This is an amazing night, and I approach it with wonder and awe. Of course, unlike my ancient ancestors, I know what tomorrow will bring - a fraction of more light than today. Tonight the darkness reaches its zenith, and prepares to give way to the light - an amazing cosmic dance!
I lit a bayberry candle last night and tonight - a nod to the superstitions of my immediate ancestors. Although I know it provides no magical protection or power, there is a quality to its light and fragrance that touches something deep within me. As I strike the match to light the candle, my mother's hand, and her mother's hand - and who knows how many other women from my family - all join me in lighting that candle.
And the light shines in the darkness...
The darkness carries great power. And at this time of year, it can envelope us like a dense woolen blanket - sometimes almost suffocating us with its heaviness and power - a power that can carry many lessons, and much insight. But it does not stay forever, and always gives way to the light - and the light's different lessons and insights.
Respect the darkness - learn its many lessons - and wait for the return of the light. And in the meantime, light your candle, let your light shine, and join in this cosmic dance. It is amazing how much darkness can be dispelled by one light. Your light.
Our ancient ancestors waited to see if the light would return again - or if they would be left in perpetual darkness. They were never disappointed, for the light always returned. And as it was for them, so it is for us.
...and the darkness did not overcome it.
Shall we dance?
Embracing the darkness, holding the light, and joining in the cosmic dance -
Kim
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Sometimes, it works like this: (or is it always...)
I spend a lot of time trying to understand how the universe works. I guess that makes me a pretty normal human - we have been trying to suss this whole earthly existence out since our first ancestor looked up at the stars and asked "why? How?" And we have been asking "why" and "how" questions ever since. Why do bad things happen to good people? How do I know if I am following God's leading for my life? Why is life unfair? How do I know God is with me?
An ancient explanation for how do I know if I am following God's leading for my life has enjoyed a resurgence in the past decade - repackaged for a new audience, under the heading called "flow." It suggests that if you are following God's leading for your life, you will find yourself in that zone called "flow" - a place where life is almost effortless, and everything falls into place. If, instead, you find yourself swimming against the tide, working really hard, and getting beached again and again, that is evidence that you are not in the "flow" - you are working outside the will of God.
It's a seductive explanation, isn't it. And I have no doubt (because I have experienced this first hand) that there are times in life when it absolutely works like this - you get into a grove, and life feels almost effortless. But just because it works that way sometimes, it is a mistake to generalize and assume it must always work that way.
Sometimes, the holiest and most transformative work we do is the work that turns us inside-out, upside-down, and leaves us struggling to breathe. Sometimes, the work Spirit invites us to do is the hardest damn work we have ever done. It can even feel like a Sisyphean endeavor - we push the rock up the mountain with all our strength, only to have it roll back down to the bottom of the mountain - sometimes running over us in the process! And all that is left to do is start again. But - the jaw-dropping part of even the hardest moments in life is that - if we pay attention - we find moments of unexpected grace. And they are positively amazing.
Today, from noon until 4 pm, I pushed the rock up the hill, had it mow me down, and started pushing it up again. It was not pretty, and there was no flow, except for tears. I got home around 4 pm and prepared to sip a grande soy hot chocolate, only to lose my grip on it and have it hit the floor with explosive force. It was, unfortunately, not half empty - it was a full cup of hot chocolate. What a mess! There was sticky hot chocolate everywhere, and I cannot get down on the floor to easily and effectively clean it up. And - it was 4 pm, and I was due to talk with my spiritual director via telephone. So I dropped some paper towels on top of the mess, walked around the lake of chocolate, grabbed the phone and sat down on the bench by the window to take some deep breaths and call my soul friend.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh (it was all so off-the-charts- absurd). I was tired, and emotionally spent. And I had a sticky mess to clean up (walls, floor, furniture, carpet - me). But as I dialed the phone to speak with my soul friend, I remembered something that had happened this morning...
...I remembered sitting by that very window eating breakfast, when - completely unexpectedly - a small, beautiful white feather gently floated past the window, being carried by the wind. It was fairly still this morning, so the feather floated down ever-so-gently - floating to the right, and then to the left. I watched it for what seemed like forever - it was very beautiful. Then I entered into my very hard day, forgetting about the feather.
As I talked with my director about the reality of today, and about how tired I felt because of it, I remembered the feather, and told her about it. I could tell by the tone and energy in her voice that she had something important to share, and she said "I am a feather on the breath of God." She paused, and said "That is a quote from Hildegard - you are being held by God - God's very breath. Sustained and upheld by God." And she silently let me sit with this image, as it seeped all the way to my core. I can tell when something resonates with my core because the tears flow. Hildegard has always been one of my favorite spiritual guides, and yet I had never before heard this quote. Until today. Until I needed to hear it, so I could find meaning in the gift of the feather, a gift that was offered to me long before I got mowed down by the rock, or redecorated my entryway with hot chocolate.
Sometimes, it works like this: Grace and sustenance is present, and generously offered, even before we ask for it. Even before we need it - before the the rock, aided by gravity, mows us down. God with us - lovingly, gently, present as we do really hard work. Surrounding us - upholding us. And in those moments that feel impossible...
...we can float like a feather on the breath of God.
Perhaps it doesn't just sometimes work like this; maybe it always works like this. But we are so distracted by our circumstances that we do not notice God's graceful presence, sustaining us. And so God sends us a feather, and a soul friend, to remind us.
Being upheld,
Kim
An ancient explanation for how do I know if I am following God's leading for my life has enjoyed a resurgence in the past decade - repackaged for a new audience, under the heading called "flow." It suggests that if you are following God's leading for your life, you will find yourself in that zone called "flow" - a place where life is almost effortless, and everything falls into place. If, instead, you find yourself swimming against the tide, working really hard, and getting beached again and again, that is evidence that you are not in the "flow" - you are working outside the will of God.
It's a seductive explanation, isn't it. And I have no doubt (because I have experienced this first hand) that there are times in life when it absolutely works like this - you get into a grove, and life feels almost effortless. But just because it works that way sometimes, it is a mistake to generalize and assume it must always work that way.
Sometimes, the holiest and most transformative work we do is the work that turns us inside-out, upside-down, and leaves us struggling to breathe. Sometimes, the work Spirit invites us to do is the hardest damn work we have ever done. It can even feel like a Sisyphean endeavor - we push the rock up the mountain with all our strength, only to have it roll back down to the bottom of the mountain - sometimes running over us in the process! And all that is left to do is start again. But - the jaw-dropping part of even the hardest moments in life is that - if we pay attention - we find moments of unexpected grace. And they are positively amazing.
Today, from noon until 4 pm, I pushed the rock up the hill, had it mow me down, and started pushing it up again. It was not pretty, and there was no flow, except for tears. I got home around 4 pm and prepared to sip a grande soy hot chocolate, only to lose my grip on it and have it hit the floor with explosive force. It was, unfortunately, not half empty - it was a full cup of hot chocolate. What a mess! There was sticky hot chocolate everywhere, and I cannot get down on the floor to easily and effectively clean it up. And - it was 4 pm, and I was due to talk with my spiritual director via telephone. So I dropped some paper towels on top of the mess, walked around the lake of chocolate, grabbed the phone and sat down on the bench by the window to take some deep breaths and call my soul friend.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh (it was all so off-the-charts- absurd). I was tired, and emotionally spent. And I had a sticky mess to clean up (walls, floor, furniture, carpet - me). But as I dialed the phone to speak with my soul friend, I remembered something that had happened this morning...
...I remembered sitting by that very window eating breakfast, when - completely unexpectedly - a small, beautiful white feather gently floated past the window, being carried by the wind. It was fairly still this morning, so the feather floated down ever-so-gently - floating to the right, and then to the left. I watched it for what seemed like forever - it was very beautiful. Then I entered into my very hard day, forgetting about the feather.
As I talked with my director about the reality of today, and about how tired I felt because of it, I remembered the feather, and told her about it. I could tell by the tone and energy in her voice that she had something important to share, and she said "I am a feather on the breath of God." She paused, and said "That is a quote from Hildegard - you are being held by God - God's very breath. Sustained and upheld by God." And she silently let me sit with this image, as it seeped all the way to my core. I can tell when something resonates with my core because the tears flow. Hildegard has always been one of my favorite spiritual guides, and yet I had never before heard this quote. Until today. Until I needed to hear it, so I could find meaning in the gift of the feather, a gift that was offered to me long before I got mowed down by the rock, or redecorated my entryway with hot chocolate.
Sometimes, it works like this: Grace and sustenance is present, and generously offered, even before we ask for it. Even before we need it - before the the rock, aided by gravity, mows us down. God with us - lovingly, gently, present as we do really hard work. Surrounding us - upholding us. And in those moments that feel impossible...
...we can float like a feather on the breath of God.
Perhaps it doesn't just sometimes work like this; maybe it always works like this. But we are so distracted by our circumstances that we do not notice God's graceful presence, sustaining us. And so God sends us a feather, and a soul friend, to remind us.
Being upheld,
Kim
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Keeping Watch - Making Preparations
I write today from my dining room table, with the most amazing view before me. This "breakfast nook" area has large windows looking west, south and north. And due to the wonders of landscaping, I look out at my backyard and onto a row of trees and shrubs, and then over to bigger trees and BIG sky that surrounds a farmer's field. My beloved red-tailed hawks nest in one of those big trees. And even though it is an overcast day (Scotland weather - cold and damp!) the view is glorious. Geese rest in the field, and although (when seated) I cannot see the field itself, I can watch the skeins of geese landing (what a sight - I love how they curve their wings to drop altitude and prepare for landing - so cool)!
The most unusual part of this view is what I cannot see - between my backyard fence and the farmer's field is Meridian Road - hidden (except for the tallest trucks) by the landscaping. It is a muckle busy road - but not from this viewpoint. Trees and shrubbery render it all but invisible.
Some day the farmer's field will go the way of all small farms in Meridian, and be turned into another bland subdivision. The geese will have no place to rest, and I will miss the entertainment of seeing a row of them perched on the roof line of my neighbor's house. And at some point they will probably widen Meridian Road so it can carry more traffic. But today, the geese, clouds and trees have won the day. Bliss.
I am on study leave for the next week - a time to catch up with reading, writing, planning, and my dissertation proposal. And time to prepare for Advent - my favorite season of the church year. I am an confessed Advent junkie - I find the thought of God's love for humanity being so great that God dons human DNA and experiences everything from hunger to heartbreak to be positively irresistible. I count down the days until I can light my first Advent Candle (ten as of today - because I light the first candle Saturday evening after dark, which is the day before the First Sunday of Advent). For candle-lighting, I am on monastery time. And for Advent devotionals, I am on French time. The French once held the custom of celebrating Advent for 40 days (like Lent), and I have an Advent devotional written by a French monk that begins on November 15th. I started reading it last Sunday, which marked 40 days until the Nativity - more bliss.
I enter this study leave heart-broken and weary from the senseless violence and fear erupting in our world - violence that never achieves its stated goals (whether perpetrated by terrorists, or by their victims), and fear that is stoked by leaders who are convinced that, maybe, a violent response will work this time. I shudder as I listen to our politicians ratcheting up the fear - bigger and better - causing good people to step back from their values and make reactive choices fueled by this fear. And with fear as its fuel, the cycle of violence becomes self-perpetuating. History provides us with ample examples of this failed strategy. But it does give us a feeling of being in control - like we are doing something. And we human beings, when faced with something that frightens and overwhelms us, look for ways to be in control - even if those ways are destined to fail. The illusion of control distracts us from the discomfort of our feelings of fear and helplessness, of the reality that the only things we really control are ourselves, and our responses. We can influence other human beings, but we ultimately cannot control them. Leo Tolstoy, who is remembered today in the devotional I read, says it so clearly: "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." And as Eastern and Western Sages have taught us throughout the ages, peace starts with the individual, one person at a time. It starts with ourselves.
To settle my soul and bring peace into my inner world, I will use this week to fast from the news outlets, and email. I will read Jean Vanier's book "Finding Peace." I will keep the daily rhythms of prayer for which I am hard-wired (and which seem so hard for me to keep while I am working), and I will pray for peace, and for our leaders to have the courage to step away from pushing the fear button, and instead begin conversations about the changes and choices that can lead to lasting, sustainable peace. I will complete my worship planning and dissertation proposal. I will weave. I will write. I will simplify my schedule for Advent, and pare down my responsibilities. And I will be still - ever so still - as God prepares my heart to be pregnant with the Spirit, so I can birth peace and love into this world.
How will you prepare for Advent? What will you do to open your heart, mind, and choices to peace, love, and justice? What will help you to carry and birth the essence of the Christ Child into our world?
It is time to prepare for our Advent journey!
Keeping watch for Advent's beginnings,
Kim
The most unusual part of this view is what I cannot see - between my backyard fence and the farmer's field is Meridian Road - hidden (except for the tallest trucks) by the landscaping. It is a muckle busy road - but not from this viewpoint. Trees and shrubbery render it all but invisible.
Some day the farmer's field will go the way of all small farms in Meridian, and be turned into another bland subdivision. The geese will have no place to rest, and I will miss the entertainment of seeing a row of them perched on the roof line of my neighbor's house. And at some point they will probably widen Meridian Road so it can carry more traffic. But today, the geese, clouds and trees have won the day. Bliss.
I am on study leave for the next week - a time to catch up with reading, writing, planning, and my dissertation proposal. And time to prepare for Advent - my favorite season of the church year. I am an confessed Advent junkie - I find the thought of God's love for humanity being so great that God dons human DNA and experiences everything from hunger to heartbreak to be positively irresistible. I count down the days until I can light my first Advent Candle (ten as of today - because I light the first candle Saturday evening after dark, which is the day before the First Sunday of Advent). For candle-lighting, I am on monastery time. And for Advent devotionals, I am on French time. The French once held the custom of celebrating Advent for 40 days (like Lent), and I have an Advent devotional written by a French monk that begins on November 15th. I started reading it last Sunday, which marked 40 days until the Nativity - more bliss.
I enter this study leave heart-broken and weary from the senseless violence and fear erupting in our world - violence that never achieves its stated goals (whether perpetrated by terrorists, or by their victims), and fear that is stoked by leaders who are convinced that, maybe, a violent response will work this time. I shudder as I listen to our politicians ratcheting up the fear - bigger and better - causing good people to step back from their values and make reactive choices fueled by this fear. And with fear as its fuel, the cycle of violence becomes self-perpetuating. History provides us with ample examples of this failed strategy. But it does give us a feeling of being in control - like we are doing something. And we human beings, when faced with something that frightens and overwhelms us, look for ways to be in control - even if those ways are destined to fail. The illusion of control distracts us from the discomfort of our feelings of fear and helplessness, of the reality that the only things we really control are ourselves, and our responses. We can influence other human beings, but we ultimately cannot control them. Leo Tolstoy, who is remembered today in the devotional I read, says it so clearly: "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." And as Eastern and Western Sages have taught us throughout the ages, peace starts with the individual, one person at a time. It starts with ourselves.
To settle my soul and bring peace into my inner world, I will use this week to fast from the news outlets, and email. I will read Jean Vanier's book "Finding Peace." I will keep the daily rhythms of prayer for which I am hard-wired (and which seem so hard for me to keep while I am working), and I will pray for peace, and for our leaders to have the courage to step away from pushing the fear button, and instead begin conversations about the changes and choices that can lead to lasting, sustainable peace. I will complete my worship planning and dissertation proposal. I will weave. I will write. I will simplify my schedule for Advent, and pare down my responsibilities. And I will be still - ever so still - as God prepares my heart to be pregnant with the Spirit, so I can birth peace and love into this world.
How will you prepare for Advent? What will you do to open your heart, mind, and choices to peace, love, and justice? What will help you to carry and birth the essence of the Christ Child into our world?
It is time to prepare for our Advent journey!
Keeping watch for Advent's beginnings,
Kim
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Steeping in Tenderness - Taking my Time
Idaho continues to burn, but there is hope that the rains forecast for tonight will help to break the inversion, wash the air clean and help to dampen the Walker Fire. The last week brought a succession of red air quality days - with a few dips into the purple - and misery for anyone with sensitive pipes. Since I own that tee shirt, it has been a long, unpleasant week - that was preceded by eight other challenging weeks. All was well until August. Then weeks of smoke and bad air gave way to sage (killer allergen); a common cold stopped by for a visit, and was capped off by this late wildfire and horrible air quality. By last Saturday, I was cooked. Done. Defeated.
And therein lies one of my tripwires - the word defeated. I automatically frame bronchitis as defeat, and immediately go on a holy crusade to defeat it! I have had enough therapy to understand the origins of this behavior, but haven't integrated this insight in a way that changes my behavior (yet) - evidenced by the incredibly silly choices I recently made before reaching the point of acceptance.
Since I am hardwired to never accept defeat, but still need to cope with adverse circumstances (like bronchitis), my first response is to pretend that what is happening is not real. Even though I cannot stop coughing, feel like hell, and struggle to take a deep breath (and have had bronchitis at least once a year since I was an infant, and thus have ample first hand experience with it), I begin by pretending that it is not bronchitis. Must just be the smoke. Or its only the sage. Just keep going; it will pass - if you pretend it is not real, it isn't there. Ah, the temporary bliss of magical thinking.
But one underrated gift of ageing is that the insane denial tactics of youth don't hold up so well on the other side of 55. The body tires of the charade more quickly, and brings you to heel with a quick tug on the leash. Once my body has my attention, then healing is possible - if I can accept what is truly happening, and respond to it with an open heart.
Acceptance remains a great struggle for me. I have moments when it is as clear as the sun in the sky that irregardless of any circumstances, all is well - I am interwoven into and part of an experience/creation greater than myself, and enveloped in God's love. Those moments come as flashes of awareness, and I settle into them like I do a warm, cozy blanket on a frosty autumn day. It is harder for me to see this truth in the midst of difficult and unpleasant things (like bronchitis) - things that invite me to stop, accept, and make different choices (uncomfortable!). It is hard for me to remember that this truth is real, even when it does not feel real.
When I think of last Sunday, and imagine God in human form, I see God watching my choices with head in hands - knowing that God had to wait until I finally hit the wall before I would stop and see sense. At 5:30 am Sunday morning, sense was still hours away, and my denial and duty filter was firmly in place. I pushed myself until mid-afternoon. Then in the midst of an appointment with a dear soul, I finally hit that wall and my body snapped the leash - and I had no choice but say that I could not continue. It was time to stop.
And this dear one sitting with me was willing to voice the words of our still-speaking God, and looked at me with deep compassion and said, "of course we can stop - your well-being is important to me - please take care of yourself." And we stopped. And I cancelled my remaining appointments. And I went home - feeling defeated.
That night, curled up in the recliner with my hacking cough and unsettled spirit, I felt her words wrap around me like that warm, comforting blanket. Then I smiled as I experienced awareness - and laughed about my crazy antics throughout the day (I am too embarrassed to recount in print the lengths I went to in order to not be sick on Sunday). In the midst of this laughter, I noticed something new in my heart:
Tenderness. Usually there would be voices of judgment accusing me of failing by getting sick, or failing by not fulfilling my duty. Instead, I felt tenderness towards myself, and a desire to nurture myself back to health. "Your well-being is important to me," said the visiting angel speaking for God. And in that moment, I realized that it was important to me, too. I accepted the bronchitis and embraced it, instead of wasting energy battling it and making it my enemy. I worked remotely from home for two days. I made myself a big pot of chicken soup, drank steaming broth and hot teas, and took naps when I was tired. I even went to the doctor and am taking the medication that I do not like, but always helps me to heal.
This unwanted illness became a window through which I experienced God's tender, nurturing love, and was able to see that - my goodness! - I am growing in my capacity to follow God's example and love and nurture myself! This is progress (baby steps) - a gift - a great blessing. I do not, for a moment, believe I was "stricken" in order to embed this lesson and gain this perspective. But I do believe that our God, the great recycler, wastes nothing; using whatever circumstances come our way to gentle us into a greater expression of our true nature - of love.
As I write this, I am sipping a cup of authentic (not from a box) Yogi Tea. Back in 1984, while living at Seminary, I came down with my annual bout of bronchitis. My son's preschool teacher was Sikh (of the Western 3HO variety). Preet Kaur and I had become friends, and in order to soothe my distress, she brought me a mason jar full of Yogi Tea (made from the recipe developed by their teacher, Yogi Bhajan). This was around the time the original Yogi Tea company was formed (also a 3HO community), and they initially marketed a loose tea containing all the wonderful ingredients in this healing concoction. Preet Kaur instructed me to put equal parts of the rose-colored liquid from the mason jar with milk, warm it on the stove, add honey, and sip. It was ambrosia! And it felt so healing and soothing - partly because of the love that infused it. Preet Kaur taught me how to make it from scratch for myself, but if I was too busy, I could always buy the loose tea and boil it on the stove - filling the house with its amazing fragrance! But alas, the original formula is no longer marketed, and so if I wanted Yogi Tea, I had to get out my old recipe, find all the ingredients, and boil up a pot for myself. Which I did today, because I wanted some soothing Yogi Tea.
The house smells wonderful, and the tea hit the spot. The taste is not completely as I remember it (it is hard to duplicate the taste of a memory), but that may also be due to my lack of practice at mixing up this potion. As I sip it, I feel the healing love from thirty-one years ago (both from Preet Kaur, and from her religious community - a community that was a walk on the wild side for a first-year seminarian). Their love transcends all thoughts of linear time. I feel that love easing the sickness out of both body and soul. And I smile - and look out at the clouds moving in to bring healing rain to the earth - and feel very grateful.
I share this warm and soothing cup of tea with you today as a testimony to the healing, transforming presence of God - by whatever way or name God is known to you. When you open your heart to God's presence, God does indeed partner with you in the amazing journey of healing. The hard part of this truth is that it takes time - and it takes as much time as it takes. Time appears to not be a relevant or linear concept for God - whereas I am very conscious of time, and want unpleasant, uncomfortable situations to be fixed NOW. I want transformation YESTERDAY! And I want to escape the embarrassment of making mistakes TOMORROW - as well as the double embarrassment of repeating them (again and again and again)! I want to be the cool kid who effortlessly gets it right the first time (not the one who finally gets it right the two thousand and first time)!
Time - tenderness - acceptance - grace - mistakes - pain - laughter - more tenderness and acceptance - more grace - healing - wholeness - and time - and yes, more mistakes and pain, then laughter, and another turn around the spiral. It is an amazing journey, and worth every second that it takes - for it leads me back to my very essence (where God abides), and heals and transforms me by freeing me to be myself.
The storm clouds are rolling in - the rains will soon be here. I sip my cup of tea, and smile.
You have your own journey of discovery, healing and transformation to make. It is worth every second (or decade - or lifetime) it takes, my friend. It will take as long as it takes, and will be filled with all manner of wonderful and hard experiences - and that is perfectly fine. Happy trails!
Steeping myself in tenderness - taking my time - making another trip around the spiral, ever deeper -
and smiling,
Kim
And therein lies one of my tripwires - the word defeated. I automatically frame bronchitis as defeat, and immediately go on a holy crusade to defeat it! I have had enough therapy to understand the origins of this behavior, but haven't integrated this insight in a way that changes my behavior (yet) - evidenced by the incredibly silly choices I recently made before reaching the point of acceptance.
Since I am hardwired to never accept defeat, but still need to cope with adverse circumstances (like bronchitis), my first response is to pretend that what is happening is not real. Even though I cannot stop coughing, feel like hell, and struggle to take a deep breath (and have had bronchitis at least once a year since I was an infant, and thus have ample first hand experience with it), I begin by pretending that it is not bronchitis. Must just be the smoke. Or its only the sage. Just keep going; it will pass - if you pretend it is not real, it isn't there. Ah, the temporary bliss of magical thinking.
But one underrated gift of ageing is that the insane denial tactics of youth don't hold up so well on the other side of 55. The body tires of the charade more quickly, and brings you to heel with a quick tug on the leash. Once my body has my attention, then healing is possible - if I can accept what is truly happening, and respond to it with an open heart.
Acceptance remains a great struggle for me. I have moments when it is as clear as the sun in the sky that irregardless of any circumstances, all is well - I am interwoven into and part of an experience/creation greater than myself, and enveloped in God's love. Those moments come as flashes of awareness, and I settle into them like I do a warm, cozy blanket on a frosty autumn day. It is harder for me to see this truth in the midst of difficult and unpleasant things (like bronchitis) - things that invite me to stop, accept, and make different choices (uncomfortable!). It is hard for me to remember that this truth is real, even when it does not feel real.
When I think of last Sunday, and imagine God in human form, I see God watching my choices with head in hands - knowing that God had to wait until I finally hit the wall before I would stop and see sense. At 5:30 am Sunday morning, sense was still hours away, and my denial and duty filter was firmly in place. I pushed myself until mid-afternoon. Then in the midst of an appointment with a dear soul, I finally hit that wall and my body snapped the leash - and I had no choice but say that I could not continue. It was time to stop.
And this dear one sitting with me was willing to voice the words of our still-speaking God, and looked at me with deep compassion and said, "of course we can stop - your well-being is important to me - please take care of yourself." And we stopped. And I cancelled my remaining appointments. And I went home - feeling defeated.
That night, curled up in the recliner with my hacking cough and unsettled spirit, I felt her words wrap around me like that warm, comforting blanket. Then I smiled as I experienced awareness - and laughed about my crazy antics throughout the day (I am too embarrassed to recount in print the lengths I went to in order to not be sick on Sunday). In the midst of this laughter, I noticed something new in my heart:
Tenderness. Usually there would be voices of judgment accusing me of failing by getting sick, or failing by not fulfilling my duty. Instead, I felt tenderness towards myself, and a desire to nurture myself back to health. "Your well-being is important to me," said the visiting angel speaking for God. And in that moment, I realized that it was important to me, too. I accepted the bronchitis and embraced it, instead of wasting energy battling it and making it my enemy. I worked remotely from home for two days. I made myself a big pot of chicken soup, drank steaming broth and hot teas, and took naps when I was tired. I even went to the doctor and am taking the medication that I do not like, but always helps me to heal.
This unwanted illness became a window through which I experienced God's tender, nurturing love, and was able to see that - my goodness! - I am growing in my capacity to follow God's example and love and nurture myself! This is progress (baby steps) - a gift - a great blessing. I do not, for a moment, believe I was "stricken" in order to embed this lesson and gain this perspective. But I do believe that our God, the great recycler, wastes nothing; using whatever circumstances come our way to gentle us into a greater expression of our true nature - of love.
As I write this, I am sipping a cup of authentic (not from a box) Yogi Tea. Back in 1984, while living at Seminary, I came down with my annual bout of bronchitis. My son's preschool teacher was Sikh (of the Western 3HO variety). Preet Kaur and I had become friends, and in order to soothe my distress, she brought me a mason jar full of Yogi Tea (made from the recipe developed by their teacher, Yogi Bhajan). This was around the time the original Yogi Tea company was formed (also a 3HO community), and they initially marketed a loose tea containing all the wonderful ingredients in this healing concoction. Preet Kaur instructed me to put equal parts of the rose-colored liquid from the mason jar with milk, warm it on the stove, add honey, and sip. It was ambrosia! And it felt so healing and soothing - partly because of the love that infused it. Preet Kaur taught me how to make it from scratch for myself, but if I was too busy, I could always buy the loose tea and boil it on the stove - filling the house with its amazing fragrance! But alas, the original formula is no longer marketed, and so if I wanted Yogi Tea, I had to get out my old recipe, find all the ingredients, and boil up a pot for myself. Which I did today, because I wanted some soothing Yogi Tea.
The house smells wonderful, and the tea hit the spot. The taste is not completely as I remember it (it is hard to duplicate the taste of a memory), but that may also be due to my lack of practice at mixing up this potion. As I sip it, I feel the healing love from thirty-one years ago (both from Preet Kaur, and from her religious community - a community that was a walk on the wild side for a first-year seminarian). Their love transcends all thoughts of linear time. I feel that love easing the sickness out of both body and soul. And I smile - and look out at the clouds moving in to bring healing rain to the earth - and feel very grateful.
I share this warm and soothing cup of tea with you today as a testimony to the healing, transforming presence of God - by whatever way or name God is known to you. When you open your heart to God's presence, God does indeed partner with you in the amazing journey of healing. The hard part of this truth is that it takes time - and it takes as much time as it takes. Time appears to not be a relevant or linear concept for God - whereas I am very conscious of time, and want unpleasant, uncomfortable situations to be fixed NOW. I want transformation YESTERDAY! And I want to escape the embarrassment of making mistakes TOMORROW - as well as the double embarrassment of repeating them (again and again and again)! I want to be the cool kid who effortlessly gets it right the first time (not the one who finally gets it right the two thousand and first time)!
Time - tenderness - acceptance - grace - mistakes - pain - laughter - more tenderness and acceptance - more grace - healing - wholeness - and time - and yes, more mistakes and pain, then laughter, and another turn around the spiral. It is an amazing journey, and worth every second that it takes - for it leads me back to my very essence (where God abides), and heals and transforms me by freeing me to be myself.
The storm clouds are rolling in - the rains will soon be here. I sip my cup of tea, and smile.
You have your own journey of discovery, healing and transformation to make. It is worth every second (or decade - or lifetime) it takes, my friend. It will take as long as it takes, and will be filled with all manner of wonderful and hard experiences - and that is perfectly fine. Happy trails!
Steeping myself in tenderness - taking my time - making another trip around the spiral, ever deeper -
and smiling,
Kim
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Defensible Space
Idaho is on fire. Fire season always comes to the West, and some years are worse than others. The combination of years of serious drought plus extreme and prolonged heat set the Western States up for an explosive fire season. NIFC reports over 199 fires are burning, scorching over 2 million acres of creation. The number is too big to grasp.
One evening last week while I drove south on Meridian Road, I looked to my left and saw white fluffy clouds hovering above the Boise foothills, and I look to my right and saw the smoke moving in from the Soda Fire. Then lightening started fire after fire, all around the Northwest. The air smells like a campfire; it permeates everything. The Soda Fire alone is responsible for 287,000 acres of scorched earth! The lose of wildlife, livestock and habitat is impossible to comprehend. At the beginning you could see the fire coming over the Owyhees - fire and smoke. But you can no longer see the Owyhees, nor can you see the Boise foothills. All you can see is smoke.
How God's heart must break as creation burns...
But as fire and smoke poured over the Owyhees, a smaller fire started in the Boise foothills. A stray spark ignited a wildfire that could have quickly resulted in a loss of human life and property - people love to live in the foothills even with the fire danger. Quick work by fire crews and neighbors was partly credited with keeping the fire from engulfing those homes. In some cases, the fire came right up to the driveways and stopped. What was the other reason credited with saving those homes?
Defensible Space.
People who live in areas susceptible to fire know that one of the best ways to survive a wildfire is to remove fuel from around their home. Conscientious homeowners regularly work at keeping a defensible perimeter around their homes by removing everything that could be fuel for a wildfire, creating fire breaks with stone or concrete, and by planting fire resistant vegetation. This isn't the kind of work that can be successfully undertaken when the fire is sweeping over the ridge and heading for your house; it must be done long before the fire arrives. Last week, those defensible perimeters saved many homes in the foothills. Sadly, there are times when the fire is so intense that no amount of preparation can prevent a burn out. But sometimes that hard work helps to stop the fire from burning the house to the ground.
I think this strategy of defensible space is one that can be applied to more than saving houses. All of us, from time to time, experience wildfires in our personal life. Often they are unexpected and come upon us with no warning. But sometimes, we see the signs and can tell that we have entered our own fire season - and one stray lightening strike could set our life aflame. It makes sense to create defensible space in our life so that, when the fire does come, we have removed as much fuel - as much flammable material - as possible, and created those important fire breaks and areas of green, fire resistant vegetation.
For each of us, what constitutes dry brush and accumulated fuel will vary. But if we take the time to step back and walk the perimeter of our life, we can quickly get a sense of where some clean up is needed. The strategy of waiting to remove the fuel until we see the fire heading our way does not work. The hard work of removing the fuel needs to be done regularly, with consistency - and before the fire comes. And along with removing the fuel, we can surround ourselves with things that are green and fresh that resist burning - things that give and protect life.
The fires come. I wish they didn't, but they do. They come to the land, and they come to our lives. May we learn to tend to our inner habitat before the fires come, and remove all the brush and dry, unnecessary fuel. May we get our perimeter and inner landscape as green, fresh, and vibrant as possible. Then when the fires do come, we stand the best chance of withstanding the flames.
As I walk my inner landscape, I will do my best to pull all that inner cheatgrass. Maybe I will plant some lilacs, yarrow and columbine, to bring both beauty and fire resistance to my perimeter. Keeping that inner cheatgrass under control will require consistent and persistent self care; but that appears to be the best way to maintain a defensible perimeter.
Tending my inner landscape,
Kim
One evening last week while I drove south on Meridian Road, I looked to my left and saw white fluffy clouds hovering above the Boise foothills, and I look to my right and saw the smoke moving in from the Soda Fire. Then lightening started fire after fire, all around the Northwest. The air smells like a campfire; it permeates everything. The Soda Fire alone is responsible for 287,000 acres of scorched earth! The lose of wildlife, livestock and habitat is impossible to comprehend. At the beginning you could see the fire coming over the Owyhees - fire and smoke. But you can no longer see the Owyhees, nor can you see the Boise foothills. All you can see is smoke.
How God's heart must break as creation burns...
But as fire and smoke poured over the Owyhees, a smaller fire started in the Boise foothills. A stray spark ignited a wildfire that could have quickly resulted in a loss of human life and property - people love to live in the foothills even with the fire danger. Quick work by fire crews and neighbors was partly credited with keeping the fire from engulfing those homes. In some cases, the fire came right up to the driveways and stopped. What was the other reason credited with saving those homes?
Defensible Space.
People who live in areas susceptible to fire know that one of the best ways to survive a wildfire is to remove fuel from around their home. Conscientious homeowners regularly work at keeping a defensible perimeter around their homes by removing everything that could be fuel for a wildfire, creating fire breaks with stone or concrete, and by planting fire resistant vegetation. This isn't the kind of work that can be successfully undertaken when the fire is sweeping over the ridge and heading for your house; it must be done long before the fire arrives. Last week, those defensible perimeters saved many homes in the foothills. Sadly, there are times when the fire is so intense that no amount of preparation can prevent a burn out. But sometimes that hard work helps to stop the fire from burning the house to the ground.
I think this strategy of defensible space is one that can be applied to more than saving houses. All of us, from time to time, experience wildfires in our personal life. Often they are unexpected and come upon us with no warning. But sometimes, we see the signs and can tell that we have entered our own fire season - and one stray lightening strike could set our life aflame. It makes sense to create defensible space in our life so that, when the fire does come, we have removed as much fuel - as much flammable material - as possible, and created those important fire breaks and areas of green, fire resistant vegetation.
For each of us, what constitutes dry brush and accumulated fuel will vary. But if we take the time to step back and walk the perimeter of our life, we can quickly get a sense of where some clean up is needed. The strategy of waiting to remove the fuel until we see the fire heading our way does not work. The hard work of removing the fuel needs to be done regularly, with consistency - and before the fire comes. And along with removing the fuel, we can surround ourselves with things that are green and fresh that resist burning - things that give and protect life.
The fires come. I wish they didn't, but they do. They come to the land, and they come to our lives. May we learn to tend to our inner habitat before the fires come, and remove all the brush and dry, unnecessary fuel. May we get our perimeter and inner landscape as green, fresh, and vibrant as possible. Then when the fires do come, we stand the best chance of withstanding the flames.
As I walk my inner landscape, I will do my best to pull all that inner cheatgrass. Maybe I will plant some lilacs, yarrow and columbine, to bring both beauty and fire resistance to my perimeter. Keeping that inner cheatgrass under control will require consistent and persistent self care; but that appears to be the best way to maintain a defensible perimeter.
Tending my inner landscape,
Kim
Sunday, July 12, 2015
A One Minute Lesson on the Realm of God
It had been eighteen months since my last visit to a beautiful little Orthodox church near the seminary. In the past my visits took place in the depths of winter, when Vespers would begin in darkness illuminated by an ever-increasing number of candles. It was a very moving experience - darkness giving way to light.
But July is not January, and instead of walking into a dark cave filled with Icons and the fragrance of incense, I walked into a brightly lit church of open doors and windows - light and sound coming from all directions! Father prepared for service, enlisting the help of many different people - "we all have our place in this liturgy." I knew it was almost time to begin when he went out the side door to call the faithful to worship with the bells. He is a master of inviting those eight or ten bells to sing. And when the 3,000 lb Gabriel bell sounds, the resonance goes right through the soul into eternity. I weep each time I hear those bells - there is nothing quite like the experience of Russian church bells.
As a guest with mobility issues, I sit in a chair at the back wall near the door (except for those times during the liturgy when the clergy cense the inside perimeter of the building - then you get away from the wall and into the center of the floor as fast as you can)! About half of the congregation is native Russian, many of whom do not speak English. The service is in both English and Slavonic, so everyone hears something familiar. This was the tenth time I attended Vespers, and I know many of the worshippers by sight. And I can sing along with much of the liturgy. If I tried to sing it right now, I would be stuck. But in that setting, it pours out of my heart without hesitation. It does not even matter that I disagree with some of the theology; there is a beauty here that transcends the personal preference of theological constructs. After all, who am I to think I can definitively define and describe the Divine?
The past few years I have noticed a frail, elderly gentleman also sitting in the back by the door. He sits in a chair on the other side of the door, and can best be described as someone for whom life has not been kind. He sits, and that tells me that he has health issues (or else he would be standing for liturgy). He makes little eye contact; I suspect he may not speak English. Occasionally, when getting out of the way of the incense, we make the briefest of eye contact. But words are never exchanged. I do not know that this is true, but I imagine that he does not have a pretty life; I imagine it to be quite hard, or at least at some time in the past, it has been very hard.
As the service draws to its conclusion and the faithful line up to come forward and receive a personal blessing from the Priest, I quietly make my way to the door, offering a bow of respect as I leave. I could go forward for the blessing, but am aware that this is not my community - the moment feels so intimate, that it feels right to respectfully withdraw. Besides, with the doors and windows open, I will hear the continued chanting as I walk to my car - a nice way to depart. Little did I expect that within the unfolding seconds of the next minute, I would instead have the chance to witness a stark example of profound beauty and shocking ugliness.
After I bowed and left the church, I positioned myself to walk down the three steps to the outside courtyard. As my foot reached for the first step, a hand took my arm, and I was surprised to see that I was being helped by the frail, elderly gentlemen. I thought that he must be leaving like me, and since timing brought us together at the stairs, he offered a hand to help (although I confess that, given how frail he appeared, I thought I should be helping him). Without saying a word, he helped me down the stairs - I turned to thank him - he nodded slightly, and then went back inside to join the line for a blessing. He purposely had left the blessing line and followed me outside to make sure I got safely down the stairs. I was overcome by beauty of his gift of kindness to a stranger - especially since he did not look like he was in any position to offer such a gift!
As I watched him walk back into the church, I heard loud shouting from the sidewalk in front of the church. As I walked in that direction, I saw three young women, perhaps in their early to mid twenties, shouting and mocking the chanting coming from the church. They were attractive and dressed in a "smart casual" way, and were carrying packages as if they had been shopping in San Anselmo. These beautiful young women continued laughing and mocking and saying the most disrespectful things - right as they walked past the open windows and doors of this little church - right as this precious community went forward for a blessing. I stopped walking and looked at them - they laughed at me and kept walking, continuing with loud and rude comments all packaged in a self-assured manner.
What possess three beautiful young women to cultivate and spew such ignorance and ugliness into the world? And what motivates someone so world-worn and frail to go to great lengths to offer such beauty and kindness to a stranger?
Packaging can be deceiving, but this much is true: What we bring into this world matters, and circumstances are not accurate predictors of our contribution to the realm of God. Those with beauty, youth and privilege can choose to bring ugliness and ignorance into the world, and those who have seen the ugly side of life can shine with great beauty.
I prayed for those young women, and the ugliness that lives in their hearts. And I offered thanks for the beauty of that worn, frail soul who took my arm and made sure I was safe. As those three women assaulted the realm of God, that frail, elderly gentleman stood strong as a great defender of its values. God's realm is clearly in good hands.
What qualities do your words and actions embody? Do they build up God's realm, or assault it? Words and actions matter - perhaps more than we realize.
With love from the school of life,
Kim
But July is not January, and instead of walking into a dark cave filled with Icons and the fragrance of incense, I walked into a brightly lit church of open doors and windows - light and sound coming from all directions! Father prepared for service, enlisting the help of many different people - "we all have our place in this liturgy." I knew it was almost time to begin when he went out the side door to call the faithful to worship with the bells. He is a master of inviting those eight or ten bells to sing. And when the 3,000 lb Gabriel bell sounds, the resonance goes right through the soul into eternity. I weep each time I hear those bells - there is nothing quite like the experience of Russian church bells.
As a guest with mobility issues, I sit in a chair at the back wall near the door (except for those times during the liturgy when the clergy cense the inside perimeter of the building - then you get away from the wall and into the center of the floor as fast as you can)! About half of the congregation is native Russian, many of whom do not speak English. The service is in both English and Slavonic, so everyone hears something familiar. This was the tenth time I attended Vespers, and I know many of the worshippers by sight. And I can sing along with much of the liturgy. If I tried to sing it right now, I would be stuck. But in that setting, it pours out of my heart without hesitation. It does not even matter that I disagree with some of the theology; there is a beauty here that transcends the personal preference of theological constructs. After all, who am I to think I can definitively define and describe the Divine?
The past few years I have noticed a frail, elderly gentleman also sitting in the back by the door. He sits in a chair on the other side of the door, and can best be described as someone for whom life has not been kind. He sits, and that tells me that he has health issues (or else he would be standing for liturgy). He makes little eye contact; I suspect he may not speak English. Occasionally, when getting out of the way of the incense, we make the briefest of eye contact. But words are never exchanged. I do not know that this is true, but I imagine that he does not have a pretty life; I imagine it to be quite hard, or at least at some time in the past, it has been very hard.
As the service draws to its conclusion and the faithful line up to come forward and receive a personal blessing from the Priest, I quietly make my way to the door, offering a bow of respect as I leave. I could go forward for the blessing, but am aware that this is not my community - the moment feels so intimate, that it feels right to respectfully withdraw. Besides, with the doors and windows open, I will hear the continued chanting as I walk to my car - a nice way to depart. Little did I expect that within the unfolding seconds of the next minute, I would instead have the chance to witness a stark example of profound beauty and shocking ugliness.
After I bowed and left the church, I positioned myself to walk down the three steps to the outside courtyard. As my foot reached for the first step, a hand took my arm, and I was surprised to see that I was being helped by the frail, elderly gentlemen. I thought that he must be leaving like me, and since timing brought us together at the stairs, he offered a hand to help (although I confess that, given how frail he appeared, I thought I should be helping him). Without saying a word, he helped me down the stairs - I turned to thank him - he nodded slightly, and then went back inside to join the line for a blessing. He purposely had left the blessing line and followed me outside to make sure I got safely down the stairs. I was overcome by beauty of his gift of kindness to a stranger - especially since he did not look like he was in any position to offer such a gift!
As I watched him walk back into the church, I heard loud shouting from the sidewalk in front of the church. As I walked in that direction, I saw three young women, perhaps in their early to mid twenties, shouting and mocking the chanting coming from the church. They were attractive and dressed in a "smart casual" way, and were carrying packages as if they had been shopping in San Anselmo. These beautiful young women continued laughing and mocking and saying the most disrespectful things - right as they walked past the open windows and doors of this little church - right as this precious community went forward for a blessing. I stopped walking and looked at them - they laughed at me and kept walking, continuing with loud and rude comments all packaged in a self-assured manner.
What possess three beautiful young women to cultivate and spew such ignorance and ugliness into the world? And what motivates someone so world-worn and frail to go to great lengths to offer such beauty and kindness to a stranger?
Packaging can be deceiving, but this much is true: What we bring into this world matters, and circumstances are not accurate predictors of our contribution to the realm of God. Those with beauty, youth and privilege can choose to bring ugliness and ignorance into the world, and those who have seen the ugly side of life can shine with great beauty.
I prayed for those young women, and the ugliness that lives in their hearts. And I offered thanks for the beauty of that worn, frail soul who took my arm and made sure I was safe. As those three women assaulted the realm of God, that frail, elderly gentleman stood strong as a great defender of its values. God's realm is clearly in good hands.
What qualities do your words and actions embody? Do they build up God's realm, or assault it? Words and actions matter - perhaps more than we realize.
With love from the school of life,
Kim
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Immeasurable Intangibles and Rolling Stones
It is Wednesday of Holy Week, and I find myself looking back at Lent in preparation to walk forward into the most ancient and Holiest days of the Christian calendar. Although I prefer Advent to Lent, and Christmas to Easter (the incarnation has such power for me), who can resist a love story that brings life out of death!
Lent this year was not what I expected. I had clear expectations and plans for how things would evolve, and those were quickly up-ended. But instead of getting the Lent I expected, I got the Lent my heart and soul needed. In the process, some things I thought were very important to me (both vocationally and personally) were stripped away under the searing heat of the Lenten desert sun. But this bright light and the uncompromising view it provides allowed me see great beauty in my midst that I had missed - overlooked - minimized. Expectations can blind us from the truth in our midst. What a gift to have those blinders ripped away - painful though that process is.
I was left with a sense of awe as I saw the beauty around me - the immeasurable intangibles that were covered with God's fingerprints, and held the scent of God's fragrance. It was here that I found the invitation to grow more deeply in service of cultivating these immeasurable intangibles - in service of the realm of God, whose values share very little with what society deems important or successful.
As I prepare to walk through the next few days into a different kind of light - the light of Easter morning - I confess some fear and trepidation. Life-time patterns, be they vocational or personal, are difficult to shift. Can I trust that change is possible - that I can release to death and dissolution that which needs to die, and trust that this embryonic new life will be nurtured into full flower? Can I resist the temptation to cling to the familiar and stand with open hands and hearts in God's garden?
No promises - and probably an epic number of stumbles along the way - but the tomb of expectations and past patterns is not my home. God is rolling the stone away - and the garden awaits.
What do you need to release - need to let die - in order to be free to enter the garden? What entombs you? Are you tired of trying to push the stone away? Can you trust God to move the stone?
Walking the journey from desert to garden,
Kim
Lent this year was not what I expected. I had clear expectations and plans for how things would evolve, and those were quickly up-ended. But instead of getting the Lent I expected, I got the Lent my heart and soul needed. In the process, some things I thought were very important to me (both vocationally and personally) were stripped away under the searing heat of the Lenten desert sun. But this bright light and the uncompromising view it provides allowed me see great beauty in my midst that I had missed - overlooked - minimized. Expectations can blind us from the truth in our midst. What a gift to have those blinders ripped away - painful though that process is.
I was left with a sense of awe as I saw the beauty around me - the immeasurable intangibles that were covered with God's fingerprints, and held the scent of God's fragrance. It was here that I found the invitation to grow more deeply in service of cultivating these immeasurable intangibles - in service of the realm of God, whose values share very little with what society deems important or successful.
As I prepare to walk through the next few days into a different kind of light - the light of Easter morning - I confess some fear and trepidation. Life-time patterns, be they vocational or personal, are difficult to shift. Can I trust that change is possible - that I can release to death and dissolution that which needs to die, and trust that this embryonic new life will be nurtured into full flower? Can I resist the temptation to cling to the familiar and stand with open hands and hearts in God's garden?
No promises - and probably an epic number of stumbles along the way - but the tomb of expectations and past patterns is not my home. God is rolling the stone away - and the garden awaits.
What do you need to release - need to let die - in order to be free to enter the garden? What entombs you? Are you tired of trying to push the stone away? Can you trust God to move the stone?
Walking the journey from desert to garden,
Kim
Friday, January 30, 2015
Common Threads
We cannot know whether we love God although there may be
strong reason for thinking so, but there can be no doubt about
whether we love our neighbor or not. Be sure that, in proportion
as you advance in affection for sisters and brothers, you are
increasing your love of God. - Teresa of Avila
Love within the faith community has very much been on my mind during these cold, damp, foggy days of winter. The "Add the Words" campaign caused me to reflect on how Christians respond to each other here in Boise, and this period of transition in my congregation has invited me consider the role that love for one another plays in encouraging congregational engagement.
On both counts, I have more questions than answers.
The Idaho State Affairs Committee finally agreed to have a hearing on a bill that would add the words "sexual orientation and gender identity" to the Idaho Human Rights Act - and if passed, give important protection to members of the lgbtq community. This hearing has been nine years in the making, and gave people on both sides of the issue an opportunity to testify regarding their views on adding this protection to the Human Rights Act.
The testimony brought the sharp divide within the Christian community in Idaho into clear focus. Individuals who expressed their love of God through a literal interpretation of single verses of the Bible and a desire to defend God (and the Bible) in an almost aggressive/warrior way shared the same auditorium with other individuals who expressed their love of God through a desire to defend those who had been abused and marginalized not only by government and society, but often by other churches. Both sides were equally passionate, but that passion was expressed in two different directions - one side created walls behind which their God and their ideals (and way of life) could be protected, and the other side sought to bring down walls and create a more inclusive, tolerant, and respectful community.
I am hardly an objective observer of this process, as I strongly support the Add the Words movement and lead a progressive Christian Church within a denomination that proudly seeks to be open and affirming. But as a contemplative, I spend a good part of my time seeking the common threads that God is weaving through our spiritual journeys. Where will we find the common threads in such a divided and divisive situation? What do those who want to protect and defend God and their way of life share in common with those who have a more open and inclusive view of God and the faith community? How can two groups who want to do what is right and best, and be faithful to their God, reach such fundamentally different conclusions?
Is there any common ground - any common threads? And if not, what does that say for the amputated and amputating Body of Christ?
What would it be like if members of the Body of Christ who held such different views were to commit to sitting together in a room for 30 minutes each week for silent prayer, and would make a commitment to pray for each other. After a time, what would it be like if that 30 minutes included a time for gentle sharing? Would those gathered find common ground - common threads of experience with which they could weave a different outcome? Or are we destined to separate into groups of people who share similar beliefs, opinions and viewpoints?
I also ponder this question as I watch our mainline denominational churches deal with our "post-modern" world, and our need to change/adapt to this new reality, or perish. In recent history the emergent/emerging church movement has invited us to the edge of what is possible, creating a discussion that often pits those who want to celebrate/preserve the traditional/familiar with those who want to embrace change. My congregation is no exception to this discussion, as we try to discern how to be faithful to our heritage while being vital/relevant in 2015. The old ways/structures do not work so well anymore, and reality strongly invites us to change/evolve, or risk eventual death. Like many other congregations, we are in a time of transition.
None of this surprises me - it is the reality of our time. What does trouble me, however - and in no small proportion - is the acceptance I see in our mainline churches of consumer Christianity. "I want what I want when I want it, and if I cannot have it, I will go elsewhere to get my needs met."
When did the mantra for the Body of Christ become "my way or the highway?" How in the world did we get to a place where it is "all about me?"
We have lost something precious in our post-modern church life: We have lost the reality that we come to church to serve God and one another. We come to worship to open our hearts, minds and lives to something greater than ourselves - God and our sisters and brothers, and the world that surrounds us. We are not the center of the experience. And the gratification of our personal needs cannot and must not be the sole criteria by which we determine our participation in our faith community. As uncomfortable as that is to contemplate, church really needs to stop being an exercise in spiritual consumerism, and more an exercise in service.
I want to propose a new series of responses for faithful Christians who want a thriving, growing church community that is inclusive and diverse:
Instead of saying "I hate it when we have "X" in worship, and if this continues, I will worship elsewhere" - try saying - "I did not like that we had "X" in worship today, but I noticed that others were touched by it, so I offered thanks that their needs were being met." Notice the shift in emphasis - you may not personally like "X," but you can be thankful that it touched other hearts and lives. Such a simple shift takes us from consumer church to the Body of Christ. And in a congregation that actively seeks to have inclusive and diverse experiences in worship and community life, it means that everyone can guarantee that they will regularly experience things they love, hate, and feel pretty neutral towards. The key is to remember that what you love is something that someone else (maybe someone sitting right next to you) might hate, and their choice to be gracious instead of angry and self absorbed will enhance the experience for all.
Of course we can avoid all this compromise and the discomfort of having to accommodate aspects of community life that we do not like by dividing into smaller and smaller affinity groups - a danger, I fear, in some thinking within the emergent church movement. It may be comforting and comfortable to only be around people who like what I like and want to do what I want to do, but the church would be diminished by such homogenization. Diversity is one of our greatest strengths. We learn so much from the different experiences of one another, and we lose many of our rough edges by being sandpaper for one another! And community is a great place to learn the subtle distinctions among the concepts of self-aware, self-care, self-less and self-ish.
Perhaps those of us who are committed to embodying a faith expressed by our open, inclusive still-speaking God of love and justice, can use our life in the local Body of Christ as a way to deepen our ability to find those common threads of understanding, respect, tolerance and experience with our sisters and brothers who love what we hate (and vice versa). As we learn this skill and develop the maturity that comes through practicing it, maybe we will be able to apply it within the wildly diverse group of people who call themselves Christian, and then to the even greater diversity found within community of people of faith.
May we seek to find those common threads, and may Teresa and Los Tejedor guide us on our journey.
With love and hope, even in the fog,
Kim
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