Through Stained Glass: Lent Word a Day -- With

With.

With the sun shining I write this post on my patio. The temperature is 71 with a gentle breeze -- the Spirit. Across the way, two middle school-aged children are playing. One is drawing on the sidewalk with chalk; the other is playing with a remote-controlled car. Their laughter is music to my ears.

With me in my yard is Tecumseh, who is at rest for now. A squirrel rests atop the mulberry bush, I suspect planning for his subsequent descent to the bird feeders. Tecumseh rests behind me, peeking out from behind me, waiting to see if his 'absence' will fool his furry foe. These two have been playing with each other for an hour now. Both anticipate the other's next move. 

With the absence of their commotion, the birds are back to their spots on the feeders. So many birds, so many colors, and so many songs. The Rose of Sharon can't hide my feathery friends, though that day is coming. I see a Redwing Blackbird, but only because I heard him first. Male Redwing Blackbirds, like most birds, are, well, the ones with the oranges and yellows and whites on their wings. To my right, Grackles and Cowbirds offer their high pitch shrills as they dance below the feeder. Both birds are black and blue -- both recently returning to their post in my backyard. Just now, my faithful companions, the Mourning Doves, take their spot on the fence, waiting for the Finches and Sparrows to knock more seed from the dangling buffet bar. Of course, the Junco's are here, too. With all of us who call this place home, they endure winter here. I give thanks for their steadfastness. Know what I love about this little piece of Earth I call home? On days like today, when the birds fly away to safety, their upward movement sounds like 'the mighty rushing wind.' So much Spirit in this place.

With their presence in my life, I experience a reawakening. I am one with them -- not above them, or somehow, superior to them. It amazes me how much more rich my life becomes when I pay attention to those I share life with. [Whoops, I'm *not supposed* to end a sentence with a preposition.] With my eye on the Sparrow, I remember our interconnectedness. They are my neighbor as much as the person [whose name I don't even know] lives next to me. In the bodies of the birds, in my body, in the sleeping body of Tecumseh, I sense a deep awareness of the Sacred here. 

With the clouds moving in and the voice reverberating through the neighborhood from the softball field at the high school, I'm aware of the Holy. I'm awakening to what the Celtic tradition teaches: we need to keep listening to what our souls already know, either in the particular circumstances of our lives or in matters more universal. 

With us is God, not opposed as Western doctrine dictates. We are with God -- in life and death. With that good news, I return to the conversation -- listening to their voices -- the wind moving through their lungs, not unlike it does through mine. With the Spirit binding us all together. 

Through Stained Glass: Lent Word a Day - Present

Present.

Both

To God in the world.

And

To God in me.

Both

In a particular place.

And

Occurring now.

Confession from a pastor:

These last two weeks have been a blur to me. Not only because of the busy schedule that has crept back into my life, but also the constant bombardment of news updates and navigating the fear, uncertainty, and confusion that accompanies them. The weather became cold again, and I didn’t have the motivation to run. Also, it is hard to run on Thursdays here in the Midwest during the late winter weeks. I found myself running from one meeting to the next and then writing for school and worship and … and … and …

Then I read these lines from Father Richard Rohr:

The true purpose of mature religion is to lead you to ever new experiences of your True Self. If religion does not do this, it is junk religion. Every sacrament, every Bible story, every church service, every sermon, every hymn, every bit of priesthood, ministry or liturgy is for one purpose: to allow you to experience your True Self – who you are in God and who God is in you – and to live a generous life from that Infinite Source.

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly I can lose sight of my True Self. Usually, it happens not because of harmful practices but because life happens. As the schedule fills up and the noise of life gets louder, it is easy to neglect to nurture my own nefesh – wellbeing [mind, body, spirit]. I believe the same can happen with institutions and their True Selves. Sometimes we can get so caught up in conversations around marketing and budgeting and building and programming and party planning [none of which are harmful or destructive or whatever label you want to use] that we forget to be present to the movement of Love in our midst.

Today’s word is present. It invites me to be present to my True Self. I was present to my body this morning by running three miles. The word reminds me to evaluate my practices often to see that I am engaging them not for their sake but to draw closer to the Holy. Later today, after I write my LINK article, the liturgy, and a little for my paper, I’ll take some time and be present to the Infinite Source as I ponder these words from today’s psalm:

Psalm 119.73

“Your hands have made and fashioned me;

          give me understanding that I may learn your commandments.”

Lent is the season we nurture our lives with whatever practices we give up or take on. It is okay to tend to your own self. Jesus did it often by running to the hills to pray and be in conversation with the Holy. 

I need to do better at being present to my True Self. To tend to the garden of my life. Perhaps today, after I take the dogs to the vet, we will sit on our patio in the sunshine, paying attention to the viriditas [yup, made up a word] occurring all around me. 

Through Stained Glass: Lent Word a Day -- Glory, Good, Awake

Yesterday's word was awake.

Today's word is good.

Lent is a season of awakening. This year, it is a season of paying more attention to the goodness in life.

What's that line from St. Irenaeus?

The glory of God is [a human] fully alive …

So good.

Be yourself. You are God's beloved. Nothing separates us from God's claim. The Apostle Paul says that in Romans.

What brings you to life? What parts of yourself do you deny because of perceived expectations? What lies do you need to stop listening to become fully alive? What in you is longing to say 'yes?' If you need to say 'no' to something to come alive – to be your most authentic self – then say 'no.'

Did you know there's a backend to that quote above? Yup, there is. It goes like this:

…but the life of [a human] is the vision of God.

Life is a gift. We are because the Divine – God – the Universe – is what's happening. What is happening is Love. Two of our own shared a sentiment along these lines this week. I can't stop thinking about it.

"War, racism, economic injustice, and the climate crisis all stem from the illusion of separateness. But the truth is that we are not separate." Jack Kornfield wrote these words.

The Trickster tempted Jesus to separate himself from the world in the wilderness. Each time, three times to be exact, Jesus resisted the temptation – recognize how he is a part of it, creation. Jesus, we might consider, moved toward his humanity – our humanity – suffering. He left the wilderness and began his ministry, which consisted of tending to those who suffered the most while inviting those who explicitly or implicitly inflicted the injustices to rethink what it is that brought about such conditions.

I think of Isaiah on Ash Wednesday – and the line about "the life of [a human] is the vision of God" – and how we are the ones we've been waiting for. The call of God is to all of us. To all creation. To move towards one another – bearing witness to the suffering of creation [including humans] – and undoing whatever it is that's feeding us the lie that we are not each others' keeper.

When I awoke this morning – the ground was covered in three inches of snow. It made me smile. I became happy. It meant I had one more opportunity to go into the woods and see my more-than-human friends in a way I may not until eight or nine months from now.

I saw Robins being Robins. I stood beneath a Grandmother Oak, losing her leaves. I fell to my knees and took a picture of four White Tail Deer. Then, Two Canadian Geese being Canadian Geese.

Glory in creation being creation. Goodness in the muted breath of the woods. Today, I awoke to what Paul was saying in today's epistle when he wrote, "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?"

I'm part of the world. The world is God's temple. I can't be separated from God's glory or goodness. Fully alive, awake to the vision of Love – binding us together, moving us towards each other.

Step by step. Glory.

Breath by breath. Good.

Morning by morning. Awake.

Through Stained Glass: Lent Word a Day -- Dazzle

 I'm participating in a creative project put out by our siblings in the United Methodist Church for Lent. I intend to take a photo a day that goes along with the prompt and then write about it and the Scripture lessons for the day. I find this practice challenging and fulfilling. Challenging in that each word invites prayerful attention, listening to my life to see where the word rises in my life. Fulfilling in that each day beckons my creativity, a practice that helps me find the fulness of delight and love of the Christ present to me now.

Some days are more challenging than others to create something. Whether it is a busy schedule or the word itself is difficult to define, obstacles will always be in the way. One of the reasons I enjoy this practice so much is that it invites me to live more mindfully. I look for the word throughout the day, but I try not to force it. Again, sometimes it is putting salt back into the saltshaker, and I go for what's easy. If the word is 'Word,' and I don't have time to get creative and write something about how logos isn't a noun, but it is a verb – an important distinction for the opening of John's Gospel – I'll take a picture of a page from the book I'm currently reading. If I plan, I might find an old magazine or an old book, and using a page, I will engage in the art practice known as 'blackout poetry.' This type of poetry blacks out all the words, except those you want to use to create a poem. It is a form of subversive art, too. You can find out more about this practice by clicking here.

Today, the word is 'dazzling.' I've read all the Scriptures assigned for today, and I can't figure out the inspiration for it. The Genesis text is Joseph looking for his brothers, and then when he finds them, they toss him in the pit – which was empty and had no water. The Epistle lesson is about the foolishness of the Gospel and how "God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength." The text encourages folx not to boast – and I take that to mean, not to dazzle – unless you're dazzling for Jesus? I'm not sure that works. And the Gospel lesson is the proclamation of the Good News, followed by an invitation to repent, and it ends with healing. In Mark's Gospel, there's this motif called 'the messianic secret,' and it basically means Jesus tells everyone not to tell anyone about who he is – the Christ. However, only those on the margins see him as the Christ. Today that doesn't happen, but his teaching and healing ministry is impressive – it dazzles the community – and his fame began to grow.

That's a stretch, too.

I'm not sure what to do with today's word and its conversation with Scripture. I could do something like this, I suppose:

• Dazzle like Joseph, and don't be afraid to dream
• Wisdom dazzles as She undoes the ways we define strength
• Jesus dazzles the disciples with his ministry of liberation

I'm not sure what to do with dazzle. Except let God do the dazzling. We find ways to deepen our longings for oneness with the Holy Trinity during Lent. Lent and the different spiritual practices we take on teach us that as a person of faith, it is not so much what we do for God but what God does for us. God longs to dazzle us – and this longing to be dazzled guides our Lenten journey. What's God doing for us? Inviting us to join in those practices that loosen, undo, let go, and break free whatever obstacles stand in the way of allowing the dazzling love of God to shine in our streets.

           

Dazzled.

I'm not sure where it comes from, but today, I saw it sparkling in the frost on our early morning walk. 

Through Stained Glass: Lent Word a Day -- Pray

On Sundays

After the sermon is preached

The cover is back on the piano

I pray

Slowly

Deliberately

Not with words

Not with a book

Or a pen

Not even my journal

But with my breath

In the woods

With my body

My palms touch the rough bark

Of oaks, maples

The softness of

Birches and sycamores

I flip my hand over

Their touch soothes

Oneness – bound together

In our

Breathing

Praying

The wind comes

And the wind goes

She shakes the leafless crowns

They wave; I pray

Sunshine streams

Into the forest

Woodpeckers

And Blue jays

Shimmer in the light

Messengers – angels

“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.”[1]

A flash of red

A Cardinal, invites me

To be present

To acknowledge the ground

Of my being; and being grounded

Hummus -- home

Salt Creek
moves quickly

Months of snow

And rain

And ice

Run free -- the source

Of this life 

Remember, be thankful

Paws caked in mud

And on my knees

The dogs and me

Listen attentively

As the tiny Chickadee

Leads us in prayer

No words

Only our breath

Only our bodies

Being held by the land

“Who knows me,

Even when I’m lost.”

On Sundays I pray

With the wild ones

No words

No books

Only my body

And their bodies

In Love's embrace

  [1] Have you ever wondered why it is easier for us to believe in an invisible devil created in our image than it is to believe that birds and beasts can speak to us?