Maundy Meanderings

On my way into work this glorious Maundy Thursday morning, I passed a van with a bumper sticker that said “Waiting for the Lord to come back again.”  My Super Pastor Cape wanted to unfurl, and in a safe, but dramatic move with my Prius, swing out in front of him bringing the van to a surprising halt, whereupon I would jump out, go up to the driver’s window, and gently (of course) explain that if he opened his eyes, he would see that the Lord is alive and well, every nanosecond at present. He need wait no longer. 

The Lord is a block away at The Little Pantry That Could.  He is at the street corner with everyone stopping to buy The Contributor from the fella that parks himself at the corner by the Shell station, where his dog gets occasional treats as well.  He is with the struggling but faithful congregation on Charlotte Avenue, and even the big struggling faithful ones on West End Avenue.  He is in every hospital room for blocks and blocks, and in every waiting room as family and friends gather with breath prayers spoken and unspoken.  He's at the Jack In The Box drive-thru window with the woman who just paid for the meal for the family behind her.  He is with those who are trying to be patient; He’s with those who are facing the imminent deaths of loved ones; He’s with our celebrations and our tragedies and everything in between. He is with every life, every death, every resurrection.

Yeah, yeah, I know the intent of the bumper sticker message, but I hope, hope, HOPE that the driver knows Christ is alive and well and working hard in us, through us, and in spite of us until The Kingdom is experienced throughout the world.  That’s what Easter is about for me.  It’s about remembering the sacrifice on my behalf; it’s about maintaining courage through the tough days; it’s about knowing that Sunday IS coming, and never giving up.  The question for me isn’t “How long, O Lord?” but “How can I help bring about Your Kingdom in the corner You’ve given me?”

Okay, I’ll put my cape away for another day.  Christ was, is and will be.  Now and until the end of time.   He doesn't need me stopping traffic to continue loving His creation.

Thank you, God, for another Glorious Easter, and for the co-creating service in between.

Grace and joy,

Julie

You. Yes, You....and Me too.

Sometimes, we need to be reminded that we are worthy, just as we are.

Right now.  Yes, I mean it.  Right now.

I have often placed my worth upon what I do, how I look, who likes me, yatta, yatta, yatta.  You know the words and phrases.  I'll bet some of them sound like Brene Brown's list, which she calls "worthiness prerequisites:"

I'll be worthy when I lose twenty pounds.
I'll be worthy if I get pregnant.
I'll be worthy if I get/stay sober.
I'll be worthy if everyone thinks I'm a good parent.
I'll be worthy when I can make a living selling my art.
I'll be worthy if I can hold my marriage together.
I'll be worthy when I make partner.
I'll be worthy when my parents finally approve.
I'll be worthy if he calls back and asks me out.
I'll be worthy when I can do it all and look like I'm not even trying.

God tells us that we need to throw those "ifs and whens" out the window.   In God's radical way, God loves us right now, in this moment, and there's nothing you can do about it.  You can't gain it, and you can't lose it.  God's love is out of your control.  God loves you.  Can we grow?  Yes.  Can we change? Yes.  Can we backslide? Yes.  But it doesn't change how God feels about you, right now.  And in the next second, or the next hour, or the next week or next year even.  God's love is steadfast.  You can test it, stretch it, deny it, turn your back on it, but God's love for you doesn't change.

There's no "doing what it takes to be needed or to fit in."  We already belong to this God who loves us in action, not just a warm, fuzzy feeling.  We are important to God's creation and to the Kingdom God is striving for in our world.

So take a deep, cleansing breath, inhaling pure love.  Then smile and/or wink at the next person you see.  They need to be reminded that they are worthy too, just as they are.

Grace and joy,
Julie

A Bell, a G-Dog, and God

I just met Rob Bell, and my heart is aflutter!

At the risk of sounding like a groupie, I’m in love—with this authentic, funny, poke fun with and get to the heart of a matter Real Person.

I’ve watched most of his Nooma short films, which always bring a fresh breeze belonging to the Holy Spirit.  I have every book, and for once I was too shy to ask for a signed book autograph.  I’m holding out for a second gathering of like minds for that opportunity.

It’s so important, he reminded us pastors today, to listen.  To listen without an agenda.  Even though we get paid to have an agenda—and are even evaluated on our agendas.  But life in The Spirit rarely has an agenda.

God seems once again to be “touching me” with a two-by-four . . . you know that knocked over feeling.  Rob Bell cuts to the chase before you even know you’re on a journey.  It’s the same hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck feeling I had when I read Father Gregory Boyle’s book, Tattoos on the Heart.  I am a changed person, with a new outlook, or perhaps a deeper, more authentic outlook, when folks cross my path.  I will warn you, Tattoos on the Heart is not reading for the faint-of-heart.  The language is rough, but then, so is the area of Los Angeles where Father G, or G-Dog, serves.  It’s the heart of Gangland America, actually Global Gangland, and the honest to God struggles God’s children have trying to find a new normal other than the life around them.   

Truth be told, it’s a struggle we all have at one point, or maybe all points at some time or another, short or long stretches. 

“I’m not worthy to be loved.”

Father G authentically listens and works hard to hold up a mirror of compassion, to remind all of us, ALL of us, that in God’s eyes, we are more than worthy.  We are beloved.  

Not as the world says, but as God creates, sees and says.

Rob Bell reminded us, yeah even us pastors, that our not worthy-ness suspicions aren’t true.  Even the Demi Moore’s of the world are worthy and beloved (see a recent People magazine cover for her confession).

Our task, as disciples, is to find creative ways to help those the world considers the least, the last and the lost, to believe that about themselves.  With compassion.  With calmness.  With creativity.  With comfort.  With cleverness.

I have no idea what God has in store for me in a few months, but for the first time in a long time, I’m jazzed about what God must have in mind for me.  And for you.

Thanks, Rob.  Thanks, Father G.  Thanks, Stephen.  Thanks, Sarah.  Thanks, God.  I’m listening.

Grace and joy,

Julie

When A Bummer May Be Perfect!

Last week I was imperfect.  I still am.  Whew!  I may also be a little behind (no comments from the peanut gallery please), but two masterful pieces of inspiration and devotion crossed my desk this week that I want to share with you this week and next.

I'm going to lift with love a piece written by Sheila Walsh and re-posted in Ann Voskamp's blog, as I was touched to learn about Bummer Lambs.  Have you heard of them?  Sheila, singer and author, is part of the team of Women of Faith, conferences held nationwide spreading the hope, encouragement and joy of the gospel.  She's fabulous, funny and poignant in person (I've been blessed to see her twice).  Here's her lambs' piece:

I am very fond of sheep.

I grew up on the west coast of Scotland with sheep all around me, field after field of white wool and incessant crying when things seemed a little off.

I spent the first ten years of my life trying to get close enough to hug one but they’re not big on hugging. Even if I crept up quietly behind one it was as if they had a sixth sense and saw me coming. I now know that sheep have a field of vision of around 300 degrees so they had an in-built heads up on annoying Scottish children.

Interestingly enough they have poor depth perception. For this reason, sheep will avoid shadows or harsh contrasts between light and dark. They will move towards the light.

They head into the wind and towards the light. I try to remember that most days.

Of all the lessons I have learned from these defenseless, gentle animals, the most profound is the most painful.

Every now and then, a ewe will give birth to a lamb and immediately reject it. Sometimes the lamb is rejected because they are one of twins and the mother doesn’t have enough milk or she is old and frankly quite tired of the whole business. They call those lambs, bummer lambs. Unless the shepherd intervenes, that lamb will die.

So the shepherd will take that little lost one into his home and hand feed it from a bottle and keep it warm by the fire. He will wrap it up warm and hold it close enough to hear a heart beat. When the lamb is strong the shepherd will place it back in the field with the rest of the flock.

“Off you go now. You. can. do. this. I’m right here.”

The most beautiful sight to see is when the shepherd approaches his flock in the morning and calls them out, “Sheep, sheep, sheep!”

The first to run to him are the bummer lambs because they know his voice.

It’s not that they are more loved — it’s just that they believe it.

I am so grateful that Christ calls Himself the Good Shepherd.

“He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.

After he has gathered his own flock, he walks ahead of them,

and they follow him because they know his voice.”  John 10:3-4 (NLT)

In the most painful place in my life, hospitalized with severe clinical depression, I too learned the most profound lesson, we are loved because we are His – not because we can do tricks like seeing people approaching from behind!

Until the day I see Jesus face to face — I will be a bummer lamb.

It’s no longer the bad news; it’s the best news in the world because it’s not that Jesus loves his bummer lambs more –

it’s just that they actually dare to believe it.

From one bummer lamb and ragamuffin to another,

Grace and joy,

Julie 

PS--Next week, I'll share gems from Fr. Gregory Boyle, affectionately called the Gandhi of the Gangs, on the power of boundless compassion.

Hooray! I'm Imperfect!

Have you ever toyed with the idea of letting go who you think you’re supposed to be and embrace who you are right this second?

God let go of that idea for you a long time ago on your behalf, and as Brene Brown says it, God is calling you to the wholehearted life you have in this moment.

If you haven’t heard of Brene Brown, you’re missing a treat.  She has been featured on a PBS special, and has written a book entitled “The Gifts of Imperfection.”  What gifts?  My perfectionist inner critic voice just cringed a bit.  Do you have one too?

I’m learning to embrace that inner critic voice who tells me that I won’t be loved, appreciated, noticed, valued or found worthy unless I arrive at “perfect.”  In the past, it’s been a losing cause—chasing after an ideal I will never reach.  I’m learning, however, to listen objectively to that voice, knowing that she wants the best for me, and is afraid that I will be judged harshly by others if I don’t obey her every command.  Another part of me in the past has tried to squash her voice—annihilate her if I could, but that simply makes her come back with a vengeance, with friends like shame and anger at her side.  What a mess!

The gift can be found in the confession that we all have that inner critic, or a number of inner critics in my case, that if truth be told, are trying to protect us, although with great zealousness and over-abundance.  I’m learning to calm the critics by listening to them as objectively as I can, noticing if the reason they came into being might be some woundedness that occurred in my past, and building a trusting relationship with them, so that my True Self, the Authentic Self God created me to be, can breathe deep with all the parts in me, imperfect as I am.  

The best gift, however, is the connectedness that occurs when I share my vulnerabilities with others.  It rarely fails—What, you feel that too?  Have you experienced this?  Wow, I’m not alone, and Boy, we are so human, aren’t we!  When one of the actresses during the Oscars tripped going up the stairs, I suspect we all reacted like the audience did—oh, are you all right?  It’s okay, we’ve all worried about tripping, and hey, you survived!  The audience showed their concern and acceptance with applause that night, and I’m sure comments later in the evening to reassure her.  I have to shake my head at all the times I’ve worried about such things, and am realizing that even if I make a huge guffaw, it all will be okay and human bonds between other human beings just as imperfect as I am will grow stronger.  I’m more likely to belong and accept belonging when I drop the pretenses to be perfect, and simply be myself.

Brene has this great line in her book:

The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. 

 It’s our FEAR OF THE DARK that casts our joy into the shadows.

Just for today, try embracing, accepting, and laughing with your imperfections, knowing that there are gifts abundant in them—connectedness being up front and foremost.  Practice a little self-compassion, smile, and wink at the rest of the human race.  We’re all here with you, loving you all the same, God especially.

Grace and joy,

Julie

Spotty but Not Contagious (Well Maybe)

Our membership vow emphasis during Lent is centered on Service.  

Service is not works righteousness.  We serve the world for Christ’s sake, not our own, from a place inside ourselves that is grateful for what we have and what has been done for us.  That’s the agape love—acts of love that are unconditional, reflecting the light of Christ in us—that’s meant to share.  It’s its sole purpose, not to get God or anyone else for that matter to love us, accept us, or even rack up celestial brownie points in order to give us unholy fire insurance!  We just do it, with no expectations.  

It’s certainly easier said than done!  And perhaps as hard, to accept that kind of loving act.  Sometimes it makes some of us uncomfortable.  What shall I do in return?  Surely a thank you isn’t enough.

Well, in one way, it isn’t enough, because most of us aren’t wired to take, take, take and never give.  But that uncomfortableness is probably the bits inside of us to urge us to pay the gift forward, doing for others as has been done for us.  

I’ve had an uncomfortable, unusual illness this past week—an allergy to some unknown something which has reacted by bringing welps, hives and tremendous itching from my head to my toes.  I’ve had antibiotics and steroids to stem the symptoms, but with little if any relief.  I have felt like a second grader again with measles or chicken pox!  Thank goodness for Maybelline, or I would scare the mailman.  My internist has no idea what the cause is, as most of the obvious suspects have been present all along, as far as we know.  (And no, I haven’t been ingesting any mammal protein, due to my Alpha-GAL systemic issue).  

I am grateful for an understanding staff, for the concern of neighbors and church members.  One of our church members, despite my assurances that my pantry was well-stocked, appeared at my door yesterday with a boatload of healthy comfort food and items—chicken soup, fresh fruit, yogurt, whole wheat muffins, some oatmeal skin soaking bath stuff to help calm my itching skin and even a gel mask to settle my itching eyelids!  Bringing a box of Cookie Monster cookies, a bottle of cinnamon and Kleenexes made me smile.  Did I physically need any of those things?  No, but I could feel the agape love, better than any other medicine or gift!  

THAT’S Service.  Christian service.

Can I repay her?  Maybe.  Can I pay it forward? You betcha.  Will I?  Hopefully, every chance I get.  Service is contagious like that.  My itching spots aren't contagious, by the way.

You know, it’s awfully fun working for the Kingdom, sometimes.  

That’s the view from my desk this morning, itching and all.

Grace and joy,

Julie