For the past two weeks, instead of going home to a nice cup of tea or curling up with a good book after all my work for the day is done, I have been scraping. And priming. And painting. Two weeks ago I entered the world of homeownership, with all of its excitements and its headaches.
As I tore off old wall paper (the previous tenants seemed to enjoy putting wallpaper over wallpaper and then several coats of paint on top of that), I kept thinking that I should be having more profound thoughts than “this is disgusting” and “wallpaper should be illegal.” Alas my brain was firmly in the moment, in what needed to be done now and what needed to be done right after that.
Sunday afternoon I finished my process. No more painting and no more scraping – now the moving fun begins. But before that begins I have a moment. A moment to take a deep breath and look around. I have a house with fresh coats of paint, with my personal touch on it. And I have this house because of friends. Friends who found the house for me, guided me through the process, came to fix my gutters and paint my walls. Friends who wished me well and offered me helpful suggestions and loving thoughts. Friends who I call brothers and sisters in Christ, friends who are all members of Covenant.
Here’s where the profound thought enters in. This house is like everything else in life, stressful at times and joyful at times, but made so much better by the presence of a faith community. My life is so enriched because of this faith community – not just because some of you can paint walls or bake delicious pies for the working crew – and now my home will forever serve as a reminder of that blessing.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Coming Home
It's the last night here at Montreat. The kiddos are staying up late, playing card games, writing notes to our senior, enjoying one another's company... I'm all snuggled in bed, seeing as how I'm one of the drivers tomorrow.
It has been a truly blessed week. The worship has been phenomenal - many of us wept more than once during services. I'm coming away with a lot of things but one thing that's ringing in my head right now is something we heard in tonight's sermon. We are the ones we have been waiting for. It began as a Hopi saying and was most recently the title of a book by Alice Walker... what a great thought. It's not someone else who will bring the changes we long for, who will guide us to God's righteousness... it's us. We are the ones we have been waiting for. We are the ones who are called to live for and through God. Not other people. Us.
I know our youth have really been touched this week - I've seen the Spirit moving among and within them. I am so proud and honored to have spent this week with this bunch. Our church is so blessed and I don't think we can say that enough.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Montreat Update
Hey friends!
I've managed to swing some wireless access here in the mountains and thought I'd take a moment to let you all know Covenant has arrived safe and sound at Montreat and we're already having a blast!
The theme this year is "Turning the Page," about how our life is a story, one that is connected to both God and God's people. The leadership is great -- a friend and former prof of mine is preaching and really bringing the Word.
Our house is filled with lots of laughter and games, great food, and great discussions. The Holy Spirit is definitely present among us. This is going to be a wonderful week!
I've managed to swing some wireless access here in the mountains and thought I'd take a moment to let you all know Covenant has arrived safe and sound at Montreat and we're already having a blast!
The theme this year is "Turning the Page," about how our life is a story, one that is connected to both God and God's people. The leadership is great -- a friend and former prof of mine is preaching and really bringing the Word.
Our house is filled with lots of laughter and games, great food, and great discussions. The Holy Spirit is definitely present among us. This is going to be a wonderful week!
Monday, July 02, 2007
an anniversary
From Amy’s Ethiopia Journal, July 2, 2006: A final thought—this was a mountain top experience (literally sometimes). I have been to Africa before, I have seen generosity and poverty before, but I have never experienced anything like Ethiopia and her people. God is doing wonderful things across the ocean. I’m honored and excited that our church gets to be a part of that.
A year ago today Jeff and Jennifer Ryman, Liz Dahmus, and I left Addis Ababa to return home to the States. We had such great hopes for our congregation’s relationship with the gracious people we met and the inspiring ministry we witnessed. I am both proud and humbled by the way this congregation has embraced the Bedele Congregation and our other brothers and sisters in Ethiopia.
When we went to Ethiopia our team truly saw ourselves as representatives of this congregation, of each of you. I am moved that when we returned, this congregation affirmed that view. I am moved by seeing so many of you moved by the stories the Ethiopian Partnership team brought back
We have truly committed ourselves to our partnership. I appreciate the way we pray for Bedele every Sunday, but also the way I know Bedele is in many of your personal prayers. I love that we committed to helping the congregation finish their building even as we added on to ours. I marvel that our Ethiopian partnership has become such a part of our church life that Ethiopian coffee is a best seller amid our Free-Trade coffee!
It has been a year and already we have embraced this relationship with such fervor. I can’t wait to see what another year brings.
A year ago today Jeff and Jennifer Ryman, Liz Dahmus, and I left Addis Ababa to return home to the States. We had such great hopes for our congregation’s relationship with the gracious people we met and the inspiring ministry we witnessed. I am both proud and humbled by the way this congregation has embraced the Bedele Congregation and our other brothers and sisters in Ethiopia.
When we went to Ethiopia our team truly saw ourselves as representatives of this congregation, of each of you. I am moved that when we returned, this congregation affirmed that view. I am moved by seeing so many of you moved by the stories the Ethiopian Partnership team brought back
We have truly committed ourselves to our partnership. I appreciate the way we pray for Bedele every Sunday, but also the way I know Bedele is in many of your personal prayers. I love that we committed to helping the congregation finish their building even as we added on to ours. I marvel that our Ethiopian partnership has become such a part of our church life that Ethiopian coffee is a best seller amid our Free-Trade coffee!
It has been a year and already we have embraced this relationship with such fervor. I can’t wait to see what another year brings.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Wa-Hoo!
Oh my aching bones.
You may think I kid, but I promise, I don't. After three nights of being "Rowdy" and, yes, living up to the character's name, my back and knees may just about give out on me. I think I'll be giving this Sunday's sermon from a hospital bed we'll just have to roll up onto the chancel! Running around, jumping about, dancing like a crazy person -- all in the name of good ole VBS fun. It has been quite fun, I must admit, even with the aching bones. These kids, somewhere around 60 or so, have been shouting and singing and dancing and then actually calming down and sharing parts of their faith with one another. Beautiful, it really is.
And I suppose if my achy breaky back is one of the prices I have to pay to be a witness to such a joyous thing, I'll just keep on anteing up.
You may think I kid, but I promise, I don't. After three nights of being "Rowdy" and, yes, living up to the character's name, my back and knees may just about give out on me. I think I'll be giving this Sunday's sermon from a hospital bed we'll just have to roll up onto the chancel! Running around, jumping about, dancing like a crazy person -- all in the name of good ole VBS fun. It has been quite fun, I must admit, even with the aching bones. These kids, somewhere around 60 or so, have been shouting and singing and dancing and then actually calming down and sharing parts of their faith with one another. Beautiful, it really is.
And I suppose if my achy breaky back is one of the prices I have to pay to be a witness to such a joyous thing, I'll just keep on anteing up.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Revelation
Confession time. Up until my last year of seminary when I finally took the intro course to New Testament (I like to do things a little out of order!) I had not read all of the Bible. Why? Because I had skipped heavily sections of Revelation. I'd read the beginning and the end, but the middle with all that apocalyptic imagery was not for me.
And then my friend Teri and I read the book together, out loud, with sound effects. That was the beginning of something for me. I've come, over the last two years, to really enjoy this book. Yes, some of the imagery is not my general cup of tea (beasts and whores of babylon and all that), but I have been able to read in and through that imagery to see God's glory shining. This book is full of beautiful confessions of faith, statements about who God is, visions of what the kingdom of God come will be like... And while I'm not inclined to like the battle imagery, it is true, for the kingdom of God to come here on earth will take a lot of sweat, tears, and perhaps even blood. We've seen it all ready - in those small moments where the kingdom breaks through. And in Revelation you have this wonderful promise that yes there will be battles (figurative or literal) and it will see like it lasts forever, but God and God's kingdom will win out. What a lovely, lovely narrative to live into.
And then my friend Teri and I read the book together, out loud, with sound effects. That was the beginning of something for me. I've come, over the last two years, to really enjoy this book. Yes, some of the imagery is not my general cup of tea (beasts and whores of babylon and all that), but I have been able to read in and through that imagery to see God's glory shining. This book is full of beautiful confessions of faith, statements about who God is, visions of what the kingdom of God come will be like... And while I'm not inclined to like the battle imagery, it is true, for the kingdom of God to come here on earth will take a lot of sweat, tears, and perhaps even blood. We've seen it all ready - in those small moments where the kingdom breaks through. And in Revelation you have this wonderful promise that yes there will be battles (figurative or literal) and it will see like it lasts forever, but God and God's kingdom will win out. What a lovely, lovely narrative to live into.
Monday, June 04, 2007
it's here!
Last August Bev R. asked me to contribute a chapter to a book she and Peter were editting on Angels and Demons... well, months later, the book is now in my hands.
It's a fun feeling, reading what you wrote in print. It's also interesting because as I read I think "oh, I would switch that word order" or "hee, that's a funny line." Nothing like being frustrated and humored by your own work which you can't change a single word or puncuation mark too any more.
If some of you are so inclined, you can check out the book at InterVaristy Press's site. Don't think you can order it from amazon yet.
Just wanted to share a little excitement with all of you. Blessings!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
What's Love Got To Do With It?
Texts: Psalm 8, Romans 5:1-5
Last week John compared the birth of the church with the birth of a child, talking about all the preparation, the waiting, and then when the birth comes – what a wonderful, miraculous event.
What a scary event too. My friends who have recently had their first child have all said something similar – that it’s not so much the moment the child is put into your hands that it all sinks in, but the moment they discharge you and you realize, you don’t have a call button at home that will bring a nurse running to your room if you don’t know what to do. You don’t have a team of highly trained professionals to make sure you’re doing everything right.
You do have this wonderful, miraculous, gift, this child that has been entrusted into your care by God, and you, YOU are responsible. Not the nurses, not your friends, not your parents. You. You have to make sure this child eats, sleeps, poops, gets its requisite “tummy time,” and then, when it gets older, that your child does her homework, learns good values, comes to church, plays nice with others…
You’re responsible for all of this. You who don’t have a degree in child development or who have a tough time keeping plants alive, or who still forget to pay bills on time.
I’m not a parent myself but my own heart starts thumping extra hard just thinking about all this awesome responsibility. Because you don’t have to be a parent to know how both wonderful and frightening this power can be. Most of us have been entrusted at one point in time with some sort of responsibility – maybe your parents let you stay home by yourself while they’re out of town, trusting that you’ll take care of the pets and the house AND that you won’t through a wild shindig; maybe you’ve been made leader of a team at work, in charge of a huge project that could either save or sink the company. It’s exciting but also can be terrifying. What if I mess up? What if I don’t do the right thing? What if I don’t know what to do?
We all know what it is to be responsible, or at least to be called to be responsible – to be entrusted with something important. As individuals, we each have our own responsibilities, and as a community, as the church, as the body of Christ, we’ve been given even more. When the church was born, when God gave us the gift of the Spirit, it was a wonderful, miraculous event. It was also, is still also, pretty scary. Tongues of fire, power beyond anything we’ve known, and a call as God’s people we are called to do soooo much. To preach the word, to live the word, to love God and God’s people.
As we have been gifted with the Spirit, we have also been entrusted with life. Each and every one of us, even those of us who are not parents. For God has entrusted us with precious and fragile life, given us human beings dominion over this earth. The work of God’s own hands – we are responsible for it.
The psalmist speaks of our majestic Lord, our Lord who has created the universe with all its protons and neutrons that somehow make life, with its mystery and majesty, with its brilliance and beauty we can hardly begin to appreciate or understand, this Lord has created us, us human beings, to be just a little lower than God. The Lord whose glory is above the heavens has crowned us with that glory and honor.
How wonderful, how thrilling, and how terrifying. For the Lord who has created us just a little lower than Godself has given us both this honor and this responsibility. For as those so blessed by God we are also those so charged by God – we are those who have been given dominion over the works of God’s hands – beasts of the field, birds of the sky, creatures in the sea… all of them, all of this creation. God has created this amazing world and all that reside in it, and created it and gone and given it into our care.
The psalmist looks around at this world and is so in awe of what he sees that he is moved to ask “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” We might look around at God’s magnificent world and add a few of our own questions. “What are human beings that you entrust them with your creation? What are human beings that you given them such awesome responsibility and no call button to bring the creation nurses running in if we don’t know what to do?”
God has put us in charge of this beautiful creation. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we human beings… we’re not angels. We may be a little lower than God but that “a little lower” is pretty significant. We wage war, we abuse our power, we fear those who are not like us, we push away those who disagree with us, we take our toys and go home when we’re upset – and all of us, each and every one of us, even those we fear, we don’t like, all of us have been entrusted with God’s creation.
Talk about a challenging committee to work with… I doubt if we gather a random selection of 10 people in this sanctuary we’d find an agreement on how we can best take care of the creation God has entrusted to us. What’s the likelihood that we could agree on what to do with issues like toxic waste, water pollution, recycling, animal testing, loss of green space, genetic engineering, addiction to oil, and what about this climate change stuff? Can we even agree what the issues are?
Look at what happens with a child. You can one to four parents and step-parents involved in raising the child. Plus grandparents. Plus aunts and uncles. Plus well-meaning friends, pastors, neighbors, teachers, even strangers. All of these people offering their own opinion on how best to raise this one child.
Look at what happens with this creation. You have 6 billion plus people who have a say, an opinion, some certainly with louder voices than others… 6 billion of us, all who are affected by the health of this world, all who have a stake in the condition of this creation. 6 billion of us and still. does any one of us know completely what should be done? Would we even be able to hear that voice amid the clamoring of all the others?
Who are humans that the Lord is mindful of us, that the Lord has entrusted us with the work of God’s own hands? Who are we? We are part of God’s creation. And we are the body of Christ, the church, whose birth we celebrated last Sunday. But what does that mean? Our Romans text this morning has gives us a brief, but very helpful and hopeful, glimpse of what it is to be the body of Christ, God’s children and creation.
In a sentence only Yoda could truly appreciate, Paul tells us that we know “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.”
We are a people, who, even when we suffer, even when we suffer the folly of our own mistakes, or other’s mistakes, even when we suffer the pain of strife and division, even when we suffer the agony of indecision and uncertainty, we have hope… hope which does not disappoint us. Hope which comes from the Lord. Why do we have this hope? Because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Don’t let yourselves be deceived. God’s love isn’t just some sweet sentiment, isn’t just the bringer of the peace Paul talks about. God’s love is a powerful, transforming, persistent love. This love is power and possibility beyond our imagination. For this love is God, is at the heart of God, God who is majestic above all else.
Today on our church calendar is Trinity Sunday. If you went to churches throughout our area, you might hear a few sermons or more trying to explain the mystery that is the Trinity. Well, I’m not going to do that – as John Wesley said, Bring me a worm that can comprehend a man, and then I will show you a man that can comprehend the triune God!" Don’t know about you, but I haven’t found that worm yet. The Trinity is a beautiful mystery, a way in which we express the glory that is God, Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, the One Who Was, Who Is, Who Is to Come. Another such triune expression comes from Augustine, who calls the Trinity, Lover, Beloved, Love, saying that Love binds the Trinity together. What this particular metaphor is saying is that love is in God, love abounds within God, love is the essence in which our Triune God moves and works, love is binding, and it is a powerful force, stronger than any other force out there.
It is this love which gives us our hope. For within each one of us, God’s love has been poured through the Holy Spirit. God’s love. God’s powerful, self-giving, just, reconciling love – this is what we have been given. God’s love we know fully, incarnate, in the person of Jesus Christ. This love is in each and every one of our hearts and it is this love which will guide our actions, this love which will help us as we take on the responsibilities God has given us.
When it comes to taking care of our world, I can’t speak with any authority on the science of what should be done, the exact tactics, practices, what really is an environmental concern and what’s not… I leave that to those much more knowledgeable than me. What I do know is that God has given us dominion over the earth, birds and the beasts, the fishes and the flying things, over it all. We are caretakers of this world and as God has appointed us such, we must live out our role as God would have us. Live it out in love.
We can – and should – debate amongst ourselves what are the best things to do for this world, God’s world, this world put under our loving care, our just dominion. We should debate and raise questions, challenge even common assumptions. But as we are debating and questioning, we must have God’s love in our heart, this gift of the Spirit. Whatever we do, we must do through God’s love. For if this love is what binds our Triune God together, then perhaps, if we debate and question and challenge one another in this love, it will bind us together as well.
We have been made a little lower than God. God who is Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer… We, we humans cannot create as God creates, and we cannot redeem as Christ has redeemed us, but we can, thanks to the Spirit which pours God’s awesome love into our hearts, we can help with the work of the Spirit. We can help to sustain this beautiful creation so that for generations to come others will look at the work of God’s hands and be in awe. Amen.
Last week John compared the birth of the church with the birth of a child, talking about all the preparation, the waiting, and then when the birth comes – what a wonderful, miraculous event.
What a scary event too. My friends who have recently had their first child have all said something similar – that it’s not so much the moment the child is put into your hands that it all sinks in, but the moment they discharge you and you realize, you don’t have a call button at home that will bring a nurse running to your room if you don’t know what to do. You don’t have a team of highly trained professionals to make sure you’re doing everything right.
You do have this wonderful, miraculous, gift, this child that has been entrusted into your care by God, and you, YOU are responsible. Not the nurses, not your friends, not your parents. You. You have to make sure this child eats, sleeps, poops, gets its requisite “tummy time,” and then, when it gets older, that your child does her homework, learns good values, comes to church, plays nice with others…
You’re responsible for all of this. You who don’t have a degree in child development or who have a tough time keeping plants alive, or who still forget to pay bills on time.
I’m not a parent myself but my own heart starts thumping extra hard just thinking about all this awesome responsibility. Because you don’t have to be a parent to know how both wonderful and frightening this power can be. Most of us have been entrusted at one point in time with some sort of responsibility – maybe your parents let you stay home by yourself while they’re out of town, trusting that you’ll take care of the pets and the house AND that you won’t through a wild shindig; maybe you’ve been made leader of a team at work, in charge of a huge project that could either save or sink the company. It’s exciting but also can be terrifying. What if I mess up? What if I don’t do the right thing? What if I don’t know what to do?
We all know what it is to be responsible, or at least to be called to be responsible – to be entrusted with something important. As individuals, we each have our own responsibilities, and as a community, as the church, as the body of Christ, we’ve been given even more. When the church was born, when God gave us the gift of the Spirit, it was a wonderful, miraculous event. It was also, is still also, pretty scary. Tongues of fire, power beyond anything we’ve known, and a call as God’s people we are called to do soooo much. To preach the word, to live the word, to love God and God’s people.
As we have been gifted with the Spirit, we have also been entrusted with life. Each and every one of us, even those of us who are not parents. For God has entrusted us with precious and fragile life, given us human beings dominion over this earth. The work of God’s own hands – we are responsible for it.
The psalmist speaks of our majestic Lord, our Lord who has created the universe with all its protons and neutrons that somehow make life, with its mystery and majesty, with its brilliance and beauty we can hardly begin to appreciate or understand, this Lord has created us, us human beings, to be just a little lower than God. The Lord whose glory is above the heavens has crowned us with that glory and honor.
How wonderful, how thrilling, and how terrifying. For the Lord who has created us just a little lower than Godself has given us both this honor and this responsibility. For as those so blessed by God we are also those so charged by God – we are those who have been given dominion over the works of God’s hands – beasts of the field, birds of the sky, creatures in the sea… all of them, all of this creation. God has created this amazing world and all that reside in it, and created it and gone and given it into our care.
The psalmist looks around at this world and is so in awe of what he sees that he is moved to ask “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” We might look around at God’s magnificent world and add a few of our own questions. “What are human beings that you entrust them with your creation? What are human beings that you given them such awesome responsibility and no call button to bring the creation nurses running in if we don’t know what to do?”
God has put us in charge of this beautiful creation. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we human beings… we’re not angels. We may be a little lower than God but that “a little lower” is pretty significant. We wage war, we abuse our power, we fear those who are not like us, we push away those who disagree with us, we take our toys and go home when we’re upset – and all of us, each and every one of us, even those we fear, we don’t like, all of us have been entrusted with God’s creation.
Talk about a challenging committee to work with… I doubt if we gather a random selection of 10 people in this sanctuary we’d find an agreement on how we can best take care of the creation God has entrusted to us. What’s the likelihood that we could agree on what to do with issues like toxic waste, water pollution, recycling, animal testing, loss of green space, genetic engineering, addiction to oil, and what about this climate change stuff? Can we even agree what the issues are?
Look at what happens with a child. You can one to four parents and step-parents involved in raising the child. Plus grandparents. Plus aunts and uncles. Plus well-meaning friends, pastors, neighbors, teachers, even strangers. All of these people offering their own opinion on how best to raise this one child.
Look at what happens with this creation. You have 6 billion plus people who have a say, an opinion, some certainly with louder voices than others… 6 billion of us, all who are affected by the health of this world, all who have a stake in the condition of this creation. 6 billion of us and still. does any one of us know completely what should be done? Would we even be able to hear that voice amid the clamoring of all the others?
Who are humans that the Lord is mindful of us, that the Lord has entrusted us with the work of God’s own hands? Who are we? We are part of God’s creation. And we are the body of Christ, the church, whose birth we celebrated last Sunday. But what does that mean? Our Romans text this morning has gives us a brief, but very helpful and hopeful, glimpse of what it is to be the body of Christ, God’s children and creation.
In a sentence only Yoda could truly appreciate, Paul tells us that we know “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.”
We are a people, who, even when we suffer, even when we suffer the folly of our own mistakes, or other’s mistakes, even when we suffer the pain of strife and division, even when we suffer the agony of indecision and uncertainty, we have hope… hope which does not disappoint us. Hope which comes from the Lord. Why do we have this hope? Because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Don’t let yourselves be deceived. God’s love isn’t just some sweet sentiment, isn’t just the bringer of the peace Paul talks about. God’s love is a powerful, transforming, persistent love. This love is power and possibility beyond our imagination. For this love is God, is at the heart of God, God who is majestic above all else.
Today on our church calendar is Trinity Sunday. If you went to churches throughout our area, you might hear a few sermons or more trying to explain the mystery that is the Trinity. Well, I’m not going to do that – as John Wesley said, Bring me a worm that can comprehend a man, and then I will show you a man that can comprehend the triune God!" Don’t know about you, but I haven’t found that worm yet. The Trinity is a beautiful mystery, a way in which we express the glory that is God, Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, the One Who Was, Who Is, Who Is to Come. Another such triune expression comes from Augustine, who calls the Trinity, Lover, Beloved, Love, saying that Love binds the Trinity together. What this particular metaphor is saying is that love is in God, love abounds within God, love is the essence in which our Triune God moves and works, love is binding, and it is a powerful force, stronger than any other force out there.
It is this love which gives us our hope. For within each one of us, God’s love has been poured through the Holy Spirit. God’s love. God’s powerful, self-giving, just, reconciling love – this is what we have been given. God’s love we know fully, incarnate, in the person of Jesus Christ. This love is in each and every one of our hearts and it is this love which will guide our actions, this love which will help us as we take on the responsibilities God has given us.
When it comes to taking care of our world, I can’t speak with any authority on the science of what should be done, the exact tactics, practices, what really is an environmental concern and what’s not… I leave that to those much more knowledgeable than me. What I do know is that God has given us dominion over the earth, birds and the beasts, the fishes and the flying things, over it all. We are caretakers of this world and as God has appointed us such, we must live out our role as God would have us. Live it out in love.
We can – and should – debate amongst ourselves what are the best things to do for this world, God’s world, this world put under our loving care, our just dominion. We should debate and raise questions, challenge even common assumptions. But as we are debating and questioning, we must have God’s love in our heart, this gift of the Spirit. Whatever we do, we must do through God’s love. For if this love is what binds our Triune God together, then perhaps, if we debate and question and challenge one another in this love, it will bind us together as well.
We have been made a little lower than God. God who is Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer… We, we humans cannot create as God creates, and we cannot redeem as Christ has redeemed us, but we can, thanks to the Spirit which pours God’s awesome love into our hearts, we can help with the work of the Spirit. We can help to sustain this beautiful creation so that for generations to come others will look at the work of God’s hands and be in awe. Amen.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
haunting words
Not this Sunday (Pentecost) but the next, I'm preaching. That particular Sunday happens to be Trinity Sunday - a Sunday we set aside to praise the glory of God who is triune just a little bit more than your average Sunday.
All fine and good, EXCEPT, certain words keep ringing in my ears. "The worst sermons are always preached on Trinity Sunday" - so sayth one of my preaching profs from Columbia. Sheesh. Talk about not hoping to live up to expectations.
All fine and good, EXCEPT, certain words keep ringing in my ears. "The worst sermons are always preached on Trinity Sunday" - so sayth one of my preaching profs from Columbia. Sheesh. Talk about not hoping to live up to expectations.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
saving a meadow, losing my hand
It's been 3 days now since I was part of the group that "saved" the Big Meadow on Skyline Drive. Great event, by the by, hope we can do it again. But it's been 3 days and my hand is STILL cramped from all the weeding. John says that just means I need to do more weeding, get that "exercise" in or something. I think it means I need to find a massage therapist!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Contemplative Youth Ministry
I just finished (yes, it's taken me forever) Mark Yaconelli's Contemplative Youth Ministry. This book really spoke to me. Faith isn't just fun or dogma, it's an ongoing relationship. Leaders aren't program directors or instructors, they're more like spiritual directors, pointing to the presence of God. They're seekers, mentors. The program isn't what matters, the ways of prayer aren't what matter - what God is doing, that's what matters.
I highly recommend this book to all -- all those working with youth, all those who have teenagers, all those who want a fresh and spirit-filled perspective on ministry.
I highly recommend this book to all -- all those working with youth, all those who have teenagers, all those who want a fresh and spirit-filled perspective on ministry.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Hurricane Katrina Relief Trip
I never knew I’d become an expert in mud. At the very least, mudding seams in drywall. Now I can add that talent to my skill set list! It’s amazing what you can learn when you take yourself out of your context—your comfort zone—extending yourself for others. 11 Covenant members and twelve Mary Baldwin students discovered just this when we traveled to Gulfport, Mississippi to join the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance camp and crew there.
While in Gulfport we lived in “pods” – which are basically slightly fancy cardboard box huts. We ate together, prayed together, and most importantly worked together. Our team was divided into three different groups – one assigned to roofing, one to inside carpentry, and one—mine—to drywalling. The Covenant members and Mary Baldwin students bonded as we built (ask Charlie Huppuch about being called “Grandpa Charlie”) and we had wonderful opportunities to get to know those who lived in these affected areas—especially our home owners.
The coastline, while much cleaner than it was a year ago, is still devastated. As we worked hard we couldn’t help but be aware how much more hard work would be needed before this community found itself back to something called “normal.” May we continue to offer prayers and presence to the Gulf Coast
While in Gulfport we lived in “pods” – which are basically slightly fancy cardboard box huts. We ate together, prayed together, and most importantly worked together. Our team was divided into three different groups – one assigned to roofing, one to inside carpentry, and one—mine—to drywalling. The Covenant members and Mary Baldwin students bonded as we built (ask Charlie Huppuch about being called “Grandpa Charlie”) and we had wonderful opportunities to get to know those who lived in these affected areas—especially our home owners.
The coastline, while much cleaner than it was a year ago, is still devastated. As we worked hard we couldn’t help but be aware how much more hard work would be needed before this community found itself back to something called “normal.” May we continue to offer prayers and presence to the Gulf Coast
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
With the Morning
Texts: Psalm 30, Acts 9:1-6
“It’s been a week.”
I’ve been hearing that expression quite a bit these last few days – sometimes with a choice adjective or two added. I’ve added a few myself when talking with friends and family.
Even more than the usual, I had thought this week was going to be a full one – but not the way it has turned out. I don’t know what your plans included but mine had me driving the 1000 plus miles to Atlanta and back, while there doing research and meeting with professors, spending time with old friends, eating out at as many warmly remembered places as possible. A full week indeed. Most of our weeks generally are – full. When you ask people Sunday to Sunday what they’ve done that week, very rarely do you ever hear “nothing, absolutely nothing.” We pack our weeks in with work, school, soccer, ballet, meetings, movies, church, chores… Sometimes there’s a birthday or a big test, a promotion or party, something to make the week more memorable. If you’re lucky, maybe some of those weeks are vacation.
Weeks of work, weeks of school, weeks of vacation… This is the normal – full—pattern of our lives. And then there are weeks like this one. A week that completely disrupts our pattern, disorients us. A week that both speeds by and drags out, a week where you find yourself at a loss for words, where the question “how’s it going” or “how are you doing” cannot be answered with the customary and oft expected “fine.”
How do you begin to explain a week like this? How do you even begin to process someone falling ill at the end of the week and dying on Sunday? Someone so young, someone so full of life? As this community joined the LeBontes in grieving the loss of Vicki, daughter, friend, colleague, teacher, we have been forced to face these challenging questions.
And that was just the beginning of the week.
I still can’t wrap my mind around how and why someone could be so lost, so aching inside, so absorbed by darkness that mass murder would be… an option? Is that even a way to describe what was going on in that young man’s mind? How do you describe the thoughts that led to such action – led to one child of God, one human being made in God’s image, to distort that image so senselessly, to darken any light inside and “randomly” harm other children of God? Questions like these, questions we will probably never be able to answer, these are all we’re left with..
And then…
Even when you know it’s coming, have a general timetable when it will happen, death always catches you by surprise. Many of us said goodbye to a dear friend this Wednesday; ached with and for Mary Beth’s family, wondered why her, wondered why now.
It’s weeks like these that make you wonder, make you rail, make you thankful for the small blessings, the moments of miracles… make you angry, make you ache. That make you think about your loss, about the pain and suffering close to you, and then, perhaps, think about all those suffering throughout this world – this week alone we mourn the 183 souls lost to 4 bombs in Iraq on Wednesday, the 50 lost to election-related violence in Nigeria, the at least 190 killed in Somalia, the nameless who passed each day this week without anyone to tell their story… So much pain, so much suffering, such a week.
It’s weeks like these that psalmist could have easily been writing about.
Our psalmist tells of when he was as those who had gone down to the Pit – was in, well, hell. Life had been good, there had been prosperity, there had been favor. The psalmist had looked out from his mountain, from his penthouse apartment, and said “my life is good. And it’s just going to keep on being good! Ain’t nothing going to change my world.”
And then, the psalmist had a week of his own. What exactly happened, we don’t know. What we do know is that this once happy, confident, too confident perhaps, person is no longer up on some mountaintop of prosperity and fortune – he is in the Pit. He is in Sheol—the place of the dead. This person once full of life had a time of his own that has brought him down to death.
Though once his world had been filled with light, though he had never doubted his security, joy has turned to sorrow. Not only that, but he has felt as though God had hid God’s face from him – that God isn’t just hard to reach but has gone in hiding. How many of us have been there? Have wondered where our help and hope could be? Life in Christ is not a promise for unending joy, not a promise for uninterrupted bliss and good fortune. It’s not unwavering faith and unbending confidence in God’s presence and providence. No, anyone who tells you that is selling something – and it’s not the gospel.
Those who have experienced the pain of loss who have known agony, suffering, those who have found themselves wondering where is God from time to time, maybe more times than not, can understand what the psalmist means when he says God’s face is hidden from him. Understand what it feels like when you long for God yet cannot find or feel the divine presence. Understand what it feels like to be brought down so low, feel so lost, so alone, that you just can’t take it anymore.
In this extreme agony, frustration, even anger, the psalmist doesn’t throw his hands up and reject God, doesn’t turn away from struggle that is life, doesn’t take his pain out on those around him – he cries out to God for help.
His cry isn’t a soft plea, a quiet prayer – it’s a scream, a roar, a rage! “Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me! O LORD, be my helper!”
This is the plea of a desperate man, a despairing man. It is also the plea of a man who knows the truth, who knows what it is God can do – will do. He cries out to God for help because he knows, even when he wonders where God is, that though times of weeping have come, do come, will come, it will pass. God’s favor is what lasts forever. Yes, there is weeping, but God turns weeping to joy. Yes, there is mourning, but God will set our feet to dancing. Yes there is death, but even in Sheol – the place of the dead – God is there, lifting up.
When we fall to the Pit, when our nights our filled with weeping, God does not let us stay there. God lifts us up. God transforms what was terrible something we may call good. Our story from Acts is just one reminder of what God does in our life, in our world. Saul, Saul was not a good man. He persecuted, zealously, even to the point of murder, something which this week seems terribly, terribly awful. He was doing what he thought he had to do. And as he was on his way to commit more horrendous acts – a bright light stopped him, blinded him, changed him. A light he knew as the Lord, even before he knew to call the Lord Jesus Christ. And from that moment, that moment of light, a new life dawned, a new Saul was born. What once was a persecutor became the persecuted; what once was death-bringing promoted new life; what once was Saul became Paul.
God has a way of it… Has a way of transforming what was terrible to something new, different, and yes, even good. Of bringing hope where there was once none. Of helping us move from weeping to joy. Saul knows it. The psalmist knows it. Even in – no especially in – times such as this past week, we should know it.
If there is anything we followers of Christ, whose Resurrection we celebrate each and every Sunday, should know – know even if we don’t understand it – is the power of God, the promise of God. We don’t have to understand how or even when, but we may know, believe, that even in the midst of all this agony, God is at work. God is weeping, God is consoling, God is raging against the senseless loss of life. God is in the bright blue sky that makes you catch your breath in wonder. God is in the memory of a lost loved one that bubbles up, causing you to laugh and cry at the same time. God is in the arms of those who surround you, in your arms that surround the ones you love. God is.
The psalmist called out to the Lord and as the morning came—perhaps hours later, perhaps days, perhaps months, perhaps more—as the morning came, the Lord drew him up, healed him, restored him to life. No matter what changes he faced—loss of loved ones, loss of health, loss of prosperity, even loss of life—nothing changed the truth that God is there, with him, with us. Nothing can change that. Nothing.
Though there are shadows that haunt our earthly days, the Lord is shining, bringing us the light of life. God is, not even death on a cross could change that. This is our truth. This is what we know. That even in death there is life. This is the Resurrection. This is our Easter Reality. That even when the mark of death mars the face of our days, we may find healing and wholeness, we may find Life in our Lord. Life that in Christ is life eternal. God is, therefore we are. The darkness and death we know here is not the end, is not the ultimate. God is greater than any darkness, any death. Weeping may linger in the night, but in God, joy comes with the morning. In God, life is the ultimate. In God, there is no end. May our souls praise the Lord and not be silent. For the power and promise of life, may we give thanks to the Lord, forever. Amen.
“It’s been a week.”
I’ve been hearing that expression quite a bit these last few days – sometimes with a choice adjective or two added. I’ve added a few myself when talking with friends and family.
Even more than the usual, I had thought this week was going to be a full one – but not the way it has turned out. I don’t know what your plans included but mine had me driving the 1000 plus miles to Atlanta and back, while there doing research and meeting with professors, spending time with old friends, eating out at as many warmly remembered places as possible. A full week indeed. Most of our weeks generally are – full. When you ask people Sunday to Sunday what they’ve done that week, very rarely do you ever hear “nothing, absolutely nothing.” We pack our weeks in with work, school, soccer, ballet, meetings, movies, church, chores… Sometimes there’s a birthday or a big test, a promotion or party, something to make the week more memorable. If you’re lucky, maybe some of those weeks are vacation.
Weeks of work, weeks of school, weeks of vacation… This is the normal – full—pattern of our lives. And then there are weeks like this one. A week that completely disrupts our pattern, disorients us. A week that both speeds by and drags out, a week where you find yourself at a loss for words, where the question “how’s it going” or “how are you doing” cannot be answered with the customary and oft expected “fine.”
How do you begin to explain a week like this? How do you even begin to process someone falling ill at the end of the week and dying on Sunday? Someone so young, someone so full of life? As this community joined the LeBontes in grieving the loss of Vicki, daughter, friend, colleague, teacher, we have been forced to face these challenging questions.
And that was just the beginning of the week.
I still can’t wrap my mind around how and why someone could be so lost, so aching inside, so absorbed by darkness that mass murder would be… an option? Is that even a way to describe what was going on in that young man’s mind? How do you describe the thoughts that led to such action – led to one child of God, one human being made in God’s image, to distort that image so senselessly, to darken any light inside and “randomly” harm other children of God? Questions like these, questions we will probably never be able to answer, these are all we’re left with..
And then…
Even when you know it’s coming, have a general timetable when it will happen, death always catches you by surprise. Many of us said goodbye to a dear friend this Wednesday; ached with and for Mary Beth’s family, wondered why her, wondered why now.
It’s weeks like these that make you wonder, make you rail, make you thankful for the small blessings, the moments of miracles… make you angry, make you ache. That make you think about your loss, about the pain and suffering close to you, and then, perhaps, think about all those suffering throughout this world – this week alone we mourn the 183 souls lost to 4 bombs in Iraq on Wednesday, the 50 lost to election-related violence in Nigeria, the at least 190 killed in Somalia, the nameless who passed each day this week without anyone to tell their story… So much pain, so much suffering, such a week.
It’s weeks like these that psalmist could have easily been writing about.
Our psalmist tells of when he was as those who had gone down to the Pit – was in, well, hell. Life had been good, there had been prosperity, there had been favor. The psalmist had looked out from his mountain, from his penthouse apartment, and said “my life is good. And it’s just going to keep on being good! Ain’t nothing going to change my world.”
And then, the psalmist had a week of his own. What exactly happened, we don’t know. What we do know is that this once happy, confident, too confident perhaps, person is no longer up on some mountaintop of prosperity and fortune – he is in the Pit. He is in Sheol—the place of the dead. This person once full of life had a time of his own that has brought him down to death.
Though once his world had been filled with light, though he had never doubted his security, joy has turned to sorrow. Not only that, but he has felt as though God had hid God’s face from him – that God isn’t just hard to reach but has gone in hiding. How many of us have been there? Have wondered where our help and hope could be? Life in Christ is not a promise for unending joy, not a promise for uninterrupted bliss and good fortune. It’s not unwavering faith and unbending confidence in God’s presence and providence. No, anyone who tells you that is selling something – and it’s not the gospel.
Those who have experienced the pain of loss who have known agony, suffering, those who have found themselves wondering where is God from time to time, maybe more times than not, can understand what the psalmist means when he says God’s face is hidden from him. Understand what it feels like when you long for God yet cannot find or feel the divine presence. Understand what it feels like to be brought down so low, feel so lost, so alone, that you just can’t take it anymore.
In this extreme agony, frustration, even anger, the psalmist doesn’t throw his hands up and reject God, doesn’t turn away from struggle that is life, doesn’t take his pain out on those around him – he cries out to God for help.
His cry isn’t a soft plea, a quiet prayer – it’s a scream, a roar, a rage! “Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me! O LORD, be my helper!”
This is the plea of a desperate man, a despairing man. It is also the plea of a man who knows the truth, who knows what it is God can do – will do. He cries out to God for help because he knows, even when he wonders where God is, that though times of weeping have come, do come, will come, it will pass. God’s favor is what lasts forever. Yes, there is weeping, but God turns weeping to joy. Yes, there is mourning, but God will set our feet to dancing. Yes there is death, but even in Sheol – the place of the dead – God is there, lifting up.
When we fall to the Pit, when our nights our filled with weeping, God does not let us stay there. God lifts us up. God transforms what was terrible something we may call good. Our story from Acts is just one reminder of what God does in our life, in our world. Saul, Saul was not a good man. He persecuted, zealously, even to the point of murder, something which this week seems terribly, terribly awful. He was doing what he thought he had to do. And as he was on his way to commit more horrendous acts – a bright light stopped him, blinded him, changed him. A light he knew as the Lord, even before he knew to call the Lord Jesus Christ. And from that moment, that moment of light, a new life dawned, a new Saul was born. What once was a persecutor became the persecuted; what once was death-bringing promoted new life; what once was Saul became Paul.
God has a way of it… Has a way of transforming what was terrible to something new, different, and yes, even good. Of bringing hope where there was once none. Of helping us move from weeping to joy. Saul knows it. The psalmist knows it. Even in – no especially in – times such as this past week, we should know it.
If there is anything we followers of Christ, whose Resurrection we celebrate each and every Sunday, should know – know even if we don’t understand it – is the power of God, the promise of God. We don’t have to understand how or even when, but we may know, believe, that even in the midst of all this agony, God is at work. God is weeping, God is consoling, God is raging against the senseless loss of life. God is in the bright blue sky that makes you catch your breath in wonder. God is in the memory of a lost loved one that bubbles up, causing you to laugh and cry at the same time. God is in the arms of those who surround you, in your arms that surround the ones you love. God is.
The psalmist called out to the Lord and as the morning came—perhaps hours later, perhaps days, perhaps months, perhaps more—as the morning came, the Lord drew him up, healed him, restored him to life. No matter what changes he faced—loss of loved ones, loss of health, loss of prosperity, even loss of life—nothing changed the truth that God is there, with him, with us. Nothing can change that. Nothing.
Though there are shadows that haunt our earthly days, the Lord is shining, bringing us the light of life. God is, not even death on a cross could change that. This is our truth. This is what we know. That even in death there is life. This is the Resurrection. This is our Easter Reality. That even when the mark of death mars the face of our days, we may find healing and wholeness, we may find Life in our Lord. Life that in Christ is life eternal. God is, therefore we are. The darkness and death we know here is not the end, is not the ultimate. God is greater than any darkness, any death. Weeping may linger in the night, but in God, joy comes with the morning. In God, life is the ultimate. In God, there is no end. May our souls praise the Lord and not be silent. For the power and promise of life, may we give thanks to the Lord, forever. Amen.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
sadness
"We just really knew him as the question mark kid."
This quote describing the relationship between Monday's gunman and his peers has troubled me in particular.
I was driving from Staunton to Atlanta when this was happening--drove by the Blacksburg exit with police cars whizzing by, not realizing what was going on--and have only today gotten to really inform myself on what happened yesterday at VT.
I ache. I think that's probably the best way to describe what I'm feeling at the moment. Ache for those who were killed, those injured physically, those injured emotionally, their families, the community, God. I ache that our Creator would watch as one of those made in the divine image would so distort that image. I ache that this young man somehow was known best as the "question mark kid," that he wouldn't or didn't know how to let people in, that people didn't know or wouldn't try to "get in."
I ache. I ache to be Christ's servant to the best of my ability, to minister to all those I meet so that should a question mark kid come across my path, I will been open to the Spirit so that God could use me to offer love. I'm in Atlanta in part to work on our own youth ministry, to strengthen what our community offers our kids. And I think, did this question mark kid have people like our kids do? Wonderful, warm, caring adults and families that will not let them slip through the cracks, not let them go unknown? Do we, with our warm and caring families, do even we have a kid who is a question mark, one we do not know, don't know how to know?
I ache and I pray. It's all I know to do.
This quote describing the relationship between Monday's gunman and his peers has troubled me in particular.
I was driving from Staunton to Atlanta when this was happening--drove by the Blacksburg exit with police cars whizzing by, not realizing what was going on--and have only today gotten to really inform myself on what happened yesterday at VT.
I ache. I think that's probably the best way to describe what I'm feeling at the moment. Ache for those who were killed, those injured physically, those injured emotionally, their families, the community, God. I ache that our Creator would watch as one of those made in the divine image would so distort that image. I ache that this young man somehow was known best as the "question mark kid," that he wouldn't or didn't know how to let people in, that people didn't know or wouldn't try to "get in."
I ache. I ache to be Christ's servant to the best of my ability, to minister to all those I meet so that should a question mark kid come across my path, I will been open to the Spirit so that God could use me to offer love. I'm in Atlanta in part to work on our own youth ministry, to strengthen what our community offers our kids. And I think, did this question mark kid have people like our kids do? Wonderful, warm, caring adults and families that will not let them slip through the cracks, not let them go unknown? Do we, with our warm and caring families, do even we have a kid who is a question mark, one we do not know, don't know how to know?
I ache and I pray. It's all I know to do.
Friday, April 13, 2007
yet another quiz
Yet another quiz, this one picked up from my mom's friend Ryan's blog.
Which Church Father Are You? I quite like it!
Which Church Father Are You? I quite like it!
You’re St. Justin Martyr! You have a positive and hopeful attitude toward the world. You think that nature, history, and even the pagan philosophers were often guided by God in preparation for the Advent of the Christ. You find “seeds of the Word” in unexpected places. You’re patient and willing to explain the faith to unbelievers. Find out which Church Father you are at The Way of the Fathers! |
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Youth Sunday
Batten down the hatches! This Sunday our Senior High Youth are taking over! All that energy, all that joy for the Lord—will we ever be the same? Covenant has been blessed with a group of young people and young-at-heart leaders who truly enjoy one another, this congregation, and the God that calls us all together. Our youth have talked a lot this year about wonder—about seeing this wonderful world God as created with open eyes and hearts, with a simple love and joy that sometimes gets lost the older we get. This Sunday, the youth are going to help lead us back to that love, that joy, that sense of wonder.
When I look around God’s creation, I find myself in awe and wonder at the most random things. Sometimes I’m moved by the way a person helps out another; sometimes I’m brought to tears just watching my cats take care of one another (yes, my cats). Every time I’m brought to that place where all the world’s problems and harsh realities sift away for just one moment, one moment where the goodness of God’s world is so evident, I am thankful. As we look forward to a wonderful Sunday filled with wonder and worship, I encourage you to think about the moments you find yourself filled with that reverent awe, that unabashed joy, that sense of wonder.
When I look around God’s creation, I find myself in awe and wonder at the most random things. Sometimes I’m moved by the way a person helps out another; sometimes I’m brought to tears just watching my cats take care of one another (yes, my cats). Every time I’m brought to that place where all the world’s problems and harsh realities sift away for just one moment, one moment where the goodness of God’s world is so evident, I am thankful. As we look forward to a wonderful Sunday filled with wonder and worship, I encourage you to think about the moments you find yourself filled with that reverent awe, that unabashed joy, that sense of wonder.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
what am I? apparently...
I've done a lot of "what religion/theology are you" internet quizzes over the years (what can I say, ADD much), and found this one posted by Katherine at any day a beautiful change particularly interesting.
 | You scored as Neo orthodox. You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.
What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com |
Monday, April 02, 2007
christians in palestine
My friend Teri posted this on her blog and I thought I'd bring it over here. Given John's sermon yesterday, this seems particularly poignant.
"Ahead of Easter" - report from Palestinian Christian NGOs
"We are about to welcome the Easter season after forty days of fasting. To us, Easter is a reminder of the suffering, crucifixion, and most importantly, the resurrection of Jesus. In our Land, traditional celebrations have been taking place for centuries, such as the processions of local communities, scouts, participating in Palm Sunday, and Saturday of the Holy Fire celebrations from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
"Processions and traditional celebrations are governed by the Status Quo over the course of many years. Such celebrations have been taking placed uninterrupted. However, in the last few years the Occupation authorities are impeding the celebrations, especially the Saturday of the Holy Fire celebrations of the Orthodox Church. The Occupation authorities are preventing worshipers from reaching the Church of the Holy Sepulcher or celebrating in the yard on the roof top of the Church, and are preventing the traditional joyful celebration march and the procession of the banners.
"Easter celebrations are hostage to the whims of the Occupation authorities, as part of policies that are racist and that aim to push Christians to immigrate. The Occupation authorities are imposing strict restrictions on the movement of Christians during Easter week, and are preventing Christians from reaching the churches, and are adopting a policy that prevents Palestinian Christians from other parts of the West Bank from reaching Jerusalem to celebrate Easter. Also, barriers are put near the gates of the old city of Jerusalem, especially in the area leading to the Christian quarter, Herod’s Gate, and the roads leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in order to deny worshipers their right to pray freely. A new phenomena now, is the huge presence of Israeli police inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher with their weapons, which violates the sanctity of the Church and religious traditions.
"Therefore, we, members of the Christian community in Jerusalem, are calling upon our fellow Christians around the world, and the Heads of Churches as well, to put an end to Israeli violations of our right to worship freely in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, so that Christians will be able to enter the Church to pray."
Source: Palestinian Christian NGOs, 20 March. 2007
"Ahead of Easter" - report from Palestinian Christian NGOs
"We are about to welcome the Easter season after forty days of fasting. To us, Easter is a reminder of the suffering, crucifixion, and most importantly, the resurrection of Jesus. In our Land, traditional celebrations have been taking place for centuries, such as the processions of local communities, scouts, participating in Palm Sunday, and Saturday of the Holy Fire celebrations from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
"Processions and traditional celebrations are governed by the Status Quo over the course of many years. Such celebrations have been taking placed uninterrupted. However, in the last few years the Occupation authorities are impeding the celebrations, especially the Saturday of the Holy Fire celebrations of the Orthodox Church. The Occupation authorities are preventing worshipers from reaching the Church of the Holy Sepulcher or celebrating in the yard on the roof top of the Church, and are preventing the traditional joyful celebration march and the procession of the banners.
"Easter celebrations are hostage to the whims of the Occupation authorities, as part of policies that are racist and that aim to push Christians to immigrate. The Occupation authorities are imposing strict restrictions on the movement of Christians during Easter week, and are preventing Christians from reaching the churches, and are adopting a policy that prevents Palestinian Christians from other parts of the West Bank from reaching Jerusalem to celebrate Easter. Also, barriers are put near the gates of the old city of Jerusalem, especially in the area leading to the Christian quarter, Herod’s Gate, and the roads leading to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in order to deny worshipers their right to pray freely. A new phenomena now, is the huge presence of Israeli police inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher with their weapons, which violates the sanctity of the Church and religious traditions.
"Therefore, we, members of the Christian community in Jerusalem, are calling upon our fellow Christians around the world, and the Heads of Churches as well, to put an end to Israeli violations of our right to worship freely in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, so that Christians will be able to enter the Church to pray."
Source: Palestinian Christian NGOs, 20 March. 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Hee
I was going through pictures on the 'puter to pick some for print... came across this which just cracked me up. My sister Beth and my friend Lisa hamming it up at Williamsburg.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Ah, tea...
I heard from some friends the other day about this new place downtown, the Tea Bazaar. Today my ministry assistant and I went to drink some tea while we worked on an upcoming worship service. Oh, how wonderful it was! It's located on the first floor of the Stonewall Jackson Building, right across from Trinity. The inside is open and airy, with such a simple and relaxing ambiance. Along with various teas, they also offer simple international foods, the specials changing from day to day. We ordered two pots of Masala Chai and sat down at a "traditional" table - a raised area where we had to take off our shoes, sat on cushions on top of a bamboo mat, with a glass table that sat on top of what looked like an upside down stew pot. It was perfect! We both had more than enough tea (next time, we're sharing a pot) and enjoyed the atmosphere as we worked. It's one of those places that just makes you take a deep breath and smile, contented.
Here's to Staunton and its ever evolving downtown!
Here's to Staunton and its ever evolving downtown!
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