Silent Night, Holy Night...

Last night at Fernwood (the most wonderful home-church out there), I had the honor of praying the Christmas Prayer.  As we take time to enjoy Christmas with the ones we love, we also take time to pray for others...

"Silent night.  Holy night. Come, thou long expected Jesus, we have room for you.

The family has arrived.  It’s a joyful reunion.  We’ve hurried this season to prepare for the kids, grandkids, grand-pets that will soon crowd our house.  We’ve hurried to prepare the food that goes on the table.  We’ve trimmed the tree and set out the decorations and filled the stockings that are hung on the mantle.  We’ve hurried to clean the house and wrap all the presents.  And now it’s show time.  But come, thou long expected Jesus.  We have room for you.

It’s in this busy time that we remember the cries; the cries of panic, the cries of hope, the cries of a promise. We pray for the injustices around the world. We pray for those who are sleeping in the cold tonight…who have absolutely nothing.  We pray for the children who will go the bed tonight with an empty stomach—and find nothing waiting for them when they wake.  We take a moment now to pray that we find our voice; and that we be a voice for those don’t have one.  We pray that we be a welcoming community that feeds the hungry and clothes the naked. Come, thou long expected Jesus, we have room for you.

It’s in this busy time that we remember our hurt. Lives have been changed this year.  In a time that is joyful for so many, tonight, we are made aware of the absence of ones that we love.  We pray for those living far away, those taken by death, the family members from whom we are estranged, or the family we never had.  We take a moment now to pray for those who are absent.  We pray that they feel your love, oh Lord, and that they feel our love, too.  Come, thou long expected Jesus, we have room for you. 

It’s in this busy time that we remember to simply be still.  Help us to stand in awe of your power and strength.  You come to use as a tiny light born in the night. In the midst of darkness, show us the light and give us the power to be the light to others.  Show us grace when we mess up.  Allow us to show grace to others, and to ourselves.  Help us to be a community that sets a table where every one is welcome.  We pray that we love our enemies; and to love our strangers; and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.  Come, thou long expected Jesus, we have room for you. 

God, we ask that you meet us here tonight.  Meet us here at your manger.  Come, thou long expected Jesus, we have room for you. Amen."

Merry Christmas..

God Will Meet You There...

On November 9, I had the beautiful opportunity to worship with the community at Azalea Baptist Church in Norfolk, Virginia.  This is (mostly) the manuscript from that sermon..

Matthew 25: 1-12 

Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 2 Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 3 When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4 but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5 As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. 6 But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ 7 Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. 8 The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9 But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ 10 And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. 11 Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ 12 But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’

Bridesmaids.  David’s Bridal has earned a pretty penny from me.  From the last three weddings in the last few years, with two more in the next 8 months, I, for one, understand how those bridesmaids could’ve been tired.  With all the planning that's involved, I really can’t blame all ten of them for falling asleep on the job (please know that they're worth every minute and every dollar spent!). And to be honest, they probably should have made sure at least one of the bridesmaids was with the groom, right? To make sure he was staying on time…then none of this would have happened.

From my New Testament class where we’re studying Jesus and the Gospels, I learn that this parable is unique to Matthew. Certain features of the wedding it describes seem realistic, while others are strange. In ancient Palestinian weddings the marriage feast was at night; the groom was met with lamps, and he wasn't actually supposed to be on time. Others seem a little off; these bridesmaids assumed that the oil shop would be open, and it seems that the groom was supposed to be late, but not midnight late.

There are the foolish maids and the wise maids.  One of my biggest questions is "is this really how we define a wise person, as someone who only takes care of herself"? Is this the kind of story we want people to identify with us church folk; people who preach the wisdom of stockpiling, because we believe that if people are in need, it's their own fault? Can you imagine reading this with someone of no faith? I can’t imagine that this parable would bring them to church.  Though a big question, it’s probably not the hit of the parable.

And of course, the parable doesn't say whether the bridesmaids had any oil at home. It doesn't tell us if the wise ones were hoarding it or the foolish ones hadn't had time to get to the store yet. It doesn't tell us what they had in their savings accounts or how generous they were with their goods. For all we know, the wise bridesmaids were down to their very last flask of oil, and the foolish bridesmaids were sitting on barrels of the stuff; the parable doesn't tell us. Its only concern is what they brought with them when they left the house. It doesn't say a word about motives or extenuating circumstances or reasons why five women might conceivably have left their oil flasks at home. And that's significant, I think. Maybe this is not a story about how much oil you have. Maybe this is a story about the kind of oil you carry with you (and how you find that oil). And the parable is very clear: all ten bridesmaids had lamps, but five of them were foolish and five of them were wise. The wise ones brought flasks of oil with their lamps when it was time to wait for the groom. The foolish ones showed up with lamps and nothing to keep them going. And when your lamp goes out, you may have gallons of oil sitting at home; but it's not going to do you any good there.

So what does that look like, the kind of oil you carry with you? What does that look like?

Maybe it depends on the kind of oil we're talking about.  I want you to envision that I have an oil lamp with me.  As I light the lamp, you remember that you are “the light of the world.” We watch the lamp burn. But because there was only a tiny bit of oil in that lamp, it only burns for a few moments. What happens when the oil runs out? Well, the lamplight goes out, and you have nothing to give. And a pastor with no oil, a Christian with no oil, you can't be the light of the world for anybody, no matter how much they want to.

Friends and family, what fills you up spiritually when you run dry? What replenishes your oil? Where do you find God, and how can you make sure that you get enough of that oil for your lamp, so that God can fill you up again? Because you will run dry. And when you do, you can't be a light for anybody. Remember the safety speech we hear on airplanes? "In the event of an emergency, oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling; please be sure to secure your own oxygen mask first before assisting others."

It seems fairly simple.  When your gas light comes on, you are going to run out of gas. If a two-year-old doesn't get a nap, she is going to crash. When you haven't had a conversation with your spouse in three weeks that hasn't revolved around carpooling logistics or what's for dinner, your marriage is getting dry. If you have worked eighty-hour weeks for longer than you care to know, your relationships are going to suffer. It's not really something any of us can avoid. There are some kinds of fuel that just are not negotiable; and if you eat junk food for twenty years, your body is going to let you know about it.

There are also some kinds of oil you can't borrow from anyone else. Teenagers learn this, at a certain point; you can borrow someone's homework and get by on the assignment, but you can't borrow the hours they put in studying for the test. There are some kinds of preparation we can only do for ourselves. You can't borrow someone else's peace of mind or their passion for God. You can't say to your friend, "You have such a happy marriage, don't you? Could you give me some of that?" It doesn't work. You have to find it yourself. You have to figure out what fills you up, spiritually, and then make sure you have some to carry with you, every single minute of the day, because that's how often you'll need it.

And here's the thing: you will run out. Time will run out. The hour gets late, everyone gets sleepy. We all doze, we all put it off, saying, "One of these days, I'm going to quit working so hard and I'll put in that quality time with my kids." "One of these days, I'm going to take up painting again; I've always wanted to do it." "One of these days, I'm going to stop writing checks and really get involved down at the shelter." We all doze. We all put it off. And then the shout goes up: "He's coming!" It's time. And one of these days is today, and it's over, and you never did bring your flask of oil.

I think that's one of the hardest things about this parable. The time will come when you have to draw on the oil you have, right there, on your body, in your flask. And it isn't going to come from your pension savings, and it isn't going to come from your good intentions and your long range plans; it's going to come from what fuels you spiritually right now. It's going to come from where you see God, today. And where is that? Well, Jesus tells us, 

I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was naked, and you clothed me. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me. I was in prison, and you visited me. I was sick, and you comforted me. (Matthew 25)

Driving down to Norfolk last night, I turned on NPR in hopes of a re-run of Wait, Wait.  Instead, I got an hour of TedTalks.  Worth it.  Rebecca Onie, intern at the Greater Boston Legal Services, spent her first nine months speaking to her clients, the patients who were being evicted from their homes because they couldn't afford their medication.  She felt like whatever help she was trying to give was just a little too late.  They came to her when they were already deep in their crisis.  It was hard to help when it was too late.  In 1995, with the okay from the Doctors and her supervisor, she walked into the Boston Medical Center pediatrics clinic and observed/spoke with the patients at that clinic.  She would speak with the Doctors and ask them: "If you had unlimited resources, what's the one thing you would give your patients?"  They would always say:

"Every day we have patients that come into the clinic -- child has an ear infection, I prescribe antibiotics. But the real issue is there's no food at home. The real issue is that child is living with 12 other people in a two-bedroom apartment. And I don't even ask about those issues because there's nothing I can do. I have 13 minutes with each patient. Patients are piling up in the clinic waiting room. I have no idea where the nearest food pantry is. And I don't even have any help."

Even today, that clinic has two social workers for 24,000 patients.  Health Leads was born through the conversation Onie was having.  This organization provided "a simple model where doctors and nurses can prescribe nutritious food, heat in the winter and other basic resources for their patients the same way they prescribe medication. Patients then take their prescriptions to our desk in the clinic waiting room where we have a core of well-trained college student advocates who work side by side with these families to connect them out to the existing landscape of community resources." 

This organization has changed lives (feel free to read a lot more about her TedTalk here).  It's in these moments that we find Jesus. That's where we get filled up. That's where we gather the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. All of those things.. they're not books that we can check out of the library, and it's not a cup of sugar we can borrow from our neighbor next door. All of those things that are just there for us to gather, we never were ready to do it.

I think those church folk who use this parable as a way to scare us all straight are missing the point. You don't fill your lamp because you're afraid you're going to get locked out of the Kingdom of Heaven. You don't stockpile oil because then you can turn everyone else away and that's so much fun. No, you just stop at the filling station and fill your flask and take it with you, because you can't wait to meet the groom. You fill it out of joy. That's the only price of oil, when you think about it: the desire to meet Jesus when he comes.

As we live out our faith in an imperfect, troubled world, this parable can motivate us to take action in response to injustices while we can still make a difference. In this parable, Matthew retains the urgency of the return of Christ in his community, while acknowledging that it is not necessarily immediate. Christians have the responsibility to continue in good deeds in the extended present, in the knowledge that the time will come when they lose the opportunity to make a difference. We are constantly failing at this.  The maidens in this parable fail by inactivity. They presume a gracious future without preparing for it by active discipleships. This, I think, is the definition of foolish for Matthew.

I find myself in this story. I’ve probably been each of this parable’s characters. You probably have been too.  I’ve been the foolish one whose lamps have run out. I’ve been the wise one who feared sharing and losing what I had. I’ve been the groom who refused to let people in.  Where do you see yourself in this story? 

If you find yourself feeling like the foolish bridesmaids, remember to wait in the darkness. Don’t run from it. It is a holy place and God will meet you there.

So if you find yourself feeling like the wise bridesmaids, remember to share what you have, even if it scares you. Don’t trade temporary comfort for lasting community. The chance to give of yourself is a holy place and God will meet you there.

So if you find yourself feeling like the groom, remember to open wide the door to the banquet feast. Don’t let hurt feelings and fear insulate you from others. Welcoming those who have made mistakes and who walk in darkness is a holy place. God will meet you there.  May it be so.  Amen. 

October

I always enjoy spending time with my favorite red heads! Lady Marion, Mattie, and I got to spend the morning in our pajamas and  see "Planes 2"..

Preaching has been a newfound calling.. I take every opportunity to preach and worship with others! Farmville Baptist is a beautiful community... Grateful to share life with them!

Boy do I love my best friends, Caitie and Dane. I also love their dog and being Aunty Judy during her mommy and daddy's engagement pictures! It was a good day indeed.

After months of planning, my best friend, Julie got married. It was a beautiful day of love and holy moments! Blessed to know such lovely, lovely couples.

Ending the month with my favorite sacred time of self-care. You can read more about Creative Clergy on my Otium Sanctum post.  

Otium Sactum

"For each new morning with its light, for rest and shelter of the night, for health and food, of love and friends, for everything thy goodness sends." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

How do you practice sabbath? Is it on Sundays? Vocational Ministers, do you practice sabbath on Fridays? How do you get away and how do you find rest?  If you're in the big city like me but tend to find peace in the mountains, you sometimes find it difficult to practice sabbath.

I'm in Christian Spirituality this semester.  It's a pretty fantastic class that focuses on different spiritual practices.  We've spent time in prayer, walking labyrinths, reading Barbara Brown Taylor, and talking in small groups.  This past week, we were asked to participate in otium sanctum which means "holy leisure."  Sounds easy, right? Well, not always. 

When this project was assigned, I got excited because this fell at perfect timing.  It happened to be the same week of my best friend getting married. I could take advantage of having a calm moment within the chaos of the wedding..or even be able to carry myself through the wedding to end in a time of intentional sabbath.  God's (and Art's) hand in timing this go around was perfect.

My favorite spiritual practice is called Creative Clergy.  A dear soul, Suzanne, puts on these gatherings with and for other women clergy.  I'm always excited about that time I get to spend with her (and other people).  Suzanne has this calmness about her.  She is a beautiful soul that encourages the serenity of her gatherings.  We get together, catch up, and spend intentional time together being creative.  We begin by acknowledging that the space is holy ground.  We take time to be still and silent as Suzanne leads us in a guided imagery.  It's a time for Ministers (Vocational and non-vocational) to step away from the craziness of church work and the chaos of their beautiful congregation.  It's a time for students like me to learn how to be intentional about self-care.  I chose the second option for my Creative Clergy this month.  It's typically easy for me to walk into her studio and leave the world at the doorway.  Today was different.

Due to the sickness of her glorious children, I traveled over past Libby Hill and met at Suzanne's for Creative Clergy. I entered her space in hopes of it being another successful day of intentional sabbath.  After this beautiful wedding weekend, I. Was. Beat.  My body was hating me come Sunday morning.  Staying up late and constantly being around people since Thursday night makes this budding introvert super tired (and cranky).  I was in a completely different mindset and just could not get in the right place to be still or present.  I'm also trying to fight this head-cold/sever allergies/body aching illness (which I didn't realize until after I left).

I believe in sabbath and taking time for self-care.  That's why I love Creative Clergy so much.  It's such a beautiful time that is intentional.  But with everything that I had just done and all the work I knew had to be done this week made today's healing just not work.  How humbling is that? It's how I feel after (what I think is) a crappy sermon, too.  Some days are just going to suck.  It's humbling to know that we're not perfect. We're human.  Some days just don't work.  That's okay.  You go home, regroup, and try again later.

As I'm processing through my not-so-awesome spiritual experience with Suzanne, maybe it was just an off-day.  It's important to understand that I really do love and get a lot out of these Creative Clergy experiences.  I think today was just bad timing (contradictory to what I first believed).  But again, it was incredibly humbling...knowing that not every spiritual practice is going to work 100% of the time.

The beautiful thing about Suzanne (among so many) is her challenge for us to be open around the table.  Her table is always set.  It's always open and ready for community and creativity.  I'm excited to return to this holy space, open to new experiences and find my way back to caring for myself.

I'm ever grateful for that table that's full of paints, pens, paper, and invitations to be creative.  Thanks be to God for what has been at this table.  Thanks be to God for what will be at this table.

May it be so.

Blessed Assurance

My sermon this morning at Ginter Park Baptist Church.  Titled "This is My Story, This is My Song"  Today's service was specific to the Farley Community House.  We said goodbye to Drew and Khan, high-fived Caitie and me as we stick around another year, and welcomed Bryce and Robbie into our Farley family. 


Exodus 18:1-12 (The Message):

Jethro, priest of Midian and father-in-law to Moses, heard the report of all that God had done for Moses and Israel his people, the news that God had delivered Israel from Egypt. Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, had taken in Zipporah, Moses’ wife who had been sent back home, and her two sons. The name of the one was Gershom (Sojourner) for he had said, “I’m a sojourner in a foreign land”; the name of the other was Eliezer (God’s-Help) because “The God of my father is my help and saved me from death by Pharaoh.”
5-6 Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, brought Moses his sons and his wife there in the wilderness where he was camped at the mountain of God. He had sent a message ahead to Moses: “I, your father-in-law, am coming to you with your wife and two sons.”
7-8 Moses went out to welcome his father-in-law. He bowed to him and kissed him. Each asked the other how things had been with him. Then they went into the tent. Moses told his father-in-law the story of all that God had done to Pharaoh and Egypt in helping Israel, all the trouble they had experienced on the journey, and how God had delivered them.
9-11 Jethro was delighted in all the good that God had done for Israel in delivering them from Egyptian oppression. Jethro said, “Blessed be God who has delivered you from the power of Egypt and Pharaoh, who has delivered his people from the oppression of Egypt. Now I know that God is greater than all gods because he’s done this to all those who treated Israel arrogantly.”
12 Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, brought a Whole-Burnt-Offering and sacrifices to God. And Aaron, along with all the elders of Israel, came and ate the meal with Moses’ father-in-law in the presence of God.

My favorite moments growing up happened sitting around the dinner table. In our kitchen, Mom and I would sit on one side, my brothers, Patrick and Andrew, would sit on the other side, and my Dad would sit on the end. There was one specific evening, we were eating one my favorite meals – green beans, baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, and rolls. Patrick, Andrew, and my Dad ended up quoting their favorite movies..either Forrest Gump or Monty Python and the Holy Grail. And so we’re sitting there, Mom and I are giggling..I, for some reason, think it’s a good time to take a sip of milk. At that moment, the next sentence out of my Dad’s mouth, sent milk shooting out of my nose.


After Moses welcomes his father-in-law (and probably Zippy and the two boys) into the tent, I first envision a tent much like the one in the beginning of the fourth Harry Potter movie; where it looks really small outside, but then when you walk in, it’s a three bedroom, full kitchen, stand-up-straight kind of place. While in reality, it didn’t look like that at all.  It probably looked more like a studio tent.  I expect they sat at the table to catch up.  I expect that conversation led into a meal and late into the night. Moses sharing all the good things that were happening and just how good God was. Jethro, a Priest, and Moses’s father-in-law, sitting and listening to Moses’s story. I wonder if that was how they thought things would end up.  I wonder if they thought that there would be this “not-so-bad, almost at a place where we can laugh about it now” sort of ending.


I’m certainly not where I thought I would be.  While I’m still young and can still do what I thought I would..being right here, right now, came as a sort of surprise. Feeling restless in college, I expected to spend two years in Africa in the PeaceCorps (I started that application ten times…never actually saved them, though), return to the States, go to Graduate School for my dual degree in Masters in Social Work and Public Health, and then settle down somewhere in the north or Midwest. Instead, after graduating college, I worked for six months in the middle of nowhere low-country South Carolina. Then I moved back home with my parents (a place I never thought I’d return to..), and then moved to Richmond. Like I said, I realize I’m still really young, but it’s interesting to remember where I used to be and how my story has developed over the last few years.


This past year began a whole new chapter in my story. We’ll call it “The Seminary Years..” It’s been a pretty good chapter so far. Moving, a year ago yesterday, into a house full of love and community. Moving into an already formed community – with two who were continuing their Farley-ness – and having to create a new sort of community of our own. Something, where at the beginning, seemed a little doubtful. But we grew. We grew into a small four person-three pet family. A family that will remain part of each of our stories….


In the midst of Moses and his crew’s long walk in the wilderness, their doubt in God and in Moses was incredible. Questions that must have been floating in their minds, “God, are you even here?” “Where are you taking us?” “Didn’t we already pass this tree?” “What in the world is Moses doing?” “Does this journey even matter?”


Does this even matter?


It’s important here to understand that, clearly, their story mattered. It’s important to understand that your story matters. All parts; the parts that were disheartening and doubtful.  Those parts that left you in the wilderness feeling alone. And the parts that were so joyful, you didn’t want them to end…much like that evening with Moses and Jethro.  While you may think the current moments in your story aren’t much.  Or those moments aren't worth remembering…(and I know my Dad doesn’t remember the evening milk squirted out of my nose because he told a hilarious line from his favorite movie), those are the moments that turn into memories that turn into stories.


Not to jump to the New Testament, but that’s how Jesus taught his lessons- his parables, his stories, are the ways that Jesus related to the people he was speaking with.  Stories are in the toasts we say at weddings and they are in the eulogies we speak at funerals. They are at bedtime with our children. They are a part of the moments that are the most meaningful.  In the end, Moses’s story mattered to all the people of Israel…it meant enough to share it with his own Midian father-in-law (whose people butted heads and hated the Israelites). God triumphs and delivers them to a place of grace and fulfillment.


This past year is an important part of the Farley story. While we all know that the Farley Community House is a ministry that matters greatly to Ginter Park, this past year was certainly one for the books. It’s a chapter in a story that matters.  It's a chapter worth sharing.  While I am someone who has always approached life with a script- I was taught this past year about “taking time” and essentially flying by the seat of my pants. Drew taught me to not worry, and to be happy. He taught me about the beauty of God’s creation and how to care for others while tending the earth.  Together, Khan and I broke down some cultural barriers. I learned his food was often too spicy for me to eat, but that never stopped him from offering. In class, he was wise and asked the deepest questions. He’s quite the musician and was always excited to share his culture with our community.  Caitie’s and my story started about 15 years ago at the neighborhood pool one summer. Off and on for the next 15 years, through high school and college, eventually leading us both to Richmond, to the Farley, living across the hall from one another. She’s taught me so much about grace and the unconditional love a person can be shown.


This coming year I’m excited about the new community and the new brother and sister I get to share life with. I’m excited about the ways we will grow and learn about one another. I’m excited for the ways we will learn from one another. The arguments and fights that all families share, as well as those joyful moments that will turn into memories.  Those memories that will turn into stories. Together, we’ll enjoy meals at the dinner table. We’ll take part in movie and game nights. We'll enjoy snow days and late evenings turned into early mornings working on papers and sermons. We’ll share our story with you, Ginter Park family, we encourage you to do likewise.  Our doors are open and the table is always set.


From our passage this morning: “Moses told his father-in-law the story of all that God had done to Pharaoh and Egypt in helping Israel, all the trouble they had experienced on the journey, and how God had delivered them.”


So tell me, what is your story? What is your song? Did you approach life with a script? How has your story developed? I invite you to share your story with others..to write it down, to draw it out..to understand and appreciate its importance.

Amen.