So, this enormous couch in my office is causing people to want to sit on it. (Which was the idea...) And, fairly typically of what has become a Tuesday pattern, I had several young women come camp out in my office. As we usually do, we talked about a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. And then as usually happens when people notice I have a Mr. Potato Head on my desk (complete with its own "parts suitcase") one of the girls started redoing my decorative spud. I informed the girls, as I usually do, that I am the coolest person they know because I have a Mr. Potato Head on my desk. As they usually do, I think they called me childish or something along those lines. Eager to prove...well, ok... eager to get a rise out of them, I whipped out a pile of coloring sheets and crayons. (Good, complicated coloring sheets, and the good crayons, mais oui!) And suddenly they were so excited, talking about their plans to sit down and color later that night, and how they were going to come put coloring sheets on my door.
Well, hey. Stupendous! But what I thought about after they left is how most of us, if we are honest, really miss at least one or two things about our childhood. For me, I miss playing...and coloring...and swinging! There are no rules against me doing any of these things, but now that I'm a mature 25-and-holding, I just never seem to have time.
But my inner child is calling to be freed. If yours is calling out, stop by... I have tons of coloring sheets. And I'll even bring out the good crayons for you!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
My "first" Easter
So... It was my "First" Holy Week, both as a "Mrs." and as a "Reverend". (Two new titles in less than six months...no wonder I'm confused...). I had great plans of being the woman who had it all together. I envisioned a clean house and a nice easter meal after wearing my freshly ironed suit to Church easter morning. I thought I'd made it to all the Holy Week services my church offered, and that I'd cook soup for one of the Lenten Devotionals. And while we're at it, I'd have freshly bathed dogs and my husband would receive a nice Easter basket...cause yeah, I'm that fabulous!o
Ummmm...not so much. (Warning, this isn't an especially theological writing today...but I thought somebody might get a kick out of it.)
I made it through about THursday. I didn't make it to a Maunday Thursday service, but that was ok because I'd do good friday. For good Friday, I made soup, as planned, only instead of having the 8-10 people we'd been having, we had almost 30. When I read the story about JEsus multiplying the Loaves and Fishes, it didn't ever dawn on me that maybe one of the disciples made an emergency Kroger run to get cans of soup. And oh yeah, I totally would have passed the doctored-up French Onion soup off as my own, because I was getting compliments all over the place, but then someone saw the cans.
And then my husband and I attempted to boil the 252 eggs I mentioned earlier. We used the big soup pots and the big stoves, which was a great idea...only neither one of us was tall enough to see over the top of the pots. Yeah, we used a step stool so we could see if the water was boiling.
By then the Good Friday night service was out. I was asleep by 7:15.
And saturday started with me trying to construct a very large styrofoam cross...and wondering if I had gotten a degree in arts and crafts. I was thrilled when it went flying across campus...several times.
I thought I would have time on Saturday to get an Easter basket and Iron my suit. I forgot about both.
But I did get my Easter meal on, right after morning church, thinking we would eat after the UMCH evening chapel service. I put a Ham in the crock pot (setting it for two hours less than the recipe said, knowing that I could put it in the oven if I didn't like the wa it looked.) And I got home, and it was so overcooked, it looked like dog food. So it was-- dog food.
At least the puppy learned "sit" from my Easter Ham...
Ummmm...not so much. (Warning, this isn't an especially theological writing today...but I thought somebody might get a kick out of it.)
I made it through about THursday. I didn't make it to a Maunday Thursday service, but that was ok because I'd do good friday. For good Friday, I made soup, as planned, only instead of having the 8-10 people we'd been having, we had almost 30. When I read the story about JEsus multiplying the Loaves and Fishes, it didn't ever dawn on me that maybe one of the disciples made an emergency Kroger run to get cans of soup. And oh yeah, I totally would have passed the doctored-up French Onion soup off as my own, because I was getting compliments all over the place, but then someone saw the cans.
And then my husband and I attempted to boil the 252 eggs I mentioned earlier. We used the big soup pots and the big stoves, which was a great idea...only neither one of us was tall enough to see over the top of the pots. Yeah, we used a step stool so we could see if the water was boiling.
By then the Good Friday night service was out. I was asleep by 7:15.
And saturday started with me trying to construct a very large styrofoam cross...and wondering if I had gotten a degree in arts and crafts. I was thrilled when it went flying across campus...several times.
I thought I would have time on Saturday to get an Easter basket and Iron my suit. I forgot about both.
But I did get my Easter meal on, right after morning church, thinking we would eat after the UMCH evening chapel service. I put a Ham in the crock pot (setting it for two hours less than the recipe said, knowing that I could put it in the oven if I didn't like the wa it looked.) And I got home, and it was so overcooked, it looked like dog food. So it was-- dog food.
At least the puppy learned "sit" from my Easter Ham...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Up from the grave He arose!
Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed!
Happy Easter!
Today, a partner in crime and I went chalk grafiti-ing all over campus, sharing messages of "Christ the Lord is Risen today" and "Alleluia" and "Amen". We were out in the early morning. All was quiet, and it was cool...very cool outside. It, strangely, did not seem to be the time for much conversation. BOth of us were just taking in the morning, each of us, I suspect, thinking about the impact of Easter on our lives. We chalked all the cottages that had kids in them.
And then we came to Leigh Cottage-- or the remains of it, anyway. And I'm not sure what came over me, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And so I put messages of "Where, O Death, is your sting? Where your victory?" and "Up from the grave he arose" and "He conquered death, and He lives!". It seemed the fitting thing to do, standing in front of what now seems to be hallowed ground, as hallowed, perhaps, as Arlington or Gettysburg. A piece of our lives that is no more. A place that sheltered so many, and too, watched the coming-of-age of lots of people.
"Where is your sting, O Death"? seems a funny thing to write there. Because it did sting. It still stings when we look at it. But the hope of Easter is that death and destruction don't get the last word.
Ever.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Holy Saturday, Wholly Fun
Alright, so...after boiling 252 (yes, we counted) eggs, we embarked on a day of fun. We invited the campus for an afternoon of egg dyeing and other easter crafts. And true to the saying, if you build it, they will come! The weather was beautiful, and the kids were in great spirits-- though some of them were rather unsure about what we were doing, claiming they had never had the opportunity to dye eggs before. (Hmmmph... I'll fix that!) Our resident drummers, namely a couple of religious life volunteers, started with a couple of drums just playing around to see what beat would emerge. And they grooved for a while. And the egg dyers grooved for a while. And the tissue paper cross makers grooved for a while. And one person, wanting to share with the others, would move away and go try another activity. In some way, I think everyone was involved in everyhthing (except me who has no rhythm, and thus didn't participate in the drumming).
It was a glorious afternoon! If you see a few sunburned faces, I bet you can guess what they were doing.
I wonder what church leaders would think of having so much fun right in the middle of the darkest days of the whole Christian year. After all, even the high leaders of Catholocism asked us not to celebrate St. Pat's day during HOly Week, because we were supposed to be in somber reflection. And yet, I can't help but think that God was smiling down-- seeing all the fun had, and watching the celebrate the grace of the afternoon.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Costly
From a sermon I will preach tomorrow, from the eyes of the Sinful woman who anoints Jesus.
John 12
Anointing His Feet
1-3Six days before Passover, Jesus entered Bethany where Lazarus, so recently raised from the dead, was living. Lazarus and his sisters invited Jesus to dinner at their home. Martha served. Lazarus was one of those sitting at the table with them. Mary came in with a jar of very expensive aromatic oils, anointed and massaged Jesus' feet, and then wiped them with her hair. The fragrance of the oils filled the house.
4-6Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples, even then getting ready to betray him, said, "Why wasn't this oil sold and the money given to the poor? It would have easily brought three hundred silver pieces." He said this not because he cared two cents about the poor but because he was a thief. He was in charge of their common funds, but also embezzled them.
7-8Jesus said, "Let her alone. She's anticipating and honoring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You don't always have me."
My God, how I loved him! How he changed my life! My God, my God... why have you forsaken ME?
I'm the same Mary who should have been helping my sister in the kitchen when Jesus came, but I couldn't help it. I meant to help, but I got distracted. I wanted to help, but more than that I wanted to sit and listen and be close to Jesus. I wanted to be so close that I could sit there and feel his heartbeat... the heartbeat of the king.
And I was there when Jesus raised my brother from the dead.
And I was there as plans were made to betray him. A betrayal that would surely lead to his death, a betrayal by one of his own. And all the betrayer could do was piously talk about how much money I was wasting, and how all that money should have gone to the poor. The betrayer, who could only worry about money, because that was what was real to him, because that's what consumed his life.
That day was a costly day.
They were burial spices, I know. And I know they were expensive, but something compelled me, drove me to do it. I loved him so much. I just wanted to worship, with all that I had. I'm sure Martha will fuss, she isn't much given over to emotion I guess. She's very sensible, and she will tell me what an unsensable thing I did.
I could say that I wasn't thinking clearly at the time, but the problem is, I've never been more clear headed in my life. Jesus loved people so fully, so forgivingly, so extravagantly. He loved me, and Lazarus, and even Martha, but how many others' lives did he change?
But you know, Jesus was a radical. He ate with people that society said he should never eat with. He told a woman living in sin that her sins were forgiven. He healed on the sabbath.
And too, I think, he loved radically. Jesus wasn't much for condemning people, except for ones who ran around talking about how good they are, and the ones who run around talking about how everyone else is a sinner. Jesus had a way of meeting the lost and the lonely, and meeting them where they are. He had a way of bringing them into the fullness of life.
"The Fullness of Life?" It was full, until the betrayer sold his soul, and the soul of Jesus, for a few coins.
They'll tell me it was costly, what I did that day. They'll tell me that my decision cost a working man's yearly wage... and all for what, to annoint the feet of someone who was soon to die?
But what of this "costlyness"? What was costly was the way Jesus loved. I don't know many people who would die to save someone he loved dearly. I know of even fewer who would die to save those he didn't know. And I can't think of anyone who would give up his life to save rapists, and murderers, and adulterers, and blasphemers, and idolators.
And Jesus did. Jesus died, so that even women, and even men, and even children, and even teachers, and even preachers, and even mothers, and even fathers, and even lawyers and even doctors, and even sinners, and even me... might live.
That's what is costly. A few coins spent, a few coins traded. A loved lived extravagantly.
And it was costly.
John 12
Anointing His Feet
1-3Six days before Passover, Jesus entered Bethany where Lazarus, so recently raised from the dead, was living. Lazarus and his sisters invited Jesus to dinner at their home. Martha served. Lazarus was one of those sitting at the table with them. Mary came in with a jar of very expensive aromatic oils, anointed and massaged Jesus' feet, and then wiped them with her hair. The fragrance of the oils filled the house.
4-6Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples, even then getting ready to betray him, said, "Why wasn't this oil sold and the money given to the poor? It would have easily brought three hundred silver pieces." He said this not because he cared two cents about the poor but because he was a thief. He was in charge of their common funds, but also embezzled them.
7-8Jesus said, "Let her alone. She's anticipating and honoring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You don't always have me."
My God, how I loved him! How he changed my life! My God, my God... why have you forsaken ME?
I'm the same Mary who should have been helping my sister in the kitchen when Jesus came, but I couldn't help it. I meant to help, but I got distracted. I wanted to help, but more than that I wanted to sit and listen and be close to Jesus. I wanted to be so close that I could sit there and feel his heartbeat... the heartbeat of the king.
And I was there when Jesus raised my brother from the dead.
And I was there as plans were made to betray him. A betrayal that would surely lead to his death, a betrayal by one of his own. And all the betrayer could do was piously talk about how much money I was wasting, and how all that money should have gone to the poor. The betrayer, who could only worry about money, because that was what was real to him, because that's what consumed his life.
That day was a costly day.
They were burial spices, I know. And I know they were expensive, but something compelled me, drove me to do it. I loved him so much. I just wanted to worship, with all that I had. I'm sure Martha will fuss, she isn't much given over to emotion I guess. She's very sensible, and she will tell me what an unsensable thing I did.
I could say that I wasn't thinking clearly at the time, but the problem is, I've never been more clear headed in my life. Jesus loved people so fully, so forgivingly, so extravagantly. He loved me, and Lazarus, and even Martha, but how many others' lives did he change?
But you know, Jesus was a radical. He ate with people that society said he should never eat with. He told a woman living in sin that her sins were forgiven. He healed on the sabbath.
And too, I think, he loved radically. Jesus wasn't much for condemning people, except for ones who ran around talking about how good they are, and the ones who run around talking about how everyone else is a sinner. Jesus had a way of meeting the lost and the lonely, and meeting them where they are. He had a way of bringing them into the fullness of life.
"The Fullness of Life?" It was full, until the betrayer sold his soul, and the soul of Jesus, for a few coins.
They'll tell me it was costly, what I did that day. They'll tell me that my decision cost a working man's yearly wage... and all for what, to annoint the feet of someone who was soon to die?
But what of this "costlyness"? What was costly was the way Jesus loved. I don't know many people who would die to save someone he loved dearly. I know of even fewer who would die to save those he didn't know. And I can't think of anyone who would give up his life to save rapists, and murderers, and adulterers, and blasphemers, and idolators.
And Jesus did. Jesus died, so that even women, and even men, and even children, and even teachers, and even preachers, and even mothers, and even fathers, and even lawyers and even doctors, and even sinners, and even me... might live.
That's what is costly. A few coins spent, a few coins traded. A loved lived extravagantly.
And it was costly.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
On Submission
All apologies for the lack of blogging in the last two weeks-- I've had some problems with the Blogger server (but it looks like it is going to let me today???) Instead of trying to back post for the last two weeks, I'm going to start where I should be in my Lenten journey.
On Submission:
One of my themes this week is Submission: the ability to lay down the terrible burden of always needing to get our own way. I hate to admit it, but my only-child-ness comes out much more than I would like for it to. As my husband points out, I've grown up getting my own way without really having to compromise. Foster says "THe real issue of submission is the spirit of consideration and respect we have for each other...In submission we are at least free to value other people. Their dreams and plans become important to us. We have entered into a new, wonderful, glorious freedom--the freedom to give up our own rights for the good of others. For the first time we can love people unconditionally."
He goes on to list the seven acts of submission:
1. To the Triune God--surrendering our body, mind, and spirit into the hands of God to do with us as he pleases through the long darkness.
2. TO the Scripture Yielding ourselves first to hear the Word, second to receive the Word, and third to obey the Word.
3. To our Family The mantra for the household should be "Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but to the intersts of others." (Phi 2:4)
4. To our neighbors and those we meet in the course of our daily lives. If we find them in need, we help them through simple acts of neighborliness. (E.g. sharing food, babysitting once in a while. No task is too small, for each is an opportunity to live into the spirit of submissiveness.)
5. To the believing community, the body of Christ. If there are jobs to be done and tasks to be accomplished, we look at them closely and see if they are God's invitation to live in the spirit of submission to others.
6. To the broken and despised. Finding genuine ways to identify with the lonely, the downtrodden, and the rejected.
7. To the world. A determination on our part to live as a responsible member of an increasingly irresponsible world.
As I look at these, I can pick out which ones I'd especially like to do because they come the easiest to me. Yet I know that the ones that make me uncomfortable are the ones to which I am called to spend the greatest energy.
(If you are confused, I'd invite you to read Foster's chapter on Submission. Biblical submission is much different than what society has contorted it into.)
On Submission:
One of my themes this week is Submission: the ability to lay down the terrible burden of always needing to get our own way. I hate to admit it, but my only-child-ness comes out much more than I would like for it to. As my husband points out, I've grown up getting my own way without really having to compromise. Foster says "THe real issue of submission is the spirit of consideration and respect we have for each other...In submission we are at least free to value other people. Their dreams and plans become important to us. We have entered into a new, wonderful, glorious freedom--the freedom to give up our own rights for the good of others. For the first time we can love people unconditionally."
He goes on to list the seven acts of submission:
1. To the Triune God--surrendering our body, mind, and spirit into the hands of God to do with us as he pleases through the long darkness.
2. TO the Scripture Yielding ourselves first to hear the Word, second to receive the Word, and third to obey the Word.
3. To our Family The mantra for the household should be "Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but to the intersts of others." (Phi 2:4)
4. To our neighbors and those we meet in the course of our daily lives. If we find them in need, we help them through simple acts of neighborliness. (E.g. sharing food, babysitting once in a while. No task is too small, for each is an opportunity to live into the spirit of submissiveness.)
5. To the believing community, the body of Christ. If there are jobs to be done and tasks to be accomplished, we look at them closely and see if they are God's invitation to live in the spirit of submission to others.
6. To the broken and despised. Finding genuine ways to identify with the lonely, the downtrodden, and the rejected.
7. To the world. A determination on our part to live as a responsible member of an increasingly irresponsible world.
As I look at these, I can pick out which ones I'd especially like to do because they come the easiest to me. Yet I know that the ones that make me uncomfortable are the ones to which I am called to spend the greatest energy.
(If you are confused, I'd invite you to read Foster's chapter on Submission. Biblical submission is much different than what society has contorted it into.)
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