I am not afraid. I am heartbroken.

I live in Montana, a state with a very low number of diagnosed COVID-19 cases. Even more specifically, my county has not as yet had any cases. This passover is both a blessing and a curse because it divides the community, with some of our citizens feeling as though we have been spared because we have been careful and others suspecting that our precautions were "sound and fury, signifying nothing". (Macbeth)

Now we have the ever-present questions about what we can do, what we should do, and from what should we abstain. In the conversations around masks, distance, and open v. close, the word "fear" gets bandied about. It is murmured that people who are cautious are "fearful" or being led by fear, as opposed to faithfulness or freedom.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself. As a mother, as a wife, as a sister, as a friend, as a pastor, as a neighbor, as a daughter, as a citizen, I am not afraid. I am heartbroken.

My heart broke when I posted a sign in March, closing the church to the public and to in-person worship. Praying for those who depended on the building for 12-step help, a source of community, and actual sanctuary, I ached and I grieve.

Another fissure came through weeks of preaching without seeing faces, feeling the energy in the room, or hearing singing other than my own. Learning that singing may be off the table for awhile brought tears and sorrow too deep even for sighs. Remembering our harmonies between the Yellowstone and the Boulder, I hung up my harp. I ached and I grieve.

The experience of Holy Communion brings heart wholeness through Christ's presence in the elements and in the community as we eat, drink, and breathe together. In our present fast from the physical sacrament, the pieces of my heart vibrate with longing. Making the decision for the fast was right for our community, but I ached and I grieve.

This past week, I denied a person a hug because I had permitted a person outside my family to hug me the day before. In embracing one another, I also embraced a waiting period to be sure I neither caught nor transmitted anything but love and compassion. To be physically present to one meant denying another. For the same reason, I am continuing to only eat takeout from local restaurant and not to sit inside. In the waiting, I ached and I grieve.

A friend of mine, another pastor, talked with her community about the fact that continuing to worship virtually permitted the pastors of the church to be present- with masks and other precautions- to the sick and dying of the church. When a pastor hasn't been exposed to 50, 60, 90, 150 people on a Sunday, he can more easily go to a bedside or home because it is a more calculated risk for himself and the person he is visiting. This isn't the case in all places right now, but it is for this church and the pastors in question. In choosing the needs of the few for the sake of spiritual care, I am hoping not to drive away the many. For the whole church, I ached and I grieve.

I have offered commendation of the dying over the phone. Heartbreak. I have watched divisions and harsh words in online spaces and in-person conversations. Heartbreak. I have stood on steps and talked across the porch to people who are bored, lonely, and worried. Heartbreak. I have wept over whether I am currently an effective pastor to the 13 people with no internet connection at all. Heartbreak. I have seen an increase in our church's attendance online and wondered how we may be true community to those who are experiencing church in a helpful way for the first time. Heartache.

Recommendations about how to space people in pews, skipping coffee hour, and how to encourage masks in church are difficult to decipher and painful to consider.

Worry about people whose marriages were struggling, children and teens who need structure for their mental well-being, seniors who live alone and receive little information or communication- these things fill my mind.

Navigating tense political, emotional, and social conversations is a tightrope that I balance across, Bible in hand, not because I want to be liked, but because I want the relationship to remain open for the sake of Christ in both of us.

This is the truth, but not all of it. All of it would be too much to write and too much to read.

One final truth, though, I am not afraid of re-opening because of COVID-19 or because I am "cowed" by rules and regulations.

I am afraid my heart and my spirit cannot take it if someone or several someones became sick at church.

I am afraid my heart and my spirit cannot take it if we resume in-person worship, which means I am unable to visit the most vulnerable, even on their porch.

I am afraid my heart and my spirit cannot take resuming worship only to refrain from Holy Communion, sharing the peace, corporate speaking, and group singing.

I am afraid my heart and my spirit cannot taken it if I have to do more funerals, by interment only, and mourn apart from the consolation of being physically together.

So, yes, I am afraid. I am afraid not of the virus, but of more unending, bone-deep wearying heartbreak.

Some of these things will not be avoidable. They will likely come because this will be a long journey. But you can carry the baton for your pastor (and your neighbor) a little way if you understand and respect that they are not afraid. They are heartbroken.

Eternal Light

In 2012, I wrote about changing the eternal candle in the congregation I served at the time. It is a very short post. I still think about this, even though I am not always the one to change the candle in the current congregation I serve. 

When Montana went into "hunker down" mode for a few weeks, I stayed home too. Even though I could have continued to cross the street to the church and worked there alone, it seemed important to set a good example. Since I also believe that the church is the people, not only the building, I set up a little place in my house. On March 26, I brought the eternal candle into the parsonage where I live. 

I lit at the start of each work day. Making phone calls, praying, working on videos, reading the Bible, leading Bible study, the candle burned. I would go up at night and blow it out, just because I didn't want to keep a candle burning all night- no matter how stable and safe. (I also have to set a good example for my kids.) 

Somehow these candles in red globes have become, in my mind, a symbol of what it means to be a pastor of a congregation. I am not the Savior. I am not God. I do not control. I lead, I pray, I mess up, I repent, I try, I forget, I remember, I grieve, I rejoice, I long, I stretch, I ponder, I proclaim. And over and over, I make sure that the symbols of light remain visible- so that we can all trust in the true Light of the World, which cannot be overcome. 

This morning, across an empty 4th Avenue, with only bird song for accompaniment, I carried the eternal candle back to the sanctuary. 

In the vow portion of the Service for Ordination to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament (being a pastor), the final comment of the bishop is this, after the pastor has asked for God's help and guidance in fulfilling many promises: 

Almighty God, who has given you the will to do these things,
graciously give you the strength and compassion to perform them.

And then the congregation responds, "Amen."

 Being a pastor creates a restlessness in me for service and creating community. This restlessness is the Holy Spirit stirring at my will. In the details, though, I am met by Christ who provides the strength and compassion.

No one carries a candle home and tends it for glory. They do it for love. And it is the same love that keeps on hoping for the day when we can all safely worship together in person, again.

Both Sides Now

For over ten years, I unlocked this door to go to work. Not always the first person in the building, but usually. Not always the last person in the building, but usually. I unlocked this door to run in and grab my communion kit, a Bible, or an address. I unlocked the door to get ready for a funeral, for a wedding, for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost. I unlocked the door to come into God's House and I locked it behind me to go out into God's World. 

I accepted a call to serve a new congregation, which meant leaving my keys for the maroon and glass door behind. From what I learned on both sides of that door, I have come to a new place to serve new people, but the same God. For the first time the other day, I unlocked a new door. Eventually, I will unlock it for all the same reasons and then some new ones. 

Mostly, I think about how God remains the same. I do believe that God's character is immutable, but I also believe that God's actions, throughout history, happen in spite of and despite the actions of people. I think that the Divine Three in One has, on occasion, had to change course due to the reality of human self-centeredness, stubbornness, and desire for control. Even in the course change, God's own heart remains merciful, loving, and compassionate- even in correction. 

So, there are new doors, new faces, and new lessons. And I still love what we've left behind. 

But life is made in the little motions of daily living. The habits. The paths. The words. The keys, the doors, what we unlocked and hold open. What we lock and hold closed. 

And, in all of this, God remains on both sides of all doors. 

What Needs to Be Said

How do we measure the impact of 65,000 words?

A novel is considered a piece of writing that is a least 40,000. So 65K is a book, for certain.

Now, imagine 65,000 words in 1543.

Those words have to be written out with ink and a quill. They must be scratched onto expensive paper. Then to print and distribute your work of 65,000 words, each page must be set out carefully in the moveable type of the time, inked, and printed. Then the pages must be collated and then tightly handsewn together.

If a book had an illustration, it was likely a block print- carved out of wood, pressed in ink, and the image transferred onto the paper.

All of this sounds tedious, and it was, but it was so much faster than the hand-copying of the previous centuries, prior to Gutenberg and his glorious printing press.

What was carefully written up and printed in 1543? What ideas were worth carefully laying out the moveable type, carving a block print, and distributing far and wide? What topic could inspire 65,000 words?

This is the year in which Martin Luther published "On the Jews and Their Lies". In his earlier years, Luther believed that Jews had been unable to be drawn to the truth of the gospel due to misinterpretation by the Church. Now, in the midst of reinterpretation, he has assumed that Jews and Turks (the name he called Muslims) would be drawn to Christianity. As that turned out not to be the case, and then his prince and benefactor- John Frederick, Elector of Saxony- began to persecute Jews with his (the Elector's) realm.

Slowly, as Luther aged, he became embittered against Jews and then wrote his treatise, "On the Jews and their lies". Sixty-five thousand words railing against Jewish people and calling for their schools and synagogues to be burned, their rabbis and teachers to be prevented from doing their work, for Jews to be ghettoized- unable to live among Christians, for physical protection to be withdrawn from them, and for them to be enslaved or have their property taken away until they truly converted.

Luther never renounced these views.

Neither, in full, did the Protestant Church at the time or the Roman Catholic Church. A full rejection of anti-Jewish sentiment in the church did not happen until well into the lifetimes of some of the youngest people here. 

Great effort was taken to print and disseminate this treatise around Europe, especially among those who could read German. At the same time, there was an enormous (and commendable) effort to have the scripture translated into the vernacular. Thus, people now could read the Bible in their own language, but may or may not have had the skills to reflect openly on what they read.

This means that the subject of "On the Jews and their lies" was in conversation and at the same time that people could, for the first time, read about Jesus' encounters with his own people, their conversations, and their responses to one another. If one had not been adequately taught that Jesus was Jewish, that God always keeps God's covenants, and that Christianity was grafted into Israel's tree of life, then what does do with the idea that Jews are terrible people, living in one's own cities and towns?

Like a contaminated stream flowing into a river, "On the Jews and their lies" polluted the waters of Christian consciousness. To be clear, this particular river already had anti-Jewish and anti-Semitic detritus floating in from historical persecution against Jews, which has a very long history. This poison stream, fed for thousands of years, continued to contaminate the river of Christian consciousness beyond the Reformation on through the Renaissance, the foundations of American history, in 19th century Russia, into the European and American eugenics movements, through the horrors of the Third Reich and Holocaust, continued on in various forms in the Soviet Union, was present in the KKK and neo-Nazi movements of the United States, and committed its most recent horror yesterday in Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennslyvania on the sabbath day of that community.

Now, please take a deep breath.

Why on earth, on my last Sunday here [at Lutheran Church of Hope], when I have so much to tell you and so much love to share with you, would I take my last twenty minutes of sermon time to speak about the pain, the horror, and the sin of anti-Judaism? Why would I bring up this aspect of Luther's life? Is this the time? Is this the place?

Rabbi Hillel, living close in time to Jesus, said, "If not me, who? If not now, when?"

The ultimate question of life is this: Why are we here?

The religious ultimate question is not "Is there a God?" That is a philosophical question.

The ultimate religious question, which already accepts that there is a god of some kind, is: What does God want with me?

If I have accepted, on through hearing the words of faith, that there is a God and I am not that God, then my life is spent coming to understand and further accept that I am not in control of very much. 
If God has done the work of:
- providing me with a pioneer and perfecter of my faith in Jesus
- giving me the gift of the Holy Spirit
- making me righteous
- ensuring my salvation
- cultivating my love [and]
- bringing me at the last to eternal life...

If I control none of those things, then what exactly is my work?

Let us consider, briefly, Psalm 46, verses 8 and 9:

Come, see the Lord’s deeds,
    what devastation he has imposed on the earth—     

bringing wars to an end in every corner of the world,
    breaking the bow and shattering the spear,
        burning chariots with fire.

What is the devastation that the Lord causes, according to the psalmist? It is the ending of war. The bringing of peace brings devastation to the earth. The end of the weapons of war, the conclusion of the rumors of war, the elimination of the terror of violence- this is the work of the hand of God. 

Why is the end of war devastating? 

Because it shatters the lies about control. War is about dominance, about power, about winners and losers. War and its fellow travelers- death, chaos, pain, and uncertainty- are the tools of the forces that oppose God. They are evil. They tell lies. We forcefully reject them. They oppose God's true reformation work- revelation of love, restoration of relationship, and resurrection in the face of death.

If God's devastating work, to be brought to fruition in creation, is the end of war- in all its forms, then the people of God must be at that work. It is not work that saves us. It is the work we are about precisely because we have been saved. It is the joy of our salvation, of trusting that we have been made right with God and not by our own selves, that allows us to take up work in our homes, in our backyards, in our neighborhoods, in our city, in our state, in our country, and in the world. 

And the work we are to be about, then, is God's own work of ending war. 

We are called to end the actual violence of war that comes about through political contests of will. We are called to end the war of sexual violence against women, girls, and all who identify as female. We are called to end the war of racism- in all its forms, including in institutions, within our justice system, and in our own hearts and minds. We are called to end the war of violence, exclusion, and hate against our LGBTQ+ siblings and neighbors. We are called to end the war of people versus the environment, remembering that the careful stewardship of creation is our first vocation as human beings. We are called to end the war that permits the denial of mental illness, lying about its causes, and ignoring treatment and possibilities for healing. 

We are called to end the war of anti-Jewish sentiment, of lies told about Jews, of misinterpretation and misapplication of scripture, of failing to wrestle with, apologize for, and learn from history. 

If God's devastating plan is to end war, then let it begin! And let it begin with me! Now! 

What is the weight of 65,000 words? Those words have the weight of the destroyed houses of pogroms in Russia, of stolen resources through oppression, inquisition, and general theft, of children who were denied resources because of their homes in ghettos, and the accumulated heft of bodies of murdered Jews through time, political dissidents, and others. That's what 65,000 words weigh. 

It is no small thing- to decide to be on the side of God's work to end war. 

It means, truly, to think about what Jesus would do. It means to pray to have a peacemaking heart, beginning in your closest relationships. This isn't a heart of enabling or accepting pain, but a heart that seeks to speak the truth, dismantle systems that create pain, and to work for the healing of the world. 

This is hard work. 

The work of war is easier, to be sure, because it allows the illusion of control and permits the inflicting of pain to those who are in one's way. War seems easier than peace because peace means a willingness to see, to accept, and to respond to the humanity of another person or group of people. Furthermore, peace means accepting that the other person or people are equally beloved by God and have also been justified (or made right with God)in the same manner as one’s self. 

When I was approved for ordination, the two professors from the now-non-existent Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia told me that they perceived in me the gift of patience. It was a kind of stubborn patience, they said, that was kind and firm. I would be best, they said, in congregations where there had been pain and conflict. The gift of patience, they said, would be put to use in helping a congregation to heal. 

You, my friends of Lutheran Church of Hope, don't need my patience anymore. I have been called to a place that needs the end of different kinds of wars and needs my patience to help with that. 

You have your gifts- your own desire to welcome, your gift of teaching and shaping pastors, your willingness to be generous with space, time, and money, every single person here and more. You know the wars that must end in Anchorage and in Alaska. The Holy Spirit is already guiding you. 

Though we will no longer be side by side in the work of caring for others and the world that God made, we will never truly be apart. Those who have been baptized, those who have eaten together, those who have wept, laughed, worked, and rested together- those are made into one in Christ- can never truly be separated. 

This will be hard. And we will be sad. But our work will go on, because God will not let us stop. 

65,000 words have a terrible weight. 

But they can be destroyed with a single word. 

Love. 

God is love. (1 John 4)

God's love intends to destroy war. 

God's love brought us together. 

God's love will carry us forward. 

God's love gives us good work for this world. 

God's love is enough. 

I love you. I am not God. My love for you wouldn't be enough, nor would yours for me. 

God's own love for us is enough- enough for our strength, our hope, and our courage. 

Enough to end the wars. 

Enough to bring eternal peace. 

May it be so.

Haunted

I've written before on what it is like to grieve for someone who is living, but with whom you are no longer in relationship. I find myself in that position again (different person, people). I'm probably not the only to be in the situation as it seems the current political climate has caused many rifts that have broadened into chasms that cannot be sutured.

In my abdomen, I feel an ache when I think of you.

A person with whom I laughed and a person for whom I cried. Deep in my prayers, I lifted you to the Lord again and again.

Yet, my humanness disappointed you, a humanness for which I was unrepentant, an imperfect self that I am struggling to respect and love- so I refused to reject it at your petty tantrum.

Still.

It hurts. The loss of esteem hurts, but- truthfully- your question "What does Jesus have to do with it?" is the one that haunts me.

What does Jesus have to do with how we vote?

What does Jesus have to do with how we live?

What does Jesus have to do with how we treat others?

What does Jesus have to do with how we might flip tables and demand justice?

What does Jesus have to do with how we might apologize for the words, but not for the sentiment?


That phrase grieves me because I failed you. Ironically, this is not the failure you perceive- that I should have been more vocal and aimed better at stoning the sinners you wanted stoned. I failed you in that in our walk together, I should have mentioned Jesus more, pointed to him more vigorously, bathed you in stories of grace and truth.

This is also a failure.

Your salvation- evident or not- is not mine to claim, establish, or grow. Your life in Christ is not mine. The Spirit's work in you in not mine. It does not depend on me. It does not wait for me. It will not wither without me.

I still pray for you.

And I pray for me... that I will let you go. Because you belonged to God. You belong to God.

And, thus, never to me.

Achiever

A few weeks ago, I found out that many people who know and love me had worked for a long time to

nominate me as one of the YWCA's Women of Achievement in Alaska. I started getting congratulatory texts and emails before I officially found out about the award. Due to my personality (but not my essence), I am primarily a do-er and thinker, so it was not unusual that I didn't know how to feel about this great honor and recognition.

My first reaction in text to a good friend was that there was no way I could accept this. Responding to her "Why not?", I said, "Because [the woman who watches my children] isn't getting one and I can't do anything without her." This is true and not merely self-deprecation. I am immensely grateful for Carolyn and for all who have the vocation of childcare, which help so many people work other jobs. 

When I found out that the award is only given to 10 women each year and the nomination process is extensive and requires many letters of recommendations, I was even more touched and even more unsure how to feel. In my perception of myself, I am just doing my job. The work of trying to make a more inclusive, less racist, more accessible, less divided, and more godly Anchorage seems like it is the summation of my job description- wherein I focus the energy for the work on the people whom I serve directly and indirectly in the Spenard/Turnagain neighborhoods and beyond. 

Acknowledging that learning to integrate my feelings is part of the emotional work I need to do, I also have to graciously accept this award. If someone tells you that you are doing well or that you look nice or that they appreciate you, diminishing their compliment or notice is not humbleness, it is calling them a liar. I don't serve a community of liars, so what I perceive as "only what I ought to have done" actually comes across as extensive and special effort. 

The CEO of the YWCA of Alaska, Hilary Morgan, said to me recently that almost all the women who receive this award react in the same way. We perceive that we have only been doing what we were supposed to do. Sometimes we do know that we have to stretch and never stop in order to achieve a level of achievement or success in a field where we may be the first woman or among the first women. Sometimes we have been told for years that we have to work harder because we are women. And some of us are naturally disposed to leaving it all on the field and we're surprised when we finally turn around and find that we have had a cheering section all along. 

The thing for me to remember in this, and perhaps for other as well, is that I am not what I do. I am not only as good as my last achievement. I am not defined by my last success nor my last failure. I am a child of God, which is my primary identity. What I do well is rooted in that identity. What I think about should be grounded in that identity. What I feel should springboard from that. When all of that is aligned (please, Spirit, help and guide me), then I feel appropriately grateful for recognition, able to thank those whose vocations have helped me achieve in mine, and able to receive an accolade, but not have it define me. 

This recognition is amazing and it is a big deal. A big enough deal that I have bought new shoes and a new dress and have a hair appointment and a makeup appointment and I will get my eyebrows and maybe my nails done. It's also a big enough deal that sometimes I just sit quietly and think about it, still overwhelmed. And then I put my pin in my sweater and go do my job. 

10 Ways to Defeat a Bully (Crosspost)

10. Walk away. Do not give the bully attention. Completely unfollow on social media, if applicable. The person in question has nothing that you want.

9. Information embargo. Engage in ZERO information seeking. Consider what power you have personally and how you can use it to stop streams of revenue, attention, or power to the bully in question. Abstain from where you might see the person or be forced to hear about him/her/them. If another person wishes to rant about the bully, politely inform them of the embargo. If someone else wishes to know the whys of the embargo, give short truthful answers that speak from your own experience. Do not mention the bully by name.

8. Sanction. Words do hurt as much as actions. There are consequences to saying whatever you want, whenever you want, to whomever you want. Gaslighting, lying, bluster, and threats are not acceptable speech. Refuse space to the person who engages in this behavior. A person who cannot hold to accepted rules in an interview, debate, or conference is not invited back to play with other adults. Period.

7. Divest. Pull out of situations and circumstances that give power to the bully. Tell others related to the bully’s platform that you intend withhold money, time, and energy at all levels of an organization until the bully is disciplined, if not completely removed from representing the organization or group in question. Refuse to participate in channeling any type of resource- fiscal, physical, or psychic- to the bully.

6. Be smart. Gather information that thwarts the untruths, mistruths, and misdirection from the bully. You don’t have to be an expert on anything to refuse to be scared, cowed, or overwhelmed by rhetoric unsupported by reason and reality.

5. Work with an ally. It is extremely unlikely that you are alone in a bullying situation. With particularly stubborn bullies, it can seem as though they’re everywhere all the time. Get a friend or a group of friends to join in your anti-bullying efforts. A joint information boycott or rant sabbatical may really improve morale and keep you from feeling alone, isolated, or despondent.

4. Be not afraid. The bully is not in control, despite how things may appear. God is in control. Furthermore, it is essential to remember that there are judgments we are called to make as those who are walking the Way, even as we acknowledge our own imperfections. It is entirely acceptable to pray seriously for a bully to realize the error of his/her/their way in thought, word, and deed.

3. Be prepared. There are actions and opportunities all around that afford ways to defeat a bully. These may need praying hands, feet, or mouths to help. See what you can do to make a solid offensive move against the bully or bullies.

2. Yield to the Spirit. The strength to resist the bully is a fire shut up in your bones. If the Spirit says pray, pray. If the Spirit says sing, sing. If the Spirit is leading your energy toward the disciplines of art making, writing, movement, building, silence, service, or prophesy, give way to that calling. Do not resist the urge, believing that the bully is only fought through “more important work”. This is the most important work, refusing to cede spiritual ground to any force that opposes the real resurrection and reformation work that God is doing and will not stop.

1. Embrace Christlike behavior. Remember that righteous anger, flipping over tables, cracking a whip, cursing trees, expressing frustration, praying in grief, weeping, and wishing for fire are all options.

This was originally written by me for RevGalBlogPals and posted there on 8/15/16. 

Question about Prayer

Question: I'm stuck thinking about prayer because the logic doesn't seem to work. If God does not inflict illnesses or accidents, why do we pray for Him to keep us safe or to heal a loved one. Yet we pray for healing or recovery or safe travels all the time at church. If we are not saying “don't pick me with a life-altering disaster” or “skip us with cancer,” is it proper to pray “keep us safe”? Because it seems like I'm asking, “Don't let/make bad things happen to me” . . . and God doesn't cause bad things to happen to us which is where I started.

Or is the only correct supplication, “Be with us when the inevitable terrors of life and death come”? What am I missing? Thank you.

Dear Child of God- 

This question about prayer is excellent, thoughtful, and something to which I can greatly relate. We end up in a very tough spot when we try to make our faith or faith actions logical. There is a certain amount of reason that is absolutely necessary and (I believe) encouraged by God. However, it only gets us so far. The other part of our faith and trust in God is not based in our intellectual understanding or assent, but in pure trust in God’s own “God-ness” if you will. In the reality that God is God and we are not. To lean into and rest upon the faith that has been poured out for us by the Holy Spirit takes enough quieting of the mind without making it harder for ourselves in all the ways that we are prone to do. 

Ultimately, our prayers are “Be with us when the forces that oppose You seem to have taken control. Do not let me succumb to fear or idolatry. Keep your grace ever before me.” The things that we renounce at a baptism or affirmation thereof are real - external “powers and principalities” (Ephesians 6:12) and our own internal struggles (see: the 10 commandments). The life of our faith is working to remember, to see, and to share that the Lord our God is the one God who has chosen to manifest in Jesus (the Christ) and in the work of the Holy Spirit… and that is just in the ways that we perceive. 

It is certainly worthwhile to pray all the things on our hearts- keep us free from cancer, heal this person quickly, comfort those who are fleeing oppression, bring peace to the Middle East. Yet, in our understanding of prayer, we have to remember not make it (prayer) its own idol, believing that the words themselves are protection as talismans or as invitation, if said correctly. We pray to deepen our relationship, to be part of the ongoing conversation (which means listening as well), and to become more aware of God’s presence in our lives. 

The toughest, toughest thing to grasp is that God is truly unknowable and that God’s ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). Why do we start so many prayers with a reminder list of what God has done before? Is it because God needs reminding or because we do? If, God forbid!, you did get cancer of some sort, would you believe that it was God’s desire for you? Some people prefer to make sense of the world in that way, because that understanding gives things more order and thus they feel more in control. Control- our control- is always an illusion that we use to keep fear (and its companion, despair) at bay. If God is who we believe God is… then we do not actually have any control at all and the illusion that we do is an idol. (Stupid idolatry! It’s all over the place!)

Thinking of The Screwtape Letters, I believe that intellectualizing our prayer life is one way that the forces that oppose God attempts to build on our fears… not our doubts… but our fears. After all, faith is not action without doubt, but action in spite of doubt. As our lives change, the style or type of prayer that worked for us before may need tweaking or complete overhaul, but our need for that connection, conversation, and mystic communion is still very real. 

I don’t believe there is a correct supplication. There is only a correct attitude: “I am not You. Your ways are not my ways. Help me to see where you are working in the world around me. I’m afraid of…. I long for…. I lift up…. I believe….” And then you follow all that with “I’m listening.” 

I hope this helps. 

Peace, 

Pastor Julia

Anointing

I did a home visit today to a person with whom I do not always see eye to eye. Home visits are kind
of a ticklish part of my work. I enjoy them, but they're actually kind of difficult to manage sometimes. It's a shame that we are all sort of out of touch with visiting, but there it is and so it is.

Anyway, in this visit, I chatted with the person and then gave them communion. As we talked afterward, the person took my hands and prayed for me. It was actually a very gentle prayer, as this person's prayers go, but they prayed for me to continue in the anointing I had received for the ministry I was doing.

It was a really touching and meaningful prayer, which I received with a grateful and glad heart. Not only being prayed for, but being prayed for in such a specific way is very helpful and encouraging. It is the kind of thing that makes this pastor glad and honored to do this work.

Praying for Pastor

How to Pray for Your Pastor…

1. When you’re in a hurry: “Lord, Pastor ­­_________________!” God knows the needs of your pastor. Even a quick intervention deepens your spiritual commitment to your pastor’s well-being and your relationship with God.

2. When the pastor seems stressed: “Dear God, I’m not sure what’s happening with Pastor _________. I ask for your peace to surround him/her and for your presence to be felt and perceived. May amazing grace be evident to him/her in the week ahead.” Pastors often have lots on their minds- some things that are public and some things that are not. Families, plumbing, health issues, money, neighbors- pastors are people, too, and they need the prayers that they often pray for you!

3. When you are in disagreement: “Ruler of the universe, I give you thanks for your Holy Spirit who brings discernment and guidance to all people. I am grieved at the division in your church. I seek clarity from your written word and inspiration from the Living Word. Help Pastor _______ to be open to how you revealing yourself in truth. Help me to open to new learning and wisdom as well. I ask this, trusting in your faithfulness to all involved in this conversation.” Dissention in the church brings grief to pastors. No person wants to fight with loved ones. Yet, even the most conflict-avoidant people eventually have disagreements. Your pastor is praying for you in this situation and for how to be a good pastor. It is good for you to return the effort. It will not go unnoticed.

4. When something doesn’t seem right: “Dear God, I renounce the forces that oppose you in the world. I especially reject any attempts these forces may be making in the life of my pastor or in the life of his/her family. I ask for the strengthening of your Holy Spirit in protection and aid and that your enemy would find no quarter here! Amen!” Your pastor is on the front lines of spiritual life- for you and for others. Being in front means being at the first line of attack. Unfortunately, there are spiritual (and material) forces that oppose God’s desire for wholeness and healing in the world. Your pastor is not immune to these oppositions. When you pray for God’s protection for a pastor or anyone else in these situations, you are forming what is called a “prayer covering”. The more people who join in this type of prayer, with sincerity of heart, the better for the pastor and for the congregation.

5. When church was great: “Blessed are you, Creator of the Universe, who has drawn us together this day to praise your name. Thank you for the songs and the musicians. Thank you for the readers and the assistants. Thank you for the good news of Jesus Christ, which brings me hope and confidence again and again. Thank you for our pastor and his/her sensitivity to your word and will. Praise be to you forever! Amen.” Or something like that. A prayer of thanksgiving is not nothing and you’ll remember the 30 seconds you sat in your car, thanking God for church, longer than you will remember the service.

Check One

I was supposed to answer this question on a survey. What's the right box for the pastor? 

All of the above, sometimes?

None of the above? 

I prefer not to answer in humility or out of pride? 

Today I texted with an intern, wrote about racism, was quoted in the paper about Medicaid Expansion, prayed for the people I didn't see in church yesterday, parented my children, contained my temper in the grocery store because Jesus, thought about upcoming sermons, and wept over the divisions that cause pain in the Body of Christ, even in my own house.

And that's on my day off. 

I'm the Reverend Julia Seymour. You may call me Pastor. I'm a leader for order among a group of people who seek to live and die in Jesus Christ for the sake of the world. The work is amazing and infuriating and joyful and grieving.

Which box covers that? 

Amazing Grace

Today a visitor came to church, sat alone, thumbed through the hymnal before the service and during communion.

After the service, he asked someone to help him find the thing he'd found about confession. Several people, including myself, tried, but failed. He kept looking for nearly half an hour before he found it and signaled to me.

He had found this section of Luther's Small Catechism:

What is confession? Confession consists of two parts. One is that we confess our sins. The other is that we receive the absolution, that is, forgiveness, from the pastor as from God himself and by no means doubt but firmly believe that our sins are thereby forgiven before God in heaven. 

He pointed this out to me and said, "Do you do this?"

"Do you mean, am I the person, the pastor, who would assure you of God's forgiveness?"

"Yes." He then went on to name some struggles and then said, "Can you, as the pastor, give me forgiveness?"

On a Sunday where we celebrate the priesthood of all believers, the work of God in ever-reforming God's church, the gift of the Holy Spirit... on this festival day...

I looked at that man and said what he needed to hear, "Yes, I can assure you of God's forgiveness. I will tell you that in the darkest of nights and the least certain of moments, that Jesus Christ is with you. I promise you that the Holy Spirit is always working to bring peace and comfort to your heart. Know that what I am telling you is true: there is nothing that you have done that will separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. God knows your confession. You are forgiven."

He flinched a little as I raised my hand to make the sign of the cross, but then smiled as he received it, relief plain in his eyes.

Are you the one who can offer words of forgiveness as though from God's ownself?

I am.

I can.

I do.



This is the gift of God's reformation.