In the middle of the night

I am writing this at 2:13 in the morning.  I went to bed at 10 PM and woke and found myself thinking about Jacob - encountering God in the night.

I am preaching about this in 10 days and spent some time today reading, pondering, and struggling with the story of Jacob and how God came to him in the night.  Twice.  The first time we have the story of "Jacob's Ladder" as dreamed about angels going up and down.  And realized that God was with him in the night.  The second time he wrestled with an angel or a man or God and came away limping with a new name.

I have read several commentaries and found a couple of sermons I have written about Jacob in the past.  He is quite a subject.  His family was the original dysfunctional family as he mother  - who loved him best - helped him to fool his father, Isaac, into giving him the blessing and the birthright.  So that the promise and the covenant went with him and not Esau.  As I lay in bed this night I kept thinking about the detail that the Bible gives right from the beginning about Jacob - he was a twin born second with his hand on his brothers heel.  A striver trying to be firs.  The man who was a cheater and conniver and trickster in beating out his brother.

What strikes me in this story is that he was born this way - he was wired for this!  I ponder that we all are born with parts of ourselves that are almost baked in the cake.   Strivers, or pleasers, or peace makers.  There are parts of us - our personalities that just are.  And they may be helpful and they may be problemmatic.  He was who he was.

The story that I get to struggle with for a while is Jacob whose striving led him into exile - he got what he wanted he thought.  And then for 20 years was away from his family because his brother wanted to kill him.  That is when he has the first encounter with God in the night.  He is sleeping outside with a stone for a pillow.  another interesting detail.  He is - as we all are - vulnerable in the night. Maybe more open to God's presence. And God comes in the night in the form of a dream.  Not rejecting him or condemning him.  Coming and communicating with him.  Saying I am here

¹⁵ Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you

As God comes to me in the night tonight.  I was woken up with a dream.  And that led me into this genuine ruminating.  And wondering about how God never stops wanting to be in relationship with God's people.  The bottom line of these stories from the Bible is about God.  Who is beyond simple cause and effect explanations.  Who is mystery and love and grace.

Last Sunday John preached about Genesis chapter one - the creation story -  and said a simple fact - that God created - the world and us - because he wanted to be in relationship with us. It struck me about how often most people - myself included - do not really think much about God in our day to day life.  Don't look for or notice the presence, the blessings, the moments, the nudges, God created us to be with him - and we often ignore and are mostly self referential. . I remember reading in high school a poem by James Weldon Johnson  called creation that started like this:

 And God stepped out on space,
And he looked around and said:
I'm lonely—
I'll make me a world.

It is a poignant and vulnerable understanding - I am lonely. God is lonely?  For us?  For me?

 So I write these words tonight having been awakened in the night.  Wondering if God is saying to me - let's spend some time together.  I'm here with you.

And these words written in this blog are a form of prayer.  Me saying - I am here to be with you.

 

Remembering

Sitting here thinking about and remembering.  8:46 am September 11, 2001.  The first plane.

We remember.

I sit in my living room and see a picture of my hand in Chuck's and it is dated, December 24, 2018

I remember his death

I see the angel Susan bought me fifteen years ago on a cruise to the Caribbean

I remember the fun

I see another angel my mother gave me that was in her living room

I remember our family time in that room.

I see the piano that was purchased in 1966 when we moved to Birmingham Michigan.  And then my parents gave it to me in the 80's.  

I remember playing alot of Mozart

These memories are here always represented by token,s souvenirs, pictures, furniture.  The memories of twenty years ago come every time I look at the TV or the news on the phone.

It is the fulness of life to remember the tragedies, the deaths, the life events.  I sit and remember and know the blessing of having loved deeply and enjoyed friendship and family life.  There is also a blessing in being an American in times of shared loss.

Twenty years ago I was pastoring the church in Bowling Gree.  When I heard the news I immediately know taht we had to meet in the church that night to pray.  We did and continued every Tuesday night for a year with a prayer service. I remember spending that week writing a sermon in my head and finally delivering it on Sunday.  I still have it - about Jesus response to evil.

I will live this day with an awareness of that event that shaped so many lives - leading to war and more loss.  Our country carries grief and trauma that continues to this day.

And yet - like my life - there is always an undercurrent of goodness and love that is flowing. The media tells stories of heroism in the moment and changed lives and circumstances afterward.  Evil never has the last word - nor does tragedy or death.

I listened several times this week to a podcast by Rob Bell about "How to open your heart."  He said we close our heart when we believe we can't start over and we open it as we receive the goodness of life.

So, I remember today.  I dip down again into grief and I come up to gratitude for the gift of this new day and the blessing of remembering all of it.

I found this poem by Mary Oliver.  It speaks to today

“The Uses of Sorrow”

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

Constructing a life

I walked this morning with a friend and we had that conversation again about the task of constructing a life.  It never ends.

I am back from vacation and was invited to take on a new responsibility within the life of the church and find myself in a place of discernment.  Is this what I am called to?  Does the thought of doing the tasks of this particular position give me energy or fill me with anxiety?  What will this do to my current life and schedule?  

Retirement is a blessing and - I hate to say it - also a curse.  The both - and of life.  There is so much I don't have to do anymore - but the question is - what to do now?  Which ties to the other question - the ultimate question - who am I NOW?

I frequently talk about the "seasons" of life.  There was a season in my life - of about 20 years - when I worked directly with youth.  At that time I knew that often our weekly programs were about the question of "who am I?" Those were always the meetings that were sure to engage the young people.  What I didn't know at the time was "who am I NOW" is a question pops up throughout our lives.   

I can  always say - I am a beloved child of God.  But that is not enough to fill the 24/7 hours of every life.  I am a woman who loves God and wants to be guided by God as I work at a church, play pickleball, walk with friends, engage with family, etc. etc. etc. I am at times a leader and a spiritual director and at other times lost and very confused. 

One of my favorite prayers is by Dietrich Bonhoeffer and I will include it here.  It may seem presumptuous to compare myself to this Christian Martyr in a cell in Germany - but the quandry of how we may appear to others and how we struggle with self  doubt is universal.  And the final line of the poem -" whoever I am......I am thine" gives me comfort.

 Who am I?  They often tell me
I stepped from my cell's confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders 
freely and friendly and clearly,
as through it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?

 
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

 
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing
My throat, yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely question of mine,
Whoever I am, Thou Knowest, O God, I am thine."

The Anchor

I am back at my computer this morning and I think back to "normal" - whatever that means.  I am dressed in my pickleball clothes and will leave soon to play pickleball with my friends at Woodward Park.  

I have already listened to the app - "Pray as you go" and am struck - as usual by the gift of my faith.  This morning I heard about the story of the calling of Phillip and Nathaniel.  This struck me today:

 

⁵⁰ Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” ⁵¹ And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you,^[m] you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

I have just returned from a wonderful trip to Bald Head Island.  We as a family were celebrating my brother Geoff's 70th birthday.  We are a family that knows how to celebrate - they joined me on a cruise for my 60th birthday and Chuck's 75th birthday and we all went to Utah for Wayne's 70th and now to North Carolina for Geoff's.  

The whole week was full of fun and food and games and sun and ocean wonders.  Several times we were up early in the morning and just in awe of the sunrise.  It is such a gift to be living for a week in a community that shares that love of nature.  We saw the "heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending."  My sister in law, Vicky, loves my brother and wanted this week and the party in the middle of the week to be special - and it all was.  What made it most special was the love that was so evident.  There is nothing more precious for a sister than to watch her brothers have love in their marriages.  What a gift.

I titled this - "the anchor" - because my anchor is not just my family.  It was when I went home and went to church and saw familiar faces and sang praise songs and hymns and took communion and sat in a sanctuary that I realized - this is my anchor.  It is the relationship that I have with God which is experienced in a real way in being part of a church community.

I came home to news of 2 deaths within the church and struggles of friends who are important to me.  That in addition to my awareness of the news of the day - Afghanistan, Covid, floods in Tennessee.  Life is hard.  Life is not just a week at the beach - it is the daily struggle to survive at times, it is the perseverance of putting one foot in front of the other and keeping going, it is the commitment to love no matter what.

So, I begin this week at home grateful for the anchor of faith and - always - expectant - that as I seek to follow Jesus i will "see greater things than these."

Everything is Sacred

 That is the title of a book written by Richard Rohr and Patrick Boland.  And it is the story of all of our lives - everything belongs and everything is holy.

Richard Rohr writes:

"To work up to loving God, start by loving the very humblest and simplest things.....Don't start by trying to love God, or even people, love rocks and elements first, move to trees, then animals, and then humans.....it might be the only way to love, because how you do anything, is how you do everything." 

I started this Saturday by sitting on my front porch, reading the newspaper for a while and then just sitting and looking at trees in the front yard.  And the large and beautiful Hydrangeas that have finally bloomed.  I sit in wonder and awe.  Then my neighbor calls out to me: "Good Morning, Miss Margot."  I love it.

I feel like I belong here in my home.  It has taken time after Chuck died to really embrace who I am living in this home now alone.  My dog Ginger, sits with me and there is a sense of peace and expectation that I didn't feel always.

Two weeks ago, I made the decision to stay in my home a few more years.  I am becoming comfortable with caring for the yard and have enough people to help with house issues.  Most importantly, after 17 years of living here, I finally feel connected personally to my neighbors.  Chuck was the one that everyone knew and I was the one who was working often.  Now I am home more and find ways to connect and feel connected.  Everything is sacred.

And so  - porch sitting - has become an important spiritual practice for me.  An awareness of the seasons of the year in nature and the seasons of life in me.  And the realization that everything belongs and everything is holy.

I leave soon to go to a funeral with Audrey.  It will be sad and hard to watch the grief of all who loved this man.  And yet, I know - as one who has lived through great loss - that even this belongs.  It is so good to gather together as friends and family and celebrate a life well lived and to acknowledge the deep grief that remains.  It is also good to know that God is present in it all - bringing us strength and comfort and most of all - hope - in the midst of suffering.  Everything is sacred .

Too Long

Since I wrote.  

But here I am.

I am sitting in my office at the church and getting ready for a Bible study this evening that I hope will be in the garden - but it may end up being inside the church because of rain.  Either way, it is a blessing to me to get to spend time with the word of God and the people of God.

I just returned from a family vacation and learned that I really missed my church family.  For the past year I have spent time with many people in Bible study three times a week and the connections that we have are very real and they go deep.  It is a blessing to have people who share faith and doubt and confusion and pain and joy together.  That is what we do in these small groups.

Yesterday the Bible study was based on Mark 6: 7-13 - which is the calling of the disciples.  It is a passage that is extremely meaningful to me because I had it "preached" on the day I was ordained in June 1985. Here it is:

Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7 He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8 He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9 but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10 He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12 So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13 They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

What spoke to me then was that the disciples - who were often so clueless about who Jesus was - were given the authority to heal and exorcise demons and they had some success with it.  It was a good beginning for a beginning minister - this word of assurance that with God we can do more than we can imagine.  As I look back on the last 35 years I can attest to the truth that God gives us gifts that will at times awe us.

But now as I read it I notice in a new way the vulnerability of the disciples.  They are sent out 2 by 2 - not alone - thank God.  And they have only enough as they need and will have to live in dependence on others. No self sufficiency here but only God dependence.  As I get older I see that God dependence is a promise I have always preached about - but often did not live.  I think back today to when Chuck had surgery and then grew weaker and died and know that was a time of extreme "God dependence" for me.  It is only when we get to that place when we recognize our powerlessness that we are able to appreciate God's provision and sustaining presence.  God truly does get us through - and if you live long enough, you learn that.

So, I hope to get back to this blog on a more regular basis so that I can bear witness to the power of the one who gives me life. And as always, I recommend the gift of the Bible and the spending time with it in community where we learn over and over again

Jesus Loves Me

This I know

For the Bible tells me so

Little ones to him belong

For we are weak and he is strong

YES Jesus loves me.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day and in many ways, I will just being doing the things I usually do - walking with a friend, playing pickleball, maybe a cookout with family.  I don't know.

But I am aware of the meaning and importance of this day.  Yesterday in church I did the pastoral prayer and mentioned prayers for those who are serving, for those who gave their lives, for those who were wounded and came back changed, for the families that support and are affected by war.  

A couple of years ago I thought about the fact that my Uncle Harry - who I never met - died in World War 2 and I wondered what changed in my mother losing her only brother.  What changed in my Grandmother, losing her only son.  I am aware of several men who came home from Vietnam changed and men and women who have been greatly affected by their time in Iraq or Afghanistan.

Those who serve are so easily forgotten and those years can have an impact - not just on their lives - but on their families.  I know I live in an ideal world - believing that somehow the values of Christ could actually work in this broken world.  Regardless, I pray for the peacemakers and for the work of diplomats who seek to help us to avoid the perils of war.  

So on this memorial day I pray for all who have been affected by war and pray for a time when we really can live in peace.

 

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When the World Spins Crazy
By Walter Brueggemann

When the world spins crazy,
spins wild and out of control
spins toward rage and hate and violence,
spins beyond our wisdom and nearly beyond our faith,
When the world spins in chaos as it does now among us…

We are glad for sobering roots that provide ballast in the storm.
So we thank you for our rootage in communities of faith,
for our many fathers and mothers who have believed and trusted as firm witnesses to us,
for their many stories of wonder, awe, and healing.

We are glad this night in this company
for the rootage of the text,
for the daring testimony,
for its deep commands,
for its exuberant tales.
Because we know that as we probe deep into this text…
clear to its bottom,
we will find you hiding there,
we will find you showing yourself there,
speaking as you do,
governing,
healing,
judging.

And when we meet you hiddenly,
we find the spin not so unnerving,
because from you the world again has a chance
for life and sense and wholeness.
We pray midst the spinning, not yet unnerved,
but waiting and watching and listening,
for you are the truth that contains all our spin. Amen.

From Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann. Prayed at the Lay School of the Pentateuch on September 17, 2001.