Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Give Us the Attentiveness of the Wise Men

“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” 

--Matthew 2:2, NLT

Tomorrow is Epiphany in the church calendar, when the church traditionally remembers the arrival of the wise men to worship Jesus.  In that tradition I offer this prayer inspired by their worship.

Almighty God who took on infant flesh,

you were worshipped by shepherds and wise men,

people who searched for you with passion,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the attentiveness of the wise men,

who noticed the oddity in the sky,

and followed it,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the perseverance of the wise men,

who travelled from a far off land,

through deserts and dangers,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the generosity of the wise men,

who brought costly gifts,

fit for a dying king,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the joy of the wise men,

who rejoiced when they arrived in Bethlehem,

finally reaching their goal,

all to worship Jesus.

May we worship you,

with attentiveness,

with perseverance,

with generosity,

and with joy.

In Jesus' name.  Amen.

Personal photo (of a nativity scene I made), January 2014.

When Christmas Isn’t Tinselly

Maybe your first thought when you saw that the title of this post includes the word Christmas was “how behind is she?”  I do know that in the wider culture (and even sometimes in our churches), Christmas has come and gone.  New Years Eve and New Years Day has come and gone.  Store holiday sections are now anticipating Valentines Day.  But hear me out: I’m living into the church calendar and continuing to contemplate the miracle of the incarnation during this Christmas season (which lasts 12 days until January 6).  After the expectation and longings of Advent, we get more than one day for Christmas.  In the church calendar, the color of Christmas is white, a color of joy and celebration.  In American culture, which generally skips Advent, we get a whole month to be be happy and glowing and full of good cheer.  But the incarnation isn’t really a tinselly affair.  It is messy, gritty, painful. 


I’ve been listening to Handel’s Messiah during Advent and Christmas.  One song that stuck out to me takes its text from Isaiah 53:4-5: “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him.”  This verse is often used during Lent, but it seemed so right to think about this verse during Christmas.  Jesus took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood (see John 1 in The Message) as a tiny, helpless baby.  And Jesus grew up; he lived a human life and faced its trials and uncertainties without sin.  Hebrews tells us that Jesus can empathize with our every weakness.  Jesus bears our griefs and carries our sorrows.

This is what Christmas is all about.  Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, took on flesh.  Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus walks with us.  He knows our pain.  He carries our sorrows.  He doesn’t take them away.  In this already-but-not-yet time we still face the troubles of this world.  But we don’t face them alone.  We face them with our merciful Savior who suffered the indignity to be born into this mess.

This has been a hard holiday season for me.  I identify with the themes of Advent—the waiting, the longing, the expectation—much more than the joy and peace of Christmas.  When I heard the chorus singing “surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” as I sat alone in my room, grieving this season of my life, I heard the Christmas story in a new way.  It isn’t just a “silent night, holy night.”  Christmas is pain and joy mixed together.  The joy of a child born mixed with the pain of childbirth, Mary and Joseph’s tenuous social position, and the humiliation of God taking on flesh.  The joy of Simeon seeing salvation and finding peace to depart this earth along with his prophecy that a sword would pierce Mary’s soul, too (Luke 2:25-35).  Jesus knows my pain and carries my sorrows.  I am not alone in my grief, but my grief is known by my loving God.

Perhaps this has been a hard season for you, too.  If so, I pray that you will know the presence of Emmanuel, our God-with-us, our God who took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood.  May God comfort you with the knowledge that Jesus carries your griefs and your sorrows, whether they are public or known to God alone.  May you see a glimpse of Christ’s light, shinning in the darkness. 

Photo by Jim Kenefick, used under a Creative Commons License

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Elizabeth’s Prayer

In Luke 1, Mary (Luke 1:46-55) has a song and Zechariah has a song (Luke 1:68-79).  These are their prayers at  times in their lives when God was moving in unexpected ways.  Elizabeth's prayers aren't recorded in scripture, but based on her story in Luke 1, this is how I imagine she might have prayed.

O Lord Our God,
You have declared that "my thoughts are not your thoughts,
Neither are your ways my ways.
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are my ways higher than your ways
And my thoughts higher than your thoughts."¹

I've always known those words were true.  But I didn't like them.
Most of my life I have not understood your ways.
I am not sure I do, even now.
Actually, I am pretty sure I don't.

All those years of waiting and longing.
When I was a little girl I dreamed of a good husband and the children I would bear him.  It didn't seem like much to ask.
And my husband is a good man.
He is upright and follows you.
But the children never came to us.
Month after month after month of disappointment.
My friends had their first child, and their second, and their third...
And my womb lay empty and my stomach flat.
At every gathering, they would start to tell their birth stories and discuss the challenges of nursing.  I have never felt so out of place.  Like I was an imposter, a fake woman.

And all of those months I cried out to you.
"Please Lord, may this be the month."
"How long, O Lord, how long?"²
"Do not hide your face from me, my God"³

And you remained silent.
You did not answer me.
For all those years.

I tried to be patient while I waited.  I really did.
But the shame was unbearable.
I know others whispered behind my back:
Who sinned?  This woman or her husband?

I wondered myself.  What have we done wrong?
And still you remained silent.  I was left waiting.

As the years passed, I gave up hope.
I was too old to have my first child now.
My friends had become grandmothers.

So I tried to be faithful with the little I had.
I worshipped you.  I kept your commandments.
I kept the Sabbath.
I honored my husband and our marriage.
I tried so hard to not covet my friends' children.
But the questions still gnawed at my heart.  Your silence didn't help.

And then.  Then it all changed.
Zechariah came home from his work in the temple.
He had gotten his once in a lifetime opportunity to enter the holy of holies.
But things were strange.
He couldn't speak.  He had to communicate in writing.
And he scrawled on the board that I would become pregnant.
I didn't believe it.  Now?  After all these years?
But he told me about your messenger.
And slowly, I felt a tiny ray of hope warm my being.
Maybe it would be so.  Maybe you wouldn't be silent forever.

And it was so.  You heard my cry and you answered me.I look at this tiny babe in my arms, and I don't know what the future holds for him.
I want to keep him safe in my arms forever, but I'm sure that isn't your plan.
I know this is a special baby.  A miracle baby.
And you have plans for him.  I don't know what they are yet.
But you have proved that your ways are higher than mine.
Even during all those torturous years, you were faithful to your promises.
You heard my cry and finally answered me.

¹Isaiah 55:8-9
² Psalm 13:1
³ Psalm 27:9
Photo by Cary and Kacey Jordan, The Jordan Collective.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Loose Ends (Advent Psalms #1)

During Advent, I am reflecting on the theme of waiting in four psalms.  I chose this theme because it is particularly appropriate to Advent and to my life right now.  When and how do these prayers talk about waiting?  How does that shape the way we wait during Advent and the rest of the year?  My prayer is that my words and the meditations of our hearts would be pleasing to the Lord, our rock and our redeemer.
This reflection focuses on Psalm 27.

Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.Psalm 27:14

This is the very last verse in the psalm.  This is the psalmist’s conclusion: wait for the Lord.  This conclusion breaks a lot of English writing rules.  In English writing, or other formal communication, we are supposed to sum up what we’ve said so there aren’t loose ends.  But this psalm ends with waiting, which is full of loose ends. 

Those loose ends make sense when you read verses 7-13 of this psalm.  It would be hard to tie up the psalmist’s desperation into a neat bow.  The Message puts verse 7, “Listen God, I’m calling at the top of my lungs.”  This is the prayer of a desperate person.  A person who is earnestly seeking God, but doesn’t seem to be getting an answer.  The psalmist implores God, “do not hide your face from me….Do not reject me or forsake me….Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes.”  In this prayer, the enemies are real.  And God’s answer seems to be silence.  At this time in the psalmist’s life, God is hidden.

It wasn’t always so for the psalmist.  Verses 1-6 are a soaring declaration of trust and confidence.  They don’t minimize the trouble; there are plenty of wicked enemies in these verses, too.  But the psalmist also has deep trust that God will keep him safe, will hide him from his enemies.  The psalm starts with the probably familiar words: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?”

This is one reason I love they psalms.  They do not force us to have one feeling or one prayer at a time.  These prayers are as complicated as our lives.  We can usually remember the ways God has cared for us in the past: the right job at the right time, a good friend walking with us through a hard time, a spouse when you had given up hope of ever marrying, a special knowledge of the Holy Spirit’s presence with us.  The list can go on and on.  Our great God, the maker of heaven and earth, is our light and our salvation.  We don’t need to be afraid.  

But at other times of life, this care is hard for us to see.  The right job doesn’t come, a loved one dies and you feel alone in the world, all you get from online dating is a string of bad dates, God seems far away.  Hidden, even.  Our prayers join the psalmist: “don’t hide your face from me!”  It is important to note that this psalm, like other psalms in the lament genre doesn’t say pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get over it.  It doesn’t give a theological treatise on why God isn’t actually hidden.  It gives honest voice to the psalmist’s questions and cries.     

And the psalmist doesn’t feel the need to tie up all the loose ends.  The psalmist resolves this prayer with waiting.  He has quiet confidence that he will see the goodness of the Lord again, but he ends with waiting.  Perhaps it is a middle time.  A time between the despair and new life.  Advent is a middle time, too.  Advent captures in a particular way the already-but-not-yet.  We are waiting to celebrate Christ’s first coming, but we are also waiting for Christ’s second coming.  There are still loose ends in the redemption story.  We’re in the middle time between Jesus coming to redeem the world and Jesus coming back to make everything new. 

I like to think of the last verse of Psalm 27 as a bit of a pep talk the psalmist gives himself for the middle time.  In the middle of all this, wait for the Lord.  Be strong and take heart.  You know what kind of God this is.  Wait for the Lord.  Perhaps this is a pep talk that we need to give ourselves, too.  Even if God seems hidden, wait for the Lord.  Be strong and take heart.  Seek shelter in God’s presence through whatever rituals are helpful for you—community worship, listing the ways God has been good to you in the past, Advent rituals, writing your own prayers.  Rest in the messy middle time.  Hold the loose ends in your lap—you don’t have to have it all figured out right now.  Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.  

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: When The Timing Seems Wrong

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a time of waiting and anticipation.  This is my prayer for these weeks (and my life).  If you are looking for devotional activities for Advent, you can print what I created.  If you are still thinking about American Thanksgiving, you can read about things I'm thankful for.

God of time,
You are outside of time.  Yet you created time. 
That time plays a big part of lives.  And sometimes, the timing just seems wrong. 
The Israelite people wanted their Messiah to come sooner to rescue them.
Zechariah and Elizabeth longed for a child to be born for years.
Mary faced a too-soon-pregnancy.
Christians have been waiting for Jesus to return.  For 2,000 years.
Some wait for a positive pregnancy test while others are overwhelmed with an unexpected pregnancy.
We wait to hear back about job interviews and scholarships, home sales and medical tests.
So often, the timing just seems wrong and our lives feel like they are crumbling.

How long, O Lord?

How long until you make “beautiful things out of dust”?

Jesus, you know time.  You too had to wait until your hour came.
Help us as we wait!  Give us strength and patience. 
Help us to trust in your timing, that you are caring for us even when it seems like our lives are dust.
Help us to see glimpses of “hope…springing up from this old ground.”
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

With thanks to Psalm 13, Luke 1-2, John 2, and “Beautiful Things” by Gungor.  
Photo by gilliu00_, used under a Creative Commons License. 

Advent Calendar Printable

This coming Sunday, December 1, is the first week of Advent.  Advent might be my favorite season of the church year—you can look forward to a number of Advent themed posts in the coming weeks.  It is a time of expectant waiting.
A few weeks ago, my sister wrote to me and asked if I had any suggestions for Advent calendars.  She wanted to make one, but wasn’t sure of what activities to put on it that a) weren’t geared for kids and b) had some spiritual significance.  I did a tiny bit of internet browsing and couldn’t come up with anything that was workable, either. So I decided to create my own.  I assigned one scripture for each day and then an activity.  The activities vary and are at least loosely connected to the scripture.  Some samples: listening to “Zechariah and the Least Expected Places,” using Psalm 51 as a prayer of confession, choosing something joyful to do, and reading a passage with lectio divina (instructions included).  Although this isn’t written specifically with children in mind, I think you could easily use it with older children and teenagers.  
I enjoyed putting this together, and I’m looking forward to using it myself.  If you are looking for something to guide your reflection during Advent and help you engage the themes of Advent—and the God who came in the flesh and will come again—please feel free to use it, too.  It is available as a free printable.  You are free to print and distribute this, but I do ask that you don’t sell it—I’m making it available for free and would like to keep it that way.  Have a blessed Advent!  

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Confession for Christ the King

This morning I was privileged to lead the confession and assurance during worship at Hamilton (MI) CRC.  I share here the words and prayer I led. 

In the church year, today is Christ the King Sunday.  This is a Sunday to remember that Jesus is the King of kings and Lord of lords.  And it is a day to remember Christ must reign in our hearts, minds, and bodies.  But as we look at our hearts, minds, and bodies, we see how we have set ourselves up as king.  Let us confess that sin before God and each other. 

Gracious God,

You gave Jesus the highest name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.

But so often we refuse to bow.  We want to stand and be our own lords.

Our hearts are full of pride that thinks first of ourselves. 

We are selfish with our time, our abilities, and our money.

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

Our minds do not always acknowledge your kingdom.

We assume that we are right and everyone else is wrong. 

We use our minds to judge people who are different from us

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

We use our bodies for our own purposes instead your purposes.

We use our bodies to hurt other people and your good creation.

We also do harm to our bodies by not caring for them well.

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

In your great mercy and love, forgive us, Lord.  In the name of Jesus we pray.  Amen.

Even though we rebel against Jesus’ kingdom, God still loves us.  Hear these words: (Recited by two young boys from the congregation)

1 John 4:10-11
"This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us
and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.”

People of God, know that you are forgiven and live at peace.

Photo by Jason Train.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Wait. Hope. Expect. Playlist

Sometime this spring I was browsing through the stores in downtown Holland, MI.  At one, I found this little plaque.  The three words captured my season of life, so I bought it--partly as a reminder to hope and expect and not only wait.  It is currently hanging out on my dresser to keep reminding me that waiting comes to an end.

A few weeks ago, I was reading Who's Got Time: Spirituality for a Busy Generation.  I'll write more about it in the coming weeks, but it is chock full of interesting takes on spiritual disciplines--one of them is creating playlists.  I was inspired to make a playlist of songs that capture these three verbs.  I have been playing it ever since, giving words and feeling to the waiting, helping to have hope, and encouraging me to expect that God is working.  It starts with "From deep distress / and troubled thoughts / to you, O God / we raise our cries."  It journeys to "a mass grave / no one can raise.  / But you said "live" / and the ground it gives"  and to God "slipping out of underneath rocks / in alleys off the beaten path."  It ends with a benediction: "Christ be with me / Christ before me/ Christ behind me."  Wherever you are on your journey, may these songs bless you as they have blessed me.  If you have Spotify (its a free download), you can listen to most of the songs below.  The three that Spotify doesn't have I provided a link to in the list below.

1. "From Deep Distress," The Water and the Blood, Sojourn
2. "Wait," Meet Me At the Edge of the World, Over the Rhine
3. "Keep Breathing," Be Ok, Ingrid Michaelson
4.  "I'll Wait," Invisible Empires, Sara Groves
5.  "I Will Wait," Babel, Mumford and Sons
6.  "The Wait," Desire Like Dynamite, Sandra McCracken
7.  "A Far-Off Hope," Love & War & The Sea In Between, Josh Garrels
8. "All the Stars," The Blood and the Breath, Caroline Cobb
9. "Love's Redeeming Work is Done," Love Shall Be Our Token, High Street Hymns
10. "Dry Bones," The Blood and the Breath, Caroline Cobb
11. "I Hope You Dance," I Hope You Dance, LeeAnn Womack
12. "Holding On To Hope," Faint Not, Jenny & Tyler
13. "Zechariah and the Least Expected Places," The Bewildering Light, So Elated
14. "He's Always Been Faithful," The Collection, Sara Groves
15. "Refuge," Over the Grave, Sojourn
16. "Strangely Ready," The Collection, Sara Groves
17. "Abiding City," The Builder and the Architect, Sandra McCracken
18. "Christ Be With Me," The Brilliance, Brilliance

What I’m Listening To: Dry Bones

The album I’ve been listening to on repeat lately is called The Blood & The Breath: Songs That Sing the Story of Redemption by Caroline Cobb.  The songs trace God’s big story from Genesis to Revelation.  They thoughtfully bring scripture to life—even some texts that aren’t often sung.  My favorite song is called “Dry Bones,” based on Ezekiel 37.  I don’t know many songs based on this strange passage (or Ezekiel in general), but this song has helped me see the beauty of life coming from dry bones.  And it gives me hope that situations that seem dry and hopeless can be revived by the Spirit of God.  The words are good, but to get the full effect you should go to Caroline’s website, listen to the song, and download the album.
Dry bones
Hearts of stone
Slain and left
In the valley of death
Been dead so long
All the flesh is gone
A mass grave
No one can raise

But you said “live”
And the ground it gives
The bones start to rattle
And the darkness lifts

You give them blood and bone and
Hearts of stone to flesh
You give them muscle, skin
And life within the breath

Open graves
Bodies raised
The living breath
Reversing death


Written May 2011 for The Scripture to Music Project
Words and music by Caroline Cobb
From Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 37:1-14; 36:26,27
Photo by _ChrisUK, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: He Didn’t Know Where He Was Going

 

 

“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.  By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise.  For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise.  And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore” (Hebrews 11:8-12).

 

 

 

God of Abraham,

You called Abraham to a place, but you didn’t tell him where it was.

You asked him to make a leap of faith, to trust that you were faithful and had a plan.

You made crazy promises (descendants to an infertile couple?) to Abraham,

and you kept your promises.

 

Promise-keeping God,

I’m really holding on to the fact that you are faithful, because things look pretty confusing right now.

I’m trusting that you have called me to a place, but haven’t told me where it is yet.

I’m packing my boxes, trying to figure out what I’ll need if the waiting lasts 2 months, and what I’ll need if its 4 more months, or 6 months,

trusting that you have a plan for all of this.

 

Faithful God,

Give me the faith of Abraham, the faith to trust you to guide me to a place,

Give me the trust of Abraham to make my home in a temporary place,

Give me the patience to wait to see how you’ll work,

because I “consider him faithful who had made the promise.”

Amen.

 

Photo by Joana Bourne, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: We Will Not Be Afraid

My prayer this afternoon is Psalm 46, which was my sermon text this morning, for my last sermon at COS.  It is a prayer of trust for people whose world is changing.  

God is our refuge and strength,

    an ever-present help in trouble.
 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
 though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.

 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
 God is within her, she will not fall;
    God will help her at break of day.
 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
    he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
 He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.
 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Personal photo, Muskegon State Park, April 2013.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: All Things Bright and Beautiful

Lake Michigan from a trail along one of the dunes
 at Nordhouse Dunes National Wilderness Area

I did a lot of thinking while I was in the woods this weekend. Besides my gratefulness to my mom, I thought about this hymn, "All Things Bright and Beautiful," a lot. When I got home I looked it up and discovered: "Cecil F. Alexander (PHH 346) wrote a number of hymn texts on articles of the Apostles' Creed. This text, whose biblical source is Genesis 1:31 ("and God saw all that he had made, and it was very good"), is Alexander's explanation of the Creed's phrase "Maker of heaven and earth" (Psalter Hymnal Handbook, from hymnary.org).
This afternoon, may we raise our voices to praise the maker of heaven and earth.

Refrain:
All things bright and beautiful,
all creatures great and small,
all things wise and wonderful,
the Lord God made them all.


1 Each little flower that opens,
each little bird that sings,
he made their glowing colours,
he made their tiny wings: Refrain

2 The purple-headed mountain,
the river running by,
the sunset, and the morning
that brightens up the sky: Refrain


3 The cold wind in the winter,
the pleasant summer sun,
the ripe fruits in the garden,
he made them every one. Refrain


4 He gave us eyes to see them,
and lips that we might tell
how great is God Almighty,
who has made all things well. Refrain

Source: Church Hymnary, Fourth Edition #137a

Personal Photo, June 2013

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Psalm 42 & 43

This song has been my prayer this week.  I woke up with the chorus on my heart Monday morning, and it has continued throughout the week.  Greg Scheer, the composer, describes it: "Psalm 42 and 43 are set to a haunting, melancholic melody that mirrors the poignancy of the original Psalm text."  You can listen to Greg sing the song on his website.

I think this song is on my heart right now because it both captures the longings of my heart in a challenging time and my trust that God is faithful and will see me through.

1. As the deer pants for the water
so my soul longs for you, my Lord.
When can I come to You again
to praise You as before?

Chorus
Why should I let this sorrow fill my soul?
My life is in His Hands, my hope is in the Lord;
and He, I know, will be my Savior still.

2. Day after day He sends His love
I feel His peace come raining down.
I raise a song to Him at night
like fire from the ground.

3. Send me Your light and truth to guide me
as I travel through this land.
Lead me to Your holy dwelling
at my journey's end.

If you would like to sing this song in your congregation, music is available on Greg's website and it is included in the recently released Lift Up Your Hearts hymnal.

Photo by Paul Gorbould.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Bones and the CRC Synod

One of my favorite TV shows is Bones, a show about a FBI agent and forensic anthropologist who team up to solve murders.  The FBI agent, Seeley Booth, is a tough guy with an instinct for reading people.  He is a practicing Catholic who believes there is more to life than what we can see.  The forensic anthropologist, Temperance Brennan aka “Bones,” is a committed scientist.  She thinks with her head through the scientific process and believes only in what can be proved scientifically. 

These two opposites have to learn to work together.  In the first seasons, they fight a lot.  As time goes on, they learn to appreciate each other’s strengths.  Brennan can tell things from the bones of murder victims that Booth would never be able to.  Booth can tell when a suspect is lying and pick up subtle social interactions.  Together they make a great team.  After a few seasons, they start to rub off on each other.  Booth starts to appreciate what science can tell them about the murder.  Brennan starts to become better at people interactions.  Getting to that point is not without its conflicts, though.  Booth and Brennan fight and hurt each other, again and again.  But they stick to it; they forgive each other and keep working at it.

This week is the Christian Reformed Church’s Synod, our highest governing body.  They have covered many topics this week: homosexuality, capital punishment, the role of deacons, ethnic diversity in leadership, and how to live with our decisions on women in office.  These are big issues that we do not all agree on.  As I watched the discussion that related to the ordination of women, I was struck with how thoughtful most of the dialogue was.  The issue at hand this year is what classis (regional group of churches) two churches who do not believe in women in office should belong to.  Our official denominational position is that you can read scripture with a good Reformed hermeneutic and come to two valid interpretations of the Bible—that women either can be ordained or should not be ordained.  This sounds like a wonderful compromise, but it is often difficult to live out, for people who hold both positions.

Three years ago, these two churches asked synod to move from their classes in Michigan, both of whom seat women as delegates to their classis meeting, to a classis in Minnesota/South Dakota that does not seat women as delegates.  At that time, synod said no for a variety of reasons.  This year, they came back with a new overture (proposal) to create a new classis in Michigan for churches who do not believe in women in office.  Synod denied their request to create a new classis but did permit them to move to the other existing classis.  

The overwhelming majority of speakers who spoke were most concerned with how we can live together despite our differences.  These churches don’t want to leave the denomination, and I am thankful for their commitment, even though I disagree with their interpretation of scripture.  At the same time, I don’t want to have to leave the denomination because no church will call me, because I love the CRC, too.  We need each other, like Booth and Brennan.  Our differences can make us stronger.  We don’t all have the same gifts.  And it is hard to work together.  Delegate Rev. Doug Bouws said it well: “Doing church together is a whole lot harder than doing church by yourself.”  We fight.  It is hard.  But we need to find unity in Christ and forgive one another.  I also really appreciated the comments of Rev. Timothy Howerzyl of Classis Zeeland, which I know has struggled hard with this issue.  He said, “I hope there are not churches thinking about leaving our classis…In our classis we have a great diversity of opinions, but we’ve forged a careful policy of holding together.”

I pray for our denomination, that we would continue to work together for unity in our diversity.  I pray that we will continue to work together, even when we don’t agree with one another on this, or any number of other issues.  I pray that we will offer grace and forgiveness to each other, even on those days when it is hard and we just want to leave.  I pray that we will stick it out and do church together, even when it is the harder thing to do.

Photo from amazon.com

Easter Chives

We are coming into the end of the Easter season—this Sunday is Ascension Sunday, the last Sunday of Easter.  During the last five weeks the church has been celebrating the resurrection and the new life that we have because of the death and resurrection of Christ.  I love Easterseason.  We didn’t celebrate it in the churches I grew up in.  We just got the glory of Easter’s morning and evening service.  Then things became rather non-descript until 40 days later, Ascension Day comes along.

At Church of the Servant, we celebrate Easter for the whole season.  Our art is white and gold and full of joy.  I get to wear my white stole.  We sing hymns about the resurrection and its impact on our life.  It is all about new life from death.  We were dead to sin but alive in Christ (Romans 6:11). 

I was reminded of this miracle by the neglected pots on my balcony.  I neglected them last fall.  I just let the plants die.  I never cleaned the pots.  They have been there, brown and shriveled for months and months.  I was dreading cleaning it all up and considering not planting anything this summer.

A couple of weeks ago we got rain and more rain and more rain.  Some of it managed to get onto my covered balcony and into at least one of the pots.  The weather slowly warmed past the freezing mark.  And I noticed something remarkable.  There was a dash of green sprouting from those shriveled dead leaves.  The chives that I grew last summer had come back to life.  It was a little resurrection. 

That bright burst of green coming up gave me hope.  It reminded me that my God says, “See, I am doing a new thing! / Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? / I am making a way in the wilderness / and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:19).  I don’t know exactly what new things God is doing and will do in my life. I do know that God is doing a new thing.  Just like my Easter chives.

Personal photo of my Easter chives, May 2013.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: A Prayer for Those Who are Lonely

I met a profoundly lonely woman this week.  This is my prayer for her, and for all others who feel alone.

 God of the Broken-Hearted,

There are so many people who are lonely in this world.

Left behind after the death of their husband or wife.

Wishing that they had children to care for them as they age.

Devastated after a marriage disintegrated.

Missing friends who had to move away.

Unable to sustain friendships.

Forced to leave homeland and family to flee for their lives.

Feeling alone in the midst of a crowd.

Jesus, you know this feeling.

You cried out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

To each person who feels you have forsaken them,

Show up in a profound way.

May they know you as Emmanuel, God-with-them.

God-with-them when they sit in their apartment alone.

God-with-them when the tears pour down their face.

God-with-them as they wonder if this will ever end.

God, work through your people, the body of Christ, the church. 

Inspire your people to go out of their way to find the lonely-hearted.

Give them time and patience to walk with them through dark valleys.

May the body of Christ become our new family,

A place of trust, where the lonely find solace,

Where they met you.

In Jesus’, our Emmanuel's name.

Amen.

Photo by Dino ahmad ali,  http://www.flickr.com/photos/dinoowww/4125584110/.  Used under a Creative Commons License

Singleness is Sanctifying, Too

I’ve often heard that marriage is sanctification.  Sanctification is the theological word for becoming holy or becoming like Christ.  In a good marriage, people learn about themselves and getting along with others.  There is no denying God uses marriage to help people grow in their faith and become more Christ-like.  The problem is that every time we say this, it implies that you can’t really be sanctified if you aren’t married.  It reinforces the notion that serving God as a married person is better than serving God as a single person. 

Sanctification does not require marriage.  There are many ways that God sanctifies us.  Even more, marriage is not necessarily a better or quicker way to sanctification.  In fact, singleness can be part of sanctification, too.  Being single is a different training ground, but I truly believe it too can be fertile soil for becoming Christ-like.    

 One area of fertile soil is identity and trust.  Without another person, I am forced to deepen my identity in Christ.  I am not tempted to think that my boyfriend or husband is able to complete me.  I am who I am not because of my relationship status or who I am connected to.  I am a baptized daughter of God.  This is true of all of us who are in Christ, but being single takes away a temptation to find identity elsewhere. 

I have learned to trust God in different ways than if I was married.  I don’t have another person to rely on.  If I don’t have a job, there is no one else to support me.  If I have a stressful meeting, no one is waiting at home to comfort me.  If I need to make a decision, there is no one to help make the decision.  Instead, I live by faith.  I am learning to trust that God will provide for my needs.  I am learning to trust that God hears my prayers and binds up my broken heart.  I am learning to trust that God leads me and guides me in decision making.  Being single is fertile soil for sanctification in trust.     

This might sound counter-intuitive, but I have found being single to be a place to learn about community and hospitality.  You have to be intentional about developing community, when you don’t have built-in community with your spouse (although I would argue you still need to develop community with others when you’re married).  It takes work to maintain relationships.  There’s a learning curve to relationships—I have had to learn how to be vulnerable and let others in.  But those relationships can be sweet, friends that are family.  They are a community that has walked through some dark valleys, empty desserts, and sun-filled meadows with me.  I am better at all of the one-anothers we find in scripture because of this community.

 

The really awesome empty tomb cake my mom made for our Easter celebration!

Being single is also an opportunity to offer hospitality to others.  Before even offering hospitality, being single has given me a different insight into what it is like to be at the margins.  I don’t fit into what society expects, and it has made me more conscious of other people who might be feeling a bit out of place.  I want my life to be one that welcomes people in and gives them a place to feel at home.  What I desire to offer isn’t the stereotype of hospitality: dinner parties for couples or huge family dinners.  There is freedom associated with singleness and the type of hospitality I can offer.  I don’t have to figure out which family I’m going to spend holidays with.  This year, my parents came to celebrate Thanksgiving at my apartment with some of the refugees I work with.  At Easter, I took a family to my parents’ house for dinner.  I still have lots to learn (sanctification is a process, after all), but it is definitely a way that God is forming me.   

Getting married is not the only way to become sanctified.  There are plenty of sanctifying experiences and situations that come along with being single.  And so for all of us—whether married or single—my prayer is that we will “grow in every way more and more like Christ, who is the head of his body, the church” (Ephesians 4:15, NLT).


Personal photos taken on Iona, Scotland and at my parents' house in Michigan, taken in January and March 2013.