A messy garden

Tomorrow's Old Testament reading tells the story of Adam, the first man and Eve, the first woman being tempted by the serpent to disobey God - and of them giving in to that temptation. And of God reacting badly to their disobedience by sending them out of the garden. It is one of those stories that folk learn early on if they are going to learn any Bible stories. But what do we make of it? And this weekend, in the wake of the Japanese earthquake and the resultant Tsunami, how can we square the notion of an angry, distant God with the God of love whom we proclaim in church? Wouldn't a loving God intervene to avert tragedy on  a personal and global scale?Wouldn't a God of love take better care of creation? Wrap us up in cotton wool and protect us?
The question is - what kind of God do we want to believe in - the magical kind who directs operations from afar, keeping us safe by strait jacketing us? Or a God who deals with REAL life who supports creation through every tragedy and, in the face of disaster is the one shedding rivers of tears for the creation so beloved of God.
The God who keeps a rosy garden or the God who dwells in a messy garden?

What is important

Midweek services are, for me, an opportunity to experiment in worship. As I was putting together services for Lent, trying to ensure that the folk who come to the midweek services will experience a real sense of going on a journey, with Jesus, from the wilderness to the cross (another sort of wilderness),  a journey that cannot be rushed or even neatly packaged, a journey that has to be lived, I was reminded of these words of Henri Nouwen's, about what, in the end, is important:

I found this out myself this afternoon when I went apple picking with Janice, Carol, Adam, Rose and their assistants. MY attitude was to get the apples picked, put them in bags and go home. But I soon learned all of that was much less important than to help Rose pick one or two apples, to walk with Janice looking for apples that hang low enough so that she herself can reach them, to compliment Carol on her ability to find good apples, and just to sit beside Adam in his wheelchair under an apple tree and give him a sense of belonging to a group... Efficiency is not the most important word - care is.

(Road to Daybreak p28)

May there be space in our Lenten journey to discover more care than efficiency and to experience and value the journey as well as the destination.

An inappropriate Lent?

I am excited about Lent this year. I have enjoyed creating liturgies and thinking of symbols that might aid our journey. Excitement doesn't feel like a seemly emotion for this particular season. Or is it? Lent begins with putting ash on our foreheads, reminding ourselves of our humble beginnings and similarly humble endings. But there is much life to be celebrated in between. Lent also involves, in some traditions, putting away the alleluias - something unthinkable in other traditions! But does that mean that we cannot yet celebrate? There are plenty of other words just as uplifting as alleluia!
These symbols are just that - symbols. They help us mark the movement through the liturgical year. They don't straitjacket us into feeling or thinking a particular way. Indeed the familiarity of some of the symbols of our faith and worship should free us to be aware of new things that God reveals to us. And if God is leading us in exciting paths, our response has to be in step. God is not bowed down by our traditions, so why should we be?
May Lent be a time when even tradition cannot stop the mischievous bubbling up of God's Spirit in you.

Ashes and bread

We shared ashes and bread tonight. As the sign of the cross was painted on our forehead with the commission to "Go and live out the gospel", we acknowledged God's forgiveness and call to repentance (in that order). As we pledged our desire to journey with Christ through the wilderness we celebrated God's nourishment by sharing food for the journey - the body and blood of Christ. Ashes and bread - a wonderful start to Lent.

Right where we are

It's always hard getting back into a routine after a break. Especially a break filled with the wonderful company of fun loving sister preachers.
I love the discipline of looking back over each day and finding the God-filled moments that were in it - before we rush on to the next day - The Daily Examen of Ignatian Spirituality.
So, in the midst of picking up the threads again and as we prepare for the marathon that is Lent, it is refreshing and life giving to discover the bits of paradise that exist right where we are.
In the Cayman Islands or in Scotland, in the Gulf of Mexico or in the desert, God allows us to glimpse paradise and provides nourishment for our journey.
May your Lenten discipline allow you to glimpse the presence of God accompanying you on your journey.

Refreshing optimism and traveling mercies

I always find the customs and immigration process daunting when I visit the USA. I suppose the officials are trained to be suspicious but I usually feel like a criminal. On this visit, however, the guy picked up on my nerves and asked why I was worried. I explained that I was on my way to meet up with 40 folk whom I'd never met before on a Continuing Ed Cruise. When he discovered that these "strangers" were women preachers, he beamed and assured me I had no need to fear. Of course he was right but I'm wondering how many women preachers he's met? 

On the domestic flight between Newark and Tampa, the passenger in the next seat caught sight of what I was reading: Reframing Hope by Carol Howard Merrit, the text for the course, and asked if I was a Christian. No sooner had I affirmed this than she asked me to pray with her. Just two glimpses of God at the beginning of a God-filled week.

Coming down from the mountain

Not preaching this week since I've just returned from study leave and didn't want to have to prepare while I was away. But the lectionary text - the account of the Transfiguration from Matthew touches a cord. How do we interpret and respond to those life changing moments in our lives? And how do we preserve that sense of sacredness or otherness that is present in such moments?
It would seem that our mountain top experiences are often closely followed by a harsh re-entry - down to earth with a bang.
Jesus taught and shared so that his disciples might be sustained in all of life and might have confidence to navigate the highs and lows that are the reality of life, secure in the knowledge that, in God, we are equipped and resourced and renewed every day. We cannot remain on the mountain but we can remain changed, enriched and renewed by all that is revealed to us in the presence of a transforming God.