Spiritual Discipline (Is not Ought!)

I met with a couple of members of SPRC today. For the non-UMC folks, that’s our Staff Parish Relations Committee – lay folks who serve 3 year terms functioning roughly as an HR department for a local church. I was meeting with them at my own request. A year ago, a new evaluative tool was put out from our Conference office and, with a deadline looming large, they did what they could and submitted evaluations of the four clergy at our church.

Unfortunately, from my perspective, there was no opportunity for us to address any concerns that arose or even just offer insights into our ministry, so many things were marked NO, as in “not observed.” Seriously, a lot of the best stuff clergy do is invisible. I can’t tell you about the amazing counseling session or the powerful moment of confession and transformation. And that’s as it should be. I trust that my God “who sees in secret” knows the ministry I am doing (Matthew 6).

The first section in this evaluation had to do with my personal life – fiscal responsibility, emotional health, physical fitness, spiritual disciplines, etc. I confessed quickly that I usually stink that these things and I have scored myself the lowest in these areas both years we’ve been using this tool. I thanked them for scoring me higher than I scored myself last year.

 

But then one of the SPRC reps said the most profound thing – “Forget about the ought’s. What do you do?” And after thinking a moment, and forgiving myself for not fasting or searching the Scriptures (except when there’s a sermon to prep) or only praying in traffic, I realized I do have a spiritual discipline that is life-giving and beautiful and perfectly tailored to me.

The time I spend with my son, as I have explosive epiphanies about the nature of God’s love for me in the experience of my love for my child, is a constant spiritual discipline. I could never forget my nursing child or show no compassion for the child of my womb (Isaiah 49:15). He has made my heart grow, he has made me more mindful of all God’s children, he has inspired new mission efforts. These are fruit of a spiritual discipline.

This was my epiphany for today. I pray that you are released from your ought’s, too, so that you might embrace and rejoice in what is already beautiful, powerful, and grace-filled in your life. God’s fingerprints are everywhere, we just have to let go of ought’s and embrace what is (as in I AM).

Can anything good come out of Halloween?

Halloween was just a couple of days ago. And as I saw the advertisements featuring scantily clad women and devil babies, I got to thinking what good could possibly come out of Halloween.

It certainly doesn’t do anything for women’s equality since most ladies see it as an excuse to get away with wearing as little as possible and calling it a costume. I’m not throwing stones; I owned pleather pants and corsets at one point in my life. And I know it didn’t help anyone see me as a smart, strong, capable woman.

It certainly doesn’t do anything for our selfish American tendencies or our national bent toward obesity. Lots of folks have lamented the folks who came to their door with a sense of entitlement, whether it’s teens without costumes expecting candy in their pillow cases or the family that asks for water and then fusses that they each didn’t get a bottle.

It certainly doesn’t bring out our best selves, for the most part. Halloween is a holiday that glorifies fear and gore. Maybe I’m extra fussy because I don’t like being scared. I don’t like scary movies (although I have seen more than my share since I do like having friends). It really did bother me that one of my neighbors had skulls on stakes in their yard as well as a gravestone with a skeleton resting in the dust. Ugh.

I was wrestling with this since my mom loves Halloween and always has for as long as I can remember. She keeps a stuffed leg, knee to shoe, around all year long so that in the weeks prior to Halloween, she can dangle it from her trunk. And since I love my mom and she loves Halloween, there must be something redeeming about it. 

So I kept my eyes open this Halloween. I saw lots of new things, especially since my son is old enough to be exploring this holiday on his own for the first time. We went to the fall festival at the church, which I know is a safe and secure place, but he was scared of many of the people in costume. Not that they were “scary” costumes, but they obscured the people he may have otherwise recognized. Oh, I had forgotten that. And asking for candy, receiving it, but not eating it didn’t come naturally to him. Some sense of entitlement is a learned behavior, in the same way we teach children not to play with the gifts they open on birthdays or Christmas, but to set them aside and eagerly open more and more. 

But, finally, on the way home, I saw one good thing that comes out of Halloween. My neighbors were out of their houses, sitting in lawn chairs waiting for trick-or-treaters or moving with their families up and down the sidewalks. And porch lights were on, more than I've ever seen, lighting the way to a welcoming house. Wow. It was stunning to see this kind of warmth and hospitality. My neighborhood is fairly new, so there are no front porches. Most days, most of my neighbors and I never set foot outside, let alone linger there, beyond checking the mail (and some even do that from their cars).

I’m outside more nowadays because I want James to play out there. And I delight in how he finds so much to do with leaves, acorns, and other free toys. So I see my neighbors arrive home in the evenings, open their garage doors, pull inside, and close the door behind them. It’s sad. There’s not much that feels neighborly for most neighbors, and I have a feeling I’m not alone.

But on Halloween, we have an excuse to break our well-worn habits, put on silly costumes, and act like neighbors. Thanks be to God.

Because I love you, I may not always agree with you

Well, that’s putting it simply. I may not agree with lots of folks, but if I love you, you’re very likely to know it. I’m thinking about this in light of my own experiences and the political atmosphere of our country at the moment.

A few days ago when I was acutely feeling a lack of local friends, I asked my husband what the difference was between me and another acquaintance of ours, who makes friends easily wherever she goes. Not just run of the mill friends, either – these are feed you dinner, watch your kid, more like family friends. And my husband, who has made vows to be my loving friend for life, said, “You don’t suck up to people.” Pressed to explain further, it turns out that I’m honest with others; I don’t always say what they would like to hear (or keep my mouth shut to leave it a lie by omission).

So I’ve been mulling this over. A couple of weeks ago, I was teaching one of our older adult Sunday school classes at their invitation. The lesson was on Stephen, the first Christian martyr, one of the men chosen to help distribute food to widows when the apostles were getting too busy to make sure this was happening fairly (Acts 6-7). The account the author gives us of Stephen echoes that of Jesus in some powerful ways – a person doing good, witnessing to the good news of God, brought up on false charges and put to death.

The emphasis of the lesson was on being a witness. Now these folks are such excellent evangelists exhibiting such marvelous hospitality, that their problem is that their room is too full. So what could I say about being a witness? So I asked this question: Are there ever times when our positions on issues, the way we are witnesses for the smaller things, clouds the way we may be a witness for God?

And then I did it. I crossed the boundary. I named the elephant (and donkey) in the room and wondered aloud how our words and attitudes during a political season might undermine our witness to the good news. Are there things more important (namely, the reign of God) that should trump and inform how we are who we are in the world?

Afterwards, many of the class members thanked me, probably as much for my presence as for my lesson. I found myself saying that I wasn’t afraid to talk about hard issues with them because they know I love them and I know they love me.

So I guess that’s where I find myself today. When I love someone, when I really love them, I’m going to share all of myself with them. All of my thoughts, all of my feelings, all of it! Those who know me know that I have an independent streak a mile wide and another mile deep, but that’s, hopefully, balanced by my fierce loyalty. When I love someone, I love them for who they are and who they might become. I will defend them and pray for them. I will bring casseroles or watch your child or visit you in the hospital. Because I love you.

And because I love you, I may not always agree with you.

I’m working this out because I can point to an example right now of a wonderful couple that we know. And I love them. I’ve known them for years, but I know that they are never going to be the friends that I long for. Because I can’t keep my mouth shut, and even if I do, what I’m thinking is probably all over my face. And if I have to keep my mouth shut, for fear of offending or challenging, that’s probably not the friendship I really need.

So, in a season when tension and fear and anxiety are high while the outlets of social media feel anonymous, making it safe to be tacky and rude, let's try to be loving instead. Love your neighbor as you love yourself  (Leviticus 19:18, Matthew 19:19 and 22:39, Mark 12:31, Luke 10:27, Romans 13:9, Galatians 5:4, James 2:8). And as often as you may disagree with them, let them know/see/feel that you love them first.

Be Where You Are

I noticed it first at the Olympic Games in a way I’d never noticed it before. I was sprawling on my couch with my husband, watching the parade of nations. We had DVR’ed the opening ceremonies so we could really watch them in that sweet time after the chores but before bedtime. I’ve liked this part since I was a kid. I can still hear my mom saying, “We’re watching the Olympics because they only happen every four years!”

So I grew up watching hours of sports we never knew were sports, admiring the dedication athletes put into their chosen field, cheering for our country, and hoping against hope that this gathering might truly work toward an expanded sense of what we all have in common in the face of all that divides us.

And the parade of nations is just fun. You see styles of dress from all over the globe as the athletes beam with hope and expectation. But then I noticed something else, something I see all the time…

...they were on their cell phones. Oh, blessed technology that is such a curse! I wondered how any of these athletes could truly be where they were, in that moment in time, walking in as representatives of their nation, while simultaneously trying to record it.

There are so many amazing moments in the time I spend with my son. And many times, I’ve been grateful for my smart phone’s ability to snap pictures and shoot video. But I’ve also noticed how, as he grows older, he tries to look around the phone at me.

The very act of trying to capture a moment takes me out of the moment. I become the photographer-director, trying to get the perfect shot, instead of being mommy. And if these pictures are for our family, regardless of how much I enjoy the likes on Facebook and Instagram, maybe I can just trust our memories and leave the phone in my pocket more often.

The way my son does many things jars me out of preoccupation and back into my life. Like the way he eats. My son has not learned the habit of scarfing down his food yet. I don’t know where I learned it, to be honest. I just realized recently that I don’t really taste much of it most of the time because I’m already thinking about what I need to do, what comes next. I’m so busy preparing for the next thing, I’ve missed the thing right in front of me.

On the other hand, James eats like a connoisseur. It can be cold green peas, factory-shaped meat sticks, yogurt, or something we've actually cooked, but he’ll take a bite, stop, look at me and make this heart-felt yummy noise. "Mmmm!" As if to say, “Mom, this is so good! I am enjoying this!” And I look down at my plate, which is usually empty already, and wonder if I pause to savor, not just my food, but my life.

So I’m trying to slow down and be a little more intentional. I’m trying to be where I am, not anywhere else. I’m trying to remember what I did before my smart phone was an instant gateway to things that are interesting, but not always good or helpful or healthy. And I challenge you to do the same.

As Ferris Bueller said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in  a while, you could miss it."

Growing in Love

My son is 2 years old today. He’s talkative and challenging, fun and amazing. He’s the most clarion call I have to be where I am, but that’s a topic for another post. I could go on and on about him, like most moms, but today, the most astonishing thing I’ve discovered in reflecting on 2 years of life is how becoming a mother has helped me grow in love.

That may not seem strange, because we would all hope that the hormones of the mother and the smell, facial structure, and other things of the baby, would create that indestructible bond that ensures that another generation rises from the one before. And, of course, that all happened. My first sight of him overwhelmed my senses; I tugged the blanket back from his face to admire those newborn grey-blue eyes that looked so solemnly into mine. I took a big sniff of his newborn scent and planted kisses all over his face.

But looking back with some perspective, I wonder if my love has grown in other times and why it didn’t grow more, sooner. I know my love grew a bit when I became a Christian. I felt the assurance of God’s love for me and it inspired me to be a bit more fearless in loving others. But as powerful as a dark night of the soul then mountaintop experience was, it became a thing of a particular time and place that faded like a mile marker in the rearview mirror. And while I followed God intensely, running the gauntlet of seminary, candidacy, and residency, God became more of the subject of my work and less the love of my life. (It’s sad, folks, really, but it happens.)

The other mile marker that stood out to me was the day I married my husband. We were young, foolish, and full of love. In retrospect, I know it’s not important that the flowers didn’t show up on time or the photographer kept fussing about my make up or that we ended up cleaning up after the reception. We stood under a banner proclaiming “Amazing Love” and promised to be partners in this thing called life. Ten years later, I know our love is a deep bedrock for whatever else may come, but my husband and I have both shared how, in the birth of our child, the priorities shifted.

It is in my love for my son that I was able to outgrow Grinch-iness most fully. “And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say - that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.”

Or, as Elizabeth Barrett Browning, put it, “I love thee to the depth and breadth and height / My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight” (“How Do I Love Thee?").

Or, from Scripture, “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 35:26).

It’s a strange thing, to grow in love. Most might think it’s a cliché, rather rosy statement. But, for me, I tell you it’s something vast and daunting. As I have grown in love, I realize that I have a strength and courage I never knew. I have the strength to work long days on little sleep, to tolerate things as they are for the hope of how they might become, to nourish another from the store of my own body. I have the courage to place another ahead of myself, consistently and always, denying my own selfish desires and claiming my place in any harm’s way, and by this example, to give that same love to others.

As I have grown in love, I have become terribly vulnerable. It started with episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I would sob during every episode that had something tragic to do with a child. And my sensitivity kept growing! I have to gird up my loins just to watch the news or to embrace my everyday vocation as a pastor.

I think this growth is unique because my son is ever before my eyes and on my heart. While there was one glorious moment at 3:04am two years ago, there is now constantly with me a bright, wonderful, playful little boy who calls me to challenge my assumptions and grow in love. Praise be to God!

Ordinary Thoughts on Keeping an Orderly House



So just recently a friend of a dear friend start pinning things regarding a weekly cleaning schedule. I have a feeling I must be a slob, because most of this stuff I wouldn’t even think of tackling weekly. I grew up in a house that was often messy, but never dirty, and I like to think I live by the same philosophy. I would rather spend the time I have after my 50ish hour work week with my family actually engaging with them. Sometimes this is getting down on the floor with my little boy and sometimes it’s vegging out in front of an episode of Hell’s Kitchen with my husband. Not that I don’t admire the folks that clean more, it’s just not who I am.

I want to live life! But with all that said, I also realized, especially when I became a mommy, that while everything washes (and if it doesn’t, do you really need it?), I also wanted to create a safe, clean environment for a my child. I didn’t want to constantly worry about what his mouth was making contact with as he learned to crawl or what he might be putting in his mouth that he found around the house.

So, with that in mind, I give you what I consider a more practical, working person’s guide to keeping house in a decent manner (this is assuming that you can’t afford other people to come do it for you or you just don’t prioritize your income that way)

My methodology is simple – do stuff right and you don’t have to do it that often. So, I’m giving you 28 things to do each month. If it’s a month with more than 28 days, you get 3 days to choose your own adventure – you can take them as a bye or you can choose something from the “occasional necessities” list. Or you can be a total stud, knock out a bunch of stuff at once, and then coast a bit (like during VBS week, or camp week, or weddings and funerals week in my experience). And, of course, since your house and my house differ, you might have things to add, delete, or change. This is just something I’m developing to help my household and if it helps you, too, bonus!

Daily Stuff You Can’t Escape

Dishes
Quick Tidy (no tripping hazards, no bug magnets, no underwear where guests might see)
Mail (open it, put it where it goes, recycle as possible)

As Necessary

Laundry
Garbage, Recycling (walk the house, grab it all!)

Monthly Stuff

1. Bathrooms – toilets
2. Bathrooms – tubs, showers
3. Bathrooms – floors, baseboards
4. Bathrooms – countertops, sinks, mirrors
5. Bathrooms – clean out/reorganize cabinet space
6. Bedrooms – dust (presupposes clearing clutter, don’t forget fans), change sheets
7. Bedrooms – vacuum, baseboards
8. Closets – vacuum, tidy up
9. Closets – go through clothes and shoes, retire/donate/rotate
10. Kitchen – floor (sweep/swiffer, mop)
11. Kitchen – sink, countertops (especially random crumb traps), wipe down appliances
12. Kitchen – organize pantry, clean out fridge/freezer
13. Living Room – floor, baseboards
14. Living Room – dust
15. Living Room – put accumulated cluttery things away
16. Laundry Room – sweep, mop
17. Dining Room – clear table, dust/clean
18. Dining Room – vacuum or sweep/mop, baseboards
19. General House – dust light fixtures
20. General House – spot clean carpets, walls, and baseboards
21. General House – clear all horizontal surfaces of clutter
22. Garage – clean out cars
23. Garage – wash cars
24. Garage – sweep, organize
25. Outdoors – mow grass, trim shrubs
26. Outdoors – mow grass, trim shrubs (might wait a couple of weeks from the other)
27. Outdoors – gutters, play equipment
28. Outdoors – intense weeding

Occasional Necessities
Appliance Care – microwave, stove, oven
Appliance Care – washer, dryer
Kitchen – check garbage disposal and related plumbing
Computers – check security software, back up stuff you want to keep, etc.
Storage – go through old boxes, etc. and label/donate

Why I can’t believe everything happens for a reason…

Recently there has been a pile up of grief and sadness in my extended family. Marriages in crisis, impending deaths (yes, plural), relationships fractured, persons feeling lost, hurt, isolated, strained, etc. Being who I am, I am simultaneously a member of the family and the pastor for the family. To me, it’s no different than the lawyer in the family who gives legal counsel for free or the nurse in the family who listens, pokes, and prods to see if someone really needs to go to the doctor. I am a pastor and I might as well put my training to good use whenever and wherever I can, especially for the persons I love most.

So here we are, walking through this valley of the shadow of death (see Psalm 23), and I’m having deep conversations with loved ones – on the phone, in person, via text message and Facebook and e-mail. One of these beloved family members talks about how he deals with all of this is because he knows everything happens for a reason. He shares his experience of another family member who should have died a few times, but didn’t, and here we all are today.

I understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t agree. There are many days when I would like the world to be straight-forward, trusting that God’s purposes are being worked out according to God’s plan. But I just can’t. So I’ll write here, with a little more context, what I shared with my family member.

I just can’t believe that everything happens for a reason. Out of my experience, in my line of work, I get to walk alongside pain and death because those are often the places where people remember they need God the most. So I’ve seen the family that has nearly nothing because the system is broken. I’ve seen the children who have lost their parents because someone else chose to drink and drive. I’ve seen the baby who dies for no known reason. I’ve seen the child, parent, grandparent with cancer. And I can’t – don’t – WON’T believe that this is what God had in mind.

I believe God had in mind an idyllic paradise, something like what’s written in Genesis, a garden where we walked with God and talked with God, where the food was so bountiful that you just had to reach out your hand to take it, and we all lived in harmony – the people and the animals and the earth.

But I also believe that God gave us a generous portion of the imago Dei, and for me that looks like creativity and free will. So we used our free will, we made choices and screwed it up (sorry for not being gentler with that), and now here we all are – daughters and sons many generations removed dealing with the great snowball of corporate sin – the bad decisions and the hurtful actions and all the greater evils of leaving the right things left undone. So no one starts at 0 in life when it comes to good and evil; we all start in negative numbers because we all own this evil that is.

But I also believe that God is working mightily to bring about God’s purpose for creation. I don’t know why God created all this; I only know that the God I come to know through the Spirit as I read scripture is a God who will bear all kinds of pain to be in relationship with us. Jesus tells a story, a parable, about a father who forgives his sons who do all kinds of stupid stuff – one squandering his inheritance and distancing himself from his family, the other failing to really be in relationship even when he’s at home and then refusing to forgive his brother (see Luke 15). The father in the story runs to his son. He runs, rejoicing that there is the opportunity to be in relationship, to love one another again.

So God bears with us in our decision-making, even when it is obviously not what God would want for us. It’s like when my son decides to run full speed down the driveway and I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t fall and split his lip or worse. I imagine God watching all of creation with bated breath, wanting to reach out to steady us, but at times holding back, knowing that we are created imago Dei, we have to make our own choices, our own mistakes, so that we can enter into the love of God of our own free will. That is how it means something.

And when we line up our lives with God’s hope for our lives, it doesn’t mean there won’t be pain and suffering. As Westley says in The Princess Bride, “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” Even as good and faithful people, we are still going to be impacted by other people’s bad choices. We get to deal with that, too. But for us, as persons who believe in the love and grace of God through Jesus Christ and stand in the power of the Holy Spirit, we are those who are built on a solid foundation (see Luke 6). The winds come and howl about our ears, the rains come and we sway with the mighty current, the earth trembles and shakes everything we’ve built our life upon, but this one thing, this one relationship, can endure and never disappoint.

I feel all of this because I’m in the boat with my family, too. Even as I struggle to stand apart just a little bit, offering a listening ear, a loving heart, and very little advice, I feel every bit of it. And it’s so much harder, dearer, and awe-full because it is my own family. I tremble, shake, and cry, but keep leaning on the grace of God. While I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, I know God will make the best of it all, working with creation, with each and every one of us, until we are reconciled and made new (see Revelation 21:5). Glory be to God.