist you up as need be; he's used to wrestling with those who are uncertain in their faith. But most of all, he is the one in whom we can be certain that we will have sure footing as we continue on this journey called discipleship.

Gazing at Grace

I know that we need to get through spring before we get to summer, but I've been gazing wistfully out of the kitchen window at the pool in our backyard in anticipation of that first descent into the clear refreshing water. But as much as I enjoy the invigorating blast, I'm often quite content to spend my time basking in the sun as I relax on a floatie at the end of the day.

However, it will take some work before the pool is ready for use: a careful rinsing of the filter to make sure that it isn't clogged up with the debris of winter, a thorough sweeping with the pool vacuum to pull up the mucky stuff that is stuck to the bottom, and a few gallons of bleach and some chemicals to clean and clarify the murky water. The ladder, which has spent the duration on the pool deck, will also need to be installed.

Speaking of water, in the early church, Lent was a period of instruction and preparation for those wishing to be baptized. Baptism took place at the Easter Vigil, and when the time came, the candidate descended into a baptismal font and was immersed three times in the name of the triune God. The rite of baptism symbolizes the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus: the beginnings of new life in Christ.

As we approach Easter, I find that I am gazing wistfully once again, this time out of the holy window that will bring forth the discovery of the empty tomb, although I am painfully aware that we can't get there without following Jesus to the cross. But since Lent isn't over quite yet, we still have time to unclog the filter of faith of the worldly debris that keeps us from having a relationship with God. Jesus has vacuumed the mucky stuff called sin off the bottom of the spiritual pool, and God has added the holy chemicals necessary to make the murcky waters clean and clear as we prepare ourselves for the sacred day. And so let us descend into the water to be immersed in the love of our triune God as we remember our own baptism; for we will rise cleansed of our sins with the gift of new life in Christ as we bask in the glory of the Resurrection.