The Gift of Peace

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. John 14:27

This is one of my favorite Bible passages. Jesus is giving final instructions to his disciples the night before he is arrested and lead to his death. He is reminding them that he will die and come back, and he knows they are going to face some rough days ahead.

This verse is in the Gospel reading this coming Sunday, and we talked about it in Bible study this week. When I told our group this is a meaningful verse for me, Fr. Charlie asked me why. The reason isn't so much that Jesus is giving peace, an inner peace that heals and gives us strength, it's that he gives it NOT AS THE WORLD GIVES.

That passage gets me. When I think about how the world gives, a lot of things come to mind. There are presents, like the Tiffany boxes above, that we expect on special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. But Jesus gives his gift of peace at a time when the disciples are not really ready for it. They have had an interesting night of having their feet washed by their leader, been told that people in their own group will deny they know Jesus and even turn against him. I'm not sure they're in the best mind-set for this gift, as much as they may need it. Are we ready to accept the peace Jesus gives us, that w3e already have inside at the times we need it most?

Then there are the gifts that are given with the expectation of reciprocation. My mom wouldn't let me accept expensive gifts from boys when I was in high school. She had good reason for that. Sometimes it happens at work when someone "helps" take a shift or work on a project with the understanding that the help will mean a day off later. But Jesus didn't expect his followers, or any of us, to give him something in return. What could they, or we, possibly give in return?

There are also the supposed gifts that we have to give back. Emily Post tells all brides who don't go through with their weddings that they should return the ring and any gifts, unless the ring was given as a birthday or holiday gift, but even then, it's tacky to keep it. There are the uncomfortable times we might be given something that we thought was  gift, only to be asked to return it. Jesus' peace is always with us; there's no way to return it, and I don't think he'd want it back.

Probably the biggest way I see what are called "gifts" in our modern world is in the area of commerce. We get money for work, give that money in exchange for food and clothes and DVDs and phone service. We get discounts for being loyal shoppers, or for being thrifty. Even some of the items we pay for are like gifts. My massage therapist's work on my shoulders is a gift, but I pay her. "Nothing in life is free," is a cliche, but it rings true in our world. But that is exactly what Jesus meant when he said NOT AS THE WORLD GIVES. There is no exchange here. No amount of money, or work, or volunteering, or anything, will buy this peace. There is nothing we can exchange for it.

It's hard to wrap my head around this verse. "My peace I give to you; my peace I leave with you." This isn't just any peace. It's not a greeting from Sunday services. It's not a wave of two fingers, or a circle with a bird foot thingy in it. It's not an image or a word at all. It is an all-encompassing feeling of inner wellness and calm and love. It's Jesus' presence in our very selves. He gave it to us. He left it in safekeeping with us.

He doesn't expect anything in return. There is no blushing and saying, "Oh you shouldn't have. I can't accept this." It's not returnable, and not exchangeable. It's already in us. It's the right size. It's the perfect color. It may not be wrapped up, but sometimes we have to look for it a little, like its hidden. But it's there. All we have to do is open ourselves to it. We are part of the gift, after all.

April was National Poetry Month

I keep a lot of the parts of my life pretty separate. I teach, and I have a work account and webpages that I use to communicate with students and colleagues. For church, I have this blog and an email account, which I also use for family and friends. I'm a poet, and I have a separate email and webpage for that. This past month has been National Poetry Month, and I helped plan a whole bunch of events at school for students and faculty. And I've been writing a brand-new poem every day all month. They haven't all been good, and all of them will need either to be revised or just forgotten. But, since it's the last day of the month, I'll post one of the new ones here. Several of the poems I have written this month relate to the Bible study I've been doing every week at church, or to the season of Lent and Easter. This was one of them.

Lazarus


He did not face death alone.
His last sight of his beloved sisters' faces
the crows feet around their green eyes,
their dark hair braided--
his last breath inhaled into their chests
still connected to them.
His naked body feather light under their touch
as they bathed him, perfumed him,
wrapped him in the ivory linen.

Imagine his surprise!

His eyes flitting open in the cave,
feeling the cold
around his warming skin
the hard stone under his shoulder blades.
The pain not just vanished
but the feeling of a new heartbeat
the stale air of the cave swirling
in the clean pockets of his lungs.
To get up and walk was nothing.
For the rest of his life
he would dance.

AZ SB1070

Like most Americans, my family came from other countries. On my mother's side, from England and Eastern Europe. On my dad's, from Germany, and from Mexico. When some of them came, there was no such thing as legal or illegal immigrants. You just got a ticket and came, or in my Mexican grandmother's case, land changed hands, and people went from being Spanish to being Americans. Family was spread on both sides of the borders, and people traveled on both sides, speaking two languages.

I don't look Hispanic. My dad does, a little. With Arizona's new SB10170, which will allow police to stop people they "reasonably suspect" of being illegal immigrants, and prosecuting them. Being able arrest illegal immigrants isn't new. What is, is that all it takes to be stopped and asked for id, is for the police to think a person might not be legal by the way that person looks.

The governor says that police will not racially profile the people they stop. But I wonder who will be stopped? Will I when I go to visit my Dad in Tucson? Probably not. I'm too pale, and I don't speak Spanish. But I think about some of the people I grew up with, people who do look more Hispanic, who have Spanish names, who are bi-lingual. What if they forget their id when they go to a festival downtown? This reminds me of other times in history when groups of people were designated as suspicious and asked to carry identification papers proving they were who they said they were. I saw some pictures of protesters on Flickr, one of a person carrying a sign calling the governor a  "Nazi." I'm wary of name-calling, and of using powerful language like that, but really, I can see where someone would feel the need to say that.

As a college professor, my closest issue with illegal immigration is education. I struggle with who is to blame when kids get to be college-age and can't go because their parents brought them here when they were very young, but they never became citizens. They have great grades, perfect English, and no way to get financial aid. They almost never blame their parents, not in the stories I read or the interviews I hear. They get angry that they have to go to Mexico to go to college, and the schools aren't as good as ours. Or they have to go back to a country they have never lived in and apply for student visas, then explain why they have U.S. high school diplomas. The kids had no choice in where they grew up, but they are mad at our government for not accepting them. 

I'm mad at my government too. For decades we've looked the other way with illegal immigration as opportunity dwindled in Mexico and grew like dandelions here. Why haven't we done something to change immigration rules, or stop it, or give amnesty, or something? Anything?

Part of what's missing from discussion about illegal immigration is the reasoning behind it. What would cause people to risk their lives, spend all their hard-earned savings, and put their lives into the hands of smugglers who will force them to walk miles without water, to stand in vans without air circulation or a way to relieve themselves for hours, to hide in trunks or undercarriages, or wherever they can. They leave their families for a chance at making enough money to pay rent and feed themselves, and send money home. These people live more or less in hiding, trying not to break any additional laws so they can keep working. The few who do commit crimes are held up as the standard of their community.

I pray  that the legislation in Arizona will help our national government to bring up immigration reform. I pray that Mexico and South American countries will be able to revive their economies and schools and governments so that people aren't compelled to leave their homelands. I pray that the people of the U.S. can be empathetic to the plight of people who come here illegally, and that whatever their feeling about immigration are, that they don't fall into the trap of hate and racism. 

Ministering

It's getting close to the end of my semester. The last day to drop is next Tuesday. Research papers are due for my 102 students next Wednesday. My 101 students only have one paper left to write. Finals are just three short weeks away. All hell is breaking loose.

My class sizes have dropped from the beginning of the semester, so I'm left with the people who are dedicated to getting their work done and completing the class. Some of them have let go of dreams of getting As and are feeling like they are earning their Bs or Cs on their papers. I'm still praying for some who dropped long ago for personal reasons or financial reasons. I have one student who will be getting an incomplete to finish her course because she broke her back in a car accident over spring break. I have another who was in tears this week when she came to meet with me. She said there shouldn't be anything to cry about. She's only taking my course and working part time. She lives at home, so she doesn't have much to worry about in the way of bills. "So why," I asked her, "are you upset?" It's the second anniversary of her sister's death. She would have been 22 this year. Her whole family is grieving again, and she's struggling to keep up with life in general.

This is a typical semester. People who don't teach might think my job is easy. I get big breaks during the summer and over holidays. I teach the same classes over and over so I know what I'm doing every semester. How bad can grading be when I only have to be in class 12 hours a week and in my office for 5? That leaves a lot of time to work on my own wherever I please. All those things are true, but I end up doing more than just teaching writing. I cajole, encourage and challenge my students. I counsel them, not just with their assignments, but with future education choices, careers, and family issues. I have had to refer them to professional counseling at times when things got really rough.

When I started my discernment for being a deacon, a friend of mine from another church asked me, "What will your ministry be?" "I'm a teacher," I said. "Oh, we'll see," was his reply, as if a teacher couldn't do enough. As a community college teacher, I am on the front lines of people who are very fragile. The kids who weren't good enough out of high school to get into, or get scholarships for, universities and 4 year colleges. The adults who didn't succeed in school and didn't go to college, only to realize years later they want or need a degree, but have doubts they will be able to do the work and finish a degree. The students who didn't get enough education in high school to get into college and now are working their way through developmental classes. And students who work full time and go to school full time and have children or parents to care for during their "free time." Teaching writing is a small, small part of my work. I am a minister.

I am reminding myself of that today as I respond to emails with my student who's at home still recovering from her back injury over a month ago. I have to remind myself of that when students don't show up when I have conference time to help them with their writing. I could choose to think they don't care about getting good grades on their last papers, that they just signed up to take extra hours at their jobs when they could have come to see me. But they have families to feed and choices to make. Money to pay for books for summer school might come at the cost of driving over to see me for five minutes making sure their grammar is perfect.

I am praying often for my students, and all students who are trying to make it to the end of the semester in one piece. I need some too, probably!

Holier than Thou...

Paul, my husband, reads all my blog entries. He has his own blog, Beneath This Dirty Hood, which I also read. We usually comment to each other on what we've read with little, "I liked your links," or "Nice lead," comments. He also points out my spelling errors. He's a better proofreader than I am.

So last week, he read my Palm Sunday reflection. I came home from a meeting or get-together I had been at, and his first comment when I walked into the living room was, "You're trying to take Fr. Charlie's job, aren't you? You want to be a priest now, or something?" This led to my denying that those were my goals, and asking Paul where his inferences were coming from. "Your last blog. You didn't used to be like this."

He's right. I didn't used to be "like" I am now. We talked about how I've changed. Ever since we've met, I've gone to Episcopal churches. He was there when I was received into the church in 1995, and he remembers my teaching Sunday School at St. Paul's in Duluth in the mid-1990s. I also served on a discernment committee for a friend who was seeking answers about becoming a deacon. Paul and I were married there in 1997. When we moved to Colorado, we worked on Sundays, and worked so many hours I couldn't get involved in a church. But when we moved to Texas, I got involved again at St. Martin's. And again, when we moved to Chicago-land, I tried a few churches before finding my home at Trinity, so I had about a year away from church.

So he's always known me to be a person who goes to church and volunteers her time. Now, I'm not doing any more than I have done before. I'm on the vestry, leading Bible Study, and lectoring. That's about it other than little things here and there. So what's different? Well, I can point to when things changed with my discernment for the deaconate, but this blog has been a big change.

I've never had a pubic place to share my spiritual beliefs, reactions, and stories. And I come from a Catholic background, as does Paul, where spiritual things are not spoken of, even at home. Neither of our families, or any of our friends, talked about our prayer lives, or what we thought about sermons or readings on Sundays. We didn't go around humming hymns until Wednesday. And we certainly didn't tell everyone our inner feelings about God, the Holy Spirit, or the Eucharist.

But here I am, telling everyone looking around cyberspace, about how I feel about Jesus and Easter and everything else that comes into my heart and head. It's not that I didn't have these feelings my whole life, or while Paul and I have been together, but I just didn't talk about them. So putting those ideas and feelings into printed words is new, the ideas and feelings aren't.

I told Fr. Charlie about Paul's reaction, that I might be taking over his job. He asked if that might be a sign for me to be thinking again about Holy Orders. I don't know. I'm feeling good where I'm at. I feel closer to the Bible since I've had regular Bible Study this year, but it's only been a few months. I feel like I'm finding my way into serving without burning out, which is also good. I don't know. I can say that it is something that I continue to pray about, that I continue to talk to my mentors about. We'll see where the spirit leads.

A poem for Easter

Easter Wings by George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

Though foolishly he lost the same,

Decaying more and more,

Till he became

Most poore:

With thee

O let me rise

As larks, harmoniously,

And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

And still with sicknesses and shame.

Thou didst so punish sinne,

That I became

Most thinne.

With thee

Let me combine,

And feel thy victorie:

For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Would you take a bullet for me? Thanks!

I’ve heard that question before, and I’m sure you have, too. It’s a measuring stick of how much we love someone, or something. I wouldn’t take a bullet for, say, the student who bad-mouths me in front of a class, but I would for my husband or even my dog. I’d probably want to know how badly I’d be shot. If it’s in the foot I might answer differently than if it was a direct hit in my chest. Hopefully, I’ll never be faced with having to answer this question as anything more than a hypothetical, philosophical conundrum.


But, the question came into my head this past Sunday, Palm Sunday. I got to be Jesus during our church’s reading of the Passion. I’ve been the narrator before, and the girl who questions Peter, but not Jesus. All jokes aside about my being female, I took my role seriously and actually read over the script before Sunday’s service, even though I know the plot and dialog almost by heart from all the Palm Sundays I’ve attended. Participating keeps me from drifting off hearing it again, but it also makes it more present to me.

So, as Jesus, I stood in front of the congregation as we read the play. I was figuratively given the kiss of death, questioned, questioned again, and again. I stood through the ridicule, the mocking, the dressing up, the beatings, and then through my fellow parishioners calling out, “Crucify him!” Wait, it wasn’t the parishioners, it was the “crowd” that said that. But really, Jesus stood as people who knew him, who went to worship with him, who listened to him, cried out for his death. I imagined that as I stood there in my slacks and sweater, looking back at my friends standing in the pews. Imagine them yelling out for me to be put to death because it was easier than putting up with what I had to say, because I was a rebel, because I made them uncomfortable in calling them to change their lives.

Would I go to my death for people who I knew were wrong? Would I allow myself to be humiliated and tortured for a bunch of people who wouldn’t stand up for me? For friends who abandoned me? For people I didn’t know, and who wouldn’t listen to me? I don’t think I would. But Jesus did. He took on what to me is unimaginable pain and humiliation not just for those people calling for his death, but for every generation of people who would come after them.

For Jesus, the question, “Would you take a bullet for me,” probably wouldn’t even make him blink. A bullet is quick and deadly. Death comes fast. But all that is saved is a physical life in this case. He said yes to a death that was slow, drawn out, and embarrassing, and for strangers and people who don’t like him or think what he had to say makes any sense so that they can enter Heaven and spend eternity with him.

I pray that we all have a meaningful Holy Week, and that more people come to know the man who did more than take a bullet for us to keep us physically alive. He died a terrible death so that we can die, but keep living in Him.

D'OH!

I am not always very bright. My mom will attest to this. Critical thinking is not my forte. Heck, it's not even my three-te.

A case in point is a discussion we've been having at Trinity about developing a Spanish service and nurturing a Hispanic ministry at our church. For anyone who doesn't know. more than 1/3 of Aurora's population is Hispanic, as of the 2000 census. I grew up in the Southwest, but I never found businesses, even Mexican restaurants, where people didn't speak English in Arizona. But when I moved here, Paul and I went to a local Mexican restaurant, and the menu was in Spanish; the waitress only spoke Spanish, and we were the only table of people speaking English. So, it makes sense that our church would offer Spanish language services, given that our neighborhood is full of people who speak Spanish; we're already offer immigration services and have contact with people in the Hispanic community.

That's what someone might think. It's not the first thing that came to my mind. And it's not the first thing that came into the minds of people I spoke to about starting a new service. A lot of us were pretty defensive and had a lot of questions. Who would run the service? Our priest doesn't speak Spanish. If we have another priest come in and do the service, would we have to pay him? Well, he'd volunteer at first. What about other costs? Wine and bread, bulletins, prayerbooks, musicians? And how would these new folks blend in with the rest of the congregation? And what happens if there get to be so many Spanish speakers that the current congregation gets squished out? What then???

It might seem that we jumped to some apocalyptic thinking, but the UNKNOWN can do that. We don't know all that might happen. It could be that we'd give it a shot, and it would fizzle. That happened when in the 1980s the priest tried offering Spanish services. So a meeting was arranged in February for members of Trinity and the other Episcopal church in Aurora, St. David's, to meet with Rev. Pedro Lopez and Bishop Scantlebury about starting a Hispanic ministry at one of our churches. We asked questions about how this might work, what the costs might be, and were told about what a church in Elgin is like since starting a Spanish service. That service grew to two services, and now the Hispanic community is larger than the original congregation, but no one has been squished out. But the vibe the Trinity folks had was not positive. Some of us were skeptical that doing this work would sink our foundering financial ship, that we don't have the resources, that there isn't the people-power to pull it off.

I talked to several people about this late last year, and after the February meeting, I spoke to some more. I didn't get a lot of positive feedback about the idea of moving forward. Only one person said she might be interested, and then only in attending a service, not in helping getting things going. When the issue came up at our last vestry meeting in February, I retold the conversations I had had with people. It was obvious Fr. Charlie was disappointed, and he said he'd heard some very positive feedback from folks. Then another member, Rob, brought something forward.

Rob pointed out that Jesus called his followers to open their doors to people who didn't speak their language. He called them to minister to the strangers in their land. Paul went to people who weren't Jews and called them into the circle of Christ's love. Again and again in the Bible, God has His chosen leaders go to the people who are in the most need and who happen to be outsiders to the original community of God's people. Rob also said that we need to move forward with our hearts, trusting in God, not letting our rational brains take over.

I went home with Rob's words running through my head. And I thought about one of the readings we've studied in January: God calling Moses to serve His people. Moses was an outsider since he had been raised by the Egyptians, even though his genetics tied him to the enslaved Jews. We've had a lot of readings from Paul's letters, and we've talked about Paul serving Gentiles, people who weren't Jews. Before I went to bed, I prayed to God to open my heart and get me out of my head and its doubts.

I got up in the morning and had thoughts about others in the Bible we've been reading about saying, "No," to God because they thought they didn't have the right skills. God said to Jeremiah, "Do not say to me, 'I am only a child.' You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you." Isn't that what's happening here? I am telling God, "No, we don't have the resources for this new project," without trusting that if we move onto that path, He will provide what we need. By this time, I was driving to work, and said to God, "Okay, I'm getting it."

My first task at work that morning was to observe and write up an evaluation on a part-time teacher at a satellite campus of my college. The class had read an article titled "The Christian Paradox: How a Faithful Nation Gets Jesus Wrong" by Bill McKibben and they were talking about his points about Christian hypocrisy. The teacher also showed a PBS video about an Episcopal family and their church, and the work the church and family did to fulfill God's calling to them to act as Christ would. The class had a discussion about the hypocrisy of some "believers," and how this family seemed to truly embody the idea of being a Christian. They also talked about the idea that people might do this work for personal gain in the afterlife, but that idea notwithstanding, they seemed to truly act as Christians.

I left the campus to go teach my own classes at the main campus. As I was driving, I thought about Rob's words, about the Bible lessons, and about the video and class discussion I had heard. Wasn't my own action pretty hypocritical? I claim to want to do God's work in the world, and I've even explored being a deacon, and still listen for that call. But here I was turning my back on God's people because of the possibilities it could be harmful to Trinity, and of the work I might have to do to help. I found myself saying to God, "Okay, okay! I get it! I'll change!"

But I also heard God telling me something else. It's not enough to change my mind. As a leader at Trinity, I am called to change the minds of others. I'll be challenging people to change their own minds and give this a chance. The last thing I heard God telling me is that support doesn't mean that I have to do all the work. There are people who want this and who want to work at it. It's enough at this time that I support them with prayers and a positive attitude. There might be a time when more is asked of me, but right now, this is what I need to do.

I ask this of my readers as well. Please pray for our church as we look to grow and open our hearts, buildings, and other spaces to God's people. Please pray that in your own communities, the people who need to be served are being served, even if that means doing some hard work, or being open to challenges and changes.

Lent, God and Dogs

Lent is one of my favorite church seasons, probably second to Advent. There's someting about the anticipation of what's coming that's even more exciting than the final event. When I was a kid, I thought Christmas and Easter were the two best parts of being a Christian. Presents, candy, new clothes, and the decorations for both seasons were so exciting. But now that I'm grown up, the waiting is the best, not the hardest, part.

One of the things that I like about Lent is that I tend to be more in tune with my soul and with God. I do things in Lent to remind me of my blessings, and to try to draw closer to Him and His people in the world. I've been participating in Bible Study all year, but this first week of Lent, we had a great discussion about how we find God in our lives, and what unconditional love is. It was a great discussion, so spirit-filled and moving that we ran out of time to go over the Gospel reading, stopping after another of Paul's letters to the Romans.

Our talk about unconditional love had two main parts: that as humans, we have a hard time really understanding it, and that there is one example most of us can use to get some idea of it. We have a hard time understanding unconditional love because we don't practice it well. Even my mom used to say that she always loved me, but she didn't always like me. But the times she didn't like me could sometimes feel like she didn't love me, even if she said she did. And as an adult, I have a hard time loving unconditionally. I love my husband, but if he were to betray me, which I know he would never ever do, would I still love him? And we talked about God's unconditional love. What is that like? Is it the same as my mom's, that He always loves us but sometimes doesn't love us? And what about sin and guilt? He forgives everything we are truly sorry for, but we can't always forgive ourselves. So when do we feel forgiven? How can we get to a place of feeling unconditional loved?

The other part of our conversation dealt with the one way we can really get unconditional love in our lives-- through our dogs. One of the women in our Bible study group recently took her dog, Daphne,  to visit at a friend's house, and Daphne was attacked by another dog. She had to get stiches on her neck, and she was hurt pretty badly. My friend felt terrible, full of guilt that she hadn't protected Daphne, that she had taken her to a place where she got hurt. But when Daphne got out of the vet's office, she was so happy to see Kimberly and acted as if nothing had happened. Daphne may not be happy if she ever runs into that other dog again, but she didn't hold any anger for my friend. That is unconditional love.

I had recently recieved a forwarded email story about God and dogs. And angel comes to God to tell HIm that Adam and Eve wanted a companion to keep them company. God makes a dog and sends it to them. But then the angel saw a change in the couple. They became haughty because the dog adored them so much. He went back to God and made a report about his concern, and so God sent Adam and Eve a cat to keep them on an even keel. The story ended with a line about the cooincidence that dog is God spelled backwards.

So it's Lent. And we're in a time of waiting, a rather sad time of waiting. We are waiting for Christ's crucufixtion which will wash away the world's sin. We are waiting for His rising from the dead on the third day. And this is the greatest form of unconditional love, to be afraid of death, but to go through it anyway to save others. Even to save people who will turn away, who will mock, who will waver back and forth about the reality of what He has done.

But we aren't the only ones waiting. I'd like to make an analogy here, another dog story, so bear with me. Our dogs, like most dogs, love it when we come home. There have been times when we've been gone for 12 hours and come home late at night, and when they get out of their kennels, they are so happy all they can do is bark and wag and lick us and jump up to get close to us. But, they have the same reaction if we're gone for five minutes. There have been times I've come home just as Paul is pulling out of the garage, and when I get upstairs, knowing the dogs have been kenneled all of two minutes, their reaction is the same as if I was gone all day.

We wait for God, but He is waiting for us. We go through our lives, knowing that someday we'll meet him. But we don't always focus on that meeting. When people talk about heaven, they talk about meeting deceased family and friends, or famous people, or seeing the wonders of Heaven. But what about meeting God face to face? And won't He be as happy to see us, in His unending love, as those silly little creatures who love us from their wet noses to their wagging tails? I'm not saying God will be jumping and planting wet kisses on our faces, but wouldn't you imagine He'll be happy to see you, a person He made, and loved, and saw live a life while He walked unseen beside you? And in our Lenten waiting, isn't that what we should be joyously waiting for, to meet Him in the end?

I pray that in this long season of prayer and contemplation, we remember what and whom we wait for, and who waits for us.

BIG Questions

You would think doing a 45-60 minute weekly Bible Study, our little group of 9-10 people would only have time to read the three readings coming on Sunday, touch on some semantics in interpretation, clarify some confusing passages, comment briefly on connections between the Old and New Testaments and Gospel, and say good bye as we refill our travel coffee mugs.

Yet, it seems as each week goes by, we keep layering on deeper and deeper questions. These questions have no answer, and even if they did, each of our answers would be very personal. We keep coming back to them again and again. "If God called me to His service, what would I say?" "If I encountered God, would I know Him? And what would my reaction be?"

There all kinds of little stories about these questions. There's the man drowning in the sea, praying to God to save him. A boat comes by to offer help, but he doesn't take it. The same thing happens again. He finally drowns and dies and goes to heaven. When he gets there, he asks God, "Why didn't You save me?" And God asks him back, "Why didn't you get into one of the two boats I sent?"

There's a song along these lines too, that Jesus is the carpenter on the roof, the woman begging for food on the street. Stories like this abound, but they are like any other cliches in our lives. They are so overused they are meaningless, or close to that. So when we ask these questions in our Bible Study, really ask them, we all sit silently. Someone might say something about reacting the way most of the people in the Bible do, saying they aren't worthy, that they aren't the right person for God's work.
For example, Moses, when God comes to him on the mountain, says he can't do His work, and doesn't feel okay with things until God says He'll be there to help him, and will give him the right words. Isaiah doesn't think he's worthy of God's work until the seraphim touch his lips to cleanse him of his foul words and thoughts. There are more stories like this of people saying they aren't worthy, and not feeling good about God's calling until they are reassured by God. But there's also the story of Jesus telling the rich man to sell his belongings, leave his home, and come follow Christ. And the man can't bring himself to do it. Where would we be in these stories? What would it take to convince us?

This coming Sunday is Transfiguration Sunday, and the Gospel reading is from John, retelling the story of Jesus meeting Moses and Elija on the mountain, and Peter and two other disciples see the three men in their blinding glory. Peter says to Jesus that they should make three tents for the men to stay in, and as he speaking, a cloud comes over them, and God tells them, "This is my son. Listen to him." This is as close to a Stooge-esque slap on the back of the head as Peter gets. It's not like Peter didn't see Jesus walk on water, cure the blind, make ten loaves and fishes into hundreds. But even this late in the game, Peter has to be reminded there's a plan, and Peter needs to shut up and listen. So even when we decide to follow Christ, sometimes we forget who's doing the leading. And we manage to make mistakes and speak without thinking.

So what if seraphim come to me one Sunday as I sit praying in church with their strange triple sets of wings? What if I'm out for a hike at Starved Rock and a cloud comes over me and I hear God command me to do something for him? What if I meet Christ on the street, or my office, or he darts in front of my car? My tendency is to say that none of this will happen.

But then again, I know God has asked me to reconnect with Him and rescheudle my life around His call to me. And I've done it. He has called me to teach, and I'm doing it. He has asked me to love people that I find very challenging at times, and I keep working at it. Every year, He sends students my way that I have a hard time seeing any trace of Christ in their hearts, but I look and look again. I am not transfigured into a glowing white creature like Moses was, so bright that people asked him to cover his face with a cloth so they could be around him. I probably am more like impetuous Peter who says the dumbest things without thinking about them, or rushes out of the boat to follow Christ onto the lake, and then panics in Wile E. Coyote fashion and sinks.

I think most of us are there. We strive to be the best we can be, and find we fall short. We listen and listen for God's call, but sometimes we don't like what we hear, or we're listening for what we want to hear. Again and again the Bible tells us people are like children and sheep. Tell a four year old you might take her to Dairy Queen, and an hour later, she'll claim, "You promised!" Ask a ten year old boy to clean up his room, and it's like you've spoken to a wall. Sheep are great at following, but left ot their own devices, they will eat things that aren't food and make themselves sick, get lost, get stuck in bushes and rock outcroppings and hurt themselves.

Thank goodness God knows our nature and loves us anyway. He knows he's like a parent who has to say things over a thousand times before it sinks into our heads. He knows he has to ask, and ask, and ask, and ask, and maybe He'll get from us the answer He so wants.

Prayer in Devastation

It has been almost a month since the earthquake in Haiti. I keep hearing news on NPR about food and medical supplies still not reaching those who need it. I hear friends talking about how Americans are trying to take children out of Haiti to adopt them before anyone is able to see if the kids still have family alive. Even my students, who usually aren't very talkative about current events, will bring up the misery Haitian people are enduring.

Like the aftermath of Hurrican Katrina, or the civil wars in Liberia and Uganda, the misery of rebuilding in a ruined land will fade from Americans' consiousness. We have given a lot of money to the American Red Cross, to the celebrity telethon, to the banner ads giving text message codes that have run at the bottom ticker lines of ESPN and CNN. But even all the money in the world won't fix all that's wrong in these places, especially those that are in countries that lack the infrastructure to have long-term political stability that rebuilding requires.

Our Sunday bulletins at Trinity include leaflets for Episcopal Life Weekly. You can download current and past issues here. The past month's have all been focused on Haiti. But the one for Jan. 31st noted not just Haiti, but the countries and problems I mentioned above. And at the end  letter, The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church and author of the letter, states, "Dollars are needed, but that need is secondary. There is enormous hunger for, and pride in seeking, self-sufficiency." This can only be achieved through faith, prayer and trust. These are much harder to achieve than shoveling away rubble and putting up new schools and houses. It takes the work of humans who are hurt, poor, unsure, and unstable.

Please pray for all countries that are suffering from both human-made and natural disasters. Pray for the children who will be the ones to inherit their homelands. Pray for their leaders to see the best ways forward. Pray for physical, mental and spiritual healing. Pray for God's all-encompassing love and understanding to guide all people to His heart and soothing touch.

New Year, New Things

Where did the first month fo 2010 go? For me, it started with a week of the flu, which lead to my not being ready for classes to start the second week of January. I've been plahying catch up all month. I knew when I sat down at my computer that it had been awhile since my last post. I had to do a double-take when I saw that it's been over a month since I last wrote anything here. I don't make new year's resolutions, but I'm hoping to be more regular about writing in the coming year. Starting now, not on Jan. 1st, obviously...

So what's new? I had written last year about all the changes in my life, and that I felt that waiting to move forward with becoming a deacon was a call from God to stop and do some other work. Janurary has been the start of my living out this calling. I went back to full-time teaching and am leaving the administrative work that has been taking all my time and energy. The new person JJC hired to take over these tasks is wonderful, and also named Kristin! We're joking that we found the perfect person with the perfect name for the job. Now that the work is in someone else's capable hands, I am focusing on teaching. I had forgotten what I challenge it is for me to learn 85 new names and faces in just a matter of a week or two!

The wonderful part of this change is that my teaching life has expanded beyond my secular classrooms at JJC. I started leading Bible Study once a week at Trinity on Wednesday mornings. I wasn't sure how many people would come, but as I told Fr. Charlie, I'm making a committment to learn the Scriptures better, so if no one comes, it is time for me to sit and read and think about God's word. But we've been blessed to have a table-full of thoughtful, intelligent people for the first three weeks. We're reading and discussing the upcoming Sunday's readings, so we have time to think, pray and digest the lessons before hearing them again on Sunday morning. And Fr. Charlie gets time with us to hear our thoughts and start thinking about his sermon. It's been great with wonderful questions, great talks, and a sense of fellowship with our learning. I am very hopeful that the meetings will continue to be fruitful for many weeks and months to come.

Another activity that I started is a quarterly book group. We met this weekend on Saturday to talk about William Young's The Shack. Again, I wasn't sure how many people would come, but the conference table was full. We had some critical comments about how humans have tried to capture God in a book or painting, and how these works always fall short, but that in striving to explain God, we get some new perspectives. We talked about the ways Young tried to explain the reasons why God acts, why we have to wait to gain complete understanding, and why we really, really don't want to be the judges of others. By the end of the hour-long discussion, everyone agreed that the group was a good idea, and to have our next book be Three Cups of Tea. Yeay for breathing life into new avenues of learning!

If I had any questions about whether I made the right decision in waiting to enter further into deaconal training, those were wiped away at the book group. As I was brewing coffee for the group, a friend and fellow parishoner came in to see if I needed any help. She's been coming to the Bible Study group, too, and I asked her how it was going for her. She said it was fine, and then came over and touched my arm. She looked me in the face, and said how grateful she is that I'm doing all that I am at Trinity to help people learn about the Bible and think about their spiritual lives, that these times of learning should be a part of our lives, and that they've been missing at our church for a long time. As I was driving home after the discussion, I heard her words again and I knew they weren't her words alone. Mack, the main character in The Shack, may have had God to talk to face-to-face, but I know God was talking to me through my friend. I'm doing what He wants me to do.

Now that I'm more on track with grading my papers at work, and finally regulated to my new schedule of early morning Bible study, I'll be checking in here more regularly. I met with my spiritual director, Carol, this past week, and she said that I shouldn't worry at all abnout the deaconhood. The diocese has a hold on all new canidates for the next year, so I can go about my calling at church without any thoughts about further calling. But I am also open and willing to do what God wants of me. We'll see where He leads...