Together at the Table

We've spent the last month traveling and in the process taking our children to eight state capitals (after all the six-year-old is currently learning them), each in which we visited the capitol building.  (Side note: If anyone can explain to me why the city is spelled with an "a" and the building is spelled with an "o" - I'd love that!)

We visited the capitals of Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and Kansas (and if you can tell me all the capital cities, I'll be very proud of you!).  As much as I'd love to post pictures of my adorable children at each of the capitol buildings, I'll save you from that and get on with the main story I want to tell which happened at our first capitol building visit in Jefferson City, Missouri (there I gave you one!).

On the first day of our travel we walked into our first capitol building.  As we entered the capitol, we walked across the floor and came to the rotunda.  We were able to look up at the beautiful dome but also look down.  And down on the ground floor, this is what we saw...

Without missing a beat the four-year-old said, "Look, Mommy, it's where they take communion."

Although my cynical side said, "Yea, right" and my pastor side said, "This child spends too much time in church," I've spent a lot of time thinking about his comment.

And here's what I've been thinking.  Wouldn't we all - not just politicians (although yes, them, too) but all of us - be better off if we came around the table together more often.  Perhaps the place to do this for some of us is at the communion table - after all, the world would be much improved if just those who proclaim Christianity could actually all value each other.  But it's not only at the communion table of the church.  We also need more explicitly inclusive tables where we can come together apart from one particular profession to see each other as human, as valued, as cherished, as loved. 

What a different world we might live in if we came together at the table.



O Canada

This morning on public radio I heard that Ontario has become the first Canadian province to protect transgender people in its human rights legislation...legislation that has protected gay and lesbian people since the 1980's. 

This tickles me for two primary reasons...

First, because I appreciate their action on behalf of the human rights of all people...not just people like me...not just people who are in the norm...but really protecting human rights.

Second, because in the news story I also heard that all three political parties supported this legislation.  Way to come together for your people!

Thank you to our northern neighbor for this great model!  I like the world you are creating for our children.

When I Need a Worship Detox (aka: Worship PG-13)

I'm on sabbatical.  Part of what this means is that my family and I have the opportunity to go and worship at other churches on Sunday mornings.  This is nice for three reasons: we get to sit together in worship, we get to simply worship, and we get to see what other churches are doing. 

Today we opted to go to a church that's part of a multi-campus congregation.  I have heard good things about the church and was interested to see how they maintained a single identity at multiple campuses.

Today was a day when we went in knowing that theology would not align with where we are, but expected the worship experience to have many gifts.  Instead, I walked out feeling like I needed to detox...feeling like my body and spirit had been filled with so much darkness that I couldn't see the light.  And yes, they were preaching the light (Jesus) loud and clear.

There were many differences between this congregation and ours.  We immediately knew this because worship was much like a rock concert (and reminded me that no matter how many times I think ours is a blended worship we're really quite traditional) - it's not my usual style, but I'm okay with that.  In fact, the first song we sang had great lyrics and I'd love for our congregation to learn it.  Those sorts of differences weren't hard for me.  I'm not a person who thinks that there is only one way to worship.

So, what was wrong?

First, my children opted out of the children's programming.  That was fine.  I would have let them go or let them worship with us.  But by the end of worship I wish it'd had a PG-13 warning so I could have made an informed decision about their participation.  Although I'm all for people understanding the realities of crucifixion - I do fall into the camp of believing we've domesticated the cross to a fault - all I could envision was nightmares that my 4 and 6 year old children might have after hearing graphic descriptions of the process of crucifixion as well as conversation about God vomiting us up because our of lack of fire for our faith.  It's not that I couldn't have some of the conversations that were being presented, but I believe they are to be had in a very different fashion depending on who is in the conversation - a four-year-old, a longtime Christian, someone looking for a new faith commitment, someone who has lived a life of violence, etc, etc. 

Second, the service was focused on the meaning of the cross.  And the theological canyon between the preacher and myself was simply too great.  I know that many people echo what he said, but I realized today how happy I am in my bubble of a different understanding.  How do I understand the cross?  I understand it as a reality of human choice, not God's only option or first desire.  I understand that Jesus was born to be followed not born to be crucified.  I understand that the cross is only the will of God so far as God gave us free choice and so within that reality the cross happened.  I understand it not as the only way God could save us from our sin, but as a reality that happened because we rejected God's better ways.  And frankly, as Christian as I am, I don't think we are out of reach of God without believing that we need the cross.  So, to hear about the cross as the time when God's back was turned on Jesus and as the only way we could be saved from our sin and on and on (all preached amidst previously mentioned graphic details) was just too much.

I do think we need to be more willing to talk about sin and to help each other through our sin.  I don't think worship needs to be all flowers and butterflies.  But I also think there is enough shame and violence, enough trash and hatred, enough power plays and force Monday - Saturday that I'm not sure it is what makes for great worship.  Between vomit, urine, and feces (all words used multiple times in the sermon) and the feeling that if anyone walked out without sincerely turning to Jesus they were doomed to hell, it was hard for me to find the light.

Today I missed my church.  During sabbatical it is important to take a break, to be away.  But let me tell you - it took everything I had not to beg my husband to drive straight to our congregation where we could sneak in the back get a detox!

A Gift...and the Anxiety that Comes With It

I am one of those fortunate people whose vocation grants a time to step away.  I will, for the second time while serving this congregation, be receiving the gift of sabbatical.  For the next couple of months I will be out of my usual routine and be given time for rest and renewal...an especially timely gift considering our community just passed the one year anniversary of our tornado.

I can't say thank you enough for this gift.

And I'm exited about the promises of this time...
     the promise of rest (goal: 8 hours of sleep at night)
          the promise of health (goal: exercising again and making better
          eating choices)
               the promise of relationships (goal: time with family and
               friends)
                    the promise of renewal (goal: finding my center again)

But I am aware of the anxiety that comes with this gift...
     time will go too quickly
          I haven't set goals that many would say are either big or
          measurable...and might not even accomplish these
               even if I do great over sabbatical, will day 1 back at work
               throw my right back into unhealthy rhythms and bad
               boundaries?

And so, as I prepare to receive this gift (which begins June 1) I am eager...I am anxious...I am hopeful.

What healthy routines do you practice for self, for spirit, for family?
How do you defend your boundaries?

What About the Stuff?

Last month I had the privilege of going with our youth group to Heifer Ranch and spending a night in the Global Village.  There each group stays in a house representing a different impoverished country or situation.  We got to the stay in the Refugee Camp.  What this meant is that we had no resources (food, fuel, or utensils) and were unable to communicate with those outside our group.  The idea of this experience is that there are enough resources for everyone but the only way everyone has enough is to share. 

Since I was in the group that couldn't talk, I did a lot of listening and observing.  And here's what I most noticed - having stuff gets in the way of being kind.  (This doesn't mean people weren't kind to us.  They were and we ended up well taken care of.)  It wasn't that people were unkind to us, but I was amazed at how much we argue over the things that we have.

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On Sunday my children had a friend over for the day.  With three boys from age 4 - 6 you never know what might happen but the day went really well.  But there were those moments over the course of the day...

"It's mine.  You can't have it."

"I want to play now.  It's my turn!"

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Today I am working on a sermon.  In Acts, Luke writes about the early Christian community, "no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything was held in common....There was not a needy person among them" (4:32b, 34a).





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So, what do we do about the stuff?  I'm not ready to give it all away.  But, I can't help but wonder how much kinder I would be...how much more attentive to those who cross my path...how much more generous...if I weren't so worried about locking and protecting and taking care of and enjoying everything that I own (or that owns me). 

And what does it teach my children when stuff has so much of me...and of them?

A Messy Imposition

Today is Ash Wednesday. We had services tonight at church. I imposed ashes on those who had gathered to worship. About halfway through the crowd there was my almost-four-year-old baby boy in front of me...waiting, both eager and curious about what I was going to do.

I touched my thumb to the ashes, then to his forehead. As I made the sign of the cross I said, "I mark you with God's claim" (I don't know what others say, but this seemed right for tonight).

After marking him with ashes, I was about to stand for the next person.

But he wasn't done.

He reached out his little pointer finger to touch the ashes. I first thought he just wanted to play and began to pull the dish back. He then pointed to my forehead. "You don't have any," he said. And he was right.

I put the dish back where he could reach and watched as he stuck his little finger in and then touched it to my forehead before getting a confused look.

There was a problem. "It didn't stick," he said.

But this boy knows how to solve problems. Reaching back toward the dish, he dug in with thumb and finger, gathering as much of the ashes as he could and lifting them gently to my head. I watched as ashes cascaded down my forehead and across my nose and cheeks. I held my lips together, not sure I wanted to taste the ashes. Then he repeated...after all, it is the sign of the cross we traditionally mark each other with and the cross has two beams. Another pile of ashes to my forehead and the crossbeam was in place.

He walked away satisfied.

I stood there, ashes thick on my forehead, scattered across my face, even around my feet. It was a messy imposition for sure, but one I will never forget.

Living with Reality

As you have heard me say previously, our community was hit by a tornado last spring. Eight months later it is clear that our reality is forever changed. All we have to do is listen to our children to know that.

(spoken by our daycare provider who has been in this profession for 20 years): Before May 22nd, I've never had children playing "tornado" - now it's a regular part of their play.

(a question asked on a recent windy night to my friend by her three-year-old daughter, they were in their basement as their house got hit by the tornado): Mommy, is the wind going to break this house, too?

(a conversation held between myself and my almost four-year-old son yesterday in my office when he found my hardhat from the repairs to the church after the tornado):
Him: Mommy, why don't you ever wear your hardhat anymore?
Me: Well, I don't need it now that the construction is done.
Him: So, you'll use it next time a tornado hits?

Part of me is pained by these conversations, these realities. Part of me takes comfort in the fact that children have an amazing way of incorporating even that which we describe as devastating into their reality. Part of me wonders what other conversations we'll have and what answers I'll be able to give.