On Sunday, we ‘officially’ acknowledged our return from the many places we have traveled over the summer months, and we kicked off a new year of learning and life together. It was a kickoff to remember!
Dr. Elizabeth Nordquist talked with about 100 of us about Ancient Practices for Contemporary Christians, and urged us to consider the rhythm of Sabbath and Rest. What would it be like, in our 24/7 culture, if there really were times and places where we regularly experienced the joy and the restorative grace of the Holy One? She wondered with us about our current practices of Sabbath (or lack thereof!) and invited us to think about ceasing our ordinary work and activity, feasting on the good gifts God offers us, and embracing the world God loves. How wonderful it would be, and how transforming, if we could create safe places for weary pilgrims to cease and to feast and to embrace.
In worship, 15 of our number presented “The Bible in About an Hour”, which began at The Very Beginning (with Creation), and closed with Jesus’ invitation to follow. Along the way, we met the snake, sang about Noah, heard Gabriel visit Mary, and engaged stories of the prodigal and the wise and foolish builders. How wonderful it is to remember the long story of God’s work in the world, and the fact that our lives continue that story in our day.
And then five new members (not to mention their cool children!) stood before the community and affirmed their trust in God and their desire to walk with us in the way of Christ. Two of them were men who had never been baptized, and so we marked a new beginning in their lives with the sign of water and the ancient sacrament of naming and blessing them. One of them, Mark, has been an active participant in our common life for over 35 years. Though he had thought often about his faith, and was clear about his ‘belonging’ here, he had avoided being baptized in order to honor the Jewish parents who gave him birth. This fall, he found himself ready to take another step on his spiritual journey, not leaving behind his heritage, but affirming his present circumstance, and following the Spirit’s prompting to risk and trust in a new way.
How wonderful it would be if all of us, no matter how long we had been sitting in a pew or how long we had been following Jesus, felt like we could respond to God’s invitation to take new steps of faith.
After worship, two of us went to the chapel to offer prayers for healing and wholeness for those who wished them. It was a holy thing to welcome one after another, to hold before God a wide range of concerns: cancer, pre-school age children, broken relationships, crises in faith, physical pain and chronic illness. The Spirit of Jesus the healer was present, and all of us went away strengthened and encouraged. How wonderful it is to help one another experience the healing love of God.
What a beginning it was! We were The Church this weekend: Remembering The Story, taking new steps of faith, offering healing grace, and seeking God’s promised Rest! May all of these things continue to be visible in this church in the year ahead! So rise, and shine, and give God the glory, glory- And thanks be to God.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
A Pilgrim Heads for Home
I spent a week on the island of Iona, off the coast of Scotland, all by myself this summer.
I went on pilgrimage, feeling called by God to a time of journeying and reflection. I went seeking to hear 'a word' from God, I went carrying a question in my heart.
It was an astonishing trip: beautiful and mysterious and lovely beyond description. I will be telling stories over and over about my holy time on the island, I am sure.
But now I am heading for home. I have one more week away, helping to lead a conference for preachers, and then I am Home for good. The work I am beginning now is the work of re-integration.
My friend, who regularly leads groups of people on pilgrimage to seek God in the wilderness, says that perhaps this is the most difficult part. It takes a long time, and there is always the danger of simply giving in to the gravitational pull of 'business as usual'.
My friend offers this question "How does the new take root, O God?"
How indeed?
When we hear a new invitation from God, when we hear a new call or catch a new vision, how do we bring it home and integrate it into our ordinary lives? When we are convinced that a change is called for, or when we are blessed with a new enthusiasm, how do we integrate it into the living of our days?
If we want to be a vital community, directed by the Spirit and responsive to the world, this is a pretty important question.
How does the new take root?
One way is with the support of those who understand, and who share your desire to live responsively, to be in tune with what the Spirit is doing.
In the ancient Celtic tradition, those who sought to be Holy had an anam chara- a "soul friend", who could help a pilgrim listen for the whispers of the Spirit, who could lend courage and support for changes, who would pray and be present to a friend who was seeking to live in God's way.
An old Gaelic saying said, "Anyone without a soul-friend is like a body without a head."
So I am grateful today for my soul friends, for those who help me listen to my experiences and hear the voice of the Spirit, who give me courage and support when I am called to make changes, and who pray for me and are present to me in a way that reminds me of God's presence and faithfulness.
I am praying too, today, that we can increasingly be a congregation of Soul Friends, who recognize and encourage in one another the Life of the Spirit, who help each other walk in the way of Jesus.
The lectionary for tomorrow, strangely enough, includes this prayer of Paul:
" ...that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.." (Eph 3:17)
How does the new take root?
Well, evidently it takes place continually, if we are willing. Christ dwells in us, and we are being rooted and grounded in love.
Thanks be to God for home, and for homecoming, and for soul friends.
May all of us bring home gifts from the Sabbath of summer.
Amen.
I went on pilgrimage, feeling called by God to a time of journeying and reflection. I went seeking to hear 'a word' from God, I went carrying a question in my heart.
It was an astonishing trip: beautiful and mysterious and lovely beyond description. I will be telling stories over and over about my holy time on the island, I am sure.
But now I am heading for home. I have one more week away, helping to lead a conference for preachers, and then I am Home for good. The work I am beginning now is the work of re-integration.
My friend, who regularly leads groups of people on pilgrimage to seek God in the wilderness, says that perhaps this is the most difficult part. It takes a long time, and there is always the danger of simply giving in to the gravitational pull of 'business as usual'.
My friend offers this question "How does the new take root, O God?"
How indeed?
When we hear a new invitation from God, when we hear a new call or catch a new vision, how do we bring it home and integrate it into our ordinary lives? When we are convinced that a change is called for, or when we are blessed with a new enthusiasm, how do we integrate it into the living of our days?
If we want to be a vital community, directed by the Spirit and responsive to the world, this is a pretty important question.
How does the new take root?
One way is with the support of those who understand, and who share your desire to live responsively, to be in tune with what the Spirit is doing.
In the ancient Celtic tradition, those who sought to be Holy had an anam chara- a "soul friend", who could help a pilgrim listen for the whispers of the Spirit, who could lend courage and support for changes, who would pray and be present to a friend who was seeking to live in God's way.
An old Gaelic saying said, "Anyone without a soul-friend is like a body without a head."
So I am grateful today for my soul friends, for those who help me listen to my experiences and hear the voice of the Spirit, who give me courage and support when I am called to make changes, and who pray for me and are present to me in a way that reminds me of God's presence and faithfulness.
I am praying too, today, that we can increasingly be a congregation of Soul Friends, who recognize and encourage in one another the Life of the Spirit, who help each other walk in the way of Jesus.
The lectionary for tomorrow, strangely enough, includes this prayer of Paul:
" ...that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.." (Eph 3:17)
How does the new take root?
Well, evidently it takes place continually, if we are willing. Christ dwells in us, and we are being rooted and grounded in love.
Thanks be to God for home, and for homecoming, and for soul friends.
May all of us bring home gifts from the Sabbath of summer.
Amen.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
June 14 Living the Questions
Last week I suggested that asking our real questions was hard work, that Nicodemus was not alone in having a question for Jesus that he would rather ask in the dark than in the harsh light of day with everyone watching.
I invited folks in the congregation to write their questions on paper, and place them in a basket if they wished. I read them the next day, and have been astonished at them ever since.
- Why can’t our children see life & the choices they make as clearly as we would like them to?
- Am I doing the will of the Lord as an individual? Are we doing the will of the Lord as a congregation?
- How can I help someone who has a hard time believing in God when his mother died of cancer?
The questions suggest to me that the Spirit is at work among us, that people are wrestling with questions of mission and outreach, and questions of the heart. What surprised me most was the fact that so many of them were tender and personal- some in reponse to particular circumstances, and some in response to the human condition.
- How do you know if it is time for someone to move in with you?
- How do I find my way to You? How do I know if I'v found you?
- Is God with me in my loneliness?
So I have spent the last week or two wondering about how we deepen this conversation, how we continue to make this a place where people know their questions are welcome, a place where we help each other hear what Jesus might be trying to say in response to our deepest questions.
The Adult Ed folks are thinking about ways to schedule classes that address some of the questions, and to create space in classes for discussion and conversation, so that questions can be heard and honored.
The pastors and staff are thinking about everything from preaching topics to individual conversations to the formation of small faith -sharing groups that might create more free space in which God can meet us, and speak to our questions.
Frederick Buechner has said that questions are "the ants in the pants of faith", they keep faith moving and prevent it from becoming stodgy and sedentary.
I think questions are holy, revealing what God is up to, and where we are pointed next on the spiritual journey.
I am grateful for these questions, and for the others that I know will come,
and I am grateful to be part of a community that is thinking
praying
asking
listening
and trusting.
So what question are you walking with these days?
I invited folks in the congregation to write their questions on paper, and place them in a basket if they wished. I read them the next day, and have been astonished at them ever since.
- Why can’t our children see life & the choices they make as clearly as we would like them to?
- Am I doing the will of the Lord as an individual? Are we doing the will of the Lord as a congregation?
- How can I help someone who has a hard time believing in God when his mother died of cancer?
The questions suggest to me that the Spirit is at work among us, that people are wrestling with questions of mission and outreach, and questions of the heart. What surprised me most was the fact that so many of them were tender and personal- some in reponse to particular circumstances, and some in response to the human condition.
- How do you know if it is time for someone to move in with you?
- How do I find my way to You? How do I know if I'v found you?
- Is God with me in my loneliness?
So I have spent the last week or two wondering about how we deepen this conversation, how we continue to make this a place where people know their questions are welcome, a place where we help each other hear what Jesus might be trying to say in response to our deepest questions.
The Adult Ed folks are thinking about ways to schedule classes that address some of the questions, and to create space in classes for discussion and conversation, so that questions can be heard and honored.
The pastors and staff are thinking about everything from preaching topics to individual conversations to the formation of small faith -sharing groups that might create more free space in which God can meet us, and speak to our questions.
Frederick Buechner has said that questions are "the ants in the pants of faith", they keep faith moving and prevent it from becoming stodgy and sedentary.
I think questions are holy, revealing what God is up to, and where we are pointed next on the spiritual journey.
I am grateful for these questions, and for the others that I know will come,
and I am grateful to be part of a community that is thinking
praying
asking
listening
and trusting.
So what question are you walking with these days?
Thursday, June 4, 2009
How Many?
How many does it take?
You’d be surprised.
I know I was.
Last night at the Nurture Committee Meeting, we looked over the list of names
of folks who have assisted in Education during this academic year.
There are those who rocked babies in the nursery,
those who got out paint and brushes with the middle schoolers, or sang with elementary kids, and those who worked with youth on car washes and bible studies and mission trips.
There were those who taught adults, inviting people to explore the words of the Apostle Paul, the music of Hildegard of Bingen, and the pages of the local paper, among other things.
Somehow looking at the list moved me deeply.
Looking at all the names of those who care that the gospel lives on,
those who value questions and answers,
those who don’t just SAY but DO- it was lovely.
I was moved that the ages and stages of these folks were varied, as was the number of years that they have been part of our community...
Dozens and dozens of friends of Christ have retold the story this year, and helped us to know our heritage and equip ourselves for discipleship.
This week we are reading the story of Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus by night to learn from him, presumably because he is embarrassed to ask his questions or seek help in broad daylight.
The text reminds me how much I want to be part of a church community that lets people ask their true questions, the questions that they think about in the dark. I want to be part of a place where the Light of Christ shines, and where people who are young in faith, either in years or in experience, have companions on the Way who will share what they know. Teachers. Shepherds. Learners.
And I want to be part of a community where are part of our covenant is that we are never done learning, never done growing, never done discovering the truth we live for.
This Sunday, in worship, we will recognize all 102 people who have kept learning alive among us.
How it must gladden the heart of God!
You’d be surprised.
I know I was.
Last night at the Nurture Committee Meeting, we looked over the list of names
of folks who have assisted in Education during this academic year.
There are those who rocked babies in the nursery,
those who got out paint and brushes with the middle schoolers, or sang with elementary kids, and those who worked with youth on car washes and bible studies and mission trips.
There were those who taught adults, inviting people to explore the words of the Apostle Paul, the music of Hildegard of Bingen, and the pages of the local paper, among other things.
Somehow looking at the list moved me deeply.
Looking at all the names of those who care that the gospel lives on,
those who value questions and answers,
those who don’t just SAY but DO- it was lovely.
I was moved that the ages and stages of these folks were varied, as was the number of years that they have been part of our community...
Dozens and dozens of friends of Christ have retold the story this year, and helped us to know our heritage and equip ourselves for discipleship.
This week we are reading the story of Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus by night to learn from him, presumably because he is embarrassed to ask his questions or seek help in broad daylight.
The text reminds me how much I want to be part of a church community that lets people ask their true questions, the questions that they think about in the dark. I want to be part of a place where the Light of Christ shines, and where people who are young in faith, either in years or in experience, have companions on the Way who will share what they know. Teachers. Shepherds. Learners.
And I want to be part of a community where are part of our covenant is that we are never done learning, never done growing, never done discovering the truth we live for.
This Sunday, in worship, we will recognize all 102 people who have kept learning alive among us.
How it must gladden the heart of God!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
4-2-09 Looking Back, Looking Ahead
4-2-09
Yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of my arrival at First Pres. When Tom mentioned it in the morning, I told him he was silly, and that no one else would remember.
And then I arrived at staff meeting, and was greeted by a cake with my name on it, and a beautiful plant for my garden, and a card with words of solidarity and grace and blessing. Wow.
It is such a treasure to work among colleagues who love one another and love their work. To gather each day believing that what we do has deep significance for the spiritual lives of people we love, deep significance for the justice we long to see in our city and in the world, deep significance as we try to point our efforts and our praise toward the Holy One. It is astonishing.
Today, one of the members of the committee that originally called me stopped in to say congratulations, and to say that it’s hard to remember when we weren’t part of the same Family. We reminisced about some of the tough times these last 3 years, and some of the grace we have witnesses and the joys we have shared. And she said this,
“And I firmly believe that the best is yet to come!”
Which is a pretty Easter-y thing to say.
Here we stand, on the verge of Holy Week:
Saturday the 4th we will fill the sanctuary with palms,
Sunday there will be a palm procession ringing with “Hosannas”
Thursday we will remember the Last Supper Jesus had with his friends, and will gather in candlelight to recall the poignant and powerful story of his last days. We will strip the chancel of all color and drape it in the black of mourning, we will snuff out the Christ Candle and leave in silence.
Friday many of us will attend the Good Friday service at noon at the Congregational Church on Sierra Way with members of the ecumenical community.
Saturday the 10th at 9 am we will transform the sanctuary from a place of mourning to a place ready for celebration, as people bring their home-grown flowers and greens to fill the place with Spring and Life and Light.
And on Easter Sunday we will rejoice, singing Alleluia with all our hearts.
We will experience the peaks and the valleys together in the days ahead. And we will say to one another, again and again: “I firmly believe the best is yet to come.”
Our deepest and truest and richest experience of God is always still ahead of us.
And one of the things that Easter means is that death is not the end- that our whole life long we can say, “The best is yet to come.” Thanks be to God.
Yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of my arrival at First Pres. When Tom mentioned it in the morning, I told him he was silly, and that no one else would remember.
And then I arrived at staff meeting, and was greeted by a cake with my name on it, and a beautiful plant for my garden, and a card with words of solidarity and grace and blessing. Wow.
It is such a treasure to work among colleagues who love one another and love their work. To gather each day believing that what we do has deep significance for the spiritual lives of people we love, deep significance for the justice we long to see in our city and in the world, deep significance as we try to point our efforts and our praise toward the Holy One. It is astonishing.
Today, one of the members of the committee that originally called me stopped in to say congratulations, and to say that it’s hard to remember when we weren’t part of the same Family. We reminisced about some of the tough times these last 3 years, and some of the grace we have witnesses and the joys we have shared. And she said this,
“And I firmly believe that the best is yet to come!”
Which is a pretty Easter-y thing to say.
Here we stand, on the verge of Holy Week:
Saturday the 4th we will fill the sanctuary with palms,
Sunday there will be a palm procession ringing with “Hosannas”
Thursday we will remember the Last Supper Jesus had with his friends, and will gather in candlelight to recall the poignant and powerful story of his last days. We will strip the chancel of all color and drape it in the black of mourning, we will snuff out the Christ Candle and leave in silence.
Friday many of us will attend the Good Friday service at noon at the Congregational Church on Sierra Way with members of the ecumenical community.
Saturday the 10th at 9 am we will transform the sanctuary from a place of mourning to a place ready for celebration, as people bring their home-grown flowers and greens to fill the place with Spring and Life and Light.
And on Easter Sunday we will rejoice, singing Alleluia with all our hearts.
We will experience the peaks and the valleys together in the days ahead. And we will say to one another, again and again: “I firmly believe the best is yet to come.”
Our deepest and truest and richest experience of God is always still ahead of us.
And one of the things that Easter means is that death is not the end- that our whole life long we can say, “The best is yet to come.” Thanks be to God.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Keys to the Kingdom- Death & Life
This week at First Pres
In one of the gospels, Jesus famously gives Peter the Keys to the kingdom- a sign of authority and power. One never really appreciates the power of these scraps of metal we are inclined to take for granted, until one is without one. Or, as luck would have it, one receives a new one.
Which is what happened this week: the whole church campus is finally re-keyed. Old keys no longer work, and new ones work like a charm! We are more secure and more responsible than we were. This project was done with money left to us by Norma Lunn when she died, and I think she must smile from where she now sits, knowing this place she loved and cared for is secure, and we no longer have to puzzle over the reason for the dozens of keys we found on her ring.
I am saddened by how death touches us all. Don Inloes, pastor of Immanuel Methodist Church died this week. He was a faithful, justice-seeking saint, and I miss him- even as I celebrate the way he lived his life. After a long season of waiting, Marion Wiens’ mother Anne finally passed into the Light which guided her days. Grief mingles with gratitude for the end of suffering. Today I got word that Jo Subject, who has been living near her son in Calistoga CA, died at 93. Her life was a blessing to this community, we are both diminished and blessed at her home-going.
And there was life: I was struck by the sound of laughter at the Session meeting last night, as I was preparing soup for supper. I was moved by the tenderness that came to the surface as we met with the Keiper family and approved the baptism of baby Addison. I was grateful when one of the elders noticed that we are building trust with one another- a sign of the Spirit at work.
On Sunday, we will have our Annual meeting, a chance to sing and to reflect on what God has accomplished among us in 2008. To pray over the annual report is a humbling and joyful task.
But the report tells only part of the story. This week I got a letter from someone talking about the struggle to reveal what’s going on inside and the joy of using one’s gifts in ministry. I also sat and talked with a faithful leader about how discouraging ministry can be, and what keeps us coming back for more. And I got a note from someone rejoicing in being ‘seen’ and loved in this community. These things remind me that there are spiritual struggles and questions and victories taking place just under the surface all the time that I know nothing about. the Spirit is always at work among us, making us whole, bringing the Kingdom nearer, offering us the keys. Thanks be to God.
In one of the gospels, Jesus famously gives Peter the Keys to the kingdom- a sign of authority and power. One never really appreciates the power of these scraps of metal we are inclined to take for granted, until one is without one. Or, as luck would have it, one receives a new one.
Which is what happened this week: the whole church campus is finally re-keyed. Old keys no longer work, and new ones work like a charm! We are more secure and more responsible than we were. This project was done with money left to us by Norma Lunn when she died, and I think she must smile from where she now sits, knowing this place she loved and cared for is secure, and we no longer have to puzzle over the reason for the dozens of keys we found on her ring.
I am saddened by how death touches us all. Don Inloes, pastor of Immanuel Methodist Church died this week. He was a faithful, justice-seeking saint, and I miss him- even as I celebrate the way he lived his life. After a long season of waiting, Marion Wiens’ mother Anne finally passed into the Light which guided her days. Grief mingles with gratitude for the end of suffering. Today I got word that Jo Subject, who has been living near her son in Calistoga CA, died at 93. Her life was a blessing to this community, we are both diminished and blessed at her home-going.
And there was life: I was struck by the sound of laughter at the Session meeting last night, as I was preparing soup for supper. I was moved by the tenderness that came to the surface as we met with the Keiper family and approved the baptism of baby Addison. I was grateful when one of the elders noticed that we are building trust with one another- a sign of the Spirit at work.
On Sunday, we will have our Annual meeting, a chance to sing and to reflect on what God has accomplished among us in 2008. To pray over the annual report is a humbling and joyful task.
But the report tells only part of the story. This week I got a letter from someone talking about the struggle to reveal what’s going on inside and the joy of using one’s gifts in ministry. I also sat and talked with a faithful leader about how discouraging ministry can be, and what keeps us coming back for more. And I got a note from someone rejoicing in being ‘seen’ and loved in this community. These things remind me that there are spiritual struggles and questions and victories taking place just under the surface all the time that I know nothing about. the Spirit is always at work among us, making us whole, bringing the Kingdom nearer, offering us the keys. Thanks be to God.
Monday, January 26, 2009
1-25-09 Doing Chapel Outside
Doing Chapel Outside
“Didja know you could DO chapel outside, Miss Lynette?”
The 4 year old beamed with his new-found knowledge.
“We just did chapel time, and we did it OUTSIDE!”
It’s true. Last week I forgot to turn the heat on in the chapel, and at chapel time it was below 50 degrees. I knew that my fidgety friends and I would never make it through 15 minutes of singing and story and prayer under those circumstances, and so we gathered on the plaza, in the warm sunshine, and sang our songs and admired God’s creation, and read a story. It was lovely- the warm sun making the chilly winter morning more bearable, the voices raised in song making it bright in another way.
When our chapel time was done and the kids returned to our child care center, one of them encountered the director, and informed her with glee of his new discovery: you can do chapel outside!
I have been doing a fair amount of thinking about ‘chapel outside’ lately.
Nancy Wiens, a daughter of this congregation, organized a quest for clergy and spiritual directors seeking sustenance from God. She gathered them for a couple of days of preparation, and then they went out to the Borrego Springs area of the desert, as pilgrims have for millennia sought clarity in the desert. The group of about 10 spent time camping, eating, praying together, and then each of them went out for 4 days of solitude.
They slept under the stars, and they prayed. Each of them fasted, drinking only water during their solo time. They faced their fears and settled into the silence. And they watched and listened to and dwelt in the kind of chapel that you can only do outside. Their companions were the moon and the stars, the rising sun and the solid stones, the tiny signs of life and the wide sky.
When they returned to the world in which all we usually dwell, I went to greet them and welcome them back. Though most of them were strangers to me, it was clear to me that each of them had sensed the presence of the Holy One, had heard a response to the Question they had brought with them, had been filled with a blessing they were eager to share with the world.
While that kind of rigor does not feel like something I am called to at the moment, I have found myself drawn outside often for my daily prayer of late. I sit in the fresh (sometimes cold!) air on my back porch and watch the sky grow light, watch the sun bring its gift of warmth and life back to us. Or I rest there at the close of a day, giving thanks for what has been, and for the promise of rest, and for the chance to begin again tomorrow.
And here is what I have to report: God is out there. The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness of it, the world, and all that dwells therein. Did you know you could do chapel outside? Give it a try.
Peace to you- Sandy
“Didja know you could DO chapel outside, Miss Lynette?”
The 4 year old beamed with his new-found knowledge.
“We just did chapel time, and we did it OUTSIDE!”
It’s true. Last week I forgot to turn the heat on in the chapel, and at chapel time it was below 50 degrees. I knew that my fidgety friends and I would never make it through 15 minutes of singing and story and prayer under those circumstances, and so we gathered on the plaza, in the warm sunshine, and sang our songs and admired God’s creation, and read a story. It was lovely- the warm sun making the chilly winter morning more bearable, the voices raised in song making it bright in another way.
When our chapel time was done and the kids returned to our child care center, one of them encountered the director, and informed her with glee of his new discovery: you can do chapel outside!
I have been doing a fair amount of thinking about ‘chapel outside’ lately.
Nancy Wiens, a daughter of this congregation, organized a quest for clergy and spiritual directors seeking sustenance from God. She gathered them for a couple of days of preparation, and then they went out to the Borrego Springs area of the desert, as pilgrims have for millennia sought clarity in the desert. The group of about 10 spent time camping, eating, praying together, and then each of them went out for 4 days of solitude.
They slept under the stars, and they prayed. Each of them fasted, drinking only water during their solo time. They faced their fears and settled into the silence. And they watched and listened to and dwelt in the kind of chapel that you can only do outside. Their companions were the moon and the stars, the rising sun and the solid stones, the tiny signs of life and the wide sky.
When they returned to the world in which all we usually dwell, I went to greet them and welcome them back. Though most of them were strangers to me, it was clear to me that each of them had sensed the presence of the Holy One, had heard a response to the Question they had brought with them, had been filled with a blessing they were eager to share with the world.
While that kind of rigor does not feel like something I am called to at the moment, I have found myself drawn outside often for my daily prayer of late. I sit in the fresh (sometimes cold!) air on my back porch and watch the sky grow light, watch the sun bring its gift of warmth and life back to us. Or I rest there at the close of a day, giving thanks for what has been, and for the promise of rest, and for the chance to begin again tomorrow.
And here is what I have to report: God is out there. The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness of it, the world, and all that dwells therein. Did you know you could do chapel outside? Give it a try.
Peace to you- Sandy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
