Reduce, Recycle, Restore

Wow.

For some of us who attended last night’s Sustainable Living Workshop, we’d heard the ideas before.  Reduce, recycle, restore.  Good scouts, environmental types, and those of us who deeply believe in God’s command to take care of the Earth by being good stewards beyond our own “nows,” the habits are simply in our blood.  We would never dream of tossing a piece of trash out a window or onto the ground.  We even feel guilty if we pass litter on the sidewalk without picking it up and putting it in a trash can, nor are we capable of throwing a glass bottle or a soda can straight into the trash if we can keep from it, without looking for the triangular “recycle” logo-ed container.

I’m not sure any of us at dinner last night walked away without new information and useful, really do-able things we can all do to save money (a good motivator) and take better care of the Earth not just for us but for future generations.  Did you know, for instance:

That the average person throws away 1,700 pounds of trash a year?

That your computer monitor and speakers stay on even if you’ve turned the power off, and that HD tvs are true energy hogs?

That lots of the hot water you may use to wash your hands with stays in the pipe from the water heater to your faucet, which wastes energy in the heating of the water that will soon go tepid?  (And cold water washing with soap is just as effective in killing hand bacteria….)

That our electric meters will soon be recording the time of our utility usage and NES or TVA will be billing us according to peak- or off-time usage?

That the soil in Tennessee has one of the highest radon rates in the country, which is the second leading cause of lung cancer?  

That there’s an island of trash floating in the ocean bigger than the State of Texas?  That’s gross and heart-rendering.

That you missed out on getting a gift bag filled with baking soda, vinegar, light bulbs, a power strip (yeah a POWER STRIP), and a biodisposable trash bag in addition to a reusable tote bag for your groceries by not coming to dinner and the workshop last night?

And there’s free stuff the TVA will send you if you take an interactive home e-valuation, like more lightbulbs, switch and outlet sealers, and other cool items in a conservation kit?

I hope there’ll be enough interest to invite the TSU Department of Family and Consumer Sciences back to West End to share this program again.  There are tiny little things we can do to make a big difference in the world.  Mother Teresa is quoted as having said “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”   It ain’t love unless we do.  And if we all do even small things, it all adds up, faster, I hope, than our trash piles.

Even though I'm headed out of town for a little R & R in the Rockies, I'm apt to be reminded that we're abusing our resources when I arrive in Denver to a brown layer of air between ground level and mountain peaks.  Oh Lord, help stir our hearts to do at least a little something each.  Excuse me, but I’ve got lots of paper on my desk to recycle and a hot water schedule in the planning stages.  That’s definitely the view from my desk, this afternoon.

Grace and joy,

Julie

Why Are We Here?

It’s been a fascinating week.  Of course every week, every day in ministry is different, but perhaps since the moon is in Pisces or somesuch, the questions crossing my desk have been comparisons of religions, denominations, theology and philosophy.  The one bit of flotsam that’s been floating to the surface in the midst of the conversations caused me to stop in my tracks.  Why ARE we here at West End?  Why DO we gather as the Body of Christ? 

I have a tendency to jump right into pride and boastfulness about the things we do and accomplish—our building, our music, our missions and vision, our Spirit.  All reflections of the Holy Spirit, working through us, our blessings and resources.  My, my.  It felt good to wallow in the self-sufficiency of warm fuzzies.  But way, way back in the corner of my mind, this person I would have rather ignored was waving her hand.  I didn’t call on her.  Then she started jumping around and waving both hands.  I still tried to ignore her.  At that point, she yelled out “Hey, Hey!” ( I hate it when the voices in my head get loud enough to have to stop everything to pay attention to them.)

The voice personified reminded me that I am here at West End because I need to be here at West End.  I need others to bring me to my knees when I get too high minded.  I need others to raise me up when I get too forlorn.  I am both a good person and a not-so-good person. I need to be forgiven, and I need to be forgiving.  I need God’s mercy and compassion, so I can give God’s mercy and compassion.

In a church as blessed as we all are here at West End, it’s easy to gloss over our own neediness.  Our material blessings can cover up a lot of personal messiness.  Truth be told, I can be rather intolerant of needy people, especially when the needy one is me.  I much prefer to be the giver, not the one needing to receive.  Puts me in a place of powerlessness if I recognize that side.  I don’t care much for that feeling.  So I pedal along on my own power, and stick with the giving side, but it only gets me so far.  That’s because when it just feels good, the source of my giving is probably self-serving. 

 The real truth, the Gospel truth is, we all need each other.  We need to be in relationship, intimate, raw relationship so we can be fully known and fully forgiven.  Sometimes I think ministry may be easier with people who know, feel, taste and point at what rock bottom is, and know how fully dependent they are on the Higher Power, on God, on Jesus Christ, on the Holy Spirit.  And right after I think that last sentence, I realize I have once again ignored that person in the corner.  It is me—I am needy and dependent—on our Higher Power, our God, our Jesus Christ, our Holy Spirit.  We have a great responsibility, you and I, to recognize our neediness.  It will draw us together, and draw others to us.  Could that be the crux, the cross of the matter and worth of it all?  I suspect it is.

Anyway, that’s the rambling view from my desk this day.

Grace and joy,

Julie

Zen Cowboys and Long Obedience

God speaks through the strangest sources sometimes.  Many times for me it’s a quote I run across and tuck in my pockets, which bulge sometimes as full as my bookcases.  Today’s ponderings come from a Zen saying and the other from an atheist philosopher, of all places:

Always ride the horse in the direction it’s going. ~The Zen Cowboy

The essential thing in “heaven and earth,” is . . . that there should be long obedience in the same direction, there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.  ~ Fredrich Nietzsche, “Beyond Good and Evil”

Believe it or not, Easter came to mind when the two quotes met in my brain.  We’ve come through Lent, having prepared ourselves for dying or letting go of something that needed to die within us, so that as we are shed of the things of which we need to let go, we experience new life, a resurrection.  Jesus played out the drama for us in his life.  We were called to do the same in this high-fulutin' liturgical season of the church year.  If I'm honest with myself, I need to do that every day, but thank goodness the Church stresses that importance at least once a year, or I am apt to put it off.

So I ask myself 1) What was the horse I was riding, and in what direction; and 2)Am I committed to the long obedience of that direction?

If I can’t be honest with myself about those two questions, this Lent and Easter have been in vain.  Not that all may be lost if I can’t, but today may be the Christian moment for resolutions.  The rest of the world sets New Year’s resolutions.  Our Christian year may begin with our resurrection resolutions.  Mine this New Easter Year is to name the horse; assess the direction; commit to the long run; and hang on tight to the reins because in the long run, that’s what will make life worth living.

I invite you to join me this fine Post-Easter day, Easter People!

Grace and joy,

Julie

Saturday in the Tomb

It's a beautiful Saturday here in Nashville.  The sun is shining, even though there is a little nip in the air.  It's a perfect day for opening the windows to air out the house; take the dog to Radnor Lake; start cooking goodies for tomorrow's Easter feast.

But it's Saturday. If you've ever grieved over the loss of a loved one, it doesn't matter if the birds are singing on a perfect day, and people are whizzing down the highway with their windows open or tops down, smiling away.  Don't they know?  Don't they know that someone important and beloved has died?

I can stand in line with most of you in the "loss queue."  Grandparent, parent, child, friend, spouse, pet.  A big chunk of our hearts falls right out of our souls, and we know life is never going to be the same again.  The question looms again.  Why is the world going on like nothing's happened?  Don't they know that the whole world should be stopping and crying with us?

Yesterday was Good Friday, and we at West End UMC gathered in dark clothes, somber faces, and not a few tears as we recalled the death of our innocent, undeserving Lord.  The Choral Ensemble sang, our liturgists read words and scripture, candles were snuffed out one by one, the Bible was removed from its sacred place and taken away I know not where.  And then the most dreadful thing of all--the cross, draped in black, was carried out past us all, not lifted up but horizontal, and we all just sat there.  Something deep inside me said "Stand, stand to honor your Lord."  But I just sat there, with my head down.

There are those, I would fathom, who will shake their heads and say it's all drama, pure emotionalism, contrived for the moment deemed Good Friday.  I beg to differ.  In the parking lot after the service, I cried with one of the most loving couples I know as they shared an evil happening in their world, affecting their undeserving, beloved children.  I passed an elderly gentleman, hawking The Contributor, and as I handed over the bit of cash from my purse, I wondered how far that would really go to help his situation.  I changed clothes and drove over to the Humane Society to help a church member, despite a recent life-changing surgery with her chores, knowing full well that even with a bright clean bandana around their necks, a treat from a pocket and a big hug with a human reminder that God loves them and how handsome/pretty they were, many wouldn't be rescued from their abandonment.  When I got home and loved on my own puppy, a newscaster announced that a baby at Vanderbilt had died from the abuse received at the hands of her parents.  My Lord was dying again and again, all day long.

It's Saturday.  The entombment of Christ is all around us.  Frankly, the Good Friday days of crucifixion and the silence of Saturday appear to have the power to crush us all.  It's time for a good, deep, heart-wrenching cry.  The pain does have a gift for us, even though we cannot see in in the darkness of the Saturday tomb.  Don't gloss over the pain, but hold on.  Hold on tight.  We first have to become aware; awareness leads to empathy; and empathy is where God can break through the hard-hearted stones of everyday oblivion to transform us, then our neighbors, and ultimately the world.

Because tomorrow's Sunday.  Our task today, however, is just getting through Saturday.  We can do it.  Hold on tight, even with a box of tissues in your hand.

Grace and joy,
Julie

Confessions from a Book-a-holic

Hello.  My name is Julie.  And I’m a book-a-holic.

I really, really am.  It’s hard if not near impossible for me to keep from scanning a bargain in a bookstore, or clicking on Amazon for their latest recommendations, or being tempted by the many publishers who are aware of my addiction and fill my email box every day.  Three new ‘fixes’ arrived yesterday, and yes, I am reading all three at the same time.  They are all so good (usually at least one in a bunch is a dud) that I couldn’t make up my mind this time which one to stick with.  Don’t bother giving me advice about getting a library card and just borrowing books.  I’m way too far into my addiction to give books back, unless I give them TO someone. 

I do have a new favorite from my trio, however, and if I could wave my magic wand (and I will, once it is out of the shop….parts are on back order, they tell me), I would have every small group and every congregational member read Margot Starbuck’s Small Things with Great Love: Adventures in Loving Your Neighbor.  The title sounds dorky, yes.  Way too simple for our sophisticated West End crowd, especially for their pastor of Christian Formation, who has a masters degree with honors from a very prestigious university.  I’m not even sure why I ordered it, except that the forward was written by Tony Campolo, whom I have a secret crush on, and that even though I find myself in the “God-business,” I want to find something exciting to do that’s out of my comfort box—besides becoming another Mother Teresa.  At this point in my life, I just want to bring a smile to a face and be able to fit it into an already people-laden lifestyle. 

Margot delivers.  She is so HUMAN!  She resonates with those of us who lead hectic lives, and yet hear Jesus saying to the rich young ruler, “Go home, sell all you have and give to the poor.”  He leaves, sad.  And we hear the story, sadly.  Most of us aren’t rich, young, or rulers.  We need to be responsible citizens, making a decent living, doing the right thing. Paying our bills, raising our children, caring for our elderly--but even non-Christians do those things.  We hear, we believe, and we want to do, but we don’t quite know WHAT to do. Margot, in a non-preachy, fully forgiving, grace-filled and humorous way, shares stories of small things we all can do with great love, which will indeed change the world.

As Tracey Bianchi, pastor, activist and author of Green Mama says, “I highly recommend this book to anyone who ever comes in contact with another human being.”  I’m not sure it gets any better than this, my friends.  At least that’s the view from my desk, this Maundy Thursday afternoon.

Grace and joy,

Julie