Tag Archives: community

Hey, Don’t You Live Up There?

One Wednesday night at St. John is an adventure story. Within three hours, there is an intensity to the volume of delightful, multi-generational conversation, mishaps, tears and giggles. I love how this gathering reflects life as it truly is: imperfect.

Luther described a theology of the cross as God meeting us not in the positive, perfect moments, but in the thick of life. Call a thing what it is, Luther instructed. And so, we call our lives what they are: hurried and haggard at times, each day our best effort and nothing more. Christ did not die for our sins because we have our lives together, but because we do not.

I love Wednesday nights because this is what we live out – a theology not based on rewards for how well we are living, but a theology that solidly trusts in God’s grace through Christ. This gift of grace is enough. You do not need to do more, try harder, or get better.

Where you live, with your weariness and wondering, is exactly where God meets you. In the adventure story of Wednesday nights, we live out our imperfect lives fully trusting in God’s perfect grace.

The number of stories manifested on a single Wednesday night could fill a book, that is, if you could be on all three floors and in every corner of the building at the same time. Since I cannot, I can only report this small chapter.

I sat behind a young, conversational kiddo at worship. I was doing my best to listen to Christina preach, but my worship neighbor has not yet perfected the art of whispering.

“Hey, what’s your name?” she wanted to know.

“Lisa,” I whispered quietly, dropping a hint.

She gave me a hard look and then threw a glance toward the front of the church where Christina was speaking.

“Hey, don’t you live up there?”

“What?” I whispered, trying to set an example and failing.

“Don’t you live? Up there? Why aren’t you up there?”

Oh, I realized! She thinks my home is the chancel. That I make my bed beside the altar and eat bread and wine for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That I had left my home up front to sit in the back of the church.

She accepted my whispered answer, that it wasn’t my turn to be “up there,” and the night went on. During Communion distribution, she had one more thing to say to me, as she paged through the heavy hymnal.

“I like this book,” she announced. “And this is my church.”

There she was in a community of people who astound me each week. Parents and grandparents who have decided that passing along the Christian faith is worth the work of getting a young family to church, which can be a great deal of work. Many of these parents wear their fatigue on their faces, their time at church a brief intermission from running between kids’ activities.

Because my worship neighbor’s family almost never misses worship, this little girl may not be proficient at whispering, but she is wise enough to know St. John is her church.

The adventure book would capture other moments: grandparents teaching grandkids how to hold their hands for Communion; single parents who visit with their kiddos over supper with no cell phone in sight; a cook who lets nothing get in the way of her dedication to the ministry of the Wednesday night meal; kids who woke up that morning and announced to their moms that they can’t wait to eat at church; ordinary people who extraordinarily teach, mentor, sing, wash tables, bring dessert…

We do none of this perfectly. Perfect is not the goal, not the requirement, indeed not even a helpful aspiration. Perfect is the love of God, who also does not live “up there,” but here, among us, now and always.

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

Pray to the Lord on its Behalf

At this moment (along with many other moments) one of my neighbor kiddos is swinging in her backyard. She spends hours swinging – up and down, again and again. And again.

It has to be peaceful for her, which is ironic because it is the squeakiest, most annoying-sounding swing in the entire universe! It’s enough to drive a neighbor into insanity. Don’t believe me? Play this soundtrack in your head: squeak, squeak, squeak, eighty-five thousand more times! Perhaps tonight I can sneak over with some WD-40, like a thief in the night to steal the squeak.

And yet, the squeaking swing and the person on it are part of my neighborhood and part of my community. They both belong, despite the irritating squeak. My neighbor loves to swing and I love my neighbor (so do you if you do what Jesus says) and so all manner of things shall be well.

Neighborhoods and communities include squeaky sounds and squeaky voices. Bring people together, whether there are two or two hundred or two million and it quickly becomes a challenge to be next-door neighbors who belong to the same community.

We might forget that we belong to the same community. We might stick with our own tribe of people, live life through a Facebook group, or imagine that the community and the world were better years ago.

Associating only with people who are like us, communicating heavily through a screen, or betting on nostalgia are guaranteed ways to hinder community-building.

The people of God who had been exiled to Babylon were not interested in their new community. (Jeremiah 29) When they preferred to stick with their own people and recall their days back at home in Jerusalem, God gave this instruction:

"But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare." (Jeremiah 29:7)

God breaks the news that this is their community, even with its squeaky swings and voices.

When we pray to the Lord on the community’s behalf and work toward the well-being of the community, we work toward our own well-being.

This can only mean that whenever we neglect to work toward the well-being of the community, we neglect our own well-being. When your neighborhood suffers, so do you. When the community is not well, nor are you, so connected are neighbors in a neighborhood even if we do not know/speak/or appear to care for one another.

Daily, the Spirit issues invitations for you to be a conductor of well-being in your neighborhood.

  • Meet a next-door neighbor you haven’t yet met. Chocolate chip cookies are an excellent ice breaker.
  • Go somewhere in your community you’ve avoided because it might feel uncomfortable. Talk to someone who isn’t like you to see your community from a different angle.
  • And that Facebook group – Lord help us all. What might you do to work toward community well-being in the toxic Facebook groups? I tend to avoid it, but fortunately not all of you do. Some of you with great courage speak truth into lies.

Pray to the Lord on its behalf, God instructed God’s people. May our prayers lead us to actions that bring healing, presence that brings peace, and squeaky, persisting sounds of mercy. Again. And again.

Photo by Kaleb Kendall on Unsplash

Berry Season Forever Prayer

Dear Lord,

Please could it be berry season forever? Could all lands be lands of perpetual strawberry and blueberry harvest? I wouldn’t mind. I’d trade it for root vegetable season any day of the week! Potatoes and parsnips are no fun in yogurt parfaits.

This world is not as it should be. Berry season is temporary, much to my dismay.

On the list of complaints you will hear today, this is on the low end. Better that you tend to war refugees, among them thousands of Ukrainian children snatched up by the Russian army, an injustice that should get all our hearts racing. Could you, Lord, deal with corrupt governments, the production of opioids, and the disproportionate number of foster kids to foster parents? Your to-do list is long, I get it. My list is mostly laundry.

One human response to your long to-do list is fear, as though the world only recently became broken and the way through is to be afraid for the future, afraid of our neighbor, afraid of losing assets, afraid you’ve jumped ship and found another universe you like better.

Another response requires the long view, a look at your creation that takes the viewer back to the beginning. This response is more work, thus less desirable. We’re human, you made us, you get it. The long view reveals a season and a time for all things: a time for sweet berry harvests and another for hearty root vegetables; a season for peace but not for everyone, everywhere at the same time; a season for long days, another for long nights.

Like us, you long for the world to be as it should, to match your original dream. Out of love, you create scientists to contend with disease. You raise up an agency to fight for the safety of children and another to set up refugee camps. You call prophets and poets to speak truth. Again, your to-do list is lengthy and I see only in part, as Paul writes.

For today, I will enjoy the berry season. I will miss it when the days grow shorter. Then, the sun will set earlier and I will go to bed at a decent time and so will the rest of us, except for the teenagers. Lord, why did you make them so weird?

Thank you for berries, Lord, and all the ways you add sweetness to this life. Amen.

Photo by Will on Unsplash

Faith and Online Shopping

Over the weekend, with a gallon of paint and some help from Amazon, I updated one of my kiddos’ bedrooms. It had been a while. A bright orange wall is cool when you’re five, but ten years later it’s just obnoxious.

I had so much fun! I gave this kiddo four color options, washed an absurd amount of laundry in order to actually get to each wall, and listened to the Twins win while feeling quite victorious myself.

Bedroom updates are a quick click away with two-day-ish delivery in these parts of the world. And quick is ideal. We are busy people, shuffling from one busy day to the next. Who has time to go into a store and touch the fabric and look closely at the colors? Who has time to read a care tag to see where the item was made and look into whether the human beings making the item were treated fairly? Why bother when Amazon is so quick?

I questioned my own Amazon usage while listening to a Tsh Oxenreider podcast episode called “Making Things.” She makes a great argument for the importance of creating rather than going into autopilot and buying something new, even though it’s faster.

She also said something that was common practice perhaps before online shopping: When something breaks, try to fix it instead of immediately replacing it. I remembered this when the end of my old, small Pampered Chef spatula kept sliding off yesterday. “I’ll buy a new one,” I said to Marcus. “Or you could just glue it,” he suggested. He hadn’t even listened to the podcast! Anointed with super glue, the broken spatula has been made whole again, which required less time than scrolling and clicking.

The book “Being Consumed: Economics and Christian Desire” also has me reflecting on my online shopping practices. Quick clicks often leave no time to consider whose hands did the work of creating. Were those hands treated well? Were they hands that belong to a child? What was the cost of my quick (often cheap) click?

I appreciate the efficiency of online shopping, as well as the variety. I do not want to live without it.

This would take time, but what if shopping also became a way to practice your faith?

  • Pray for the creators of what you wear and use.
  • Dig deeper for more ethical or fair trade options.

These ideas require slowing down, an un-American suggestion. And these ideas might limit your options, also un-American. However, you might remember there is a human being on the other end of each and every thing you consume, and God has an opinion about that.

Before I rushed ahead and ordered cool wall hangings for my kid’s room, I realized I was carelessly clicking. Chances are I could make something cheaper, although probably not as cool. I would just need to slow down and think about it first, which I am.

Photo by Firmbee.com on Unsplash

What is Saving Your Life Now?

Barbara Brown Taylor shared this question in her book, “An Altar in the World.” A priest asked her to speak at his church in Alabama. “What do you want me to talk about?” Taylor asked him.

“Come tell us what is saving your life now,” he answered.

His answer was freeing for her. Her assignment was not to pinpoint a message that would be helpful for everyone, which is impossible. Instead, she could articulate how she understood her life at that time.

I once heard an author recall a conversation she had with Sylvia Boorstein, a more seasoned writer. She explained to Boorstein how she felt inadequate as a writer. She was younger and so many writers had more experience, both in life and as writers. Who was she to put words on paper?

Boorstein’s response sticks with me. She advised the new author to write what she knew so far.

Wonder today: “What is saving your life now?” Or, “What do you know so far?”

What might you learn if you slow down enough to stir these questions around in your heart and your mind?

  • What is keeping you going?
  • How does Jesus come alongside you these days?
  • What have you learned so far in your life?

When you reflect on these wonderings, you may be surprised at all that you know! Articulating what you already know offers you a road map for everyday living. Knowing what is saving your life now will help you decide what to do next and what to avoid. Recalling what you know so far will keep you from relearning the same annoying life lessons. Self-reflection keeps you from retaking the same tests over and over again.

But the reflection itself takes time. If you are “too busy” for self-reflection, your own wisdom is left behind. Perhaps you could take 20 minutes to journal your thoughts. Or find one person who will listen to you reflect aloud.

I’ll do the homework first.

  1. Parenting is exhausting. Parenting littles is physically tiring. Parenting olders is mentally tiring, but it’s essential that they know how much you love them even when they do dumb things. I’ve learned that hanging around is key. Be in the kitchen when they’re in the kitchen (which is often). Be in the room without being annoying. (This is hard for me because I like to ask questions.) Don’t ask too many questions.
  2. Yesterday I listened to a podcast that unpacked the importance of relationships. What I heard was how challenging marriage becomes when we expect our spouse to be our primarily emotional and intellectual connection. That one person cannot meet all of our human needs. I now understand, 46 years into life, how essential a friendship can be. Friendship, I learned in this podcast, is an indicator of longevity. And, healthy friendship encourages a healthy marriage because it helps us recognize our spouse is not responsible for meeting all of our needs for connection.

Right now, I know at least two things. And that is enough for now.

Photo by Milan Popovic on Unsplash

Let My Prayer Rise Up

“Let my prayer be set forth as incense before thee; the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.”

Psalm 141:2 (English Revised Version)

It. Is. So. Cold outside!!!

I say this as a person who gets to experience the cold by looking out the window. For the most part, I am safely tucked in a house where the furnace works properly, and I have an excuse to wear pajamas and drink hot beverages all day!

Yesterday was Sunday, which did require non-pajama pants. I wondered out loud at the start of the 8:00 am service, “What are we doing here?” Those of us in the pews had gone in and out of -30 degree weather. “This sermon better be good,” I thought to myself as I prepared to preach. Surely I was not the only one.

This day dedicated to Martin Luther King, Jr. is wonderfully a no-school-for-students day at my kids’ school. Staff had to go out in the cold, but buses did not. No one trudged to a bus stop, no one sat behind the wheel opening and closing a door while trying not to run behind schedule. No crosswalk supervisor had to bundle up and keep traffic moving.

The cold is an equalizer. We are, each of us, vulnerable to its fearsome bite. Creatures of every kind need prayers of mercy in weather like this.

As I witness the exhaust emerge from the furnace pipe of our house, I am reminded to pray. Thank you, Lord, for the luxury of indoor heat. For the protection of insulation hiding within the walls. For hot coffee in the cup keeping my hands blessedly warm.

It is often the case that looking around the interior of our own lives leads to prayers of gratitude. Faith begins with a word of thanks. Thanking God for heat and all manner of daily bread. Thanking God for faith in a Savior whose death and resurrection checked “Get to Heaven” off my to-do list.

Gratitude, however, is not the intent. Living a grateful life may be popular, #blessed, but love for the neighbor is Jesus’ intent. How is your impoverished neighbor in this cold weather? How are those working in emergency management and human services in this cold weather?

Let those prayers rise up like incense.

Photo by Julian Hochgesang on Unsplash

What Your Laundry is Telling You

Your laundry has something to tell you. And no, it has nothing to do with your favorite brand of detergent.

In 2014, Marie Kondo wrote “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” That’s when I learned to fold clothes. Her method is truly magical and involves setting each article of clothing from socks to sweatshirts upright in drawers. Instead of laying clothing flat, allowing only the item on top to be seen, Kondo’s method enables all the clothing equal opportunity.

Her method is partly informed by her Japanese religion, Shintoism. In the Shinto religion, every physical item contains the sacred. As Kondo folds pajamas in the morning, for example, she thanks the pajamas for a good night’s rest, acknowledging the sacred woven into the fabric.

In the Christian faith, pajamas are pajamas, although a good night’s sleep is certainly sacred! And yet, Kondo’s practice might inspire us. Your laundry can tell you how to pray for your neighbor.

  • When I fold my pajamas (the Kondo way of course!), I thank God for warmth and rest, for a safe place to lay my head, for the luxury of shelter. I pray for my neighbors who slept outside without the protection of a roof and the extravagance of a pillow and clean sheets.
  • Folding towels reminds me to pray for my neighbor far away who will never experience a hot, soapy shower; women who would do anything to bathe their babies if only clean water was readily available.

You get the idea. All around you the Spirit is stirring up prayer cues. Listen to your laundry. You will get to know your neighbor, the one whom Jesus loves so much.

Photo by Sarah Brown on Unsplash

The Story of the Christmas Cards

What do you do with Christmas cards after you pull them out of their cozy envelopes? Do you lay them in a basket on your table? Hang them up?

Early in our marriage, opening Christmas cards addressed to Mr. and Mrs. felt so very grown-up! The first couple of years, I kept each card in a photo album. Then I stopped. What would I do with all those albums?! Instead, I set the cards in a basket and then stored them away after Christmas, like time capsules.

These days, we hang the cards on a kitchen wall to savor. Later, they will enter the world of the recycling bin, but for now our friends and family hang out with us through Advent from the wall, their photos a collection of real-life stories intertwined with our own.

Christmas cards tell a story. The real story of life. The photos insist that amid the despair of real life, it is possible to lock eyes with a camera. It is possible, despite the real hardships of our lives, to appear in a photo as evidence of how life can go on. Through miscarriage and divorce, cancer and job loss, deep grief and fierce betrayal, one day stubbornly leads into the next. There is one more day, and then another.

The story of the Christmas cards is one of hope. We can put on our best clothes and smile at the camera, but the real hope comes in the mess of a manger birth. The real hope is the child who would not avoid the real hardships of life, but live them, one day stubbornly leading to the next.

Christmas cards can lure a person into believing that life can look perfect; we can all have our tidy lives. But there are no tidy lives. Every relationship is hard at times. Your relationship with your own self can be trying! Each and every person is touched by the messiness of life.

The story of Christmas is this: Immanuel (God-with-us) in the mess, in the hardship, in the despair – hope evident in the Christmas cards on your wall, in a basket, but I hope not in an album unless you have tons of space!

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

In the Weeds of the Facebook Ranting Groups

It wasn’t long ago that everyone read the daily newspaper. The inky pages were dropped at your door in the morning so when you arrived at work you and your coworkers knew the same information. The Minot Daily News informed my small town day after day.

Early in America’s lifetime, there were several newspapers. Based on your political preference, you could choose to read the conservative, moderate or liberal bend of the news. These days, we do much the same thing on social media.

What’s new, however, is the way social media has made people into sources of news. This wasn’t the intent of the internet, but it happened anyway. YouTube, for example, was first motivated to share media, but it was surprised when so many people became novice creators of content. Suddenly, any ordinary person can become an expert on make-up, home repairs, relationships, or politics.

I mentioned yesterday that I’ve wandered carefully into the weeds of social media Rantville, trying to better understand my own community and its values. My heart beats extra fast at the heartless comments in one of our community’s ranting Facebook groups.

Last night I visited with one of the people who speaks truth into the untruths of this particular site. He reminded me that Facebook does have standards that enable the rest of us to report comments that are slanderous. It is imperative that we report comments that harass leaders or claim all elections are rigged. (Or “rigid” if you get that joke.)

I would prefer never to enter the muddy mess of immaturity that is Rantville. However, I also know the 8th commandment holds me accountable to “fear and love God so that we do not betray, slander or lie about our neighbor, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain his actions in the kindest way.” (Luther’s Small Catechism)

What would happen if we took turns braving the heartless social media groups to uphold the 8th commandment? I say take turns because this is tiresome work. But what if we showed up with integrity and mercy to carry out our baptismal promise: “to care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace”.

I absolutely loved the interview on Kate Bowler’s podcast with David Brooks, who is one of my favorite authors. He pointed out how each and every person simply needs to be known. I have a hunch the Facebook haters feel overlooked, as though their concerns have gone unheard. I do not appreciate slander, but I would like to look into their eyes and tell them they matter. Out of faithfulness to the 8th commandment, I might even assume their expression is a concern for our community. Maybe.

Community, Peter Block explains, is not a problem to be solved but a way in which we are citizens together. Much like we can’t pick our family members, we cannot pick the people who are citizens with us. However, we can share our faith by showing up, even in the weeds, to invite others to be citizens instead of ranters with us.

Credit: Photo by Jonny Caspari on Unsplash

Fear, Community and the Church’s Voice

Recently at a conference, my colleague shared her experience moving to a new community. As a pastor, she knew her community well – not only the people, but practical things like the clinic phone number, her dentist, the way around the grocery store. When she moved, she explained, she felt like she knew nothing. Nothing at all! Well, she went on, she did know things. But what she knew no longer applied.

Communities are unique. Like families, communities have a dynamic. The size of the community is irrelevant. Small towns or large towns can be connected or disconnected. Urban areas or rural can be progressive or resistant to progress. Medium-sized cities or big cities can be fun and exciting or dull. I’ve lived in a very small town, a big city, a really big city, a suburb and a large town/small city, where I’ve lived now for nearly 17 years.

Yesterday, my city approved a bond to renovate and expand the public high school (particularly to replace the 1960’s original boiler which has broken down and requires parts that are now obsolete) and enhance security in the city’s public elementary schools. Perhaps because my role with a Congregation Council is to steward an old property for generations to come, I am confused why this was a difficult question in our community. Would you replace the boiler in your own home if the people who built the boiler explained they can no longer repair it?

I’ve reflected on the uniqueness of my community, which is impacted by the not-so-unique toxic presence of fear. There was fear that passing a bond would raise property taxes. Maybe there was fear of admitting that our community has grown and is projected to keep growing. Growth means change and change tends to make us fearful. Was there fear that city leaders don’t understand financial struggles experienced by some in our community – do those individuals fear they are invisible?

A common phrase in the Bible is “Do not fear.” Spoken by angels to surprised and fearful recipients of God’s important message, spoken by Jesus to the disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27c) Jesus did not say this to one disciple, but to the community of disciples. If the community became fearful, it would break apart. Fear sends us in different directions and brings out our worst. Facebook rants and Thanksgiving dinner arguments generally stem from fear, when we have let our hearts be troubled and afraid.

Gil Rendl is a leader in the Methodist denomination whose latest book calls the church to attention. How might the whole church find its voice in this time of toxic fear and vulnerable communities? What, Church, do you have to say to a people who are being sent in different directions by fear? My colleague reflected upon what she knew, that it no longer applied to her new community. But the church has been here before. We’ve struggled through cultural divides over the centuries. We have heard Jesus caution the community not to be afraid. What we know applies to this moment, when the voice of fear bemoans the problems of a community without calling us to be caring citizens of that community.

I gingerly perused some social media last night, waiting for a word on the vote count. It is encouraging to see the courageous few speak truth into the untruths that enflame social media followers. The gift of truth is that it disarms fear. It invites all of us into a higher level of maturity to rely on facts and not fear. This, of course, is much less exciting. But best for a community, or even, it is the way we are a community built on hopes and dreams, facts and figures, refusing to let fear take the lead.

Photo by Riley Edwards on Unsplash