Like many people, I am blessed to have many friends, and tons of acquaintances. However, probably also like many people, I have perhaps only a handful of really good, close friends. You know the kind... These are the people in my life with whom I can be totally and even brutally honest, not having to filter my words or my thoughts before putting them out there. These are the people in my life with whom I can completely relax. These are the people in my life with whom I can be totally at ease in about, oh, two minutes.
Friends like this are amazing; they are an incredible gift in my life. These are the people who know me... who know me... and yet who are my friends anyhow! It blows me away.
Friends like this seem immune to the distances that can be caused by either geography or time. I might not see or talk with one of these friends for months, sometimes even years... yet, when we are together again, it's like no time has elapsed at all.
How does that work? What makes for a friend, anyhow? Surely there's something about shared stories, shared memories, shared times spent together in formative ways. But to be honest, I really don't know how someone, even with whom I might disagree politically or theologically, can be my friend... yet they sometimes are. It's a mystery to me.
But about these special kinds of friends that sometimes come along in our lives, I have one comment and one hope. The comment is - I am profoundly grateful for such people in my own life; they truly are gifts that make me rich beyond measure. The hope is - May I be that kind of friend for someone else.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Like a coyote?
Sunday afternoon, as I was driving back home from church, I was listening to our local NPR station. They were playing some show which featured folk music. I just caught the tail end of a song that they were playing, followed by a few minutes of the post-song interview with the artist. Her song really would be more in the "country" genre, it seems to me. She was singing about why she seemed to hang on to this relationship with her man, even though it wasn't a good relationship. The chorus, which so seemed "country" to me, was something about her wondering why she was so much like a coyote, liking to hang around dead things all the time. Doesn't that sound "country" to you? All she needed was something about a pickup truck and a train, and I think she would have been all set! And who knows... maybe those things were in the song, too. As I said, I only caught the last bit of her singing.
After I chuckled at the "country-ness" of the song, though, I began to wonder myself if I'm not like some coyote as well. What dead things do I tend to hang around? What dead-end habits do I persist on repeating? What dead-end world views - of despair, of powerlessness, of hopelessness - do I entertain and also perpetuate? What dead-end lenses do I insist on using when I think of or see politicians, when I engage in a bitter cynicism that leaves me both angry and despondent about our country's leaders and leader-wannabees?
Maybe, just maybe, I'm more like that ol' coyote in her song than I'd care to admit... even to myself. Maybe, just maybe, I, too, keep hanging around things that are dead... or things that should be dead, at least to me. Maybe, just maybe, I ought to spend some time during Lent examining the ways I need to look at different things, or at least look at the same things in different ways. Maybe, just maybe, I can spend my time and energy, my prayers and reflections, doing away with my persistent coyote ways... and begin to focus on the things that give life, that encourage growth, that promote healthy living and healthy attitudes.
Prayer... fasting... giving. Those three traditional Lenten spiritual disciplines might just help me here. I haven't always engaged in those disciplines each Lenten season. However, I'll bet they can help me chase my coyote-self away.
And all this from just a snippet of some country-sounding song on an NPR radio station. Ideas do come from surprising places, sometimes, don't they?
After I chuckled at the "country-ness" of the song, though, I began to wonder myself if I'm not like some coyote as well. What dead things do I tend to hang around? What dead-end habits do I persist on repeating? What dead-end world views - of despair, of powerlessness, of hopelessness - do I entertain and also perpetuate? What dead-end lenses do I insist on using when I think of or see politicians, when I engage in a bitter cynicism that leaves me both angry and despondent about our country's leaders and leader-wannabees?
Maybe, just maybe, I'm more like that ol' coyote in her song than I'd care to admit... even to myself. Maybe, just maybe, I, too, keep hanging around things that are dead... or things that should be dead, at least to me. Maybe, just maybe, I ought to spend some time during Lent examining the ways I need to look at different things, or at least look at the same things in different ways. Maybe, just maybe, I can spend my time and energy, my prayers and reflections, doing away with my persistent coyote ways... and begin to focus on the things that give life, that encourage growth, that promote healthy living and healthy attitudes.
Prayer... fasting... giving. Those three traditional Lenten spiritual disciplines might just help me here. I haven't always engaged in those disciplines each Lenten season. However, I'll bet they can help me chase my coyote-self away.
And all this from just a snippet of some country-sounding song on an NPR radio station. Ideas do come from surprising places, sometimes, don't they?
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The impact one life can have
In the Omaha World-Herald today, there was an article about a retired state worker who died. Normally, that's not news. However, here is what made that former state worker memorable...
There are some obvious things - well, obvious to me at least - about this notice.
First, she was 102 years old! That's not a small feat in and of itself.
Second, she was 102 years old, and she retired last year! I'm going to be 61 years old this April, and, God willing, I hope to retire at least by the time I'm 66! Now, I've got lots of plans for other things I want to do, but I don't envision that any of those things would be something so involved for me that I would be said to "retire" from that as well!
Third, she had worked at the Nebraska State Capitol for 27 years. That means that Sally didn't begin working as a sergeant-at-arms until she already was 74 years old! It reminded me that perhaps it's not such a far stretch after all to imagine that Abram responded positively to God's call to pack up and move to a whole new place when Abram was 80. Sally might have directed him in the right way and kept everyone in order along the journey if she had been alive back then!
Now these three things - her age, how old she was when she retired, and the fact that she began a whole new career at the age of 74 that lasted almost three more decades in her life - are amazing to me... impressive... and a bit daunting.
However, there's one other thing about Sally Gordon. A few years ago I was invited by one of our Nebraska state senators to lead the chamber in the invocation to begin one of their day's meetings. I was honored... although I was not naive enough not to be unaware that rarely are invocations - whether in a sanctuary or in a government meeting place - things that are "impressive," that they usually don't make a big impact. Still, I felt honored. When the morning came, however, I also was a bit nervous. It wasn't "stage fright;" I've been praying in public far too long for that. However I was aware that I was standing in the place of power in the state of Nebraska... and, in that place, I was going to dare to address the Almighty on behalf of those assembled. So, "nervous" might not be the most accurate word to describe what I was feeling, but I felt some inner tension.
I walked into the chamber a bit before the session was to begin with prayer, and this mature woman comes up to me, ask me who I am, and, when I told her, smiled broadly and welcomed me to the Legislature. She told me that things were not going to start on time - I know, what a surprise, right? - and that I could wait over where some chairs were gathered for onlookers. She walked me to the chairs, and then stayed and talked with me for a few minutes. She floored me when she told me her age; I knew she was not young, but I would never have guessed that she was nearing 100 at that time! She shared with me her love of the state house and her passion for her job there. We talked about families, and how much they mean in our lives. We chatted for only a few minutes before she excused herself and resumed her position at the door. About an hour or so later, when the senators were ready to convene, she came over to get me and escorted me to the center aisle of the chamber, patted me on the arm, smiled, and nodded for me to proceed to the podium where the Speaker was about to introduce me.
What Sally did was noteworthy to me, because she made me feel welcomed. She was hospitable. She took an interest in who I was and how I was doing. She left an impact.
She obviously left an impact on the lives of many, many people, and that impact was positive and helpful.
I think I could safely say that Sally Gordon would not have remembered me after a few days, probably after a few hours. I could safely guess that Sally Gordon would not have thought she made any impact at all on me, or on anyone with whom she came into contact. Yet her simple acts of kindness and welcome went a long way.
It makes me think today about my life. What kind of impact do I have on people that I meet simply in passing? How welcome and warm do people feel after I chat with them for just a few minutes? Perhaps if we could be more aware of the impact one life can have... well, who knows how the world might be a different place?
"Sally Gordon, often called the matriarch of the State Capitol, died early Tuesday in Lincoln.
"She was 102. Her 103rd birthday would have been March 26.
"Gordon retired last year as a sergeant-at-arms for the Nebraska Legislature... Gordon worked for three governors and was a sergeant-at-arms for 27 years."
There are some obvious things - well, obvious to me at least - about this notice.
First, she was 102 years old! That's not a small feat in and of itself.
Second, she was 102 years old, and she retired last year! I'm going to be 61 years old this April, and, God willing, I hope to retire at least by the time I'm 66! Now, I've got lots of plans for other things I want to do, but I don't envision that any of those things would be something so involved for me that I would be said to "retire" from that as well!
Third, she had worked at the Nebraska State Capitol for 27 years. That means that Sally didn't begin working as a sergeant-at-arms until she already was 74 years old! It reminded me that perhaps it's not such a far stretch after all to imagine that Abram responded positively to God's call to pack up and move to a whole new place when Abram was 80. Sally might have directed him in the right way and kept everyone in order along the journey if she had been alive back then!
Now these three things - her age, how old she was when she retired, and the fact that she began a whole new career at the age of 74 that lasted almost three more decades in her life - are amazing to me... impressive... and a bit daunting.
However, there's one other thing about Sally Gordon. A few years ago I was invited by one of our Nebraska state senators to lead the chamber in the invocation to begin one of their day's meetings. I was honored... although I was not naive enough not to be unaware that rarely are invocations - whether in a sanctuary or in a government meeting place - things that are "impressive," that they usually don't make a big impact. Still, I felt honored. When the morning came, however, I also was a bit nervous. It wasn't "stage fright;" I've been praying in public far too long for that. However I was aware that I was standing in the place of power in the state of Nebraska... and, in that place, I was going to dare to address the Almighty on behalf of those assembled. So, "nervous" might not be the most accurate word to describe what I was feeling, but I felt some inner tension.
I walked into the chamber a bit before the session was to begin with prayer, and this mature woman comes up to me, ask me who I am, and, when I told her, smiled broadly and welcomed me to the Legislature. She told me that things were not going to start on time - I know, what a surprise, right? - and that I could wait over where some chairs were gathered for onlookers. She walked me to the chairs, and then stayed and talked with me for a few minutes. She floored me when she told me her age; I knew she was not young, but I would never have guessed that she was nearing 100 at that time! She shared with me her love of the state house and her passion for her job there. We talked about families, and how much they mean in our lives. We chatted for only a few minutes before she excused herself and resumed her position at the door. About an hour or so later, when the senators were ready to convene, she came over to get me and escorted me to the center aisle of the chamber, patted me on the arm, smiled, and nodded for me to proceed to the podium where the Speaker was about to introduce me.
What Sally did was noteworthy to me, because she made me feel welcomed. She was hospitable. She took an interest in who I was and how I was doing. She left an impact.
She obviously left an impact on the lives of many, many people, and that impact was positive and helpful.
I think I could safely say that Sally Gordon would not have remembered me after a few days, probably after a few hours. I could safely guess that Sally Gordon would not have thought she made any impact at all on me, or on anyone with whom she came into contact. Yet her simple acts of kindness and welcome went a long way.
It makes me think today about my life. What kind of impact do I have on people that I meet simply in passing? How welcome and warm do people feel after I chat with them for just a few minutes? Perhaps if we could be more aware of the impact one life can have... well, who knows how the world might be a different place?
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Living with - or without - the drama
I was talking with a very close friend of mine the other day. This person was telling me about all of the "drama" that was going on at their workplace... morale is bad, gossip is flying around, the boss is caught between "the troops" and "upper management," and on and on. It was frustrating to hear about how hard this was for my friend.
Something then occurred to me while we were talking. I said, "You love the work that you're doing. The challenge now is that it's so easy to get caught up with all of the other stuff... all of the drama in the workplace. What I'd do, I think, is ignore the drama; concentrate on the job that you love." That seemed to make a lot of sense to my friend.
I then realized how easy it is for me to get caught up in all of the drama in life as well. It's easy for me to worry about the future of the congregation I serve, when finances continue to be a problem and the building continues to be a drain. It's easy for me to look back at our history, at times when our membership was well over 1,300 people, and wonder what I'm doing wrong, or what I'm not doing right, that barely sustains our membership numbers at around 330. Sadly, in our current culture in the life of the broader Church, sustaining membership is not a bad thing! And when I think of that, I get caught up in that drama also...what will happen to the Church in our culture? What will happen within our presbytery? How are we going to decide to staff the presbytery and its ministries... and how will we afford what we decide? Will we decide we can play in the same proverbial sandbox as our neighboring presbyteries, perhaps daring to do more in sharing programs, plans, ministries, and even staff? And will the Synod still be around to help us? Drama... drama... drama!
I can't ignore the issues behind the drama. Those are issues that need to be addressed, and addressed with all of the "energy, intelligence, imagination, and love" that I can muster... for which I vowed when I was ordained, and which I reaffirmed when I was installed as the pastor at Central Pres. So I want to continue to tackle those issues head-on. But what I don't want to do is get caught up in the kind of wringing-of-the-hands, longing for illusory good-old-days, drama that only exists to suck dry whatever energy, intelligence, imagination, and love I'm left to muster.
So, I've been trying to take my reflections offered to my friend, and apply them to my own situation. I love what I do - both in the congregation I serve, and in the presbytery I serve as well. I really do! What I need to do, then, is concentrate on doing and living the ministries to which God has entrusted me and for which God has graciously gifted me... and not get caught up in the drama in which it would be so easy to lose my footing and drown.
I intend to live without the drama. I'll try to let you know how it goes.
Something then occurred to me while we were talking. I said, "You love the work that you're doing. The challenge now is that it's so easy to get caught up with all of the other stuff... all of the drama in the workplace. What I'd do, I think, is ignore the drama; concentrate on the job that you love." That seemed to make a lot of sense to my friend.
I then realized how easy it is for me to get caught up in all of the drama in life as well. It's easy for me to worry about the future of the congregation I serve, when finances continue to be a problem and the building continues to be a drain. It's easy for me to look back at our history, at times when our membership was well over 1,300 people, and wonder what I'm doing wrong, or what I'm not doing right, that barely sustains our membership numbers at around 330. Sadly, in our current culture in the life of the broader Church, sustaining membership is not a bad thing! And when I think of that, I get caught up in that drama also...what will happen to the Church in our culture? What will happen within our presbytery? How are we going to decide to staff the presbytery and its ministries... and how will we afford what we decide? Will we decide we can play in the same proverbial sandbox as our neighboring presbyteries, perhaps daring to do more in sharing programs, plans, ministries, and even staff? And will the Synod still be around to help us? Drama... drama... drama!
I can't ignore the issues behind the drama. Those are issues that need to be addressed, and addressed with all of the "energy, intelligence, imagination, and love" that I can muster... for which I vowed when I was ordained, and which I reaffirmed when I was installed as the pastor at Central Pres. So I want to continue to tackle those issues head-on. But what I don't want to do is get caught up in the kind of wringing-of-the-hands, longing for illusory good-old-days, drama that only exists to suck dry whatever energy, intelligence, imagination, and love I'm left to muster.
So, I've been trying to take my reflections offered to my friend, and apply them to my own situation. I love what I do - both in the congregation I serve, and in the presbytery I serve as well. I really do! What I need to do, then, is concentrate on doing and living the ministries to which God has entrusted me and for which God has graciously gifted me... and not get caught up in the drama in which it would be so easy to lose my footing and drown.
I intend to live without the drama. I'll try to let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Living with Illusions
Most days I include in my devotional time readings from a wonderful little book called A Book of Hours. It is modeled after medieval, illuminated prayer books, but this one contains several readings for each day that are short excerpts taken from the writings of the late Fr. Henri Nouwen. I long have been moved, and inspired, and challenged, and instructed by things that Nouwen has written, and this book is no exception.
In this morning's reading, which came from Nouwen's book, Reaching Out, this is what I read:
During these past three months, as I have been living through complications that arose from surgeries in November, I have been slapped up the side of my head with the reality of my powerlessness. And, to be honest, I didn't like it one little bit! I was dependent upon others for so much. There was so much happening to me that was out of my control. One thing I realized through all of this is that there still is some control in my life, but the control is not of circumstances or events or even emotional reactions. The only thing within my control is my attitude... my response to what happens... the choices I make to get better, to be healthy, to live well, to keep my attitude focused. And where I found my attitude most helpfully focused was when I dared to be honest with myself and with God... about what I was feeling, about what I feared, about the reality of my powerlessness. My attitude was most helpfully focused when I realized that I was dependent - definitely not a comfortable place to be, nor something that is societally acceptable. I was dependent upon others. I was dependent, ultimately (and thankfully), upon God.
Through all of the things that I have happened, I have discovered new comfort in considering the life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. We Protestants threw Mary out with the proverbial bathwater during the Reformation, but I think that was to our detriment, our loss. When Mary was confronted with the message of the angel, she not only realized but embraced her lack of control. Suddenly, absolutely nothing in her young life was "safely under control," as Nouwen so aptly describes our self-illusions. And how did she respond? She said - simply, humbly, yet powerfully and bravely - "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word."
Her simple, brave prayer became mine in ways that it never had before. Her simple, brave prayer gave me the strength and perspective to accept the shattering of my own illusions of control and power, and allowed me to entrust myself, my life, my future, and my healing to the God who loves me more than I can imagine.
In this morning's reading, which came from Nouwen's book, Reaching Out, this is what I read:
"What keeps us from opening ourselves to the reality of the world? Could it be that we cannot accept our powerlessness and are only willing to see those wounds that we can heal?
"Could it be that we do not want to give up our illusion that we are masters over our world and, therefore, create our own Disneyland where we can make ourselves believe that all events of life are safely under our control?"Ah, illusions. Probably the biggest illusion with which we live - well, the biggest illusion with which I live - is precisely what Nouwen suggests. I would dearly love to believe that I am the master over my own world, that I can control things that happen around me, that I can control myself, my emotions, my reactions, my thoughts. Wanting to be in control, then, means that I don't like to acknowledge my own powerlessness.
During these past three months, as I have been living through complications that arose from surgeries in November, I have been slapped up the side of my head with the reality of my powerlessness. And, to be honest, I didn't like it one little bit! I was dependent upon others for so much. There was so much happening to me that was out of my control. One thing I realized through all of this is that there still is some control in my life, but the control is not of circumstances or events or even emotional reactions. The only thing within my control is my attitude... my response to what happens... the choices I make to get better, to be healthy, to live well, to keep my attitude focused. And where I found my attitude most helpfully focused was when I dared to be honest with myself and with God... about what I was feeling, about what I feared, about the reality of my powerlessness. My attitude was most helpfully focused when I realized that I was dependent - definitely not a comfortable place to be, nor something that is societally acceptable. I was dependent upon others. I was dependent, ultimately (and thankfully), upon God.
Through all of the things that I have happened, I have discovered new comfort in considering the life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. We Protestants threw Mary out with the proverbial bathwater during the Reformation, but I think that was to our detriment, our loss. When Mary was confronted with the message of the angel, she not only realized but embraced her lack of control. Suddenly, absolutely nothing in her young life was "safely under control," as Nouwen so aptly describes our self-illusions. And how did she respond? She said - simply, humbly, yet powerfully and bravely - "Behold, the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word."
Her simple, brave prayer became mine in ways that it never had before. Her simple, brave prayer gave me the strength and perspective to accept the shattering of my own illusions of control and power, and allowed me to entrust myself, my life, my future, and my healing to the God who loves me more than I can imagine.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Beginning once more
I began a blog when I went on my sabbatical in 2010. However, it was a start and stop and start and stop again process... and when I finally went back to begin again in earnest, Blogspot and I couldn't agree to find it and access it! So, I'm beginning once more.
I plan to repost some of my earlier posts about my sabbatical learnings.
I plan to reflect some on daily lectionary readings and my experiences of God through them.
I plan to reflect some on Sunday readings and ideas for preaching.
I plan to... well, I plan simply to share some "Thoughts Along the Journey." Anyone is welcome to ride along.
I plan to repost some of my earlier posts about my sabbatical learnings.
I plan to reflect some on daily lectionary readings and my experiences of God through them.
I plan to reflect some on Sunday readings and ideas for preaching.
I plan to... well, I plan simply to share some "Thoughts Along the Journey." Anyone is welcome to ride along.
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