morning routine

usually when i have to be in lawrence late and won't be home before baby a goes to bed, i try and carve out time in the morning that we share.  it's usually just the two of us playing around in her bedroom.  we goof off until its time to get dressed, have breakfast, and watch a morning cartoon (while mom finishes getting ready).


i've got two meetings tonight so i documented this morning.  hope you enjoy!

From February 2010

she LOVES wearing her wings - but won't sit still for a real picture!

and with her sideways cowboy hat - thanks aunt tay!

welcome to lent

ahh.  the second day of lent.  after having binged on king cake i find myself thinking about what i'm going to do this year.  i've never really been a fan of giving something up during lent, it always seemed a little easy and trite.  besides, i wasn't really going to give up something that i couldn't live without, so it wasn't a real period of growth.  (maybe the fact that i wasn't giving up what matters affected my experience of lent more).


i have friends who are giving up cokes, sugar, coffee, facebook, even television.  i also have friends who aren't giving anything up - rather they're attempting to start new positive disciplines - having family dinners, reading (to themselves or children), embracing 40 days of kindness.  you know the drill.  


thinking about it, i've decided that i'm giving up being lazy.  or at least, telling myself that i'm lazy.  this involves a couple of different aspects.  it means taking better care of myself - what i eat, how much i sleep, how i manage stress - as well as finding some time for myself.


last month i spent three days with a group of pastors whose topic was our spiritual health.  in the course of that conference it became increasingly clear to me that what i needed was time for me.  it didn't matter if that was on the elliptical machine or in the bathtub, but i needed time to recharge my own batteries.  some time where my only responsibility was to myself.  no work, no dog, no baby, no husband, no house, just me.  


a woman i know once said that 'tiredness breeds tiredness'.  (she's a really annoying bubbly personality as you might imagine. the kind that always looks effortless and carefree.  she must have had some diet pills in her purse!)  but she's right.  the more i worry about how tired i am, the tired-er i get!  i'm already worn out and its not even march yet.  


so enough feeling sorry for myself, enough bone-tiredness, get ready elliptical machine and bathtub - here i come.  we're going to see if that woman i know was right.   

losing and finding

today was an interesting day in kansas - maybe not for everyone, but certainly for this house.


the morning was good, sleeping in a bit after sunday responsibilities, reading some books with baby a before getting the day on full start.  a and i come downstairs to have breakfast and finish getting ready, expecting j to join us pretty soon.


and pretty soon he does.  all in a panic. because he cannot find his wallet.  it is misplaced.  lost. over the next 20 minutes he becomes more and more anxious, almost inconsolable.  having been in that exact position more times than i can count, i turn on a few episodes of children's tv and get to searching too.


but it doesn't get any better.  the wallet is nowhere.  its disappeared off the face of the earth.  and j is still getting more worried.  about cancelling his credit cards, about having to apply for a replacement license (in kansas no less), about getting his checks to the bank. (which has nothing to do with his wallet being lost.  he could still deposit them without id as long as he has a deposit slip.  besides, the banks are closed on president's day.  but you can bet i didn't say any of that!) 


as he gets more worked up, i get more and more frustrated.  baby a is quickly picking up on the anxiety in the air and is getting clingy and cry-y. maggie is dodging from corner of the room to corner of the room, trying to hide behind me as i search downstairs cause she's scared too.  not the best emotional and mental environment to start the day or the week.


as the minutes tick by and the anger/frustration of the entire house continues to rise, i find myself slamming the drawers i'm searching through, biting my tongue when j enters the room flustered.  i wanna just snap  calm down.  if you would put things in the same place every day you wouldn't have this problem.  how many times have i told you that.  do you ever listen?  but i don't.  because i know he already feels bad and he's already worried. and because i love him. 


see, 5 years has taught me that marriage is all about not saying everything you think all the time because you know how your partner already feels.  and because you love them.  it's an unwritten code that we both follow - a golden rule of marriage if you will.  i don't want to be yelled at when i'm already at the end of my rope and neither does he.  do unto others and all that.  


finally he snaps a little at me (you could stop asking why and stay out of my way) and i snap back (FINE).  then j takes a deep breath, turns and tells me to take baby a to childcare and sends me to work cause life goes on.  he stays and searches the house from top to bottom.


i call periodically during the day to check on j, but no luck.  


when baby a and i return 7 hours later there is still no wallet to be found. j is much calmer, a bit tired, but in a better place.  


but the house is cleaner than its been in a LONG time. so something good comes from it.  

you would think i'd be used to this.

nearly 5 years of ordained ministry and i'm still surprised.

this afternoon we're having a funeral.  

the first of three in the next two weeks, all of whom were hospitalized last week while the head of staff was on vacation.  so, they were primarily my pastoral care responsibility. and i took care of them in whatever ways i could.

over the course of the week, it became clear that one of our hospitalized parishioners was not going to get better.  the family chose to keep him comfortable and let nature take its course.  during this time i had visits with the wife and daughters, time spent reflecting on what was happening and on the life they were privileged to share.  

however, it became clear during this time that the daughters were holding their breath, hoping dad would last until head of staff came back from vacation. they were kind, generous, polite, and affirming, but were quick to clarify dates of return and the like.

ok, no big deal. really. i'm new here.  head of staff discussed it with me on the phone, insisting that it he would support me in taking the lead in the service, promising that if this is what i wanted then he would be my back up.

someone's funeral really didn't seem like the time to teach a lesson about the viability of women in ministerial leadership, so i told head of staff that if the family wanted him i was not offended by that.  and i wasn't.  head of staff had an ongoing relationship with mom and dad - it only makes sense from my standpoint that he lead the service.

then we find ourselves on this monday morning.  they are having a memorial luncheon across the hall from the office.  i make it my policy to stay out of the way as much as possible.  typically speaking at this point i have had lots of time with the grieving family and want to make room for those who haven't had a chance to share their condolence or memories of the deceased.

i'm sitting in my office, plowing away at the gifts of women service we'll be doing in a couple of weeks. daughter number one comes into the office and tells our secretary - "i want to make sure that the pastor knows he's invited to eat lunch with us.  will you please let him know.'

now this woman knows i'm a pastor, she knows i'm in the building.  what she doesn't know is that i can hear her. the pastor. singular. male. me - a little angry, a little frustrated, a little hurt.

then our secretary, katie, wonderful, wonderful katie, knocks on my door and tells me that the family has invited the pastors (plural!) to eat with them.  See, she knows that i could hear daughter number one and katie is nothing if not full of support and caring for her entire pastoral staff. gender notwithstanding. i'm blessed to have her.

nearly 5 years of ordained ministry and i'm still surprised.  

lets hope the katies of the world always surprise. 

Call and Response in Field of Dreams

A couple of weeks ago I attended a Synod conference for new (and relatively new) pastors in ministry.  It’s called Pastoral Enrichment for Transitions in Ministry and 10 of us from Kansas and Missouri gathered to support and learn from each other in the next two years.  In one of the small group discussions we were to share the time that we felt the presence of God the most.  My ‘mountaintop’ experience happened at Mo Ranch in Hunt Texas.  I must have been a senior in high school and took a moment after devotions to lie down on my back next to the Guadalupe River and stare at the Hill Country night sky.  In those moments I felt an assurance, a deep comfort that filled every inch of my being, all of my pores.  It was wonderfully comforting and frightening all at once.   I remember not talking to anyone about it because I couldn’t explain it – still can’t really.  What struck me was that I hadn’t thought of this moment for years, although it meant so much to me at the time – primarily because it had gotten washed away by the banality of every day life. 

Some of the most powerful (and humorous) images of call come from the annals of movie making.  In Bruce Almighty, God attempts to contact Bruce through his pager.  Bruce keeps ignoring and ignoring it until he finally throws the pager out the window – where it is promptly run over by a car – and then continues to beep.  Or take the movie Dogma, where an angel of the Lord appears to Bethany.  But this angel appears in the middle of the night in a locked apartment.  Bethany responds to the intrusion with a fire extinguisher and a baseball bat, much to the dismay of said angel. Yet what should we expect from a young woman who hears a stranger in her home?

The imagery and storyline of call develop eloquently in the Kevin Costner movie, Field of Dreams.  In it, Ray Kinsella an inept corn farmer, hears a voice instructing him – If you build it, he will come.  After talking to himself (and the cornfield) and checking at the feed store to see if anyone else is hearing voices, he finally settles into the realization of what he’s experiencing.  He tells his family, facing ridicule from those he loves (what if the Voice calls while you’re gone Ray? Should I take a message?) and financial and social ruin when they decide to follow the voice and plow under one of their fields to make a baseball field.  He journeys across the country, searching out his next task, meeting new people and forging new friendships along the way.  Finally when he believes he’s achieved it all, followed the voice to its fulfillment, it becomes clear that he had misinterpreted all along, “If you build it, HE will come” has an entirely different meaning than Ray (or we) imagined.  Ray finds a fulfillment he didn’t know he needed. 

Although they are slightly different, the call narratives for Isaiah, for the disciples, and for Ray Kinsella give us insight into God’s call and into our response.  God calls us in the ordinary, every day activities of our lives.  Isaiah was in the temple, his place of worship.  Simon Peter, James and John were in their boats, providing for their lives.  Ray was in his corn field.  It seems that often, we overlook this simple little part.  God didn’t call out of any special moment, but speaks to us in the ordinary.  God calls out to us in our worship, in our work, in our play, in our interaction with one another.  I wonder how often it’s the case that “we’ve flattened and homogenized our everyday lives that we no longer expect to see God in the ordinary.”[1]  Isaiah’s story envisions a deeply reformed connection between sacramental worship and the discernment and fulfillment of Christian vocation[2].  They stand hand in hand, as cleansed in the temple Isaiah is sent out to his people.  Sadly, according to the Pew Forum, “many people, including regular church attendees, believe that the last place they might encounter the holy in a dramatic way is at church.”[3]

I think it’s fair to say that most of us are a bit nervous when we begin talking about call, especially if we’re talking about experiencing the presence of God. Like Isaiah and Peter, in the presence of the divine, even the shadow of that presence, we feel our own unworthiness.  Like Ray, we may think we’re crazy – that we’re just talking to the corn field.  We know, deep down, that we are sinful, and belong to a people of unclean lips, that this moment is impossible.  We want to cry out – Go away from me!  We’re frightened of what being in the presence of the holy might mean.  “We harbor a fear that if we lived as God calls it would take our time and our energy.”[4]  As Brent Younger says, “If we do not think we’re afraid of God it may be because we’ve gotten so good at keeping our distance that we’re not even aware of God anymore.  Most days the possibility of God changing us does not enter our minds, but if it did, we would not want it.”[5]  And yet, Isaiah doesn’t heal himself, he doesn’t shake it off, make up his mind and try harder to be a better person, and he is healed by something completely other, by a power beyond himself. Ray finds a comfort, a peace in the voice that his recent life has lacked.   Peter is promised “do not be afraid, we’re in this boat together.”

Sometimes God calls us to do things we do not understand. Jesus instructs Peter to fish – in the deep water, in midday – when Peter knows that it won’t work.   Ray is told to plow under his cash crop, during an already difficult financial time – putting his entire family and livelihood at risk.  Isaiah is told to proclaim the Lord’s word for the sole purpose of stopping up the people’s ears.  “Imagine telling teachers to teach so that the children all fail, try imagining a coach instructing his players on how not to tackle.”[6]

It seems ridiculous, well beyond our imagination and rationalization.  We are called to proclaim a word when we’re not sure we believe in its power. “We ourselves are not free of clogged ears and closed hearts, not ready to heed fully the word’s radical call to freedom.”[7]  We live among a people who want to hate their enemy yet we hold onto the message about loving not just your neighbor but also your enemy.  “We live in a world with wars and rumors of wars, yet we have a Lord who suggested that when we’re weak, we are strong.”[8]  Sometimes we are so afraid of looking foolish that we never fish.  Pushing out into the deep waters is a risk, a leap of faith.

And after our leap, after our experience with the holy, we are changed.  After being cleansed in the temple Isaiah cannot talk about the weather or idle gossip anymore.  The same is true of the disciples after the miracle they witnessed, and of Ray Kinsella once he heard the voice in the corn.  God can show up at any time and we are changed by that presence.  That’s wonderfully comforting and frightening all at once.

At its very core, their call (and our call)  is about a new relationship with God.  It’s about being open to putting God at the center of our lives.  It’s not a one time option; we are constantly taking 1 step forward and 2 steps back. “Discipleship is best understood as the act of teaching and learning, leading and following.”[9]  “God doesn’t simply thunder, God asks, invites, listens, urges, waits and pushes a bit harder.”[10]  The invitation is to new depths of relationship.  The deep water is fraught with fears and requires trust.  We’re like children who start with a toe in the water, and trusting the person with us, before we know it we’re in to our knees and then to our waists.  Then we realize what we’re doing, freak out, and start the process over, each time getting a little deeper and a little more comfortable.  The journey of discipleship is one of being willing to accept God’s invitation over and over.   It is then that our sins are blotted out, it is there where we set aside our nets, leaving everything and follow.  It is then that we become filled in places that we didn’t know were empty, understanding that God’s call is deeper and more powerful that we have ever imagined. 

Yet sometimes, like my moment beside the Guadalupe, we get lost in the trivial moments of life.  We keep finding ourselves adrift looking for what has meaning.  We learn that it is money, possessions and stature we have and peace we lack.  And so we come, here, to listen to these stories of call over and over again as a way to remind us, a way to refocus us.  For in their call is our call, and God’s call. Come and follow.

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[1] Robert J Gench, “5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time”, Lectionary Homiletics (February and March 2010)  pg 8

[2] James Calvin Davis, Pastoral Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 316.

[3] Bruce Epperly, Theolog: Blogging Toward Sunday: Vocation and Transformation http://theolog.org/2010/02/blogging-toward-sunday-vocation-and.html (February 1, 2010).

[4] Brett Younger, “5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time”, Lectionary Homiletics (February and March 2010)  pg 13.

[5] ibid.

[6] George H Martin Theological Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press),  pg 316.

[7] David L. Ostendorf, Homiletical Perspective: Luke 5:1-11,  Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 336.

[8] George H Martin, Pastoral Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 316

[9] Gay L Byron, Exegetical Perspective: Luke 5:1-11, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 337.

[10] James C Howell, Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 317