Category Archives: faith

An Anniversary and Bosc Pears

What is an anniversary but a way to keep the days and years from running together? Like a landmark along the unremarkable stretch of I94, an anniversary catches our attention, disrupts the routine, and makes the journey more interesting.

Last Sunday, the congregation I serve completely surprised me by recognizing the 15th anniversary of my installation! I am still in awe of their sneakiness! And grateful for their love in Christ. Together, we pulled off the interstate and noticed the landmark.

Today marks a different kind of anniversary, another sacred landmark on the journey. One year ago, my dear friend Terry who had been my boss at the Luther Seminary Bookstore long ago, died of lung cancer. I am telling you this story because he was my cheerleader, the very first person to subscribe to this blog. I am telling you this story because people who shape your life become landmarks on the road.

I could tell you all about my friend who was the perfect image of health. My friend, who introduced me to bosc pears, one of his favorite snacks. He emailed me every single week to encourage his pastor friend and ended each email with a benediction he’d heard at worship that week at his beloved congregation.

Terry grew up and lived in Eau Claire until he took the bus to Connecticut and then walked to Yale University caring a single suitcase. He would never let you in on the secret that he was brilliant. During his internship as he studied to become an ordained pastor, he heard a new calling. He was called not to be a minister of Word and Sacrament, but to be a minister of the Word. He sold books, but that’s not quite right. He put words into the hands of people hungry for the Word.

I could tell you all about my friend, but instead I will tell you that anniversaries are an invitation to give thanks for the people who enrich the journey. Today, I am so grateful for my friend, as I live now in the presence of his absence. And I am awakened again to the fragility and wonder of this life, and the surprises along the way.

To mark this anniversary, I will snack on a bosc pear while you are encouraged to download a free e-book edition of my book, Spiritual Longing in a Woman’s World. If you already downloaded it, you may not be able to download it again, so tell a friend! It is free all day long today only. If you have read it, please share an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads.

Photo by Fernanda Martinez on Unsplash

Disruption at the Communion Table

Like a speed bump not meant to be seen but only felt, the holy surprises you. The holy, or a moment the veil between heaven and earth is lifted, when an ordinary task is accompanied by a deeper and mysterious sense. It is an unexplainable feeling from within that there is more going on than can be seen.

When your day is disrupted by the holy, you know it. And sure, the holy is a beautiful disruption, but still, a disruption. Holiness can really get in the way. As you move through your day and follow your routines, holiness is like the prick of a tiny needle. You remember, if only for a moment, that the air around you is keeping you alive and don’t you forget it. You are alive because all kinds of mini-miracles have occurred in your life. You are alive, caught up in the beauty of life and the mysterious presence of the Spirit.

Last week, when the Communion meal was complete, I was putting the dishes back on the credence table for the thousandth time. I truly love the routine of putting these dishes away after a community has been fed with mercy for the neighbor. When I set down the last of the dishes, the holy, the speed bump, the prick of a needle woke me up. My heart sunk deep in my chest and tears poked at my eyes. It suddenly struck me how incredibly humbling it is to carry the old dishes that have been held by how many pastors before me. They held up the same old silver cup and told the same old, old story of a Savior who would do absolutely anything to fill you with God‘s love, to fill you with God‘s mercy, to fill you with his body and blood. And there I was, disrupted in my routine, pricked by the holy, and all I was attempting to do was stay within the sacred 60-minute bounds of Lutheran worship.

But holiness is a speed bump that cares not how fast you are moving through life, or how smoothly you are handling the everyday routine. The Spirit will remind you in speed bumps and pinpricks that your life is not your own. The air you breathe does not belong to you. The silver dishes I put away do not belong to me. You, mere mortal, beloved child, do not even belong to you.

“Slow down,” the holy nudges. “Take a peek. Here is life.”

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Treasuring

In perhaps the longest sermon Jesus ever preached, he gave a lesson on prayer. In Matthew 6, Jesus covered how to and how not to pray. He illustrated insincere prayer as attention-seeking and wordy. Sincere prayer, on the other hand, happens in the dark corners of the world and in our hearts.

Prayer from the heart and treasure, it seems, are related. What you pray unveils what you treasure. “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21)

Look around your heart. What are you treasuring these days? Truly treasuring? Do your prayers tell the secrets held in the dark corners of your heart? Do your prayers reach the dark corners of the world?

Take a moment now to pray, for your words are a treasure to the God who shines mercy into dark corners.

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Gratitude Can Be Dangerous

Gratitude can be dangerous.

When gratitude becomes one way to recognize one person or family as more blessed than another, it is dangerous.

Gratitude is not meant to open our eyes to how good we have it and how bad others have it. “At least we aren’t him,” Job’s friends said in the pitying look they exchanged. Gratitude is not eye-opening, but heart-opening. It is the moment our hearts open up to the hard truth that life, at times, can be too much for any of us. Gratitude recognizes that even a moment of peace is a gift from God.

Gratitude is meant to turn our attention away from ourselves to the hand of the giver, who gives not unjustly, but in hopes that all we have would involve a borderless we – a we that stretches and expands like the pantyhose that left all women itchy and irritated.

Gratitude is never dangerous as long as covers the bold and the meek, the haves and the have nots with the same sheer delight that somehow, somehow, a planet full of broken human beings keeps spinning.

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The Best Parenting Analogy

The best parenting analogy I know came from a 7-8th grade school counselor several years ago. She described walking through a tall corn field as a kid and trying to find her way to her mom. When she couldn’t find her mom because the stalks were so tall, it was scary. As she grew older and taller, it became easier to find her way. She could see more of the field until finally she could see as far as the grown-ups.

Parents and guardians need to recognize the limited view of a kid. We cannot expect kids to see as far as the adults. Their limited view can sometimes be scary. Because they cannot see as broadly as the adults, we need to meet them where they are at any particular time in their lives.

I was remembering this analogy this morning when I wondered, in befuddlement, whether the prefrontal cortex of my teenagers will ever, ever, form into one developed brain. Their sleep patterns, morning routine, study habits, priorities and diets are an utter mystery to me. I had an entire conversation that luckily stayed in my head. “Why don’t you…?” “My Lord, it would be so much easier if you…” “Honestly, what the what…?” Time for more coffee.

I remembered then that they can only see so much of the corn field. For now, I will meet them where they are, which is just where they should be. I will keep the conversation in my head and love them with their glacial formation prefrontal cortexes because they are exactly who God needs them to be at this particular time in their lives.

Parenting is one long practice in self-restraint. My work isn’t to change my kids as much as it is to be aware of conversations that mostly need to remain in my head. It is getting more crowded up there, for sure, but I’ll keep making room.

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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