Easter Sunday (We've Made It!"

The one sentiment I take with me from Easter Sunday. It was a full day of celebration and immersion into the Scripture, we feasted and sang and spent time together, we read we toiled and we shared the Eucharist together. However, it was Father Peter’s words in the sermon that put the exclamation point on the “Fullest Lent Ever”. The Lections for the day was the Road to Emmaus, and Peter said again and again, “We have journeyed forty days, and we’ve made it. The Risen Christ has brought us here.”

He has indeed.

Holy Saturday (Invocation of the Ancient)

On Holy Saturday I attended the Easter Vigil at Pax Christi Catholic Church in Lexington. Our church is currently too small to sustain a vigil so we got together and went to Pax Christi. Oddly enough for a Protestant, the most meaningful moment came when we began a part of the baptismal liturgy called the “Invocation of the Saints”. This is a moment when the Church asks for the Saints to intercede on behalf of the church and those about to be baptized. As the names of various Saints were read, I knew their stories. I love to study the lives of the Saints because I believe that we can all be encouraged by those who have led lives of holiness, sanctified to God. As the names were intoned I knew the stories of many of them, and the prayers they had prayed, and the memories of their lives paraded through my memory and I suddenly felt connected. These are my brother and sisters, these are my people and kindred, I remember them and we belong to one another. Suddenly I realized even more how ancient the church is and that I was a part of something extending through and across time.

Holy Saturday (Invocation of the Ancient)

On Holy Saturday I attended the Easter Vigil at Pax Christi Catholic Church in Lexington. Our church is currently too small to sustain a vigil so we got together and went to Pax Christi. Oddly enough for a Protestant, the most meaningful moment came when we began a part of the baptismal liturgy called the “Invocation of the Saints”. This is a moment when the Church asks for the Saints to intercede on behalf of the church and those about to be baptized. As the names of various Saints were read, I knew their stories. I love to study the lives of the Saints because I believe that we can all be encouraged by those who have led lives of holiness, sanctified to God. As the names were intoned I knew the stories of many of them, and the prayers they had prayed, and the memories of their lives paraded through my memory and I suddenly felt connected. These are my brother and sisters, these are my people and kindred, I remember them and we belong to one another. Suddenly I realized even more how ancient the church is and that I was a part of something extending through and across time.

Good Friday (Wounded Creativity)

During our Good Friday Services last week our Priest, Father Peter, went forward and began to play his guitar. With him were two master violinists and together they played an exquisite rendition of “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us”. As I watched them play their instruments I thought about how all of their instruments were made with beautifully polished wood. Then as I scanned the room I saw the altar table, also made of beautifully polished wood. Finally, I saw the large wooden cross. As I listened to the music and took in what I was seeing, I caught a new glimpse of the fall on humanity. Had we never have fallen, we would have used the resources of our world to make instruments, tables to gather at, and homes for people to live in. As things are however, we use our ingenuity to create torture devices, and walls between one another. Have you ever considered how creative we are in doing evil? We not only hurt one another, we do so artfully. How interesting then that the church has become a sanctuary for music and art! How interesting that played out before us as we reflected on our own sin was redemption in a rosewood violin, and tall wooden altar. The cross was not only a reclamation of our souls but of our lost creativity.

Mandy Thursday (Ugly Feet)

So, let me just be honest. At our Maundy Thursday Service, we shared in the ancient practice of foot washing. I stayed in my seat. It would have taken wild dogs to pull me to have my feet washed. It terrifies me. Through four years of seminary, I have never conquered this fear. It is just too intimate, too personal, and too close. There is no one… and I mean it…no one at all that I would trust enough to perform this action. Oddly enough, I would happily wash the feet of others. Oddly enough this is the struggle of my Christian life… I am more than willing to love others… I find it much harder to be loved… I am more than willing to serve others… less willing to be served but, I know this has to change… after all, does not our Lord tell us “If I do not wash your feet you have no part of me”?

Urgh… the Liturgy has ripped me open.

A Palm Sunday Reflection

Have you considered that in this moment in the Gospel, the triumphal entry, Jesus wept over Jerusalem? This is one of the three instances in the Gospels that Jesus is recorded as having wept. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus, he wept over Jerusalem, and he wept in the Garden.

Luke 19:42-44 says - As (Jesus) approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it 42and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace–but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you.”

We discussed in church today how, Jesus wept as he imagined the ruin of Jerusalem as a result of their unbelief. The simply could not imagine what God was doing in their midst through Jesus. He simply did not fit their preconcieved notions. In my own life, time being as full as it is, I too am having a hard time believing all the wonderful things God is doing in my life. Yet that is the challenge of the day, not to believe in what I think God would or should do, but to believe in what he actually has done. I must believe even though believing is dangerous, vulnerable, and costly.

His Love...

HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS NOT CONDITIONAL...
HIS LOVE IS...

Dimensions of the Cross

I have just caught another dimension of the cross that I have never encountered before. I have through the years grappled with the reality of the cross, the suffering of the cross, the guilt of the cross, the overarching dominion of the cross, but I have never realized how hard it is, to grapple with the love of the cross. Somehow I always took it for granted.

But now, despite everything, as God seems to shower more and more love down on me. As one miraculous thing after another happens in my midst. I am astounded to see how fully God loves me. Lately I have not been especially "holy" I have not been stepping up my Spiritual Discipline beyond any other Lent, I have not been especially charitable, or loving beyond that which is normal for me. Yet he continues to pour down blessings without any sign of letting up.

God loves me beyond what I could imagine. The cross of Jesus is the greatest intersection of love Human existence has ever known. I am astounded by the flooding waters of God's love.

The Days are Full

I am going to buy a purple t-shirt and some of those iron-on t-shirt things... The slogan on the t-shirt will say. "Year of Grace 2005: Fullest Lent Ever!" All around me chains are falling off, people are being set free, tears are falling. My own life feels like I am being sculpted... God is just banging and banging away at me, one sore place after another. Oddly enough though, I feel myself starting to take shape... and I am not afraid. I trust this sculptor, I know his work.

In fact, today I saw his work in my friend Peg, who spoke on forgiveness in chapel. I saw it in a community that surrounded one another in love and I see it more and more in God's Word in depths and dimensions I never have before. I see the work of the sculptor in my roommates and in the life of my friends, and in the life of my church. I am getting ready to graduate and all I can think of is how the community at ATS has changed me. How God has reached through my years here and through these people to show me who he wanted me to be, and then, without my ever raising a finger, seeing to it that his desires for me are fulfilled.

I simply cannot believe what happened in chapel today... the more I replay and replay it in my mind the more surreal it seems. Right now as I remember it in my imagination I feel like the room was filled with light, I see in my heart demons fleeing in the face of Jesus, his face filled with anger at their ministrations against his children... I see the Holy Spirit hovering over those at the altar surrounding them with his wings, protecting them in his love. I see saints singing in the choir loft and angels dancing upon the altar. I see holy love in touching and holding, God's children loving one another... I see heaven dancing, I see many waters flowing from heaven... I see orchards and butterflies, and horses, and lions and freedom as tangible as fresh fruit. As I rethink and rethink what happened the story gets fuller and fuller in my mind. I wish I could paint what happened today but somehow any earthly painting would fail. Michelangelo himself would fail to do it justice. It is too much, it exhausts and excites me too much to think of what God has done in our lives as a community, in history, IN CHRIST. Yet I cannot shake the images from my mind of how salvation history played out in our midst today.

Oh Happy God that is such love that even in the wretchedness of our sin you would choose to reach into the murky waters of our existence and bring forth joy. O Happy God who is Father to many children. Oh Happy God who showers down on us light and love and hope even when we seek to find shelters in darkness and hate and luxury. O Happy God who chose us not only to be servants but Brothers (Sisters), Friends, and Children as well. O Happy God we love you, we love you, we love you!

God gave me a special gift today that I will treasure for a lifetime.

(Title Withheld)

(I have withheld the title of this poem because I want to elicit some responses to it without the final piece of the puzzle that details meaning.)

There among the fields unended
Corn and sky, path unintended
Walking on the song rescinded
Stands alone a heart unmended

More alone than ever, kildeer
Sound of wounded, dying in fear
Must move on or else I die here
Shadows grow for sunset looms near

Darkness brings it's own vibration
Sounds of silent alienation
Yet I stand there in frustration
The shadows growing more impatient

Uneasly silent, the fields grow colder
Every moment, getting older
Yet the kildeer cry out bolder
"Lonely" cries the wounded soldier