Through Stained Glass: Mid-Week Reflection-Heart Prayer in June's August

You read that correctly.

That says 92-degrees. (Though my truck thermostat said 94!) And yes, it does feel like 97 out!

And you are also correct in that it is, in fact, June and not already August.

I guess we should be thankful that it isn’t so humid out… yet.

Funny isn’t it? How when it’s cold, we want it to be hot, and when it’s hot, we wish it to be cooler.

Some have suggested this is how they sometimes feel with their prayer habits: when life is going well, it is easy not to pause and pray, and when life gets hard, the first thing we do is pray.

Think of that last one. Maybe a part of your prayer is to blame or to question God about the difficulties we experience. That’s called lament. It’s also honest to admit that because of the hardships, we may sometimes choose not to pray.

Whatever our motivations (or lack thereof), God welcomes prayer: whether it’s those we have written in our journals or those we offer up quickly before we pull off a Band-Aid, God finds us.  

This is why—in spite of God’s availability and hospitality—we must make time to pray. It is easy to get lost in life’s busyness and the occasional storm that accompanies this journey. Prayer brings us back to the depths of our being, and perhaps by invoking the name of Jesus in wonder and love, prayer returns us to the place of our true (first) existence: God.

To rest in the presence of God has often been called ‘prayer of the heart’ or contemplative prayer. Prayer of the heart may use few words or none, but it requires faith and a willing, attentive heart. Sometimes we don’t pray because we may not know how to, or we wonder which practice is the right one. Our worry makes us miss the purpose of prayer. After all, prayer isn’t about doing something right so that we might change God; rather, we pray so that we may become of aware of God’s presence in our lives.

Prayer is meant to reorient our lives toward God, and it reminds us of our need for ongoing conversion, mercy, and love—all of which God freely gives. The quality of each person’s life grows from the prayer of the heart as a whole, and prayer immeasurably nourishes one’s life in return.

To pray when only we find it convenient robs us of God’s goodness in every moment of every day amidst every season. When we begin to make time to pray—to ponder what is before us now with trust, joy, and loving attention—that’s when we become aware of the divine in all aspects of life.

My understanding of prayer has evolved over the years. What used to be a transactional practice as a child—“God if you heal my cut, I promise to never walk barefoot in the alley again”—has become one of holy listening. And being.

The best example of a prayer of the heart I can offer you from my life is one I experienced on this 94-degree day:

I was shopping in a store who had their air conditioner cranked up so high—I swear—I saw snowflakes. The longer I wandered the aisles, the colder I became… to the point that I started getting goose bumps. Though my heart rate was up a bit after the jaunt from the store to my truck, I was still shivering when got to the door. As I opened it, it was like I had stuck my head in my mom’s oven after she cooked lasagna; a wave of heat smacked me in the face. Getting in and settled in the seat, I grabbed the steering wheel almost hot to the touch, and a strange thing happened….

Suddenly, a profound sense of peace overcame me.

I imagine that’s what it’s like when babies wake in the middle of the night, scared from loneliness or want, then are held and swaddled in their parent’s arms, pressed against a beating heart and comforted by a rhythm they’ve felt since the beginning.

As I thawed, I became overwhelmingly aware of my need for God’s mercy in my life. In that very moment, God cradled me in the warmth of Her gentleness, returning me to my core—to Love. On this August-like day in June, I remembered the real purpose of prayer is the deepening of personal realization in love—the awareness of God.

Friends, may you be warmed by the light of God. And may you come to embrace that you have already been found in Christ. And may you trust that even now, with your words or despite the absence of them, the Spirit is shaping you into the beloved child of God you are.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Comfort, Confusion

"Do not let your hearts be troubled."

What a thing for Jesus to say to his disciples. Especially since Jesus just revealed to them how one of the twelve would betray him and then another would deny him, all of which is necessary for his apparent imminent death.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled."

The audacity.

In his farewell address to his disciples, Jesus's words hang heavy like a wet sweater on a clothesline. They offer both words of comfort and confusion.

Comfort in that Jesus reminds the disciples and us to hang our burdens and our worries on God and not on the world. God is big enough to handle even our deepest pains.

Confusion in the teaching about Jesus going to a 'mansion in the sky' with many rooms. If he is going to God, why must we wait? And a room by myself sounds kind of lonely.

Comfort in that Jesus assures us he has not and will not abandon us, though he may physically be gone. Despite the separation that death will cause, the bond of love and community between Jesus and those who love him will not break.

Confusion in that "we know the place where [Jesus] is going." Thanks be to God for Thomas and his honest inquiry for directions. "We have no idea what you are talking about, Jesus. How can we join you? Will we need to check our baggage? How much will that cost us? Reimbursement?" Honestly, many of us have asked similar questions in different seasons of our faith. Like Thomas, sometimes we want need geographical directions. "On the corners of Pekin and Ottawa, I'll meet you and tell you everything you wish to know about life." ~God [if only this would happen!]

Comfort in that Jesus promises to go ahead of us, his beloved siblings, traversing the chasm between the ‘temporal and eternal.' Jesus identifies himself as the point of access to life with God and the embodiment of Love. John's whole purpose is to remind his community that God is with us, not against or without us.

Confusion in that Jesus says, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." Which, okay, makes for a cute sign, but what does this mean? Sadly, these metaphors have been coopted by many Christians as ways to prevent the human community from existing. Does anyone else find this to be ironic since they are a part of a story explaining God's spacious mansion, which has enough rooms for everyone?

Comfort in that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. And this is my favorite part of this memorable goodbye scene. When the anxiety in the room becomes as thick as the humidity in the Midwest in August, Jesus reminds this eclectic group of misfits that the entire purpose of his life was to bring life to the world, not to squelch it.

So perhaps what this text can do for us is provoke us into a position of contemplation, asking the question, "How does this passage grow us in the way of love?" 

Jesus reminds us of God's drawing near to us, again.

Feeling like Jack Shephard from Lost? 

Confused? 

Wish there were fewer words to read or simpler words to digest?

You're not alone in confusion.

Philip [following in the footsteps of Thomas] is as confused and lost as well. "Just show us, man. Stop speaking in code and metaphor. Can't you use emoticons for what you're saying? Give us a children's sermon, and we will be satisfied."

Perhaps recognizing the growing frustration and desperation of the disciples, Jesus responds with his thesis statement:

"Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves."

Confusion and comfort, all in one sentence.

But here is the good news, this is what we must hold on to:  God's love is revealed in Christ. By the Spirit, we have become little Christ's, image bearers of God. To know God means to know one another. To love one another is to love God. In loving God and one another, we will do greater things. What is greater than to live in peace with one another?

So what does this have to do with us?

Where is the comfort in all this theological confusion?

It is here:  In Christ, the Word made flesh, we are made known and are known by God. We no longer need to remain in the darkness of our troubles, but instead, we can live in light of the self-giving, self-emptying love of Jesus. And in this person, we come to know how God has chosen not to be God without us. God gathers us into God's self, and in turn, we experience life eternal—that is, participation in the very being of God.

And it's there, in that place, in our room at the heart of God, where we discover how God's promise to love us, to welcome us, to know us and be known by us, never ends.

Thus, our hearts ought never be troubled knowing we are never unknown to God because the secret of our identity hides in the love of and mercy of God.

And let's be honest, to be unknown to God would be altogether too much privacy!

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Yea

Hey.

                        Yea?

We miss you.

                        Yea.

During the passing of the peace we’ve looked for you.

           

                        Yea?

Yes! I was even going to walk across the sanctuary to shake your hand.

                        Yea!

Is everything okay?

                        Yea.

Things just don’t, you know, feel right when you’re not here.

                        Yea?

It’s like a puzzle with a missing piece. Though its beautiful, it isn’t complete.

                        Yea.

You do know you can come back, right?

                        Yea.

You do know we love you, right?

                        Yea!

Did you know you are God’s beloved?

                       

                        Yea?

Can I elaborate on this a bit?

                        Yea…

We all carry the seed of the Divine within us.

                        Yea?

Yea. Let me go on. Meister Eckhart said, “The seed of God is in us….The seed of a pear tree grows into a pear tree, a hazel seed into a hazel tree, a seed of God into God.”

                        Yea!...?

A tree doesn’t just grow, right? Rain, sunlight, oxygen, and the earth help make a tree become a tree.

                        Yea.

A tree is a tree because that is what a tree is supposed to be.

                        …Yea?...

A tree doesn’t grow to be something else—a skyscraper or a mountain. A tree is a tree because it is a tree. In being a tree it is free—as God intended it to be.

                        Yea!

Yea?

           

                        Yea!.

We aren’t supposed to be a tree. That’s not what is being said here. Instead, God—the work of our life—the working of salvation—what God wants for me—is to be, well, me.

                        Yea?

Yes! And God loves me, like She loves you. How do we love like God?

                        Yea.

Good question. Let me put it this way:  we should love God mindlessly, that is, so that our spirits are without our preconceived notions of who God is or isn’t. As well as ridding ourselves of who we are…or aren’t.

                        ?

Listen.

                        Yea?

No, like, listen. Truly listen. When we stop worrying about whether or not we are smart enough, cute enough, funny enough, young enough; when we stop imagining God as being up there or an old man with a white beard or a white guy with blonde hair the and the prettiest blue eyes—when we give all that up—that’s when we will see all the earth, and all people (even our most bitterest of enemies…and those we love but could never agree with), all beings are a burning bush.

                        Yea!

Right? One does not have to travel to Mount Sinai to encounter the Divine in a burning bush—every bush is a burning bush, every leaf, every stone, every fish, every bird, and every person.

                        Yea!!!!

But we have to sit with them and receive them. We have to dare to listen…to them…and ourselves.

                        Yea.

Last thing about this.

                        Yea!

Prayer—contemplation, praying with our lives—is essentially listening in silence, an expectancy. All of us—all of us—are words of God and revelations of God.

                        Yea!!!!!!!!!

You probably are wondering what this has to do with how this started, huh? How we miss you. How church doesn’t feel the right without you.

                        Yea.

Well, simply put—we burn brighter…longer…warmer…when you’re there.

                        Yea?

Yea.

                        Found a quote, can I share it with you?

Yea!

                        Goes along with what you said.

Yea?

                        Yea, some guy named Merton said it. Goes something like this:  “A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying [God]. It “consents,” so to speak, to [God's] creative love. It is expressing an idea which is in God and which is not distinct from the essence of God, and therefore a tree imitates God by being a tree.” (New Seeds of Contemplation)

Yea!

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Who & Whose

Here’s an honest statement:

Baptism of Christ Sunday is one of my top five liturgical days of the year.

It ranks above Pentecost and, I can’t believe I’m saying this, Christmas.

Now, please let me be clear—I LOVE CHRISTMAS! I LOVE CHRISTMAS EVE! I love baby Jesus and all that comes with the Christmas season—from Christmas trees (mine is still up by the way) to singing Christmas songs (I hated packing away my John Denver Christmas vinyl.)

Again, I say, I love, Love, LOVE Christmas.

But I especially love the baptism of Christ Sunday.

Why? Baptism is what unites us to Christ. Baptism is where our life begins. In baptism we are made known to God. In baptism we are gifted with all that makes us, well, us.

As many of you know, I’m a visual learner. Which makes sense as to why I love baptisms and communion. In the sacraments, God’s grace can be seen, felt, tasted, and smelled. The Sacraments are not a different word from the witness of the Scriptures, nor do they diverge from the testimony of faithful preaching, whether through a sermon or the choir. We are a people of Word and Sacrament.

Adam, buddy, we know this. We have been Presbyterian most our lives. What’s the point?

I guess I want you all to consider this: 

Remember who you are. Remember whose you are.

On Sunday when we pour the water and you read in the bulletin those italicized words…

Remember your baptism and be thankful!

I really want you to remember your baptism.

Because baptism is the fullness of the gospel, God’s gracious love poured over us.

The waters of baptism rinse away the make-up of those masks we wear and remind us of our identity in God—a beloved child.

Baptism then, friends, does not merely tell us about Christ, or remember Christ, or point to Christ, or represent Christ. In baptism, Christ is present with us, making us one with him in a death like his and a resurrection like his.

Baptism happens once, yet takes a lifetime to complete. Which is why we must find ways to remind ourselves of the life gained in baptism. Broken we are, but we bear the image of Christ—we live out our baptismal identities in our daily lives. Remember as we do, that God has forgiven us and God loves us.

Here’s a fun little tidbit to get you through the day:

When Martin Luther felt discouraged or afraid, he’d often splash water on himself and declare, “But I am baptized!” John Calvin advised readers depressed by evil to “reflect that they are still on the way” to the “complete victory” that God promises in baptism.

Friends, we are still on the way. All of us. We are all moving towards that completion of our baptism—embracing the fullness of God’s promise.

So do me a favor, please.

Right now, or later, but sometime today—play with and/or in water.

When you’re doing dishes tonight—feel the heat warm not only your skin but also your heart and say out loud “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”

When you’re at Culver’s and you’re going for a 10^th straight day of not drinking soda, while the water fills your paper cup say softly to yourself, “Remember your baptism and be thankful.”

When you’re giving your grandchild a bath tonight, play in the water. Watch the water bead down and over their little heads. Then remember that the same joy you see is the same joy God sees in you.

Remember your baptism and be thankful.

Because we can never escape God’s claim on us.

That, my friends, is why I love baptism of Christ Sunday. It is why you’ll hear me say more and more wherever we are, “Remember your baptism and be thankful!

Because...

 “You are not your own; you have been marked out as belonging to God. You have been cleansed from your sin. You have been identified with the death and resurrection of Jesus. You belong to the multigenerational, multicultural family of God. You are God’s beloved. Splash and play in the fount of life and know that when you do, God delights in you!”

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Epiphany Extravaganza

         On this the eve of the final day of Christmas I say to you, Merry Christmas!

         The liturgical year is moving right along.

         Advent had us preparing for the Light.

         Christmas has us rejoicing in the Light.

         And tomorrow, Epiphany will have us celebrating the Light.

         For those of us who can’t remember, Epiphany means the manifestation of the incarnation—or the revelation of God.

         Epiphany is a church festival celebrated every January 6^th that commemorates the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles or, in the Eastern Church, the commemoration of the baptism of Christ.

         Epiphany is often overlooked in our churches.  

         After all, its time to focus our attention on all those resolutions we did or didn’t make. And there’s a reason why the people who created the liturgical calendar called this time ordinary.

         While we could easily fall back into the habits of ‘ordinary’ life, succumbing to the hopelessness the news perpetuates, reducing our concerns to only those who look like, sound like, and align ideologically with us, I want to offer an alternative perspective:  life viewed through the lens of Epiphany.

         Epiphany is the day the world is made known of God’s claim once more on all the earth. Advent (“the prophets foretold the coming of the Light”) and Christmas (“the angels praised the Light”) find their fulfillment in the Epiphany, which invites all the nations of the earth to come and worship the Savior of the world.

         God is with us. God is in us. We can encounter God in the daily activities of our lives just as we did during Advent and Christmas. God dwells in the ordinary.

         Yet, here’s the thing about Epiphany, nothing about it is ordinary. It’s the season of the magi’s discovery, Christ’s baptism, and ultimately, the proclamation that God often shows up where we least expect it.

Epiphany reminds us that God comes to us among the lonely and forgotten, the poor and the vulnerable, the refugee and the stranger—in the life of a child whose parents are terrified refugees.

Tomorrow we read the story of the Magi and the truth of John 1:9 is revealed – the truth of God, coming into the world, enlightens all creation and every person. Every child is an incarnation of our beloved Savior.

         This means, you.

         Yes, you.

         You are a child of God, created in the image and likeness of Love.

         And in the mystery of the Word made flesh, the fullness revealed in the Epiphany, God has caused a new light to shine our hearts. Together we are a light shining in a darkened world.

         Finally, friends, I extend an invitation for you and your families to begin something new. In ancient times, before calendars were easily accessible, it became the practice of the Church on the Feast of the Epiphany to announce the dates of what lay ahead in the liturgical year. Such dates included Ash Wednesday, Easter Sunday, the day of the Ascension, and Pentecost.

         One of the reasons the church did this was to remind the people that though we’ve packed up the Christmas ornaments and placed the poinsettias in the garbage can, the story is not over. To drive this point home the church started a fun tradition known as “the blessing of the chalk.” Probably because of the detail in the day’s Gospel, that the Magi entered “the house” where the Holy Family then resided, the practice arose of blessing chalk during or after church and either the clergy or the people themselves taking that chalk and blessing the house in which the people lived. The mark was placed over the entrance door in the form of the year. So for instance, 2017 would look like this:  20+C+M+B+17. The initials indicated the supposed names of the Magi (Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar, preceded by a cross showing their sainthood).

        

         “Chalking the door” is a way to celebrate and literally mark the occasion of the Epiphany and God’s blessing of our lives and homes. With time the chalk will fade. As it does we let the meaning of the symbols written sink into the depths of our hearts and manifest in our words and actions.

         Bet you didn’t know Epiphany had so much going on with it, did ya? See, there’s really nothing ordinary about this time.

         If you want me to come and bless your home with chalk, let me know.

         In the meantime, please receive this blessing on the eve of Epiphany:

May Almighty God, who led the Magi by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead you also, your comings and your goings, to find the Savior. Amen.

Merry Christmas!

Happy New Year!

And much happiness to you during these Epiphany days!

A

The initials CMB (lower right corner) has also come to mean,
"Christus mansionem benedicat."
This is Latin for "[May] Christ bless this house."