What Does Conversion Look Like?

In Damascus there was a certain disciple named Ananias. The Lord spoke to him in a vision, “Ananias!”He answered, “Yes, Lord.”The Lord instructed him, “Go to Judas’ house on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul. He is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias enter and put his hands on him to restore his sight.”Ananias countered, “Lord, I have heard many reports about this man. People say he has done horrible things to your holy people in Jerusalem.  He’s here with authority from the chief priests to arrest everyone who calls on your name.”The Lord replied, “Go! This man is the agent I have chosen to carry my name before Gentiles, kings, and Israelites.  I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”Ananias went to the house. He placed his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord sent me—Jesus, who appeared to you on the way as you were coming here. He sent me so that you could see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” Instantly, flakes fell from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. He got up and was baptized. After eating, he regained his strength.He stayed with the disciples in Damascus for several days. - Acts 9:10-19 (Common English Bible) 

If your experience of Christianity is anything like mine, then you have likely been taught to think about Saul/Paul as the follower of Jesus with the ultimate conversion story. Even if you've been led to understand that he remained Jewish (in ethnic practices), his faith in Christ and Christ's salvific purposes gave his life a very specific direction following Saul's experience on the road to Damascus (Acts 9). 

I've always accepted this. Over the years, I've thought about this story to discuss the significance of other vocations, since Paul wasn't making his own clothes or planting and tending crops. While he matters for the spread of the gospel, the work of other believers' daily lives also made that evangelism possible. 

Lately, however, I have been rethinking that story. Is Saul's change of heart really the greatest change in Acts 9? Is the Road to Damascus experience really the conversions experience to which all new Christians (or all Christians period) are meant to aspire? 

As I look at the chapter afresh, I am struck by what is required of Ananias. He believes in Jesus, but now Jesus asks him to welcome a man into his home. This man was known to Ananais to be a threat to his family, his friends, and himself. This man has harmed or witnessed the killing of people whom Ananais knew, maybe loved. Prior to Jesus' request, at best Ananais would have crossed to the other side of the market if he saw Saul, if not actually hide away until Saul left town. 

Now, Jesus is expecting something of Ananais for Saul. Ananias does not want to do it. He would like to say no. He tries to explain to Jesus what's happening. Jesus doesn't change his tune. 

So Ananias must experience his own conversion, his own continued growth in faith, a further step in sanctification, a greater yielding to the Holy Spirit. He must prepare to welcome Saul into his home and he's going to have to tell other people that he's doing it. 

It's not like he's going to be able to keep Saul a secret. It seems likely that Ananias has some kind of household. How will they respond to his revelation: "Jesus told me we need to bring that guy we were all just panicking about into the house." 

If conversion represents a change of heart, a change of behavior, a change of attitude, an application of ethics in the midst of stress and strain, then Ananias is the conversion story we should have been paying attention to all along. 

Most Christians, especially life-long Christians, have very little to do with Saul of Tarsus, but we have a lot in common with Ananias. Instead of assuming or expecting a road to Damascus experience, we are called to be on the look out for a stranger in Damascus experience. And we are meant to be the ones to welcome that stranger for Christ's own sake. 

We are meant to open our homes to someone whose life experience is not like ours. 

We are meant to show hospitality to someone whose history is frightening to us. 

We are meant to welcome the one who differs from us greatly and yet whom Christ loves and for whom Christ died. 

I am not saying that we are meant to knowingly endanger ourselves or our families, but we are meant to take some risks for the sake of the gospel. We are meant to be open to people are different. We are meant to have conversion experiences in our life, again and again. These experiences are the ones in which Jesus speaks to us, moves us, compels us to do the thing that surprises us and yet is absolutely necessary for the sake of the world. 

It's what Ananias did. It's his conversion story from which we are meant to learn how to be followers of the Way of Christ. 

To adapt the verse of There is a Balm in Gilead, "If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul... Like Ananias, you can show grace to all." 

When Sad Feels Like Mad

I am in the middle of a big life transition. There are many, many, many feelings associated with any
kind transition. Change is hard. The change- a big move- also affects my children and my spouse (and the dog, though he doesn't know it yet). It also affects many other people- adults and children.

Most people experience a variety of feelings in the midst of change. While a change can have many positive aspects, it is also a kind of death. What was is passing away and what will be is being birthed.

In reflecting on Western, white culture, my experience is that we do not give either much space or much credence to feelings. Since they cannot be seen or proven, they are treated as suspect. Additionally, as our cultural language has tried to make space for people to identify their experiences and associated feelings, we have perpetuated a value system wherein the validity of one's feelings are ranked depending on one's level of cultural power.

While it is possible to prove the exceptions to the rule, it still holds. For example, resources for addiction and for families of addicts are significantly on the rise in the past three years in concert with the growing opioid epidemic. The present crisis is real and horrifying. Nevertheless, it is also true that there have been other addiction crises in the past thirty years. For the most part, however, Americans were happily willing to criminalize addiction when it affected black communities or other people of color. It has only been when the pain (feelings are) is acute and broad in white America that we have chosen to view the problem of addiction as a crisis, not (only) a crime.

Since we tend not have the vocabulary or the willingness to talk about our feelings, we often cannot identify them. In a hyper-individualized society, with very few community spaces, we don't talk openly about grief, about physical pain, about mental health, about familial hurt, and a whole host of other issues. In some circles, the five stages of death from Elisabeth Kübler-Ross have been made into grief totems- denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. We rarely note, however, that there is no guaranteed order of the stages, no universal experience, and some of the stages may never come.

All of this is to say that we don't always know or have the skill to express what SAD feels like. Sadness, in its myriad colors and shapes, gets shoved into space we have made for other feelings and emotions. We try to force happiness or a muted acceptance. We reach for ignoring (denial) or go straight to future-tripping, pretending the present messiness does not exist.

Then there is one expression of sadness that I am beginning to realize has a broad cultural shape and effect. Sometimes sad looks and feels like mad. If we are ill-equipped to deal with the griefs of change and the little deaths that happen culturally and communally, we will resist them. The shape of resistance often looks like anger. Anger is activating, assertive, and makes change feel possible. In the midst of mad, we often don't care about who or what we hurt.

In pain, we howl, lash out, seek to reorder the status quo (which likely benefitted us), and deny the feelings of others. Anger expands and takes up space where patience, gentleness, and self-control might live. The wake of anger, additional pain, loss, and sadness are created. Anger, if it is not broken down into its component fellow travelers, self-perpetuates and wounds without end.

We can only come to grips with our feelings when we give them their true identities. We have to have the maturity, the will, and the social vocabulary to say, "I am sad", "This hurts", "I don't like this", "I don't know what to do or think", "I feel uncertain", and "I am tired" (among other realities).

In Western, white America, we are dealing with significant cultural shifting. There is much anger as power dynamics have moved. Societally, because we are ill-equipped for a life of grief, we are not able to understand and process when sad feels like mad. Thus, we see many activated people- moving out of a place of anger and denying what their anger masks.

You cannot tell an angry person, in the midst of their rage, that they are sad or afraid or frustrated. Most of us have seen a person, in the midst of anger, continue to seek ideas and encounters that will feed the rage. The complete exhaustion, and real sadness, that is present when the tide of anger has left is too much to bear for some. Therefore, the furnace of anger must be continually stoked to avoid an internal hearth of spent coals and cool stillness in which everything is clearly outlined and defined.

What we need, societally, in an understanding that grief and sadness are not bad. Furthermore, it is possible to live with pain. It is even more possible to live with pain if we carry it together. A shared grief brings some release to all involved. Most griefs do not go away, but they become less acute and then they are our scars, with flare-ups and reminders.

It would be easy for me to type this out as a way of intellectualizing my own grief at a time of change. I can't. I feel it deeply and it hurts. My spouse has received my two blow-ups of mad that were really about sad. They likely will not be the only two, no matter how I wish otherwise.

That being said, I believe we are at a social moment where we have to really reflect. We will only regress as long as our sad is displayed as mad. Those who choose that path will only continue to act more and more infantile until their tantrums destroy all that we hold dear. And what will happen to those who remain, standing in the middle of a broken society?

I am not totally clear on how we can change this. I only know that I have been using the vocabulary of "sometimes sad feels like mad" with my children and with others around me. Until we move to a large scale understanding of this, I don't know if anything will change.

And that makes me sad.

Unthinkable, But Required

I am a pastor of a small church- a church full of people whom I love and whom I greatly trust that God loves. On Sunday mornings, there may be any number of children and older people, this includes my own children and some of their best friends. 

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I would do if someone came in and began shooting.

I've analyzed what I could throw, how quickly I could get to any part of the sanctuary, and how much time I could buy for others by engaging with a shooter- hoping that my death through that engagement would buy others time to attack unseen, hide children, or escape. 

I move my cell phone around in the sanctuary- to be within my arm's reach- so that my last act prior to engagement would be to call 911. I worry about if I don't have time to do this and I may not, but it's part of my mental plan. 

I am a gun owner. I'm an okay shot, better than okay at close range. My husband has asked me, on more than one occasion, to keep a gun with me at church. 

Where? 

In the pulpit next to the Bible? 

In my pocket?

In a shoulder holster, under my diaphanous robe? 

In my purse, carrying said purse with me everywhere like Queen Elizabeth? 

I can't bear this. I cannot bear the thought yielding to my fears. There is making a plan and then there is introducing another problem into the situation. 

My need to have this plan and think these thoughts is not because God "isn't allowed in schools" or because of the use of psychological drugs or even because we have culturally determined that child sacrifice is preferable to some restrictions on gun ownership. 

The need to have this plan is because we have chosen as a culture to make guns our idol of choice. Believing their false promises of safety and self-determination, we have put them on a pedestal and worship them at the altar of unrestricted access and personal freedom. Our call to community living as a nation, cities, and smaller groups has been sublimated to believing that we are entitled to having what we want, when we want it and to extracting revenge and never dwelling for long in feelings of discomfort or pain. 

This is the direct result of patriarchy, white supremacy, and rape culture.

Let me be VERY CLEAR that I am not saying that everyone who owns guns rapes or is a white supremacist. 

I am, however, saying that we (almost all of us) have contributed to a culture where many people, especially white, cis-gendered, heterosexual men, have been socialized to an unhealthy level of entitlement regarding other people's bodies, property, and opportunities. And, through our gun idolatry, they see a cultural worship of tools that allow them to respond with deadly force when they do not get what they have been taught and believe they "deserve". 

This is a complex issue, but it isn't actually that complicated and it's not impossible to improve. 

But we have to want to. All of us have to want to. 

And until that happens, I will be preaching with a phone nearby, thinking about how far I can throw the large rock that sits on the altar, and praying that most of the congregation will be saved, even if I am not. 

How's that for your thoughts and prayers?

Praying with Beads: Political Edition

 

Some people need tangible items to help them focusing while they pray. This is NOT a flaw in one's prayer skill. Coloring, writing, yarn or needlework, wood work, gardening, fishing, or other tasks may also help to clear the mind of distractions and allow one to focus on communication (sending AND receiving) with the Divine.

If you are able, I would suggest a set of beads. Most Roman Catholic rosaries are set up in decades (sets of 10 beads). Most Anglican rosaries are set up in weeks (sets of seven beads). You can have a set of beads in one of the combinations or in another combination. Whatever you have is sufficient.

I am not calling this series "Praying the Rosary" because for many, many people that term refers to a very specific type of religious prayer. I do not want to invite confusion or create division. The hope of this series of posts to create some wording for people who are looking for specific prayers to say and to give a jumping off platform within prayer for those who are seeking that. I am providing wording, but not instruction. One cannot pray incorrectly, because the Holy Spirit does the heavy lifting.

There are 10 petitions here: You may skip some or add your own if your set of beads is not in multiples of 10.


First Bead: Holy God, you are the Ruler of the Universe. You grieved the call of your people for a king in history and you see where today people still seek structure that you would not own. Help me and all people to be humbled by perceiving your will and your way, in our daily lives for the good of creation and our neighbors.

Second Bead: Holy God, I give you thanks for the people who set a good example in faith and life. Even as I acknowledge their sacrifices and courage, I know that they are not perfect and that there are others who see them differently than I do. I thank you for [insert names here of leaders- secular and religious for whom you are thankful].

Third Bead: Holy God, there is nothing hid from you. I am frustrated by [insert names of leaders- secular and religious with whom you disagree or are aggrieved]. I struggle to see her/him/them as your child/children. I do not understand why they do what they do. I cannot attribute the best motivations to them. I commend your children to you.

Fourth Bead: Holy God, I pray that you will accept my intercession on behalf of my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and the world. The immensity of pain, struggle, injustice, inequity, poor stewardship, waste, and prejudice is too much for a world that actually depends on the balance that is within you. With the Holy Spirit, I pray against all things that oppose your will for healing, wholeness, and resurrection.

Fifth Bead: Holy God, I pray that you will accept my intercession for those who have made and are in the midst of choices that oppose your will. Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do. The extent of our actions are beyond our human minds to consider and they do not turn to you or wait with patience so that understanding and wisdom may settle in their hearts and minds.

Sixth Bead: Holy God, I pray that you will accept my intercession for your church and your faithful people. Strengthen us for humility and courage in our walk of the Way of Christ. Give us the words to speak truth to power. Give us the patience to tear down walls. Give us the joy to offer welcome to all people.

Seventh Bead: Holy God, I pray that you will accept my intercession for my pastor/priest, my bishop/judicatory leader, other leaders of the church, my mayor, my City Assembly/Council/Town leaders, my governor, my state representatives and senators, my national representatives and senators, and the president of my country. (Use names where you can) I ask for your mercy, grace, and guidance to be with them in their work and in their homes.

Eighth Bead: I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe) I believe, Lord, forgive my unbelief. (breathe)

Ninth Bead: [Insert names of saints- recognized by the church or history], in your rest in God's lights, pray for us who continue to work in the world. Whisper, shout, and call to us from the great cloud of witnesses that we might perceive in our bones that we are accompanied in this fight. [This event] in your life/lives is something that I hold as an example of faithful action, following in the steps of Jesus, the pioneer of our faith. Pray for me. Pray for us. Do not stop.

Tenth Bead: Holy God, you know all for which I pray. What is said aloud. What is silent. What I think is hidden, but is still known to you. What I have forgotten, but will always be known to you. I trust in your faithfulness. I trust in your faithfulness. Great is your faithfulness. Hear my prayers. Amen.

Christian Bill of Rights: Amendment V

Amendment V

The follower on the Way of Christ will not hold human institutions, including courts, governments, or social agencies, as sources of salvation or aids to sanctification. Those on the Way of Christ will, however, use all power and privilege to hold these institutions, adding the church catholic to them, to standards of justice and equity. Those on the Way are not in thrall to these institutions, but to the law of God- which is interpreted through the Living Word, the written word, and the on-going work of the Holy Spirit.

“If your brother or sister sins against you, go and correct them when you are alone together. If they listen to you, then you’ve won over your brother or sister. But if they won’t listen, take with you one or two others so that every word may be established by the mouth of two or three witnesses. But if they still won’t pay attention, report it to the church. If they won’t pay attention even to the church, treat them as you would a Gentile and tax collector.”  Matthew 18:15-17

Don’t spread false rumors. Don’t plot with evil people to act as a lying witness. 2 Don’t take sides with important people to do wrong. When you act as a witness, don’t stretch the truth to favor important people. 3 But don’t privilege unimportant people in their lawsuits either. Exodus 23:1-3

Then Jesus said to them, “Nations and kingdoms will fight against each other. There will be great earthquakes and wide-scale food shortages and epidemics. There will also be terrifying sights and great signs in the sky.  But before all this occurs, they will take you into custody and harass you because of your faith. They will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.  This will provide you with an opportunity to testify.  Make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance.  I’ll give you words and wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to counter or contradict.  You will be betrayed by your parents, brothers and sisters, relatives, and friends. They will execute some of you.  Everyone will hate you because of my name.  Still, not a hair on your heads will be lost. By holding fast, you will gain your lives.

Lucky in Love

I love what I do.

Sure it would be nice to have more money (I don't generally say no to a raise now and then), but I feel very privileged and lucky to do the work I do.

This week I have-

- played pub trivia with members of the congregation I serve,
- debated the root of the Hebrew word miqreh on Facebook and tried to understanding the place of luck in the story of Ruth
- visited a woman post-hip replacement
- met with a variety of different groups
- presided over a wedding that left no eyes dry
- sat as a quiet witness to a broken heart
- prayed in a bunch of different place for different things
- power-napped on the couch in the church
- had a good book discussion (and a Good Book discussion)

And the week is not done.

I am tired. I'll be taking a little comp time tomorrow to make up for two long days, but on the whole-

I feel lucky and grateful to be paid to witness and participate in God's amazing work in the world.

Sabbath Famine

This week’s Gospel reading is: Mark 6:30–34, 53–56

³⁰The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. ³¹He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. ³²And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. ³³Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. ³⁴As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. ⁵³When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. ⁵⁴When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, ⁵⁵and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. ⁵⁶And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

Some thoughts on the gospel lesson:

Our modern, Western society is in the midst of a famine. This is not about having enough to eat or drink. We don’t have enough of one very critical item, necessary for a strong, and well-balanced life. We are living in a terrible, terrible time famine. There is never enough time for all we need to do, all we want to do, all we feel we must do.

Each time we feel that we are catching up, we realize what has yet to be done. Additionally, we never seem to have enough time with the people and places that we truly love. The things that give us the most life seem to be the most rationed items in our lives. Is this famine a real thing or is it a manufactured shortage, a false peak in the on-going hike of faith?

Jesus knew that the work of carrying the gospel would wear on his disciples. The more they ministered to those in need, the more needs that would become visible to them. Their dedication to his work and to what they were seeing happen in God’s name meant that it was hard for them to stop, to listen, to rest. Jesus specifically sent them away to rest and to recover. Spiritual energy is exactly like physical and emotional energy. It waxes and wanes depending on use and rest. Jesus wanted the disciples to recharge themselves in the Spirit, so they would be renewed.

God has the same desire for we who are disciples today. We cannot take on task after task, strive toward goal after goal, work on project after project with no rest. We cannot be strong prayer warriors or immerse ourselves in the most difficult of scripture without varying our routine, taking a break, reading or praying something familiar, comforting, and nourishing for our souls.

The time famine is not real. There is not less time than there ever was. What is important now has always been important- loving God, loving ourselves, loving our neighbors. Each branch of that love is critical. One cannot shrivel at the expense of the other two. They are all work to which Jesus pointed the disciples and to which we are called. Rest and rejuvenation are expressions of service and love. Amen.

Mantra

Today was filled with a lot of intense prayer and conversation. I knew it would be ahead of time, so I

tried to a lot plenty of time during the past week to quiet and meditation. 

HOWEVER...

My older child got sick and stayed home from school for two days, which meant I stayed with him. I fell behind in everything- including reaching a sense of peace and stability. 

What to do? 

Last night, I decided I would do a guided meditation no matter what time it had to happen. This lead to me sitting in the bathroom with headphones on at 10:30, listening to a soft voice talking me through awareness of the moment. 

This morning, I breathed my mantra. It is always a version of "grace in... [something] out". Since we were having a healing service with a time for individual prayer, I prayer for "Grace in, anxiety out. God in, self out." Over and over. 

When my hands rested on people's heads and shoulders, it was, as always, a powerful and disconcerting sensation. 

Being open to that work for God can only happen when I get out of the way. That takes time and effort. In time past, I would have spent a great deal of energy worrying about how the week didn't build up the way I'd hoped. 

Now, I trust that nothing is impossible with God. I did the best I could. 

God made it right. 

Resisting Cargo Culture (Bold Cafe)

This is an article I wrote for this month's edition of Bold Café- an online magazine for young adult women (or anyone who reads it). The magazine is a ministry of the Women of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). The article has a companion faith reflection (see previous post).

I saw the pair of shoes on the shelf near the window, when I was almost out the door. Their eye-catching color and unusual heel shape pulled me like a magnet. “Please don’t be my size, please don’t be my size,” I chanted, as I lifted the right one. Phew! The number suggests they’ll be too large. “You never know until you try them on,” whispers a little voice in my ear.  

I shake my head to clear it and firmly say out loud, “Cargo cult.” I put the shoe back and walk out of the store, completely empty-handed.   

The little bag of yarn reels me in like the catch of the day. With eight balls of coordinating yarn, I think of the fun little projects I could make. Sure I have yarn at home I haven’t used yet, but not like this. I could make a… “Cargo cult.” 

And I push the cart on to complete my grocery list. I have talked with my husband again and again about making a weekly meal plan, but something always comes up and so we never do. I buy groceries for the week, attempting to guess what we might eat. I usually forget something I bought, only to find it later—rotting in a corner or drawer of the fridge or dust-covered in the back of the pantry. Embarrassed, I throw it away or compost it, muttering: “Cargo cult.” 

In reality, a cargo cult is a complex spiritual and religious system—most frequently found in islands of the South Pacific. The belief system is oriented around specific worship practices and living habits that organize the social relationships of the community. There is also an expectation that the correct religious practice will result in material blessings from gods or ancestors... See more after the jump to the Café website. 

- See more at: http://www.boldcafe.org/blog/resisting-cargo-culture#sthash.6iYJEZXJ.dpuf

Friday Five: Be On Your Way

This Friday Five (my first in a LOOOONG time) is from Deb: RevGal Jan is under the weather, so we are swapping weeks for the Friday Five. (Feel better, Jan!) Actually, I want to thank her because she inspired me when she recently shared this poem by Rumi:

It's your road, and yours alone.

Others may walk it with you,

but no one can walk it for you.

So in thinking about our life's journey, and the rhythm of our lives, here's five questions on this theme...

1. What "road" is in your immediate future? 

The road I’m currently traveling is one out of depression. I’m trusting that it’s an out road because the path is unclear, but seems soft and in diffused light. I’m not feeling my way in darkness any more.

So many people think mental illness (depression in particular) can be overcome by an act of willfulness. When people say that or imply it, I think of Jesus casting out a demon in Mark 9. When the disciples ask why they weren’t able to do it, Jesus says, “This kind can only come out by fasting and prayer.”

That kind did, but other kinds of demons may require different approaches toward exorcism. The road I’m traveling now needs prayer and counseling, along with other assistance from friends and family. The road may be long and I have to travel it, but others are walking with me.

2. Where have you been "traveling" a lot lately -- and are you going back there? 

No, I will not be revisiting the places that I have traveled lately if I can help. The land of fear and anxiety, the dwelling place of exhaustion and hopelessness, the tar pits of anger and self-doubt. I know those landscapes will probably send their own postcards to me occasionally, but I am endeavoring not to visit again.

As for non-metaphorical traveling, we have not done much with a new baby in tow. We are hoping to have a family camping trip in the next month.

3.  Who are your fellow travelers? 

Family, friends, midwife, counselor, colleagues, Holy Spirit.

4.  Who are the unintentional companions (or hitchhikers) that you find on the road with you? 

Hannah Swensen, the baker/detective of the mystery series by Joanne Fluke, is walking along with me. Her stories are engaging, funny, and light. I went through a month of not reading (a serious sign) and her warm little novels helped me move back into feeling like myself.

I discovered a few months ago that I have Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response (ASMR). I’ve had this my whole life. If I hear someone talk in a certain way or listen to a certain combination of sounds, a relaxing wave sort of sweeps over me starting from the top of my head. It makes me feel warm all over and is VERY soothing. It’s not sexual- kind of the opposite because I feel so liquid and limpid when it occurs. Apparently, I’m not the only one with this and I discovered (WHOO-HOO) the variety of ASMR videos on YouTube around the time that I most needed them. Listening to someone speak in a soft voice about tea or bath soaps or watching someone whisper and draw a fake plan for home improvement is very soothing. Thus, some of the “whisperers” have been companions with me.  WARNING: If you don’t have ASMR, the videos will seem odd (or annoying or humorous) to you.

5.  As a family, we always recite "the traveler's prayer" -- a tongue-in-cheek petition as we pull out of the driveway ("Lord, whatever we have forgotten, may it not be important!") What have you forgotten lately, and did it matter?

I don’t know if I’ve forgotten anything lately. I’ve been writing many notes to myself to try to avoid that. However, I occasionally forget about my efforts toward positive thinking. I recite this poem by Ron Padgett to myself:

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Nothing in that drawer.

Yes, that’s the poem. When I read it or recite it to myself in a moment of panic or high anxiety, I’m able to imagine myself closing a drawer on my dark thoughts. There’s nothing in there for me. Nothing that’s helpful. Nothing that brings life. I imagine the Holy Spirit’s soft voice whispering to me, “There’s nothing in that drawer.”

BONUS: Share a photo of a road you've traveled. Or of traveling companions who have made the journey special. Or perhaps there's a song or another poem that suits your journey. If so, please share!

I like looking at this picture of Ostia Antica (from my 2005 visit). The ancient streets and walkways- tiled and smoothed dirt- make me think of people who may walk after me. I’m able to see myself floating in history- part of what was and what will be all while being part of what is. This is very centering and makes me feel closer to the heart of God. 

The Bondage of Memory (Sermon 8/5)

Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15; John 6:24-35

            Every four years, I have a little jealous streak that rears its head. It’s not because I wish I had put more effort into being an Olympic athlete, though I am admittedly envious of their skills. The little green monster that peeks out dates way back to my childhood when, looking at a poster in the hallway of my house, I realized there were no women presidents. Immediately, I wanted to be one. The presidency became my goal. In high school, I pursued a lot of avenues that were open for politically inclined students. I was voted most likely to succeed and most likely to become President. So every four years, I feel a little nostalgia that it is not going to happen.

            At some point, I realized this was not the path for me. I do not mean a path that was not open to me- I mean not the best one for me. In order to move on to places and things that were better suited for my skills, I had to let the dream of being president die. Yet, the ghost of that dream occasionally haunts me.

            In today’s readings, people are having a hard time letting their dreams die. The Israelites likely dreamt of freedom each night they were in Egypt and, to be sure, it did not look like this wandering in the desert, uncertain, hot, and wistful, even, for the food of Egypt (tinged with the poison of slavery, though it was). They are in bondage to their memory, unable to be thankful to the God who has brought them thus far.

            Their memories will neither allow them to let go of what they thought freedom would be like nor will their memories recall the truth of what life in Egypt truly was. Their memories are holding them back from seeing God’s actions right in front of them- the actions that are bringing them life.

            The people gathered around Jesus in today’s gospel, both Jews and Gentiles, are not able to see who he really is. Their memories are fixated in two directions as well. On the one hand, they are clearly remembering the many baskets of leftover food after an entire crowd ate their fill. On the other hand, they are remembering what has always been promised about the Messiah of God and what his advent will bring. Obsessed with the signs they’ve witnessed, they crowd Jesus- unable or unwilling to hear what he is saying about belief in God and what truly sustains life.

            Their memories will not allow them to see past the obviousness of the miracles nor will it allow them to let go of the messiah of their minds. Their memories are holding them back from seeing God’s actions right in front of them- the actions that are offering them life.

            We too can be in bondage to our memories. Not just to what we once thought we might have been personally, but in many directions. We can hold ourselves captive by society’s standards or the expectations of those we hold dear. We may be enslaved by the memories of our own beliefs about ourselves, our work, our families- what they were going to be, what they could be if we just made a few changes.

            As a church family, we can be in bondage to our memories of what we think we our best times. We can long for the leeks and cucumbers of days gone by, forgetting the work that went with those meals. As part of the church universal, we can hold so tightly to our memories of what we believed would happen when we nailed the theses to the door, ordained women, become more welcoming… that we are devastated by events that do not live up to the expectation of our memories.

            I’m not talking about our memories of people we have loved or times that we appreciated- those are gifts from God that we’re able to recognize. But the memories of what we thought would be… Our communities, our homes, ourselves… can be held back by what we once believed would be our future. When this happens, and it does, we often grieve for what might have been- without taking stock in what is. Our memorial grief can hold us back from seeing God’s actions right in front of us- the actions that are offering us life.

            When Jesus says, “I am the bread of life”- it’s not about food for the stomach. When God provides manna in the wilderness, it’s not about keeping the Israelites alive for another day. It’s about the present… and the presence. About the relating… and the relationship. The reality of the spiritual strength that is offered to us through Jesus, by the work of the Spirit… that reality is so that we can live, right now. So that we can believe that God is with us, right now. So that we can grow into our potential as God’s beloved, right now. 

            Part of the work to which we are called letting go of the idols of our memories, breaking the bonds of what we thought would be, and helping our neighbors to do the same. We have a very real present in which to live, a very Real Presence that feeds and sustains us. In order to appreciate these gifts and their accompaniments, forgiveness, reconciliation, hope, we have to be willing to be open to the immediate work of the Spirit. We have to accept that God is still speaking. We have to expect that Christ will feed us. We must believe that what God is doing, right now, in our lives and in the world, is greater than what we could have expected or dreamed.

            And then we find ourselves released from the bondage of our memories, false as they were. And we find ourselves in a gracious present, lacking nothing, equipped and energized to carry the bread of life into the world. Whether we are Olympian, pastor, lawyer, teacher, accountant, retiree, homebody, or president.