Prayer for a nation

A friend gave me hope this morning when she posted this from the Book of Common Prayer. It gave me the courage to post again. Father forgive us, we know not what we do.
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth; deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. -BCP, 1979

Awkward silence

There is a moment of suspended silence just after our prayer of confession and before the pastor offers a word of assurance and pardon on Communion Sundays. This awkward silence is often noted in the bulletin by a small phrase in parenthesis that reads (followed by silent prayer). We finish reciting a communal prayer of confession and then there is silence - an opportunity for individuals to share in their heart personal confessions of sin to God. While some can’t wait for the silence to end and move to the next thing, I must confess there are some Sundays when I wish it would last longer. In fact, one of the things that bothers me most in worship is when such a space of time is ordered into the service, but the presider resumes so quickly I’ve barely had time to finish my first thought. It’s not surprising that folks would want to trim or cut short confessing our sins before God. We’re simply not accustomed to a life of self-examination. Often, abbreviating this quiet confession isn’t even intentional. But, most days, I just need more awkward silence.
Jesus & John had a lot to say about the reality that God's kingdom has come near. Someone once wrote: "If the kingdom is coming, we have to begin to live by the king’s rules." In that case, I could use a little awkward silence.

Exercise in futility

Winter weather abounds if you are anywhere near the Southeastern U.S. Many, like myself, find themselves homebound for another day and glued to 24-hour news coverage by multiple crews reporting in locations across the state. Each station provides hourly updates on the natural progression of water shifting into a different state of matter. It's not that nothing else is happening in the world today; it's just that nothing else is happening in "our" world today. It's amusing to see trained journalists devote so much time and attention to how water is morphed from a liquid into a solid (or vice versa). What's more amusing is I've been watching their exclusive coverage all morning.
The unique thing about all the weather related news across the South this week is it's also an analogy for our human condition. The tv reports all cast this winter weather as an epic battle with road crews, government officials, and common citizens drawing up detailed plans of action. Barely 24 hours have passed since the "onslaught" of precip began and folks are trying everything possible to make sure they are freed from their homes. Officials and crews are doing everything to ensure roads are navigable. Everything about the coverage and our response tells us, in as far as possible, we must maintain life and business as usual. We cannot afford to allow interruption or give the appearance that we are not in control at any given moment. The updates of closings and delays stream across the screen like a list of casualties or lost battles. As the days progress, the shrinking list offers hope the tide has turned and we once again have the upper hand.
I love winter weather. Primarily because you can't do anything about it. You can have as many generators, plows, shovels, technology, or salt that you want; but, if Mother Nature wants to leave a wallop of freezing temperatures and precipitation, something will be coming to halt (at least momentarily). Any effort to prove otherwise is only an exercise in futility.
I tend to think things are much the same for us when God tries make himself known in our lives - to get our attention, plead for us to listen, slow us down, or steer us another direction. Most of the time, we will put a fight. We'll spend years implementing strategic plans to assert control over our own life; reaching the end, we'll wonder why we had wasted so much of our time. In the end, all God wanted was for us to slow down - to be enlightened enough to recognize we were never really in control after all.
Happy snow days!

God came down

"God is present among you and you are saying with your lives that you aren't interested."
It's an Eugene Peterson quote I stumbled across a month ago that has stayed with me. It seems even more real and appropriate as Advent begins this week.

I think it would make an awesome t-shirt (if only I can be the one to wear it in front of a mirror). I wanted to put it on my business cards and write it over my doorposts. For me, those words just seem to release a scandlous, heartbreaking truth. Everywhere I look testifies to its legitimacy. Yet, it is more than a wearing or issuing of a scathing tesimony to the world in which we live. It's also a recognition and realization of my own willing participation and complacency.

Sometimes things come into our lives that are remarkable gifts, but we fail to ever see them. We let them slip by without so much as a nod. I wonder if it will happen again this year. What unexpected gift might God be offering us this Advent and Christmas season that will simply fall through the cracks? What will sit in the corner never unwrapped?

The message has been proclaimed some 2,000 years: God is present among you. Still, we say with our lives that you are not interested. Maybe this year will be different?

A king's tale

Sensational Sam, yes, that was his name.
His remarkable character gave his fame.
There was no one quite like the one they called Sam
To him, anyone else was just part of the Fam
The way he encountered each person he met
With laughter and listening and love was at best
A genuine personality, a great deal of charm,
in every dear person he would invest.
Everyone knew him all around town
There was no mistaking this man was quite round.
But bigger than waist or popularty
Was Sam’s great big heart for poor souls like me.

Sam had a way of making everyone special
And just when u needed a boost or spark,
He offered you something to melt through the dark.
But after a while, Sam’s message got old.
It didn’t hold water in the world we’d been sold.
There’s only so much to believe in, you and me.
It doesn’t seem possible that the best things are free.
Long after that day that Sam picked you up,
More likely than not, you were back on the truck
Chasing a dream that wasn’t your own
Walking through life like you lived all alone.
By the time you were older and smarter like me,
You realized there’s no use for someone like he.

No one remembers the day or the time.
I just remember it was a small headline.
Somewhere between the want ads and sports,
Was an article that seemed all out of sorts.
A man was found dead by the creek at the dump.
He was lying with dignity, a folded old lump.
No one was there to see his final act.
After sharing coffee with a wasted old hack,
He reached out and gave her the coat off his back.
The folks back in town don’t remember a thing
But down by the dump that sensational act rings.
To the tramps near the tree, by the creek outside town,
The whole world was turned upside down.
In the midst of that chaos, Sam was a king.
But each time I hear the story it stings.

Dream deferred

Not everyone has the opportunity to see the fruits of their labor. Over time, that can be quite frustrating if you are unable to find fulfillment in something other than end results. "What happens to a dream deferred" as Langston Hughes once posed. In my own work lately, I've found myself looking around at what I assumed was a bunch of barren land.
As the teaching goes, unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies it remains just a grain. We planted a few packs of zinnias last year and ended up with a garden full. That wasn't much of a surprise. The real surprise came this Fall as I'm trimming off 10 blooms in November from a lone stem that somehow found its way to the surface a year later!
Perhaps there's more to this soil than meets the eye. Perhaps there's a whole garden of resurrection work brewing just below our line of view. Today there are 10 zinnia blossoms. And that's just enough for me to smile. Just enough smile to birth hope.

Trick or treat

Yesterday was Halloween (or All Hallow's Eve in the Church calendar).
While I didn't have the chance to dress up and parade door to door seeking sugar-filled treats. I did have the opportunity to to witness dozens of other ghouls and goblins masquerade through a Hendersonville neighborhood.
If Halloween is known for anything, it's dressing in costume. Some outfits are custom-designed or homemade. Others have all the detail of high-end hollywood authenticity. All sorts of shapes and sizes and ages. Everyone can get in on the fun.
Of course, some criticize the whole idea of dressing up for a night and pretending to be something you're not. Truthfully, I'm more concerned about us who march around day after day pretending to be something they're not.
Some criticize the idea of hiding behind a mask or masking our true identity. We close ourselves off in a fantasy world and avoid dealing with reality. Yet, over the years, I've found out, more often than not, that our costumes or masks actually reveal a deeper truth about ourselves than we might imagine. A Joker or Cinderella, cartoon character or slasher villan, dinosaur or mummy. Our masked idenity can sometimes free us to speak what our lips may never be bold enough to proclaim. That's worth the effort once a year.
Be yourself. Trick or Treat!