Weaver of stories

Thirty years ago today, I was 'licensed to preach' by the then Greenock Presbytery of the Church of Scotland. During the discernment process, I was unable to answer affirmatively the question "Do you have a desire to preach?" posed by the men who were assessing my call. 
In 30 years of ministry I can't say I have ever experienced a desire to preach.
Back then I wasn't able to articulate it but now I know that the role to which I felt called was more akin to that of a story weaver. A role that involved more listening than speaking, allowing folks to hear their own and others' stories and to make connections with one another and with the God who created each of us as storied beings. Forging connections with a God who beholds humanity through tear filled eyes, extending love filled arms, imploring us to look at one another and to listen to one another's stories. For only in hearing one another's stories and, through them, holding one another sacred, will we be able to protect the fragile light from being snuffed out by the darkness of conflict.

Story Weavers

The heavy threads of fear and grief
are borne gently
their weight acknowledged as they are interspersed
with gossamer light filaments of love
whose strength belies their fragility
They are laid out in an intricate pattern
that extends an invitation to draw near
to see better
to hear better
tales of war and violence
and hunger and greed
interrupted by incidents
of reverence and kindness
that offer some salve
to the hurt and anguish
And while the darkness is barely diminished
a thread of hope begins to emerge
to infiltrate despair
as stories are held with sacred regard
bringing transformation in their sharing.

Liz Crumlish August 30, 2024

Midwives or Parmedics?

 

Revelation 3:1-2

“And to the angel of the church in Sardis write: These are the words of him who has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars:

“I know your works; you have a name of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is on the point of death, for I have not found your works perfect in the sight of my God.

Is our task today

about birthing something new?

Is it about plunging into the squelchy mess

to ease the passage of a whole new being?

Or is our task more about resuscitation 

It, too, requires that we delve into the abyss

to coddle back to life what is in danger of expiration.

To be sure - both ask of us:

that we don’t avoid the blood and the gore 

that we use all the gifts and skills we have

that we believe in transformation

that we seek consolation when our best efforts fail

as, sometimes, they surely will

that we will know when enough is enough 

that we won’t play the hero

and be respectful of the other’s wishes

that we will be diligent in discernment

Midwife or paramedic?

To which do you feel more called today?

(Liz Crumlish)

A new take on Discernment

 

I tend to think of discernment as demanding

And it is

It is also invitational 

Drawing us into a space

of wonder and creative imagination

A space that is not a void

but filled with potential

A space that is large enough

to allow us to dwell

Contemplatively

for as long as it takes 

A space hollowed out

to contain our fear

as well as our anticipation 

and to host our wildness

along with our reason

A space conducive to dreaming and plotting

and envisioning and conceiving

A space uncluttered by barriers

that encourages innovation

Discernment demands...

that we gather courage

to respond 

to the invitation that it offers.