The Gift of Preaching

I am now on staff at Gender Road Christian Church as the "Minister of Engagement."  I still don't know exactly what that means - but I  like the sound of it.  Maybe I am helping people to engage with each other, with the church program, with their spiritual life?

When I preach, I am helping people to engage with the text.  The good news is that I get to preach  once a month.  So, I get to engage with the text and have a lot of time to ponder, study, reflect and write.  AND because there are three services - I get to deliver the sermon three times and get more comfortable with it each time.

I preached Sunday on the "Little Apocalypse" passage from Luke 21 and enjoyed the process of putting it all together.  Afterward someone asked me how long it took to write and I SAID - 10 - 15 hours which may be true.  But the truth is that until I am delivering a sermon, the text just sits in the back of my head and informs whatever I am doing.  My sermons often will include whatever is happening in my life at the time.  In this case, I ended up telling a story about Dolly Parton because I have been listening to her podcast.

Yesterday I started looking at the next text because I am preaching again in two weeks.  It will be the first Sunday in Advent and I think that the title will be "Walking in the Light." (Isaiah 2: 1-5) Already ideas are starting to come and I find myself having renewed energy for this whole process.

Sunday afternoon I went to a program by the Spirituality Network which was essentially an experiential introduction to the spirituality of Islam.  We learned about clothing, architecture, prayer forms and history.  It was really, really interesting and inspiring.  I started thinking about the practice of praying 5 times a day and wondered what effect that would have on me if I intentionally prayed in that way.

I think that the discipline of preaching has always been a gift to me in that it has kept the word of God for that week (or month) present and alive within me.  It is possible that with this I end up praying MORE than five times a day!  The greatest blessing of my life now  is that I no longer have the relentless pressure of preaching weekly.   Instead I get to feast on the word slowly and allow it to seep into my soul and reveal the richness of God's word.

Actually as I write this, I realize that my faith is strong because of my years of preaching.  It is a gift and sometimes a burden as face a difficult text and wonder what God wants me to share.  Over the years I have gone through times - on Friday or Saturday - of thinking that  whatever I have  put together was stupid or dry or unintelligible.  And then usually - with a little more time and prayer - something new emerges. It can be an image, a transition, a cpmplete reorganization,  but the sermon then takes a new shape and I have peace about it.  Many many weeks  I go through what I call a "Good Friday" moment where I am saying - "My God, My God where are you?"  And then Easter comes.

That may all sound dramatic but that really has been my experience.  I  can testify that God is faithful and God does give us what we need to do the things we have been called to do.

Here is a blessing by Maxine Shonk that speaks to be today.

May the God of SERVICE be with you.
May God minister to you in your vulnerability.
May you know God's giving presence in your powerlessness and in your humanity.
May you serve the needs of all those whose path of struggle and need crosses your own.
And may they know the healing touch of God through your service and presence.
May the God of SERVICE be with you.

A Time of Wonder

I have just returned from a trip to Chattanooga and Nashville Tennessee and am still pondering and appreciating the gift of this time away.

I was accompanying Audrey who is part of a 12 person running team doing a 200 mile relay from Chattanooga to Nashville.  While she was running in the some cold weather, I was exploring interesting places in Chattanooga and then enjoying nice meals on the road.

All day Friday I kept thinking this is a day of wonders.  We saw Ruby Falls which is an underground waterfall on Lookout Mountain.  Words cannot describe this trip of walking through caverns and seeing the beauty of stalactites and stalagmites and the falls were just breathtaking.  In the afternoon we went to Rock City with massive rock formations and panoramic views.  It was amazing.

The wonders also continued just in being part of the community that surrounded this race.  The 12 runners took two vans and supported each other in this very daunting task.  They joined a hundred other teams and watching everyone come in at the end was really inspiring. 

On Sunday Audrey and I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and - even though I am not usually listening to country music - I greatly appreciate the creativity of the artists who were celebrated there.  Always, it is fascinating to see the different ways that people live their lives and use their gifts and this was time well spent.

So, I am home again and ready to think about preaching this Sunday and being present to God as I continue to live my own life of wonder.  I think I will end this with a fragment from a poem by Wendell Berry that I received from the Geography of Grace Class.

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high above us.
pass, and the sky closes.  Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
Them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith; what we need
is here.  And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear.  What we need is here.

In this together

 I have started a "Readers and Writers Salon" which meets once a month where we either share writing we like or writing we have done.  And this is what I wrote this month:

The women come

Usually solo but sometimes in twos or even threes.

But mostly they come alone.   Dressed in a variety of ways – scarves, spangles, jeans, tennis shoes, robes, dresses, hajibs,  suits,  high heels, scrubs.  Most speak English but some come with translators.   The women range in age and have a variety of expectations.  

For some, this is an annual mammogram that the doctor requires, for others it is a look back after a questionable test.  Some are here for bone scans and others for a biopsy.  They are the ones who often have companions – a daughter with a mother, a wife with a husband.  The women  come and go all morning long .

After Latasha or Jen check them in, I open the  door and show them the  dressing area and ask my questions and give instruction.   The first question is always:   : “ Did you use deodorant or lotion?” Followed by:    Here is your robe and a locker.  Take off everything above the waist, tie the robe in the front.  Are you having a bone scan?  I inquire about metal in their clothing,  calling attention to zippers and hooks on bras.  Then they go into the tea room, waiting for their name to be called.

 

And I take paperwork to the nurses and techs and then go back to the waiting room until the next woman needs to be escorted back.  

I am a volunteer who spends 4 hours weekly opening doors and closing curtains, giving out robes, and inviting women into the lovely tea room -  a place of peace where there are magazines to read,  soft music playing and tea and coffee available.

I go back and forth all morning – lugging the used robes into the backroom, refilling the shelves, checking on coffee, water, cream and sugar.   I am a pleasant face, a helpful presence and mostly unseen.

I enjoy sitting in the waiting room during the lulls between women and watching people entering the medical building.  There are  people of all ages, stages  and races.  Many hobble on their way in, holding onto walkers or canes.  I see   racing children with patient parents and older couples holding hands.  

At the same time the TV in the waiting room is always on HGTV and so I watch parts of episodes of “Love it or List it” or “House Hunters” or “Beachfront Bargain Hunt”  - all of which show people who are younger than me, richer than me and definitely pickier than me selecting a home.

And I realize how easy it is to live in our  own little bubble of privilege and particularity. On most days I am  with people close to my own age, race, religion and class.

But Friday mornings in this little job I find myself pondering some  of the great mysteries of life.

I ponder the sheer variety of people that populate Columbus.  I marvel at the differences in attire and attitude of women that come and go through the this medical building.

I ponder  the mystery of our health that unites all of us.  We live in amazing, powerful  and yet fragile bodies.  We are all one cancer screening away from truly confronting our own mortality.

And finally,  I ponder the mystery of the human relationships.  Some people wondered about my working here – are you counseling?  Doing Pastoral care?  No.  I smile, I speak their name, hand out a robe, show them to the next room.  

Sometimes there has been more: a very teary woman told me that she was having a biopsy and I prayed for her.  Another time a woman shared that this was her first mammogram without her mother and we talked about grief together.  

But mostly I enjoy the simplicity of service to another that makes a little connection because ultimately  I find hope believing that   we are all in this  together.