Is There Ever Enough Coffee?

What is coffee but a dip in the eternal river with the communion of saints? Since its invention, most gatherings in churches have involved a percolator. My cup of coffee connects me to the generations before me who also often relied on coffee to fuel their dreams.

Dreaming is what churches are meant to do. At least, I hope that is still true. If you have been a devoted member of a congregation in the last three years, you might wonder. Along with other public gathering spaces, we stopped serving coffee for a couple of years. When the coffee stopped percolating, I wonder if it halted the percolating of dreams along with it.

Deacons and pastors of your churches can tell you that since Covid, our work now includes an intense and important ministry called digital ministry. If our budgets look the same as they did at the start of 2020, between the lines there are new expenses related to the time spent troubleshooting stream keys and researching digital hospitality. Because of digital ministry, people who are homebound or immunocompromised or too ashamed to walk into a church building or unable to get to the building are an active part of the worshipping body. Digital ministry is an incredible gift from God and I am grateful churches quickly learned to make it happen.

Beginning a new year, however, I now wonder if the intensity of this new ministry, along with other post-pandemic demands has made it difficult to be a church that keeps dreaming. Looking back, these have been busy years simply learning to move from one month to the next. Dreaming is the very best medicine for a church plagued by busyness and troubleshooting.

Is there ever enough coffee to keep fueling all the dreams? Of course. I can’t say what kind of triple espresso John the Baptizer consumed, but he was full of dreams. He proclaimed the news that the greatest dreamer of all was around the corner. And then he baptized the dreamer with water, as the Holy Spirit bestowed on him a renewed power to dream. With the Spirit as Jesus’ guide, he dreamed out loud that the addicted might find a home in the church. He dreamed that power would not be concentrated among people, but would concentrate on the redeeming love of God. He dreamed that children would be cared for, women would have a voice, and the abused would be healed.

That’s a lot of dreaming.

While we drink our coffee at churches, may we be fueled by the Spirit and filled with caffeinated dreams. May our dreams reach people on the other side of the screen, and those who have not yet heard about the dreamer who has come among us. The dreamer not only dreams of mercy for the broken, but became mercy for the broken. Lord, keep your church from becoming too busy to dream. Amen.

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Watering Can

Today, I imagine God carrying around a watering can.

Do you have indoor plants? For Mother’s Day last year, Marcus gave me a cute, mint green watering can with a big spout that creates a gentle rain shower. Along with the watering can, he gave me a container of pretty succulents which I somehow managed to murder. But the watering can remains cute.

Most preachers have water on the brain this week as we prepare for Baptism of Our Lord Sunday and the story of Jesus being watered by John. Jesus came up out of the water and a voice from heaven proclaimed, “You are my Son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased.”

We water what we care for: plants, people, animals, our own human body. Water sustains creation.

And there is something in that water.

I imagine God carrying a watering can filled not with water but with mercy. A splash of mercy here, a deluge of it there. Water for the person who will struggle today with addiction. Water for the family contemplating end of life decisions. Water for state legislators who face unlimited demands and limited resources. Water for tired teachers. Water for hectic emergency rooms. Water for the young mom who needs more sleep.

God’s watering can, of course, is not a cute mint green can, but human beings like you. Mercy comes from among us, pouring through our words. Our watering cans get clogged with judgement and scarcity and resentment. And mercy trickles out too slowly.

If you are the one in need of mercy today, even a trickle from the watering can might do. If you have mercy to spare, may it pour out of you in abundance.

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The Great Eight

As we close the book on 2022, here are my top eight favorite reads.

FICTION

  • “The Lincoln Highway”, by Amor Towles. When a friend recommended this book, the sheer volume of this volume left me feeling afraid! However, a few chapters in and I could hardly put it down. It is written from the perspective of several characters. With its light sprinkling of historical nonfiction, this was a fun read.

NONFICTION – HISTORY

NONFICTION – HEALTH/MEDICINE

NONFICTION – MEMOIR/ESSAYS

NONFICTION – PARENTING/SELF-HELP

NONFICTION – FAMILY SYSTEMS/SELF-HELP

In order to boil the list down to these eight, I had to leave out two series. Karis’ 4th grade teacher introduced her to Kate DiCamillo and Patchett dedicated an entire essay to DiCamillo in “These Precious Days: Essays.” Louisiana, Beverly and Ramie became endeared characters in our lives, along with Inspector Gamache. Gamache, the impressive creation of Louise Penny, has filled my ears (via air pods) these last few months. I am currently enjoying #8.

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Have I Learned Anything This Year?

In the last week in December, we tend to set our eyes on the year ahead. What can I get better at? How can I improve at being human? What torturous, calorie-depriving task shall I undertake in January?

I have answers to all 3. I’d like to get better at setting aside time to write on my day off. I’d like to improve at being focused in the office when I’m there and at home when I’m there. And I’d like I feel compelled to take a break from sugar in January.

These are phenomenal plans and planning is my happy place. Making your own individual goals does actually tend to make you a better human. Focusing on your own goals keeps you from making goals for other people, such as your spouse or child. They can make their own goals and would prefer it that way.

Could you also take a moment this week to set your eyes on the year now behind you. Not only will we celebrate the inbreaking of a new year this weekend, we can celebrate the send-off of 2022. The end of something deserves as much attention as the beginning of a new thing. This is a Christian practice. We are both ending and beginning people, believing there can be no beginning without a solid ending.

A new job follows the end of a previous job. A new relationship follows the end of another relationship. A new plan follows the end of an old plan. Resurrection follows a death. And a new year follows the end of an old year. And ending, therefore, is a sign of hope. It is only in the ending that God stirs up a new beginning.

Take a moment today to look back and have a talk with God.

  • What did you learn in 2022?
  • What surprised you?
  • What happened to your faith?
  • What was one of the most difficult experiences?
  • When did God renew your strength?
  • What do you need to let go? (A hurt, a dream, a stack of clothing you never wore)
  • When did joy bubble up inside you?
  • What did you learn you can do that you did not know you could do?
  • How did the year behind you prepare you for the year ahead?

Before you ring in a new year, wring out the old year. Say goodbye before you say hello. Embrace the ending and then embrace the new beginning.

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An American Advent: The Story That Leaves Us Hanging

You are a gingersnap away from An American Advent turning into Christmas. We have now sledded through Habakkuk, Esther and Isaiah.

  • First, we reflected on a word in which I encourage deeper reflection before you sit among differing opinions at the Christmas dinner table: justice. Justice happens when people work toward the same equitable goal. Justice is a touchy topic in America today, often confused with political positions.
  • We spent time with Esther, who bravely believed she need not wait for someone more important to make things better. On the news, America’s messes are the fault of politicians, which lets the rest of us off the hook. We complain as we wait for the important people to make it better. But Esther would not wait.
  • Last week we named how hard it is to begin a new tradition when we prefer old, familiar patterns. For example, how are the patterns of your family of origin troublesome when you gather for the holidays? When God’s people were caught in an old pattern of rebellion, Isaiah proclaimed the coming of a new pattern – one of love that would begin in a manger.

Finally, the Narrative Lectionary reading for the last Sunday in Advent is reserved for Joseph. We know so little of Joseph, it seems a strange way to conclude Advent. Only a dozen or so verses are dedicated to him in all the Gospels. The Bible calls Joseph “righteous.” We gather that he both knew the rules of his religion and followed them, as was expected. If we imagine Joseph’s religion to be a path, Joseph knew the way because he knew the rules.

What happened in Joseph’s dream in Matthew 1:18-25 might seem a likely prelude to Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. An angel appeared to Joseph to explain Mary’s pregnancy. (Either Joseph caught on quick, or the angel’s words here are abbreviated. Explaining a virgin conception in a single verse?!) In his dream, Joseph needed to understand why his fiancé was suddenly pregnant, however, this dream is not only about Mary expecting! This dream is the beginning of Jesus upsetting the righteous.

Throughout his life, Jesus upset righteous people like Joseph. He stepped onto people’s religious paths and begged them to see God as more than a religion for the righteous. God loved God’s people dearly, more than God loved rules. God loved the people more than God could put into words. So, God squeezed God’s tender love into one Word: his own Son, who would later be executed by the righteous for not following all the rules.

But this is an Advent devotion! Let’s not speed ahead to Good Friday.

This is An American Advent devotion. You are reading this in a time when many Americans have mixed up our politics with our religions, neither of which proclaim the birth of God’s embodied love. Both your political party and your own religion at times will disappoint because both are human inventions. The Word made flesh is our only hope.

  • The leaders of your political parties are not your saviors and they will not set you free. Only the Word made flesh sets you free.
  • People who follow the political party that opposes yours are the very people you need to work together for justice. If you draw a line in the sand between you and those with whom you disagree, the Word will annoyingly erase it.
  • Sitting back and blaming the leaders tricks you into believing you have nothing to offer to make this nation better. The Word proclaims hope through ordinary people like you.
  • Old patterns, even deep divisions between people on the left and right, can change. For you, it might begin at the Christmas dinner table. The Word is present when we pass the peace along with the mashed potatoes and gravy.
  • Religion is more than rules. At its best, religion pushes the faithful to recognize God’s love for all people and all nations. This Word has no margins.

Your wait through Advent is but a few more days. Despite our political disagreements and the old relationship wounds acquired during the pandemic, a few songs will unite us in the week ahead. Together we will sing of the angels, the shepherds, and the little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes. Our own cries of blame and bitterness will quiet into a silent night while candles real and battery-operated outshine our divisions, if only for a moment.

Christmas is the story that leaves us hanging. The Word made flesh does not fix our America. The Word made flesh instead insists on hope: hope that justice calls us to work together; hope that ordinary people can heal extraordinary division; hope that peace can indeed be passed with the mashed potatoes and gravy.

Blessings on your Christmas, that the Word made flesh might make an appearance at your Christmas dinner table dressed like you. Amen.

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An American Advent: New Things I Now Declare

New traditions are a bugger. Early in our marriage, I had no idea. I imagined my husband and I would start some of our own traditions. Perhaps weekly movie nights would be our thing, and a predictable and seamless sharing of holidays with our families of origin. Each Fourth of July, host our friends and serve our own unique meal, and each night share highs and lows with our kids.

Why are new traditions such a bugger? Because human beings are creatures of habit and practitioners of patterns. It’s why long-term diets are next to impossible and saving or spending money differently only gets harder with age. We learn one way and tend to stick with it.

Family patterns are no different. If you spend time with your family of origin (the family in which you grew up) this Christmas, you will notice patterns if you are willing to pay attention. Arguments begin the very same way. The same person will exasperate you and you will react in the same way you always do. Family patterns are the deep ruts of country roads.

This weekend’s Narrative Lectionary reading for the third Sunday in Advent has to do with patterns. God’s relationship with God’s people had developed a deep rut kind of pattern. God loved the people, the people turned against God, God opened God’s arms and they returned to God. God loved the people, the people turned against God…wash, rinse and repeat.

Into this old, endless pattern, the prophet Isaiah breathed a new one. Speaking for the Lord, Isaiah said, “See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.”

The new pattern emerged several hundred years later with the birth of the one for whom we wait this Advent. The Messiah dared to break the pattern. God’s people could not turn away from a God who needed holding, needed feeding, needed loving. God stepped out of God’s power to step into your life for good. The pattern of humanity turning away from God was broken, not by God’s people finally getting it right, but by God declaring a new pattern.

If God can change the pattern of God’s relationship with God’s people, why in tarnation is it so hard to stick with a new tradition?

I’ll tell you why. Because the forces at work in our families of origin are powerful beyond measure. The traditions of our family and the habits that then become our own are forever our default. Like an addiction, those old habits take over the wheel whenever we feel too tired to steer ourselves.

But there is hope! In Isaiah 42, the Lord named the new pattern, which I think is the hardest step. Naming a new pattern challenges not only the existing pattern but everyone who has a stake in it. If you decide to host Christmas and cook lasagna when your family of origin has only EVER eaten ham, then you are in for it. But you’ve named the new pattern; you have the steering wheel: lasagna, baby!

New patterns are magnets for resistors. But if your new pattern matters to you, and you sincerely explain it to your family, then please keep driving. You must know the way, and eventually the others may come along. If they don’t because they insist on ham and only ham everlasting for Christmas, then more lasagna for you. You’ve created a new pattern because it matters to you, and although you would prefer that your family of origin enjoy it with you, not every new pattern continues that way.

The pattern God declared in Jesus Christ, however, cannot be discontinued. The pattern of God’s love wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger smooths out the old ruts of our lives. No new tradition, or old and worn tradition can undo God’s desire to be with you.

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An American Advent: Esther

You will find them in the reeds when Moses floats down the river. She is the unseen young girl whose parents were taken during the war. Before anyone else finds out, the angel first proclaimed the good news for all the world to her.

The Bible is nothing if not shocking. When something big is about to happen, it does not first happen among the mighty and powerful. Elected leaders do not shape the story of Scripture. Those with political importance are only center stage when they have messed it up.

The infant Moses was saved when two young girls took charge. It is teenage Mary who first received the good news of Jesus’ coming. And no one suspected Esther.

Esther’s story is told in ten chapters that famously make no mention of God. She was a Jew raised by her Jewish cousin, Mordecai, after her parents were taken in the Babylonian Exile. When the non-Jewish king went on the hunt for a new pretty face, Esther won his favor. Later, Mordecai overheard a plot to exterminate the Jews and urged Esther to use her place in the king’s favor to stop it. He said, “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

This Advent series challenges you to notice an Advent hope for our own nation. In America, the land of the divided and the home of finger-pointers, we tend to look for hope in all the wrong places. We look for hope among the wealthy, the mighty, and within our own political party. We blame and bicker, boo and belittle.

And no one suspects Esther.

Upon Mordecai’s urging, Esther went to work. When no one suspects you of changing the world, you have plenty of permission to do so. And she did.

As America waits for a better economy, a better selection of political candidates, a better nation, Esther is a story of what to do while you wait. She wasted no time blaming or bickering. She, a young woman in a man’s world, the unseen girl with tragedy as her backstory, hatched a Shakesperean plan that concluded: “…and if I perish, I perish.”

While we spend these Advent weeks waiting for the birth of a Savior and waiting for Jesus to come again and waiting for a better America, how are you waiting? Are you blaming the leaders you elected because America does not look how you want? Are you bickering with those who see the nation differently when all this time you could be the unsuspecting whisperer of hope?

Let’s move the spotlight from the nation to the Christmas dinner table that awaits you. You know, the table you may be dreading because the very people who bother you most will be seated beside you. People who see the nation differently, or your family history differently. People you successfully avoid most of the year. I recently listened to a podcast in which a listener asked if it is possible to just end it with her family because she’d had enough of them. If you are dreading the Christmas dinner table, it appears you are not alone.

Esther saved a nation, and perhaps you could save Christmas dinner. How did she do it? She believed that what made her unique was exactly what was needed. Out of love for her people, she was brave and honest. She did not wait for someone more important to make a difference, she understood the one who could make a change was her.

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An American Advent: What Does Justice Have to Do with Advent?

Fighting for justice is the daily work of a mom of young kids.

While the word justice addresses big concerns such as hunger, poverty and racism, justice is also a concern at the Lego table. Years ago, the 19-month difference in my little boys’ ages nearly did me in, especially when Legos were involved! The more aggressive brother hoarded the Legos or disassembled his brother’s creation. Whatever each one had was never fair enough and the tantrums that erupted were Vesuvian. My job as a mom was to advocate for justice at the Lego table by asking questions of my two little boys:

  • Why can’t you at least let me shower before you fight?
  • But seriously, why are you so angry?
  • Can you tell your brother what you want?
  • How can you share what you have so the Lego table can be a fun place for both of you?

Justice is what happens when people work toward the same equitable goal. Justice is two little boys sharing Legos, even though it lasts only long enough for a mom to take a shower.

In America, justice is a touchy word. Currently, Americans are rather possessive of their notion of justice, applying the word only to their own political party – blaming the opposing party for threatening justice. But justice is not a partisan word, it is an Advent word.

The Narrative Lectionary reading for the first Sunday in Advent is spoken by the prophet whose name is pronounced more than one way. Habakkuk (HAB-ah-kuk or Hah-BAK-kuk) is advocating for justice. He is waiting for God to bring about equity for God’s people caught between the superpowers of the day: Babylon and Egypt. The future for God’s people is grim, so Habakkuk turns to God and says, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen?”

This is the faithful cry of Americans today, waiting for justice. How long, Lord, will our nation cling to their political parties? How long will we stand for the news to be delivered without integrity, deepening the divide between neighbors? How long will everything that’s wrong be the fault of everyone but our own selves? Lord, how long?

Next week, I will share the story of someone who believed it was her responsibility to advocate for justice. It was not the responsibility of the political powers of the day, or even the more powerful gender. She believed it was her own work to advocate for justice, which changes everything.

This week, consider your own understanding of justice.

  • In a journal or a conversation with a person or the Lord, what would justice in America look like and how much does your own political preference shape your understanding of justice?
  • Turning back to the questions at the Lego table, but seriously, why are you so angry?
  • Can you tell your brother and sister in Christ who may disagree with you how you want justice to look?
  • How can you share what you have so the Lego table America can be a fun place for both of you?

Eventually God responds to Habakkuk. In 2:1-5, God’s response threatens anyone who depends on wealth and pride. Wealth and pride do not bring about justice. Justice requires as much giving as getting, which is very difficult to teach both at the Lego table and in America. May justice begin in our own nation with your own honest reflection.

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Series Finale of a New Way to See Your Life: Look Closely, It’s a Butterfly

(Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com)

My annual eye exam includes putting on funky 3D glasses to spot an image hiding on the page. One of those images is a butterfly. (Do not use me to cheat on your eye exam, you have to find it yourself!) Wrapping up our five weeks of family systems thinking based on Roberta Gilbert’s book, “Extraordinary Relationships: A New Way of Thinking About Human Interaction,” the hidden image of a butterfly sums it up. First, let’s review.

Part One: Your own life is incredibly interesting. Instead of trying even harder to be a better human, imagine wearing a detective’s jacket. Look closely at your life. What matters to you? How are you pursuing your goals? How can you respond to life’s challenges more maturely? Systems theory is a way to responsibly look at your own life and identify unhelpful patterns you likely learned growing up.

Part Two: To handle stressful parts of our life, we often engage in triangles. When we are frustrated with a spouse, boss, friend, or parent we complain to a third party instead of directly dealing with the problem. We blame the other person in the conflict in order to keep from admitting our own contribution to the problem. We even hope to change people. The triangle keeps us from seeking a healthy solution.

Part Three: According to systems theory, each person is an individual self. At our best, we are connected to the people who matter to us without taking responsibility for them. This looks like two partners sharing the work of running a household, or a parent of young children working toward “an eventual equal relationship” with them (Gilbert’s phrase). Look at your life and see where there might be an over/underfunctioning relationship. Hint: it is a relationship that drains you.

Part Four: Fusion occurs when we care so much that we lose our own selves in the relationship. Trying to keep the peace, we keep our own hopes and dreams quiet. In pre-marriage counseling, when a couple tells me their parents never argued or disagreed, I wonder which one of them gave up their own voice for the sake of unity.

And finally, the moment you have been waiting for, the finale!

Systems thinking is a way to look at relationships within your family of origin (the family in which you grew up) and your generative family (the family with whom you live as a grown-up). In relationships, there is a level of anxiety. By anxiety, I mean emotional intensity such as fear, anger, or depression. The way in which you respond to anxiety has everything to do with what you learned growing up. Your challenge now is to notice your responses and become more responsible in how you handle them. You can only change yourself. The goal is not to evolve into a perfect human, but simply to be aware of your own self. We make progress when we are aware of our emotions without letting them take over.

To wrap things up, who do you know who handles stress well? Picture a moment when emotions are intense. At the family Thanksgiving table when your uncle spouts out his extreme political view, or at a board meeting in the thick of an argument. This person remains calm and speaks thoughtfully, stating his or her own views clearly. The person does not blame others, but is responsible for his or her own words and actions even though not everyone will agree. That person’s calmness eases the tension in the room.

This is an example of emotional maturity. When I meet with a couple that is stuck, I listen for the person who speaks without blaming. The person who can articulate the problem without blaming is the one person who can make a change in the relationship. He or she can see beyond the intensity of emotions to remain an individual self. This person has thought through what matters most and can tell you their own hopes and dreams. Although this person is connected to family, he or she does not depend on family to move toward goals.

What makes us timid with our own hopes and dreams? Of course, we do not want to disrupt our family. Being human is to have deep desires to feel connected to friends and family, and so we adapt our behavior to fit in. We sacrifice our own unique perspective and goals to keep the peace. This is like looking at my eye doctor’s 3D image and seeing only dots. No butterfly stands out.

The person you thought of earlier is like the 3D butterfly who does not get lost in the picture. It is the individual who keeps calm amid stress because that person knows what he or she stands for, while at the same time remains connected with the people who matter most. Being true to your own beliefs and goals might at times disrupt the lives of those whom you love.

My call as a pastor sometimes disrupts my family’s schedule. Because of the time and emotional complexity, my work demands more of each of the four people in my life. And yet, every time I complain to God about this, I am somehow affirmed that this is the work God needs me to do right now. My kids know I will miss some of their performances; if they want clean clothes, they need to do their own laundry; their time off might not match my time off. I need each of their own unique contributions to our family. They know I love them so much that I want them to learn to depend not only on me, but also on themselves.

My prayers for each of my three kiddos are shaped by my desire for their independence. “God, help them learn to trust themselves, for I know you are deeply a part of each of them.” The same individuality is true of my marriage. “Lord, thank you for this person who is so different from me, who encourages me to be myself.”

Systems theory teaches the way toward healthy relationships is to remain connected to your family of origin. If those family members are no longer living, have conversations aloud or on paper with the person who was the greatest challenge to you. Working out relationships with our own parents and siblings sets us up for better relationships with the next generation. This work can be scary, but you can handle scary on a day like Halloween! This scary work requires you to speak up when you might rather not, and to stay connected when you might rather end the relationship. At your best, you recognize the butterfly in the picture that is you, without letting your own unique self get lost in the demands of everyone else’s lives.

Why did God create people so differently, making relationships so challenging? Argh.

Here is a prayer to encourage you to keep learning about your life.

Good one, God, making as all so different. However, it’s hard to be impressed by your creative genius when you’ve made it an enormous challenge to share the same earth, same nations, same neighborhoods, same workplaces, same homes with people who drive me crazy. What I learned from generations before me created patterns in my life in all of these places. Grant me clarity to look objectively at my life to recognize the healthy patterns and to let go of the unhelpful ones. Give me courage to speak up, grace to forgive and let go, curiosity for my own life, and wisdom to stop trying to change other people. Thank you for making me this way, even though I still have so much to learn. And you have more than enough mercy for this lifelong learner, your beloved child. Amen.