Lisa Lewton

When One Feeling Isn’t Enough

Last week, I spent a few days with my colleagues in Western North Dakota at an annual theological retreat. We both retreated by resting and catching up, and engaged in theological learning and discussion. It’s no secret that Western North Dakota is not the most desirable location in the country to do ministry! Lutherans leaders often prefer to land in a metro area, and so what leaders in other areas might miss is a tight-knit collegial community. It is tight-knit because we know we need each other to survive! There is no sense of competition among churches, but instead a culture of support.

And so when the conversation at our retreat centered around processing the past year and looking ahead at the work yet to do, there was a flood of feelings. There was grief and hope, disappointment and gratitude, mercy and frustration, all at once.

Did you know you can feel at least two feelings at once? You do it all the time. You feel love for your spouse and also utter shock that the two of you are still married. You feel gratitude for your child and ongoing irritation that said child continues to leave a trail of messiness throughout the house. You feel content in your life at the same time you feel curious that there might be something more.

There are so many feelings in the world right now! It might be helpful to remember your neighbor may be as confused about her feelings as you are about yours. I live in one of the Covid-sickest parts of the country, so while I’m grateful people have started reconnecting at the church I serve, I feel deep concern for people’s health. Should we be gathering? I think, yes. Should we be cautious? Also yes. Is it good for our souls to gather in the same space? Absolutely yes. Even now? I think, yes.

Argh. It’s no small task to be human these days, with so many feelings bubbling inside of us. I encourage you today to take note of your feelings. Here is a link with a list of feelings if you need some help. Then, you might ask a friend or people in your family to do the same. My very favorite tool to engage you in conversation around feelings with your own self or with others feelings are GROK cards.

There is a lot going on in your life if you start to dig around a bit. As I learned in a room full of pastors, deacons and a flood of feelings, naming the truth of what we are experiencing is an invitation for Christ’s healing love.

Why You May Never Want to Be Lutheran

If the term “Lutheran” is unfamiliar, it is a way to practice the Christian faith. There is a wide variety of denominations (branches of the Christian church) within the Lutheran faith that range from more conservative to more liberal, based on how that denomination reads the Bible. I serve as a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). As I refer to the Lutheran faith in this post, I am speaking of the ELCA because it is the Lutheran practice most familiar to me.

I am a Christian who is Lutheran, which is something you may never want to be. Yesterday I complained to my colleague how challenging it has become to choose hymns for worship, when the tune that is more familiar might be the one with the term “scepter”. Prior to “Game of Thrones”, that word, for some people, might have called to mind Christ the king, but now, it is less likely.

We love our old hymns and our old ways in this relatively old faith tradition. In the 500+ years the Lutheran faith has existed, the world has experienced droughts and wars and fascist leaders and economic disasters. Hurricanes have devastated countries and native people in parts of the world have been mistaken for objects.

Each time tragedy strikes, the Lutheran faith has had something to say, albeit sometimes too late. You may never want to be Lutheran because we have a deep-seeded belief that this world’s tragedies do not become our story. We need not be consumed by the state of the world, no matter how messy that state may be, because we proclaim a faith not shaped by hand-drawn boundaries. To be Lutheran is to be less caught up in “faith over fear” and much more caught up in “faith for the sake of our neighbor”. A Lutheran’s focus does not land on personal freedoms and rights, but on our neighbor’s well-being.

But that’s just a Lutheran thing. Again, it might not be your thing.

This old world has a way of returning to times of unrest, based on how much we don’t like “the other”. We simply change how we identify “the other”. “The other” has been the Jews, the slaves, the Yankees, the AIDS victims, the women, the immigrants, the homosexuals, the blacks, the Native Americans, the liberals, the conservatives. When Ecclesiastes wrote almost 3,000 years ago that there is nothing new under the sun, he may as well have written that yesterday!

A couple of weeks ago I deleted Facebook from my phone. To post devotional material for Devotions from the Badlands and my writing page, I have to go the long way and log on from my laptop. That simple omission from my iPhone has brought a great wave of relief. I no longer lazily click the blue logo that lures me into the maelstrom of memes and misinformation. I feel so much better! And to tell the truth, I’ve been sleeping better, too.

Even I, who know a few things about the Lutheran faith, can get turned around amid the intensity of this pandemic. Even I can forget that God alone is our refuge and our strength, which Lutherans interpret to mean we wonder how to provide refuge for the neighbor who lacks strength. For example: the immunocompromised, people too young for vaccinations, families who have experienced so many quarantines because they have followed the CDC’s guidelines, long-term care residents, and people who live in impoverished American neighborhoods where the average life expectancy now falls even further behind where you likely live.

The Lutheran faith is not for everyone. It’s much easier to keep the anger streak going on Facebook than it is to face the needs of our neighbor. Logos like “faith over fear” are much more compelling than “faith for the sake of our neighbor”. That would make a terrible meme. It’s not catchy at all. Not even the word “scepter” could redeem it.

I suspect there is a well of good questions that might create conversation with kids to notice how our actions impact the vulnerable. What our faith has to say when we share memes that demean another human being. Who “the other” is right now and when you were growing up. How the needs of our neighbor matter more than our being right and more than our individual rights.

The Lutheran faith is old, but not as old the Savior (with the scepter) whose love was first and foremost for “the other”.

Garden Variety Apocalypse

There is an impressive garden I pass by on my walks with Pippen. The couple who tend this garden have made a serious commitment to the earth. In the spring, they faithfully till and plant and then I get to witness the magical way seeds transform into food. Green, red, purple, and orange stain the growing garden until suddenly sections disappear. It is a vegetable apocalypse with raptured tomatoes! A cucumber diaspora and a scattering of green beans.

The apocalypse occurs in tandem with the first weeks of school. As vegetables disappear from gardens, kids disappear from home (or for homeschool or online students, kids disappear from their summer lives). I felt the change today, my designated day off, when I came home from the school drop off to a quiet house. Pippen greeted me with his eyes on the door in hopes that another human or two would follow me. Surely, he acknowledges the difference, too. A grown-up at home and no kids means his extensive naps will go uninterrupted.

The diaspora of vegetables and school-aged kids are clear evidence that our days are not meant to look the same for any long period of time. The rhythms of a school year and gardening might teach us to hold life lightly and expect it to change. Life is not built for white, clasping knuckles, but for loose grips.

If God is in the details, God is certainly in the plucking of cucumbers from their vines, and in the student’s march from the car or bus to the classroom. Garden apocalypses will continue as sure as your own life will change. There is a steadiness that comes when big and small changes invite you into a long conversation with God.

“God, this is different…”

“God, why can’t tomatoes taste this amazing all year long?”

“God, can you be more generous with the carrots and go easy on the zucchini? Just an idea.”

“God, this part is really nice and this part is hard…”

“God, what might change next?”

“I know, God, you will be there then, too.”

Walking With My Favorite Devotional App

( Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com )

Saturdays are my favorite devotion day. On Saturdays, the app I use, Pray As You Go, walks me through Examen as I walk my dog through the neighborhood. What is Examen, you ask? It is wonderful and has nothing to do with exams! Examen is a spiritual prayer practice taught by the Jesuits. In this practice, you look back at your day and pay attention for God’s activity. You notice how you spent your time and you remember (because you probably forgot) that God spent all of that time with you. What do you notice as you look back? When did you experience tension? When did you feel most alive?

That was one question in today’s Examen. Reviewing the headlines of the past week, I recognized I felt most alive writing liturgy for September worship services, connecting with my love of writing. I felt most alive when I visited with St. John folks over the phone and in person, connecting with the church I’ve been called to serve. I felt most alive sitting at a table or leaning over the kitchen counter listening to my kids recall their first two days of school.

When did you feel most alive in the past week?

It is amazing what you notice when you look back! We often have a better angle on our lives when we look back. The view isn’t always pretty, just to be honest. I had to see again that I snapped at my spouse. I worried more than I needed to regarding the state of the world. I could have stewarded my time more carefully. And so we look back with a lens of self-compassion. Every day, we start over. Looking back, I could see that yes, I did apologize to my spouse and I did tell God what I’m worried about. I did pay better attention to the precious resource of time. Looking back at a week encourages you to let go.

What spiritual practice helps you to let go? Do you journal, spend time in silence, or walk? This app has been my faithful walking companion (along with Pippen, who doesn’t actually care about my devotional practices), for the past six months after my colleague mentioned it. I simply added it to what I was already doing.

Please wonder today what practice might be a worth a try. What might fit well into your life, even if it takes a bit of discipline? What might encourage you to be more gentle on yourself? You don’t need to commit for life, just for now.

A Christian Way to Talk About the World With Kids

Have you ever noticed how you talk about the world with kids? What age-old words or phrases do you let slip without realizing? Do you call the world “dangerous”? Or explain tragic events by concluding, “The world can be a terrible place,” or, “There are bad people in the world.”

I also wonder how you refer to decision-makers. Are all politicians awful? And lawmakers corrupt? How do your own headlines and editorials shape the way kids around you understand the function of the government?

As any teacher will tell you, kids speak of the world with the narrative they learn at home. Your family’s unique language is their first tongue to articulate an understanding of the world around them. If at home you speak of a corrupt government, your child will do the same at school. If all politicians are distrustful as you process the news at home, distrust may plant a seed that will later blossom into endless conspiracy theories.

The Buddhist are perhaps the first to point out that humankind is aptly named. Our early orientation toward strangers is most often kindness. If you smile at a toddler, that child will naturally smile back. It happens every Sunday during the sermon when people sitting near a baby will hear almost none of the sermon due to the steady, heartwarming exchange of glowing smiles.

We live in a time in the United States when deeply-rooted conspiracy theories are shaping events and nurturing distrust. In my corner of the world, generations-old distrust of the government has placed a filter over information related to the pandemic. And that makes me wonder about younger generations that continue to learn distrust as a first language. I suspect conspiracy theory is handed down and learned at home.

All that is to say, what might be the Christian way to talk about the world with kids, particularly at home. Here a few ideas:

Do not avoid the words “I don’t know.” We are inundated with both true and false information and we do not always know the difference. A shrug of the shoulders prevents us from thinking we are always right.
Check out the Bible. It blows my mind whenever I read Old Testament stories of how God used “the bad guy” to deliver his word. Jonah was sent into “enemy territory.” Jesus befriended the wrong “political parties.” The fall of the Berlin wall is a good illustration of how God responded to separating humans based on political allegiance.
Start a conversation. Ask kids, “How is God in the world right now?” As we watch the terror unfold in Afghanistan, how is God with the people? What does God need from us to care for the strangers we see in the news? Even a prayer for people far away makes us more than strangers. Also, asking kids a question reminds us that they know far more than we assume!
Scan yourself for anger. Anger can be productive, but it can also be wildly unproductive. If your anger makes you feel self-righteous, keep that in check. Your kids may learn to be angry with people only because they think differently than they do. Warning: Self-righteous kids are the most annoying friends in high school and college. Try to avoid raising those.
Remind kids a basic tenet of the Christian faith. Our faith does not put our absolute trust in a human leader, but only in our Lord. Only God deserves our total allegiance. Only God will save us. Only God will lead us through this life into the next one. Human leaders cannot promise salvation, so if you sense yourself buying into such a promise, back up a bit.

While it is a challenging time to raise kids, it is an excellent time to be in conversation with them. We all need help processing what we see in the news. It is easy to avoid, but we need to talk about why there are people who drive around our neighborhood with flags in their pick-up trucks for my 9-year old to read F— Biden. I wonder why that person feels so strongly? I don’t know, but I’m sure there is a reason. He/she is a child of God, too.

Waiting For School, Waiting For Cooler Weather, Waiting For Supper

Waiting for the laundry to finish, waiting for mom to buy more granola bars. Waiting for the cookie jar to refill itself, waiting for that device to charge. Waiting for the eggs to cook, waiting for kids to stop bickering. Waiting for the movie to begin, waiting for tomatoes to ripen.

I am impatiently waiting for the tomatoes! So many tomatoes in my backyard. Any moment now, I’m sure, they will show their true colors: red, purple, and yellow. Then I will smile a loving smile and make a BLT.

Impatiently is one way to wait. I can watch tomatoes impatiently and water them impatiently. Waiting impatiently is a sure formula to miss the details. If I am too impatient, I won’t notice the earthy smell of the leaves that have been working hard for months to grow. I won’t notice that sneaky orange cherry tomato I overlooked earlier. I won’t notice how wild it truly is that our food comes from tiny seeds!

Waiting impatiently mutes the wonder. It hurries us through the minute, the hour, the day, the lifetime. Wait impatiently and your frustration might get the best of you. Wait with wonder and your senses might perk up.

In these weeks of prelude to the school year, I am waiting for kitchen counters to stay clean all day long, and for someone else to make their lunch. I am waiting for the return of the beloved routine, and for kids to enter new challenges.

I will take another stroll by the yet-to-ripen tomatoes to avoid becoming too impatient in my waiting. They may remind me that suddenly they will be big and ready to leave the vine. I may never get such a privileged close-up view of their growing up. Every moment I’ve been waiting, they’ve been transforming. And I tell them as I wait and wait, that they are the most wondrous tomatoes I have ever laid eyes on.

The Magic of the 20-Second Hug

When I was a little girl, I had a persistent light cough that was attributed to dust. Among the many tactics we tried to eliminate allergens in our house to limit the coughing was a mostly strict ban on stuffed animals. Only my two plush puppies, Rover and Scrappy, survived the ban.

While no allergy is ideal, this one had its perks. No stuffed animals were allowed to move in. Meaning, my mom could say no to any and every such request.

Thirty-years later, my mom says yes to every such request from her granddaughter, which is how I ended up with a giant, red, heart pillow with the words “100% Huggable” from a garage sale last week. Where, I ask you, does one put a giant, red, heart pillow with the words “100% Huggable” in one’s home? Oy vey.

While the pillow is not my favorite, it is cool because my daughter picked it out for me, and because the words have a ring to them. I recently learned of the 20-second hug. Perhaps I read it somewhere or caught it in a podcast. Simply put, hugging your partner for at least 20 seconds (in one continuous hug) is magical. Consider. You cannot naturally hug someone you are annoyed by for 20 seconds. Eventually in those 20 seconds, you probably decide he/she is not so bad after all.

Please test the theory and if it doesn’t work for you, I have a pillow that could be your consolation prize.

In Case You Are New Here…

If you recently found my blog, welcome! It is exciting to me that you clicked your way here. Let me tell you what you need to know.

I am a full-time pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). While writing is one of my loves, my main gig is serving St. John Evangelical Lutheran Church in Dickinson, N.D. You will see a new blogpost about once a week.
You can subscribe to my blog and be among the first to read my latest posts. On the right (if you are on the homepage), type your email and hit the SUBSCRIBE button. A monthly Sabbath Moments newsletter will also hit your inbox, with an exclusive blogpost and extra photos, and encouraging words as we follow Jesus together.
I post two-three memes weekly on Facebook and Instagram. To follow me on Facebook, search for @lewtonwriter, and on Instagram, @lisa.lewton. You will know you are in the right place if my book is the profile picture.
Thank you to Kaylee Garling for her article in the August Heart River Voice publication! You can read our conversation inspired by my book. On the next page, you can also read a review of the book written by my friend and fellow voracious reader, Audrey McMacken.

Peace be with you through the ordinary days, as we start over again and again firmly in the grip of Christ’s mercy.

Sabbatical Last Corner

(Rounding a curve on a walk near Wisconsin Dells,
where my family vacationed last week.)

Here it is! The final day of sabbatical before re-entering congregational life. These past three months have been, as I have told you so many times, a gracious gift to my family and to me. What I haven’t made clear is how a sabbatical is a gracious gift to a congregation as well.

The last corner of a sabbatical begins tomorrow when I open the door to my cozy office for the first time in 12 weeks, set the books I read on their shelves, find a home for a new little sign I found in a thrift store, and finally, encounter people’s faces.

I have missed the staff at St. John and I have missed my worshipping community. In our time apart, so much has happened! The staff did their work week after week without me. What inside jokes did I miss? What went right/wrong that now makes for a great story? Who bought them coffee while I was away? (I sure hope someone did that!)

And what was worship like Sunday after Sunday? How did Jesus show up in the lives of the people in the pews and on Facebook and on the other side of the radio broadcast? They heard a faithful and creative line-up of preachers. And I missed the funerals of beloved members of our community. What else did I miss? And what did the congregation miss from me as I took a deep sabbatical breath and wasted so much time with Jesus? They will hear those stories from the pulpit. Hearing their stories is the trickier business.

Story-swapping is the last curve on the sabbatical trail. In the stories, we will hear what Jesus has been up to in our lives and in our community of faith. Those stories will shape the next leg of our journey together. Will my realization that I don’t take enough time to pray and reflect impact our community? What difference might my ponderings around worship, after worshipping in many communities in-person and mostly online, make in the one hour people are most likely to gather as members of the body of Christ at St. John?

The answers, I hope, will be found in our story-swapping conversations. So be ready, folks at St. John, to tell me what I missed, what you noticed, what you now ponder, too. And Jesus will meet us there.

Sabbatical

A few pages back on the calendar, two things happened. I began my sabbatical and we entered road construction season! Near my house, a significant project continues where crews have been sweating it out week after week. Thanks be to God for people who make it possible to get from here to there.

The conclusion of the project near my house will be most welcomed by everyone. For workers, an end to the sun brutally beating down on them throughout this inordinately sweltering summer. For businesses nearby, easier access for customers. For moms, no more worry that kind-looking SLOW/STOP sign-holders are judging how often they drive by (sports practices, the pool, camps, coffee dates, repeat).

None of us will freely admit that sometime “down the road” in the future, we will do this all over again. No road is fixed forever! Roads, like people, require a substantial amount of regular maintenance to smooth things out. We never leave behind all the bumps. Always they exist, most noticeable when they rise to the surface, next to the patched-up cracks.

I am a couple of weeks away from my last day of sabbatical, which will happen before the end of the construction project is celebrated. Before the road is ready and perhaps before I am ready, I will enter the church building for the very first time in three months. (Such a sabbatical, by the way, is made possible by extraordinary ordained and lay staff and an encouraging Council. Thank you, Jesus, for every one of these people.)

These months have set me firmly in the slow lane. I have learned to look around and notice people, such as the people who live in the same house as me. I know them so much better now. I even talk more slowly most of the time. I learned to rest more, ask for help (that’s a fib, I didn’t learn that, I just wish I did), and to take time to write.

I like the slow lane. It’s quieter here and I don’t spend so much time worrying about running out of time.

It will take a few days or more, but I will merge back into the faster lane, even as I miss the slow lane. There is just as much to see in any lane you choose. What I learned in the slow lane will not be easily lost. I am too grateful.

So, down the road when the bumps present themselves, when cracks need patching, I can remember there is always a slow lane. It is open for any day trip, hour trip, minute trip to remember that we, like any road under our wheels, are never fixed forever. We wish repairs would happen faster and maintenance wouldn’t be so much work. But being human does require slow lanes, along with Jesus’ merciful maintenance of the bumps, and entire seasons of constructing self-compassion around the cracks. And somehow, that is enough to move you from one day to the next, from here to there.

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