Overload

It's only a week since I was glued to news reports coming out of Japan, appalled by the horror of the ravages of earthquake and tsunami. Still there are heart wrenching stories and pictures emerging and a tense holding of breath, waiting to see if nuclear disaster can be averted.
We also wait to see if air strikes will begin in Libya, escalating the probability of civil war raging out of control there.
All through the Middle East, anti government protests are attracting violent response.
And, meantime, the cholera epidemic in Haiti rages on with no end in sight except death and destruction.
And these are just the stories that are still barely making it into the headlines of our news media. Many other crises and atrocities have long since disappeared from the world news stage and, often, from our consciousness.
How can one keep up? How can one pray intelligently?
How tempting it is to take a fast from the news.
I'm sure that even in the midst of all these heart wrenching stories there are glimpses of hope, of heroic actions, of human love triumphing against the odds.
But the overwhelming picture is of mayhem and suffering and despair.
So how can we, who believe in a God of love and light, who believe in a God who is present wherever there is suffering, speak hope into such relentless chaos?
Especially when we are feeling particularly overwhelmed by the emerging news even at the privileged distance we maintain?
And yet, if we had no hope, if we lacked that inkling of a God who can turn things around, that notion of a God who brings order out of chaos, wouldn't we have stopped watching and listening already?
If we had no hope, already we would be preparing for our own demise and closing our eyes and ears to all that afflicts our brothers and sisters in this thing that we call the human race.
But God, who plants a seed of the godhead deep within each of us, plants a flicker of hope and of love by which we can remain involved, retain hope and know that our God, through us, reaches out, lifts up and redeems a broken, battered and bruised world.
All is not lost.
For a moment we are overwhelmed.
But God, living in us, binds up humanity in love.
In that wilderness space that Lent invites us to inhabit, may we rediscover the seed of the godhead deep within us that allows us to love and to care and to hope anew.

Kindling love

I LOVE my Kindle. I rarely go anywhere without it. It is a great travelling companion but versatile in so many other ways too. Today, I wanted to quote from a blog post in a school assembly so I simply emailed the post to my Kindle and was then able to share it with the school. I use it to preach from. I email files to it (or upload them) and take it to meetings (such as Presbytery). This saves paper and has the added advantage that, if things get a bit boring, I can continue to read whatever gripping book I'm currently taken with. I use it at gravesides, at weddings....The list goes on.
Did I say? I LOVE my Kindle.
Today I received a book to review Half the Church by Carolyn Custis James. There will be a blog post on it as soon as I've read it! But not only was the book sent to me in printed form - it is also a hardback. It seems like a real chore to read a book in hardback printed form. I may well download it in Kindle form since I have discovered that it is available.
But I recall being quite sceptical of the whole idea of e-books when I first encountered it. I thought that nothing could ever replace a printed text.
It's incredible how soon we can get used to doing things in a new way or to using new forms of media. But only if we open ourselves to change.
May part of our Lenten journey involve us taking steps into unfamiliar territory and embracing new ideas.

In Christ there is no real or virtual...

I had an interesting discussion with a friend today about community: My friend had made a friend request on Facebook to which she has had no response. Pondering this, it dawned on her that, though she knows a lot about the person she has asked to befriend because she follows her blog, she has rarely encountered this person in real life.
Last month I travelled across the world to meet up with women whom I had only previously encountered online but with whom I had experienced real community. Why? Because we shared our stories and supported one another virtually.
At the Revgals meet up, one quote which has become my mantra is: "In Christ there is no real or virtual.." a slight paraphrase of Galatians 3! All are one. We underestimate the power of online communities at our peril. Christ journeys with us in the wilderness of the worldwide web. Thanks be to God.

Countering evil with love

snake in the water

In our midweek Lenten service tonight, we're looking ahead at Sunday's gospel - John 3:1-17. This passage contains that well known verse - For God so loved the world...
But I want to focus on the Serpent being lifted up in the wilderness (verse 14) and ask:
Where, in our lives, do we raise Christ today?
In our homes?
In our places of work?
In our communities?

As ever, when something devastating happens, there are those who speculate on the actions of a harsh, judgmental, vindictive God.
Today, more than ever, we need to speak of and share the incredible love and grace of God by lifting up Christ wherever we are. We cannot and should not ever cease to share the message that God IS love because so many folk are hearing, even in churches, messages to the contrary.
This Lent, may we lift up the God of love.

Small cost

I often find myself inwardly chafing at some of the restrictions I feel my job places on me: there is an expected dress code to be adhered to; I cannot get my VW bug covered in hippy flowers - that would look undignified in a funeral cortege that I often find myself part of; minor complaints like that.
When I was in Cozumel with the Revgals two weeks ago, I had my hair braided and enjoyed the exotic feel of that as well as the reminder of a special time with a super bunch of women. While I had the audacity to conduct Sunday worship with the braids still in place, I knew that they would be inappropriate when it was time to conduct a funeral service. So, I removed them last night in preparation for a funeral today.
Throughout the day, my hands kept reaching for my hair, before I would remember that the braids were no longer there.
It seemed like a sacrifice I had had to make for the job.
However, as I watched the news this evening and caught up on reports from Japan, reports of hundreds of bodies being washed ashore, of crematoria unable to cope with the task required of them, I reflected on the luxury of the quiet, dignified service I had been able to share with a grieving family today. And I gained a new awareness of the incredibly small demands that God makes of me. As well as the awareness, I pray that I have also gained a new sense of joy and thankfulness for the ministry to which God calls me. And I pray fervently for all those who seek to minister to those bereaved by earthquake and tsunami and for those who may never know what became of their loved ones.
May perspective be a part of our Lenten discipline.
God in your mercy, hear my prayer.

Gadget fast

Can't get blogger to upload a picture tonight - Technology!!! So frustrating sometimes.

In the primary school this morning, I was pleasantly surprised at how much the children knew about Lent. And amazed at how many of them are giving up some of their technology for the season - Nintendo Wiis, DSs, XBoxs and the like. 

But what was even more surprising was the maturity with which they explained the purpose of their "giving up" - so that they could spend more time with friends and family.

Fasting for fasting's sake helps no one. But relationships can always benefit from some investment.

Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to add a photo - unless I have a computer fast!

The things we fail to notice

This morning we celebrated all age worship for Lent. I wasn't sure how, with all ages together, to bring in the tragedy of the Earthquake and tsunami in Japan which has affected such a large part of our world this week. But, after putting away the alleluias, we read the account in Genesis of the Garden of Eden and reflected on  God's creation of and care for all creatures. We celebrated that God knows our name by writing our names on paper with glue sticks and then dipping the paper in sand and laying them on the chancel. The result was a colourful display of names and a remembrance that God knows well the names of all those affected by the ravages of the earth, especially in Japan today.
The congregation always amaze me by their willingness to get out of their seats and join in symbolic actions.
It wasn't until I uploaded the pictures taken after the service that I noticed that the names were carefully sorted into different colours for each side - red and yellow on one side and blue, green and orange on the other. For a moment I thought the children had sorted them and then I realised that it was just how I'd distributed the pack of coloured paper between each side of the church.
In the thick of things, sometimes, we miss the detail and it's good to be able to go back and reflect and gain a new awareness. The discipline of Lent affords that opportunity.