R & R

Quite the inspiration, holding a sleeping baby in my arms while I contemplate Mark's passage on the disciples' need of a break (Mark 6: 30-34, 53-56)...
We all need a break, especially those of us in ministry. Just like sleeping babies, we need to 'sleep' so we can grow, turn off from the (over)stimulation of the world, and awaken hungry again. Being passed around from person to person, having to constantly adapt to new faces and situations is tough and emotionally (and even often physically) exhausting. People constantly getting in or putting things in your face to get a reaction out of you (good or bad)--it's a lot to deal with. We need to rest.
Conversely, it's the people following Jesus around who are like infants insofar as they are needy and helpless, crying out for healing. And just like a mother feeding her child in the middle of the night, no matter how tired she is, she can't resist (or tune out!) the child's cries of hunger and need. Jesus would no more ignore those people's needs than a parent would ignore their baby's. No matter how dirty the diaper, it has to be changed!
The line that struck me in my original reading was the line "...there was no time even for them to eat." Yeah, I so know how that feels. I don't even have a school-aged kid until the fall, but all of our comings and goings make it hard to get everyone around the table at once.
I remember from elementary social studies, the 3 basic human needs--food, clothing, & shelter. Food, a basic human need, and yet we so often put it off for other things. I could go off on a whole 'nuther rant about our Fast Food Nation, but I won't. You can see where it would head from here, I think.
I want to explore in this week's sermon the way the feeding of the 5,000 is sandwiched by this week's reading. Mark is actually quite the literary genius, leading us into this massive feast of loaves and fishes with the disciples lack of time for a meal. I imagine they were quite cranky and tired, having also just come off their journey made in pairs to the outlying regions. I know I get cranky when my blood sugar is low; I know my baby girl doesn't like it when her feeding gets delayed for whatever reason. How must they have felt to see Jesus delaying again, even though it was getting late?
It is hard to form a sermon without wanting to say, "This is what being a follower is all about, putting aside our own needs for those of others." Well, yes, but... But we need to have a time for rest and renewal. Even Jesus had to get away at times (napping in the boat, alone in the garden, etc.). We can't do effective ministry if we aren't getting our basic needs met, if we aren't at least rested and well-fed. And like babies, we will better thrive if we are also loved and hugged and adored occasionally.
Take a minute for yourself this week, don't put off caring for others, but do try to find that moment of peace. Let yourself be cared for like a small child, for we all are children of God.

"God in Between"

I thought is was about time that I got back into the habit of posting my sermons. I don't mind if you borrow them, though I'd like credit even though I admit that these words are not strictly mine, but rather my own interpretation of words given to me by the Spirit.

Disclosure: This title is shamelessly borrowed from a children's story written by Sandi Eisenburg Sasso

Scriptures: 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13, 2 Cor. 5:6-17, Mark 4:26-34

"God in Between"

Have any of you ever grown mint? From seed? The mint seed is the tiniest seed that I’ve ever come across. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mustard seed to compare it to, but mint seeds are very, very tiny. Now if you’ve ever planted mint, even from an already started plant from the store, you know how invasive it can be, taking over everything if not kept in check. It becomes a wild, untamed mass of fragrant green leaves, invading spots you had saved for other plants. All from a seed about the size of one of the periods in your bulletin. Or think about a baby. My pediatrician said that babies M’s age gain half to one ounce every day! It is certainly a miracle to watch her grow and change. You all here in -- don’t seem to have much kudzu, but in --, we couldn’t get away from it. Someone once told me that in the heat of summer, kudzu can grow up to 18 inches in one day. You could almost sit and watch that kind of growth take place right in front of you!

This unbelievable, miraculous kind of growth is what Jesus is talking about when he references the mustard seed. This tiny seed, growing into a shrub almost tree-size. Birds can build nests in it and animals can find shade under its leaves. And this, he says, is like the kingdom of heaven. The evidence starts small, but with God’s care, it grows into a huge, sheltering, nurturing tree. One that provides nourishment and security. God takes the smallest seed and transforms it into a great plant that provides sustenance for all.

I’ve heard plenty of pastors use this parable to encourage evangelism and growth in their churches. “Go out, make this seed grow,” they exhort. But I actually think they’ve missed the point. Jesus isn’t talking about earthly things here. He’s talking about the kingdom of heaven—that part, at least, he says plainly. But if we look at the mustard seed parable up next to the parable of the farmer that Jesus tells in conjunction with it, we see that the farmer doesn’t even know how the seed grows. The farmer has so little to do with making the seed grow that in the parable the farmer sleeps through the process of sprouting and maturation.

But truthfully, we don’t need to know how. We just have to trust that God is doing what God promised (and God always does!). While in Matthew, we are admonished to have faith the size of a mustard seed, Mark makes no such admonition. In Mark, the parable is, plain and simple, about the kingdom that provides saving space way beyond our imagining. The parable is not about us, but about the grace of God. “We are freed from the burden of determining the harvest, of assuming that our successes or failures hasten or deter God’s plans.” We plant the seed and reap the harvest, but God does the ‘in between’ work. No matter our efforts, the harvest will come. We have to depend on God for germination, water, sun, etc.

As with the mustard seed, the smallest seed becomes the greatest shrub. In order to be fulfilling its mission, the church must produce some sort of growth, though that doesn’t have to be measured in numbers. Some people think the only way to measure a church’s growth (hear ‘success’) is by new members. I disagree. It can be measured by the church’s outreach, if they are adopting new programs, if they are increasing pledge gifts, if they are getting out more in their community, if they are finding new ways to spread the word about God’s coming kingdom. All of these are ways to measure church growth and success. We start these programs and trust that God will bring them to fulfillment in making new disciples.

The initial evidence of the kingdom may seem small, but the ultimate results are great. If we believe that this is how God does things, then what do we do? We will begin to look for the mustard seeds. We will look for the first signs of the kingdom with faith and optimism. We will not be too quick to dismiss the small and insignificant. We will not give up on ourselves, on others, on the church, or even on the world just because we see many signs of sin and brokenness. Rather, we will believe in God’s possibilities even if the evidence is as tiny as a mustard seed.

Consider David, youngest of Jesse’s sons, so insignificant that his father didn’t even call him in from the fields when a convening of his sons was requested by Samuel. He wasn’t the eldest, he wasn’t the tallest, or even the fairest, yet he was the chosen. He becomes one of the greatest and most beloved kings of Israel. Even when all the others, including Samuel, were shocked at his anointing, God already sees David’s potential and has great plans for him in the life of his chosen people, Israel.

God sees in us what we cannot see from the outside. Turns out, it’s not a beauty pageant. And we see that displayed in the life of Christ. Jesus always sees the potential in others. Their potential to be healed, to be whole, to be redeemed. Intimacy with Christ grows in us as certainly and effortlessly as seeds grow. We have so little to do with Christ’s nearness to us that we can just go to sleep as the gardener did. This trust, so deep that we can sleep without anxiety is much more useful to us than fussing over the little seed: dousing it with pesticide, repotting it, clucking anxiously over the amount of sun it has. The kingdom is like this sleepy, restful trust.

Trouble is, we like to be busy, productive, to feel like we’re being useful. Being busy and dogmatic makes sense to us. It fits with our normal way of being human. We achieve all sorts of goods by working hard and committing ourselves to our values. These are mostly reasonable things, and certainly nothing useful would happen if we did not work for it or if we remained indifferent to moral and political issues. It’s just that this way of operating is not like the kingdom of God. The harvest will come without us having to work for it, because God adores us and it is this love that is the power of growth.

God will not fail to fulfill the promise of salvation. It is already coming to be in this world—like the seed sown in the earth, or the remarkable growth of the tree from the mustard seed, silently but powerfully coming to be. The harvest will happen in God’s way and in God’s time. Meanwhile, we plant the seeds and wait for them to grow. We watch with patience and marvel at the first sprouts. Then we pray for rain and sun from God’s hand and joyfully reap the fruits of the harvest when they are mature.

As Paul tells the Corinthians, we walk by faith and not by sight. Or at least we try to. It isn’t easy for humans to hand over all control of the outcome. Yet faith demands that we do just that. Once we plant the seed, we can’t see what happens under the ground, we have to wait until we see the first sprouts. But we trust that God is always at work, even inside that tiny seed, planted deep in the dark earth.

It is yet another of God’s mysteries, like that of the Trinity, which we spoke of last week. This parable reminds us that God is full of mysteries and surprises. And in an age when we learn more and more with science and technology, all of the mystery and surprise seems to be getting squeezed out of our collective consciousness. If it isn’t tangible or quantifiable or calculable, it must not Be. But Jesus asks us in this parable not to close our imaginations too quickly.

Think about seeds he says. You don’t know how they grow into grain or fruit or trees or flowers. You just plant them and leave them until harvest time. It’s a mystery, an amazing mystery. Or the tiny mustard seed. How does that teeny, tiny seed grow into such an enormous plant? We can’t understand the kingdom of God any more than we can understand how a seed grows. But we can know that God is up to something in between the time we plant and the time we harvest. We can see the sprouts, the leaves, the fruit. It isn’t until then, though, that we can see the plants potential. God, on the other hand, can see the potential in the smallest of seeds right from the start before it even makes it to the soil.

So pray now that our eyes can be like the eyes of God, that we will be able to see the potential in all of God’s children and welcome them into the corner of the kingdom that we have right here at SPC. The kingdom will come, in God’s time and in God’s way; we believe that God will do the ‘in between’ work, allowing us the planting and the harvest. So get your gloves on, grab your trowel and rake, and… wait. Wait for the miraculous potential to break forth from the power of God. Amen.

new things

Wow! Hadn't realized how long it's been. Since before my maternity leave even. I've been back for two weeks now. It's been a fairly easy transition. Baby M is with me for the summer in the office until big sis goes to kindergarten in the fall. (Just can't afford two kids in child care at once!) She's done very well and I am able to work around her easily with a few simple tweaks in my time management.
Not to say that I'm not keeping busy. Summer is usually a slow time of year with people going on vacations and such, but right now I'm looking at planning for the officer training and retreat at the end of the summer, and best of all, welcoming five new members and officiating a couple of baptisms. What a joy!

devestation

I learned last night that good friends and colleagues of mine who were expecting twins lost the baby girl in utero. The mom will have to carry her along with her brother until the boy is ready to be delivered. I can. not. imagine.
I myself have been feeling so off-kilter after this news. Perhaps it is because I'm carrying a healthy baby girl. Perhaps it is simply the bond of motherhood. But whatever it is, I too am keenly feeling this loss. Tears pop up at unexpected moments. I pray constantly for them, wondering what they must be going through, losing one--sadly, due to the life of the other. Doctors say they think the boy was just taking all the nutrients and the girl couldn't thrive.
I think that would probably be the hardest thing if this were me. I think I might always have some small feelings of blame toward the surviving child. But again, I've not been in that situation, so I can't say for sure. How difficult it must be to walk in and see two of everything... to see the blue next to the pink...
These friends are a part of my Tuesday lectionary group. For obvious reasons, we're not having that today. I will instead be holding a prayer vigil during our normal meeting time. If you are so inclined, between 1:30 and 3 p.m. EST you can join me in prayer for them. I will not name them for privacy, but God will know.

Through the Cracks

The other day I posted my status update on facebook to say "R wonders what else will fall through the cracks." Yeah, maybe that should have been a clue.
So here, about two weeks away (give or take) from giving birth, I have a funeral to do. And it's of a person that has been sick most of the time I've worked here, suffering from Alzheimer's, so I really have very little of a relationship with her. Her family almost never darkens the doors. Funerals stress me out. I mean, I know some colleagues who think they're pretty easy, but I feel like this is a time of huge responsibility on my part. I get one chance to make the last memories of their loved one special.
But really, while I'd love to believe that God has supreme confidence in my ability to handle this, I'm thinking it's more like a divine joke at my expense. I mean, I can barely remember my own name these days. I'm barely keeping my head above water trying to get ready to go on leave (right before Holy Week and Easter I might add) and now I get to add a funeral of a person I barely know. Some things (many things) are about to fall through the cracks.
Anybody want to send me a sermon for Sunday? Anyone?... Bueller?

nothing half way

Well, I tell you, as if planning for maternity leave wasn't enough, I'm now being asked to be a supervisor for an internship (I assume it's over the summer) as soon as I return from leave. It's a member of our church and she also works full time so it ought to be interesting trying to squeeze in the hours required for the internship. We'll make it work though. She has a true sense of calling, I know. I want to do it, don't get me wrong. It's just another thing to think about. I have had a VERY full first year and a half in the ministry!

blowing over and other things

Well, it seems like perhaps things are blowing over with the organist. She was pleasant and cordial today. 'Course I'm still wary since I know the ways of Grande Southern Dames. (We used to call them GSLQ's way back--Grand Southern Ladies of Quality.) Sadly, I feel like I will have to keep my guard up and my smile on around her for a while yet to come. Still, I don't sense the frosty acidity that was there before.

On a totally separate note: Go over here and join in the discussion about confession and reformed worship. Lots of great musings!

Screw ups

Well, it being my first funeral and all, there was bound to be something that went wrong. The funeral is not actually until tomorrow, but I'm already neck deep in $h!t with my organist for handling some things poorly. I will take the vast majority of the responsibility. I was clumsy when I asked her if a family member could play for part of the service. Apparently, she *heard* me say the whole service and felt very offended, but rather than saying so at the time, she waited until she boiled over this morning and came in and literally yelled at me, hurling accusations about my intentions. Something like this:
Walking, or rather marching, in my door-
"I'm very upset."
"Would you like to tell me why?"
"Oh, you know very well why! You know why I'm here!"
(Oh boy, I have no idea what's going on.)
"I'm not sure I do. Can you..."
"You know very well why I'm upset!! Don't pretend you don't know!"
"Why don't you tell me anyway."
(I'm pretending pretty well to be calm so far. Not really feeling it though.)
At one point she pulls out the "How dare you!" at me. (not really sure what I was daring, but...) Well, as unpastoral as it was, I stood up and pulled one right back. Hey, I'm a pastor, not a doormat. I find it pretty unfair of her to fling her misunderstandings at me as though they were intended.
Well, it was about what I mentioned above. Didn't know this at the time, since I thought we'd gone over it the day before. She'd seemed satisfied at the time. I thought I'd pretty straightforwardly asked her if she would like to play the hymns while the family member played the solos--she apparently didn't hear that. I think she'd already gotten her feelings hurt (something, I think, about not seeing her name in the (unfinished version of the) bulletin. And tuned me out at that point.
As we went on, I discovered we'd both made some erroneous assumptions. I said so. She looked at me as if to say, of course I had, but she was in the right all along.
So she flung a few more accusations at me and I did my best pastor imitation and said I was very sorry for handling things so clumsily and I never meant for her feelings to get hurt, I was sorry for not being more clear the day before, I was sorry she misunderstood my intentions, I wished she'd have let me know at the time, I would love if she'd reconsider and play the hymns as was intended,(eat crow, swallow pride, etc.)
Well, she'd have none of it. As she was ready to leave, I said, "I truly hope you can forgive me. I'm very sorry." (Looking as contrite as possible--and actually meaning it. I DID feel bad that things went wrong. I'm not sure I'm ready to accept ALL the blame, as I feel she didn't really listen to what I was saying the day before, but I'm ready to admit I could have handled it better--live and learn. And in case you're wondering, no, our church has no policy about these things, I have to make it up as I go.)
Well, she just waved and walked out. Not even acknowledging my apology. Now THAT is why I'm venting.
Of course, now the family member is asking her to play for part of the service since she (the fam. member)feels she might get a little emotional, so we'll see how that goes over.
Please pray that she can keep her venom contained and not do something to hurt the family. She's a well-practiced southern belle, knowing the fine art of the back-handed compliment, the brittle rejoinder and the acerbic gratitude. But if, on the other hand, she spills/throws punch on me tomorrow, I'll have a great story to tell!