Like Moths Drawn to A Flame

The writer Annie Dillard tells the story of a moth she once observed circling the flame of a candle. The moth loved the light so much that it circled closer and closer until it actually caught fire.  It fell onto the top of the candle and burned to death, flaming brightly as it died.

Sounds pretty gruesome, doesn't it.  But then, just then, when things look bleakest from our human perspective, the most amazing thing happened.  The moth's body began to draw wax out of the candle, and it became a second wick for the candle's flame.  In death, the moth became part of the light it loved so much!  Annie Dillard reports that it burned all night, giving light into the dark room.

There are certain persons we encounter who are just like this moth.  They love Jesus Christ, the Light of the World.  They love this light so much that they spend their lives circling it.  When they die, they become part of this light, and even in death they share this light with others.

My friend Syble, at whose bedside I sat this past week until she slipped into the Light, radiated that light into the lives of so very many people.  Even in death she was shining!  The day she came home from the hospital into hospice care happened to be her 80th birthday, and she was alert enough to sing along with the Happy Birthday song, clapping and laughing, surrounded by her sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  When it dawned on the group that Grandmother was about to experience yet another kind of birth, the tears started flowing--naturally.  Syble looked at them all and said, "Why are you crying?  I get to see Jesus!"  Of course, that just made the tears turn into sobs, whereupon Syble said quizzically, "Aren't you coming too?"  Man oh man, wasn't THAT a sermon in 13 words!  She had already become that second wick.

What a lesson.  Syble's whole life was like that.  And when words weren't to be found, especially in grief and loss, she would hand you a cold, wet washcloth and let you bury your pain in her soft and ample lap until the sobs subsided.  She saved my sanity more than once early on in my ministry, and in that sense, she definitely was a pastor's pastor, understanding her part in the priesthood of believers.

I'm glad Syble didn't wait until death to let her light shine--to become one with The Light of the World, surrendering her will to that of The Lord over and over again.  I thank God for the gift of Syble, whose light will shine for generations to come.

Grace and joy,
Julie

Inspiration Transformation Resurrection!

I've just arrived back home from SoulFeast.  Oh my goodness.  My head is swimming with information/inspiration/motivation/transformation.  I'm so excited to share lots of stuff with you, particularly in enhancing our ministries together here at West End UMC.  It's been my belief for a long time that knowledge for knowledge's sake, unless shared, is vanity, and believe me, I can't wait to do just that.

But.  But.  The 'buts' happen, don't they?  Mine occurred early this morning with the news that the most precious lady ever, my second mom I love to call her, is celebrating her 80th birthday by going home from the hospital to hospice care.  We think she'll hang around for another week before heading Home to Our Father's loving arms from there.  I can't begin to express my grief.

God was good yesterday in worship at Lake Junaluska.  Bless Rev. Rob Fuquay's heart.  Unbeknownst to him, he preached the memorial service for Syble that I needed for my own grief that would begin to unfold 24 hours later.  You probably don't think about it much, but we pastor types need nurturing and feeding on a regular basis in order to keep shepherding the flocks.  God provided sustenance in His oh so prevenient way!  I have tears just thinking about it.

Rob's words from God reminded me that death takes away.  Death removes.  Death cannot give a future.  Death cannot create, nor can it create again.  Death can not make new again. 

Resurrection is the opposite.
Resurrection brings life.  Resurrection provides a future. Resurrection creates, and creates again.  Resurrection makes new again.

Jesus IS the resurrection and the life.  Jesus came to Mary and Martha in their grief, to be for them the resurrection and life.  Jesus comes to us today in OUR grief.  Jesus brings relief from grief in the promise, and in his proof of the promise.  Jesus is our resurrection and life.

Jesus IS our resurrection and life.  In every way, shape or form--fact, symbol, metaphor.  If that's not a mantra to live by, I don't know what is.

Syble was a resurrection figure in my life, too.  So it is an honor to go back to Texas to celebrate her life with her family, who are my family, forever.  Keep the home fires burning for me.  I know you will.

Grace and joy as I hit the road again,
Julie

Success from A Higher Point of View

I don’t know which David Orr penned the following, but whomever he is, I really love the sentiment:

The planet does not need more successful people.  But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every shape and form.  It needs people who live well in their places.  It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane.  And these needs have little to do with success as our culture has defined it.

Amen.  And Amen again.  But saying it, and tattooing it on my hand or forehead for everyone to read, means nada, nothing, if I don’t practice it myself.

For too long I worried about achieving success, acclaim, admiration, fame, and well—even a best seller.  I suspect age brings us up short when one day we come face to face with reality and say to the cute person in the mirror “You know, that probably won’t happen in your lifetime!”  There’s a moment of grief, then acceptance.  Or it was like that for me.  

The oddest thing happened, however, when I surrendered those kinds of ambitions.  Instead of climbing toward my dreams, somewhere along the way I decided maybe, just maybe, it would be better to start living out God’s dreams instead.  Forget mine.  Mine are powerless anyway, gone in a flash.  God’s dreams are bigger than that.  I realized I could simply do my part, no more, no less.  Depending on the day, and my shape or form for the hour, I can choose to be a peacemaker, a healer, a restorer, a storyteller, and a lover of every shape and form.  Most days, if I choose to do the right thing in the moment, I can live well in my place, whatever the circumstance.  It’s when I get out of my place, typically projecting myself and my ‘stuff’ into the future, that I get into a dither.  Thank God, in God’s patience with me, someone or something comes to snap me back out of that and into a humble reality.

Sounds so easy on paper.  It’s not, in practice.  But we keep practicing.  And practicing.  And some days, we get to glimpse a success or two.  Makes it all worthwhile!

That’s the view from my desk today, mental tattoos and all.

Grace and joy,

Julie

See ya later, Andy...

Andy Griffith died today, July 3^rd, right before Independence Day 2012.

It’s the end of an era, they are saying.  But so important not to let it be the end, just a passing of the torch.

Last week in the Combined Sunday School Class in McWhirter Hall, we talked about one of the most valuable freedoms we possess—that of having the ability to set priorities.  I find myself getting complacent frequently, until a crises knocks me on the forehead and reminds me to get my priorities in order.  What’s 1, 2 and 3?

God.  Family.  Vocation.  Authentic priorities can be checked by how much we think of them, time spent on them, money spent on them, how much I act on them.  Belief without action is, well, vanity.

So what’s that got to do with Andy Griffith?  Well, I’ve been a fan for a long, long time.  He and Danny Thomas were my television dads.  Anyone else have television dads?  It was easier to relate to Mr. Griffith, however, because my dad didn’t run around in nightclubs like Mr. Thomas.  Instead, my dad and I would have long conversations about God, many times at a fishin’ hole.  And about integrity.  And about grace.  Because with God, family, Sabbath time, integrity and grace, you can’t come up with a better formula for right living.  And everything I’ve read about Mr. Griffith reflected that kind of authentic life. 

I imagine he was flawed, and needed mending like we all do.  I don’t want to know it at the moment, and you will find me sticking fingers in my ears like Barney Fyffe (a fellow WVU alum) because I don’t want to think about it.  I simply want to celebrate a life that enriched mine with faith, relationships, rest, character, music and grins.  The Mayberry kind of life is a good model, and ageless as far as I’m concerned.  Even if it’s on an old scratchy record talking about “This thing called a football….”

Pardon me while I whistle a little tune with a wink and a smile before a nap today.  See ya, Andy.  Keep the home fires burning for me ‘til I get there too.

Grace and joy,

Julie 

Freedom Gifts

Way before Eugene Peterson wrote the beautiful paraphrase of scripture, The Message, he wrote the following in Traveling Light:

Every Christian’s story is a freedom story.  Each tells how a person has been set free from the confines of small ideas, from the chains of what other people think, from the emotional cages of guilt and regret, from the prisons of self. . . . We are free to change.  The process of that change is always a good story, but it is never a neat formula.

We’ll be celebrating freedom next week.  Freedom to live within the rights and privileges of being a United States citizen, freedom to worship, freedom to choose representatives, freedom from tyrannies.  Those freedoms are gifts that we often take for granted.  I’m grateful for them.

I take Christian freedoms for granted too, however.  Not only do I take them for granted, I often wrap the gifts back up and stick them high on a shelf, out of sight.  Even worse, I pick up the chains of tyranny, by imprisoning myself in small ideas; concern with what others might think if I am myself; and I put on sweaters of guilt and regret—and swelter in them before I realize that I have the ability to take an honest inventory of my sinfulness and work to make amends, which will release me.  God supplies and I fail to apply!  It’s a constant challenge, this bent to the sin of forgetting these gifts of forgiveness that are as close as the beating of my heart.

It’s my prayer for us this week that we all free ourselves from at least one piece, if not all, of our baggage that ties us down, by picking up the gifts of mercy and grace, freely offered by God to us all this very second.  Then leap for joy and do a little dance.  Who cares what anyone thinks?  God will love it, and I promise you will too.  After all, it's our Christian story, and I'm grateful for it.

At least that’s the joyful view from my desk!

Grace and joy,

Julie

Care-Giving & Care-Taking

The surprising death of one of our members last week brought to focus the need for community, for staying in touch, for care-giving, for transitions...but mostly for navigating unexpected journeys.  I simply want to lift up some thoughts for us to ponder today.

Often, churches the size of West End provide an easy opportunity for slipping into worship and slipping out.  As a congregation, we have the responsibility to be not only hospitable, but inviting, embracing and including.  As worshipers, we have a great gift in availing ourselves of joining a small group, whether that is a Sunday School class, a Bible study, a prayer circle, an accountability group, or a group involved in service to others.  Giving and taking.  A good and necessary balance.
There is great importance of small groups and Sunday School classes, for shepherding one another within those caring groups as one task.  Time and time again I have heard and have said to myself, "What would we do without our church family?"  As small groups, we have the responsibility for getting to know one another beyond our topic of gathering.  We need relationships, and they need us.  Do you have a balance of prayer, study, fellowship, service and reliability?  And do you have a means of getting information out quickly between you--by all means, including telephone and email if available?  If you need a model, our West End choirs are excellent in all these balanced ways.

Have we, as individuals, thought through how we can pre-plan in case of the unexpected?  Are emergency numbers shared and/or easily found?  Have you talked with family, neighbors and friends about emergency plans and vital information?  Have we as family, neighbors and friends pressed our loved ones to the best of our ability (and modeled for them too) regarding emergency plans, including pets?

Finally, as individuals, are we able to ask for help?  Our culture teaches self-reliance and independence, but the far healthier way of life includes asking for help.  We all like to help others as we can--not asking for help robs others of the opportunity, and can be self-destructive.

Three items have crossed my desk during the past week.  Rev. Margie Howell is working on a book that deals specifically with pre-planning.  I have a stack of prototypes of a new, free magazine in my office entitled Full Circle, chocked full of promising information in the care of aging parents.  And the Council on Aging, is sponsoring a free Caregiving Conference specifically for those caring for an older adult with a special focus on dementia and Alzheimer's Disease on July 26th, from 10:30-2:30 at Brentwood Baptist Church.  Registration is required for the latter by July 20th by calling 269-5355; attendees will get a box lunch and the book Aging & Caring: Things Families Need to Know, all at no cost.

Let's all take time to act on these thoughts.  Care-giving and care-taking is Jesus' commandment to us:  Love your neighbor as you love yourself.  It's the best and balanced way of life.

Grace and joy,
Julie

Re-Discovering Sabbath Time

I wasn't sure I could stand myself for a quiet week out in the middle of nowhere, dog with me or not, but something inside me yearned for a change--immersion in sabbath, for lack of a better description.  It took me a good day to release the tension and monkey-mind thoughts, but in a new routine with no looming deadlines or phone/email intrusions, I experienced a new peace and serenity unlike any I've had before.

I'm way too old to have waited so long for such bliss.

What a terrific, generous gift to have five days and four nights in a 100-year-old modernized home, up on a hill surrounded by yard, clover, hay meadows, complete with stable and pond.  Forest embraced the clearing within the 140 acres, and I could feel the tightness melting away when I traversed the winding road.  I'd have to arm-wrestle the judgment as to who was happier--Bella bounding over the rises chasing befuddled deer, stopping just short of the woods, or me watching her running leash-free.  She always stayed within eyesight. "Well, are you coming, or do I have to come back to get you?"  I could not wipe the smile off my face if I had tried.  By week's end, she was walking by my side, and we trusted that neither of us would leave the other for long.

In this great freedom, words and word-playfulness bubbled up so fast I had to stop trying to form them in lieu of simply capturing them on paper, so I wouldn't forget.  When the words eased up, the peacefulness seeped in.  I cherished the embroidered quote in the kitchen:  Isn't it beautiful to do nothing, then take a rest afterwards. 

What a beautiful, productive time sabbath is!  God knew exactly what we need at least once a week when the commandment was put forth to remember the sabbath day and keep it holy.  It's so good and joyful to re-create those moments on my patio, in my study--and so necessary for my soul.  A chunk of a gift for a week may not come along very often, but I've re-discovered how vital it is to listen to God's admonition to take that 24-hour, restful, reflective, playful time.  It saves our lives and souls!

Grace and joy,
Julie