Wonderings--May 26

As I continue to think and grieve over the shooting Uvalde, I thought about the intersection point between grief and compassion. Both ideas are serious and both can require a lifetime to fully address or practice. We can spend years trying to live compassionately in a world that does not practice compassion themselves. 

Nonetheless, God asks each of us to find space in our lives when these moments of suffering take place, and when our world is rocked to its spiritual foundations, and practice both ideas concurrently. 

To that end, as I wrestled with these ideas, I also remembered something that I read a long time ago which helps me with this practice. I return to these words often when 'presence' of compassion and the 'pain' of grief come together around me. 

Henri Nouwen wrote: 

"It might sound strange to consider grief as a way to compassion. But it is. God asks me to allow the sins of the world--my own included--to pierce my heart and make me shed tears, many tears, for them. There is no compassion without many tears. If they can't be tears that stream from my eyes, they have to be at least tears that well up from my heart. When we consider the immense waywardness of God's children. . . our violence, our anger, our resentment, and when look at them through the eyes of God's heart, I cannot but weep and cry out in grief." 

The act of crying out in pain as Nouwen speaks about, either out loud or silent in my heart, leads us toward a position of compassion. 

But in our compassion we are not resigned or apathetic toward what we witness in our world. We do not state that our world is 'getting what it deserves.' We don't distance ourselves from the pain even though this pain resides at such a physical distance from us in this moment. We further cannot just say, 'well that is their pain what am I to do about it.' 

Instead the pain of the world can enter into our hearts. It can, and it should, touch us and call us into our own grief time. In that time of grief, and in the space that we encounter God in, We receive His compassion. We feel God's love once again holding us closely. 

In our time of grief we can, and we should, turn to the Lord through prayer and presence. In our pain we continue onward because of Lord goes with us everywhere. As we turn to God, I wonder what God might do in our hearts?  

I wonder if you can find that intersection point between grief and compassion? Perhaps God is there and perhaps God is preparing to teach you something? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Wonderings--May 25

Following my discovery last evening of the school shooting in Uvalde, Texas, I opened my notebook and wondered if I could list, either by name or through a reference point, the shootings that occurred in schools around our nation. 

I knew that this task would be a lengthy exercise. I would hurt. But I just felt called by God to do it. . . . Pain would come to mind often as I wrote these names down and remembered them, but again, it seemed necessary to me as a way to begin to pray, and so sighing, I started writing. 

The first thing that came to mind (besides Uvalde, Texas) was standing in Jennifer's parents living room in 1999. It was a few months before we were married. Columbine was first. I remembered the images from the news and my shock and dismay at the story of the two assailants. Confusion and fear were all that I felt that day. Was I truly witnessing what it seemed that I was witnessing? I never saw something like this before. Little did I know back in 1999 that this would happen more and more and I would begin to feel numb to it. 

Sighing I continued the practice as a way to gently remember and continue to grieve. Leaving my judgements aside, I wrote. . . 

Names of locations came to my mind and they triggered memories of where I was and what I was doing for each. . . Majorie Stoneman. . . Sandy Hook. . . Virginia Tech. . . the Amish Shooting in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. No matter who took to lectern to attempt make sense of these shootings on the news, they could not. The best attempts that our national leadership made at helping us address, or confront the shootings, and try to heal, failed for me. I always felt helpless as I switched off the television and I had few words in prayer. 

There was little rhyme or reason for how these memories came to my mind. But I let the feelings and memories wash over me one after another. As I thought, I remembered an audio presentation that I heard about Dr. King's final sermon by John Meacham. This sermons was delivered in 1968--a day before his assassination. Dr. King proclaimed: 

"Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go out to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. . . I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy tonight. . . My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

These words call me to continue my work for the Lord. They call me to continue to share God's word often and freely. For in the Word of God we find healing. We find union with our Savior in those words. In God's word we find hope that even as evil continues to live and hunt in this world. God is with us. Even as school shootings take our breath away and we say things like, "Come Lord Jesus," or "How can this happen God," we turn back to our Lord for in Him we find salvation and safety. 

In Him we find not a dismissal of evil or a punitive God who will strike down those who do these things. Certainly that can happen and it is God's prerogative if it does. For only He holds the universal perspective. 

In Him we find a way to reach our hands out to those who grieve and suffering. We find, with God, a way to express and live in solitary with the wounded and the suffering. 

In Him we do not find our pain swept away so we can return to normal necessarily, but we hear a call to dwell with the 'least of these' for in that place we feel their suffering and we strive to offer hope. 

I agree with Dr. King, I don't know what happens next, but I also agree that "my eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Wonderings--May 24

Although we live in a 24-hour news cycle there are some issues that continually surface in our minds long after we have stopped witnessing the news coverage. These things, or these issues, live on. We read about them, and listen to them, and as such we cannot ignore or push them away totally. Distractions are only that--distractions--the pain lives on. The greater pain and suffering still resides with us and since we are called by God, we must respond. 

The seriousness of them linger for long periods of time with and in us. 

But today as I thought about some of those lingering challenges and struggles in our culture, and as I clicked out of my news app on my iPhone, I was drawn to an article written by Rabbi Yeheil E. Poupko. His work addresses the Jewish community's interfaith relations with the larger world. As a theologian he frequently witnesses what is taking place outside of his window and community and finds a way to wonder about God's placement in those events? 

Recently he wrote an article that appeared in Christian Century. 

Tracing a thought-line through Jewish history and into the present, where violence and shootings occur more and more frequently, Rabbi Poupko invites us to reflect back through our combined history with God as a way to affirm God's presence with us. 

Although the temptation is present to state that God is far off and we cannot find a way back to Union with God, perhaps a different choice could be made by the church? Perhaps we could use the pain that we feel, and the tragedies that we witness, and the suffering of the community at-large, as a way to examine our response? 

Rabbi Poupko writes: 

". . . The Jewish tradition no longer attempts to address the question “Why?” when horrific and evil events overtake us. Rather, it seeks to answer a different set of questions: Now that we have been subjected to such events, what must we do? How should we do it? With whom should we do it? When and where should we do it?"

These are also questions that we might be challenged by God to answer in our day and situation. What should we do next? . . . How must we do it? . . . When and where is our response called for? None of this reflection can be done lightly or causally. These questions invite us to a practice of discernment. They are an invitation by God for deeper reflection when evil surrounds us.

For while we read and reflect back on the evil that we witness, that does not mean we are powerless. We have a role and a mission. I wonder today how you might answer these questions? What might God be asking of you? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Wonderings--May 18

Last night I did not sleep well. This has less to do with any anxiety or stress that I am reading about or feeling. My sleeplessness is more related to my choice of dinner than anything else. Add to my bout of indigestion and curious shih-tzu who wanted attention every time I got up, and the night dragged on a little more than I would have liked. 

So sleepily I slung my backpack over my shoulder and as I walked to the church I knew that I needed a little extra God-time to help my soul. I needed God's help not to 'awaken my soul' or to help me be more productive, but I needed God's help in a different, more personal, way. 

It was time to walk into the cemetery here at Bethesda and pray. Opening my devotional app on my iPhone, I slowly walked and considered the material. Each day this devotional offers listeners a 12-14 minute program which combines many pieces of worship. The company who creates these follows a simple formula: 

Greeting

Musical selection (sometimes in English)

Reading of God's word

Questions for reflection

Re-reading of the same passage

A final question

Blessing

I have listened to this program for years since a seminary professor recommended it to me and I often find it helpful. The formula works and neatly fits into even the busiest of days. 

Today's text was from John 15. In the text Jesus tells his disciples to abide in him and he will abide with them. He is the vine. . . They are the branches. He brings life. They must remain together with him. Certainly familiarity is ringing in your ear as you consider this text. The first question that the speaker offered us for reflection was all the my soul needed, and I wonder if it might be helpful to you today? 

In a world that feels cut off at times from God, and in a world where society makes choices that also feel counter to God's will, perhaps her words can help us reclaim our union with God. She said: 

"Imagine what would it be like to be a branch, joined to this vine? 

To be tended by the gardener and bear abundant fruit?"

Could you take a moment right now and do this? Consider this question in your heart right now. . . 

As she said these words, I stopped and sat on a little bench in the shade. It was a cool sunny morning and I was thankful to find this place of rest as I strengthen my artificial knee. I closed my eyes and listened to my heart's response. The responses were buzzing around me almost instantly. I heard words coming from my heart like:

Union. 

Togetherness. 

Commonality. 

Vitality. 

Life.

I saw in my heart a yellowish-white vein flowing from the root of the vine and into the branches. Like veins in our bodies, this light granted, or brought, life to the extremities of the vine--to us--and fruit would grow. I saw the Gardner traveling around his field. Smiling. Watering. Feeding. And caring for his field; caring for us.  

This reflection went on for 10 more minutes. Then they finished with a benediction and I returned to my desk. 

The election struggles that I read about from primaries around the country are still present and unresolved. NATO issues are part of our day. War still rages in far off places. We are still divided as the Supreme Court rules on case after case. . . And yet, for the moment, I abided in the vine and it helped. 

I hope you will take a moment today and consider the question that was posed to me. Maybe God brought it into your life for a reason? 

Blessings

Derek

Wonderings--May 17

I am not quite as angry or upset today by what I am witnessing in our community--but I am also not apathetically moving on either. The pain is still there as is the confusion and uncertainty.  

There is still the pain of reading, and noticing, how the initial suffering in places like Buffalo and the church in California spreads outward into the world-- and I still don't have the answer to the "why" question. 

We are hearing and witnessing the pain as it travels from firsthand accounts toward us at home. In this way their communal suffering seems to resemble a pebble dropped into a lake; the ripples are continuing to move outward further and further from their source or inciting incident. We cannot see where the shoreline is and so the ripples keep traveling further and further away. . . or further closer to us. 

Op eds are being penned and revised and evaluated and defended at every turn by political commentators and news sources. Polling numbers are being scrutinized and applied as leadership tries to grapple with the world and the impact of these events. People want to have a justification for what they feel or experience and they want to process those feelings in front of the community and demand the community accept them--a practice that I can sympathize with for no one likes to stand alone and confess that they feel powerless and targeted. 

And yet this morning I read the words of novelist Jodi Picoult and I stopped and considered the implications of what she was speaking about. Her words are cited in the book: God, Improv, and the Art of Living. 

She writes this: 

"Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullet with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and the bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back."

I don't want to parse out exactly what Jodi said in this quotation. Instead, I want to wonder with you today about who in your life is displaying the superpower of listening and loving? And I wonder if it could be you?  

When we read about tragedy and suffering, and regardless of its motivation, we find people who choose to dwell and listen. Certainly there were folks who acted in these horrific events. We need those people. Someone began to the process of 'hogtie-ing' the shooter in the California church. That person's work saved lives. Personal when the shooter in Pittsburgh opened fire in a Jewish synagogue, the rabbi hid elderly individuals in closets around the building for their safety. 

But now as we pick up the pieces as a society, and as we read and listen to politicians attempt to capitalize on the events for the gain of their agenda, I wonder if we can notice who just dwelt with the wounded? 

Who was there to hold their hand and grieve with them? 

Weep with them? 

Dwell with them? 

I am sure in your life when times of suffering have come someone sat down on the bench next to you and didn't say a word. They didn't offer a solution or an opinion. They didn't not opine the latest buzz-worthy response or offer to show you a meme that captures how you feel. And they didn't have to. . . They just sat there. Perhaps they didn't even look at you, but their presence made verbal interaction unnecessary. 

Perhaps that was their superpower. . . perhaps it can be yours as well. 

I wonder if God has shown you someone who you could dwell with in these tough times? Maybe He has given you the relationship so that you can help them through something that does not need to be named in order to be meaningful? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Wonderings--May 16

I am upset today. . . Frustrated. . . Angry. . . . My feelings are a mixture of rage, confusion, and apathy, and I imagine you feel the same way. So if you will indulge me for a few minutes that might help us both as we work toward faithfulness. . . 

Today as I prepared to come to the church, I read in The Guardian (England's most reliable, and unbiased, new source). The paper reported that Finland and Sweden are preparing to join NATO, and as I read this, I also I read Russia's response to their choice. The Russians say things like, "this won't go unnoticed by us. It demands a response." The Russians state that they will respond with a potential military build-up near the 810 mile border between Finland and Russia--and I think, "here we go again."

I am upset as I read about protest and public statements related to an upcoming Supreme Court decision and reading about how protesters are gathering around the country--even at the homes of justices--to make their voices heard. And while I support our right to gather and express our opinion, what I read and notice seems less based on a sense of 'coming together' and more 'you won't win.' Last evening JonMark and I talked as he drove home and we wondered together why we cannot have a dialogue anymore? Why must things get to this level of outrage? 

I thought about the violence and terrorism in Buffalo as a man traveled 3.5 hours to execute other members of God's family. His actions were completely racially motivated and the way he defined himself to law enforcement sickened my heart. His 100+ page manifesto spouts only hate and theories that defy logic. His attempts to live stream his actions are beyond understanding to me. As he modified his weapon to increase is effectiveness, I wondered how could this happen?  

My anger bubbled again as I heard about a church in California who dealt with their own active shooter. And while there were injuries in the church, and some quite serious, the church was able to subdue the attacker. Is not even God's house, the sanctuary, a place where we can take 'sanctuary' any longer? 

On and on it went with my frustration and anger growing inside of me. . . And while I know part of the solution is to stop reading the stories, I can say that these incidents still happen whether I read about them or not. 

What am I supposed to? 

How am I supposed to act or feel? I feel helpless and hopeless. . . 

Not knowing exactly what to do, I opened my morning prayer app and I started walking. The heat this morning warming me as I entered my sacred space and traveled around it. Quiet music played first. A passage of Acts was read by someone. The narrator offered some guided prayer for me. . . And I walked in my sacred space. 

I slid my glasses off my face and wiped some of the sweat from my eyes. Placing them in my shirt pocket, I took a deep breath and hummed the music that I was listening to. They sang: 

There's a song inside of us

A song of beauty and truth

That fear has sometimes stolen

That fear has sometimes stolen

There's a voice inside of us

a voice of creativity

Which judgement tries to silence

Which judgement tries to silence

But now I rise

Pouring out my song of love

Here at your feet

No more fear!

Awake my soul! 

While I have been trained to think theologically when confronted by any situation in life, and as I have honed my heart to listen to the spiritual rhythms of God each day, I find that I cannot do more today than simply walk. . . "No more fear. . . Awake my soul!"

Perhaps today you are in a similar place? 

Struggling to come to terms with what is happening in our world and community? In that case you are not alone. . . Struggling to see God at work? . . . Again you are not alone in this. Angry, righteously, against what is happening in our world? 

If so, I wonder if you might take a moment as I did, and spend time with the Lord? I wonder what the two of you might learn and how you might feel God drawing close? Perhaps God is ready to awaken your soul in a way that is new and helpful? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Wonderings--May 12

It has been a surprisingly quick 12-weeks for me. Actually it has been 12 weeks and three days if I am being specific, but I know that this detail is not that important. It has been 12 weeks since Dr. Weiss replaced my knee. Caps, rods, and spacers were put where they will be for the rest of my life and I can walk better and smoother now. Today was the final check-up with Dr. Weiss for a while (I will see him at 1-year just to make sure everything is well and stable--which he thinks it will be).

Last week I saw my physical therapist for the final time also and she pronounced me 'good to go.' Her final instructions were to come back with an update so she could see how well I was doing. She showed me some extra work that I could do at-home to help me in recovery and I headed back to my truck. All the necessary measurements (flexion and extension) were taken and I was significantly ahead of schedule and felt good. 

I have learned a great deal during these weeks of therapy and healing that I have shared either in these posts or from the pulpit on Sunday morning. 

They key learning point for me has been the intersection of patience and listening--tasks I know are hard for a lot of people. Through my recovery, I learned to listen to the tiny voice in my heart that routinely updates me on my pain levels and flexibility. As best as I can, I now listen better to that voice more often and try and obey its suggestions. 

I stand and walk around the office and fellowship hall almost every hour now so that I do not become too sore and stiff. I walk around the parking lot often in the morning before work--but not every day because I do hurt still at times. The voice reminds me that overdoing it is bad and that choice only wears me out faster. 

When is it time of Advil? When should I elevate my knee and ice it? The voice tells me. But the spiritual learning has been more meaningful.

Today I am more patient. 

My at-home physical therapist was the first one to push back on my desire to work harder than I needed too so that I could walk quicker. She helped me to realize that patience was as much a part of PT as the hard work that was, and is, needed. 

We read about patience in the book of Habakkuk. In the prophet we read: "For there is still a vision for the appointed time. . . it speaks of the end, and it does not lie." If you read on you will hear God say to the prophet: It it seems slow; wait for it. It is on its way; it will arrive right on time. . . this is a word of patience for the church. 

Often we want to push as fast as we can and become the most effective and efficient models of the Christian life. But in doing so we risk not hearing that small voice of the Holy Spirit telling us to be patient. . . dwell with God. If spiritual progress seems slow don't worry it will happen. Just give it time and space. 

Maybe instead of pushing as hard as we can to become faithful, slowing down, sitting back, and resting might be just what God is asking of us? This has been a lesson that I learned as I healed from surgery and it is one that maybe God is asking you to adopt yourself?  

Blessings,

Rev. Derek