Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day--Fire

"Narrow shafts of divine light pierce the veil that separates heaven from earth."
Pelagius

Fire

I have no deep thoughts today. 

Yesterday there was no post for 'breath' because much of the day was spent in meetings or visiting with folx. By the time I got home, I needed to catch my breath.

Today's word is 'fire.' 

The clouds are hanging low this morning. When I drove to Kickapoo Park to take the dogs on our daily walk, the fog was hovering above the Eaton factory. Fog seems to be hovering over me, too, especially my mind!

The woods were quiet. We interrupted a morning meeting of the Whitetail Deer and unintentionally kept chasing them through the timber. The light rain from early morning made the trails soft. The leaves on the ground were bright and shiny, green and yellow, brown and gold, carpet laid out for us as if we were royalty. 

I'm one of the few who doesn't mind cloudy days this time of year. When the clouds are low, and the air is full of moisture, I feel held -- silly, I know. It is as if the Holy Spirit reveals Herself in a very physical form. Her presence preaches to me -- the very being of all of this -- of all of you -- is sacred, holy. I love how our Celtic siblings put it: Every child, every woman, every man, every person, and every life form is in essence divine.  

The psalmist in the 24th Psalm writes:

"The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it,

    the world, and those who live in it,

2 for he has founded it on the seas

    and established it on the rivers.

Today in the fog and the dampness of the woods, I remember the Incarnation -- the embodiment of Love. 

I have nothing really to say about today's word 'fire.' Baptism imagery abounds on days like today. While we complain and long for the sun, perhaps we can take a moment to remember our baptism and be thankful for God's presence in our lives. 

Today's picture is of my beloved Golden Retriever, Chloe. Five weeks ago, She was diagnosed with lymphoma. We were told we had 4-6 weeks with Her five weeks ago. For the last five weeks, Chloe has lived with tenacity and grace, a combination as firey as Her coat. In literature, fog represents the boundary between illusion and reality. At times it doesn't seem real that She is living with cancer. And yet, the reality is that she is, in fact, living! As the flame of Her life shines bright in the presence of death, I'm hopeful -- and I rejoice that She, like us, belongs to God in both life and death. 

And that good news, that breath of wisdom from the Spirit, is enough to fan the flame of my faith! These good days -- even as the bad ones creep up -- are the logs for the fire during these long winter nights.

Interesting -- as I conclude this piece -- the sun breaks through the clouds, light and darkness dancing together, bringing forth Hope. 

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day--Winnowing

Cathy M shared this photo for today's word, winnowing.
Cathy took the photo in the Audobon Bird Sanctuary on
Dauphin Island -- the last North American stopover for 
migrating birds. It is one of her favorite places! 

Winnowing

Sometimes I have to start with the basics. Take, for instance, the word winnowing. I have house plants and tend to a small patch of earth in the summer. Neither requires winnowing. Well, not that I know of, at least.

Here's the definition of this transitive verb. [These verbs need to transfer their action to something or someone -- an object.] 

1. To remove [something, such as chaff] by a current of air
2. To get rid of [something undesirable or unwanted]
1. Remove
2. Often used with out: "winnow out certain inaccuracies." 
3. Separate, sift

Once I get the basics down, I begin to play with the word. 

Today I took two photos. Both of which are plants in my backyard. The first is Milkweed. [Master Gardeners, forgive me for not correctly identifying this type of Milkweed...if it is even Milkweed! I trust someone will help me identify this companion who takes up residence in my backyard.] I suppose to winnow Milkweed would be to crack open the pod and separate the seeds from the fluff. A quick Google search will take you to a Facebook page where the instructions for winnowing the Milkweed include a tissue box. Put the seed and fluff in the box, shake it, and the wind will blow away the fluff! [I love that Grammarly is telling me to use a different word for fluff, but I won't because I love it!]

The seed remains, which you can now store in a cool, dark, and dry place where the conditions are relatively stable. 

Because I love to learn, I wanted to get a better understanding of winnowing. So I watched this clip I found on Youtube. In this video, the gardener uses the wind to separate the chaff from the seed. [Also, I love that Grammarly is annoyed by my use of 'chaff' and insists I change it to 'trash.']

I've watched enough spelling bee competitions to know that it is essential to understand how words are used in a sentence. I found this reflection from Jesuit Father John F. Kavanaugh helpful and timely. Fr. Kavanaugh is reflecting on John the Baptist's words in Matthew 3 regarding Jesus coming to baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire, with a winnowing fork in hand. Fr. Kavanaugh admits he misread this verse for many years, assuming it was about those who are lost and those who are saved. He writes, "But this is clearly a misreading of the Baptist's words. The fire is part of the baptism in Jesus and his spirit. Fire is not the fate of the lost but the refining of the blessed. We all have our chaff, our dross, our waste. We all have our winnowing. And it is the fire of Christ that will burn it away. The burdens we carry do not make us unfit for Advent's message. They qualify us as prime candidates."

Then I try to run with the word and include it in a reflection. 

Advent is when we remove those parts of our lives that prevent us from receiving the Christ. What can we let go of during the remainder of this Advent season to receive the good news that God is With Us? What can the Spirit blow away in our ministries so we can embody the love of God in our church and community? What seed wants to come forth in our hearts that our hands can tend to so it can flourish? 

Yet, I think about the importance of the casings. The shell of the seed is vital for the nourishment of the grain. Is Advent inviting you to give thanks for a cover and to let it go so the vulnerable parts of you may gift the world with their beauty? 

All of this winnowing talk has me hopeful for the new life to come! 

 

I tried to get the name of these friends in my garden,
but my app couldn't come up with one. This growth
is from the birdseed that my Bird friends scatter on the ground.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day--Welcome

 

Welcome

Tonight, I sat with my dogs and fulfilled our annual tradition: watching A Muppet Family Christmas.

It is my favorite Christmas movie. Ever.

Did you know you can't buy this movie anymore? Most of the songs are removed for copyright reasons, meaning you won't get to see the entire scene of our favorite Muppets as babies! And if you buy used versions, it won't be the full version.

Your mind is blown, right?

Of all the classic and contemporary Christmas movies, why is this one my favorite?

Most of you know the answer by now. After all, this is our 10th Christmas together.

It's because … well … many reasons.

First – it is the only film where ALL of Jim Henson's creations are together.

           The Muppets.

           Sesame Street.

           The Fraggles.

                      Together.

Second – it is the only film, I believe, where Henson himself makes an appearance!

Third – the icy patch running gag is comedy gold.

Fourth – puppet Muppet babies! I mean, how cute!

Fifth – the Scrooge character, who doesn't want to be with a bunch of weirdos, is transformed by the end. Not only does he do everything he can to make the many guests feel welcome, but he also becomes a part of the community!

Finally – as a little boy, I remember feeling a sense of belonging when I watched this movie. I remember happiness coming across my face and a sense of joy when every character joined in singing Christmas songs at the end. I remember thinking how neat it was that Kermit and Robin befriended the mysterious Fraggles – by learning about each other's traditions without trying to co-opt or replace them. It taught me early on that listening and learning from those who may not look or believe like me can deepen my sense … our sense … of belonging. Above all – it embodies my dream for the church: a place where everyone can be themselves fully.

In January 2023, I will no longer be a 'student.' By this, I mean I'll have completed my doctoral studies. I aim to finish the book I began – a memoir inspired by A Muppet Family Christmas and how it shapes my ecclesiology.

Tonight, in the glow of the Christmas lights and the flickering of the Advent candles, the dogs and I officially welcome the season of hope, peace, joy, and love. I remember the feeling of belonging I felt thirty years ago while watching this classic film. I remember my commitment to a call that insists love comes from unexpected places and people.

Tonight I welcome the reminder that the Reign of God comes to the least, the last, and to the weirdos. Especially us who may not always fit into the boxes society insist we reside in.

Tonight, with Chloe and Tecumseh, I welcome the compassion and tenderness to which we belong and of which we wait.

Tonight I welcome the Reign of Love in this space – my place – as I watch my favorite Christmas movie!

***

Welcome

Have you ever been welcomed somewhere but couldn't be yourself? For whatever reason, despite the people being friendly, you couldn't be in the place as your most authentic self. 

Or have you ever been to a place and you've tried showing up as the 'you' you know you to be -- only for whomever to try and make you be someone you know you're not? 

Or maybe you've been somewhere, and they told you, "Hey, relax. Be yourself. You're among friends." So, you take them for their word only to experience rejection because what the person meant by 'be yourself' actually meant 'conform to us -- our definitions of who you ought to be.'

What I've come to learn is that it is easier to be someone else. It is also exhausting and, to be honest, miserable. Yet, there are layers to our identity. We grow and expand, evolve, and exist not in dichotomies but with many beliefs that can sometimes be conflicting. I think it was Whitman who said it best in his piece Song of Myself, "Do I contradict myself? / Very well then, I contradict myself. / (I am large, I contain multitudes.)” Recognizing we exist in multitudes frees us to embrace the true self beneath the masks we wear to fit in. 

There's a lot of demand on us as people. To be this or that to them; to show up this way at that time in this way; to exist here one way and there another. The different roles in our lives require distinct parts of ourselves, too. My head hurts already trying to convey what I want to say -- we need spaces to exist as ourselves. 

You know -- the space where I can be Adam and you can be you. We can share the full-length novel of our story or just the coffee shop version, which is okay. Above all, we need those spaces where we not only feel safe but can be brave. For most of us, that's anywhere. But for some of us, that's nowhere. 

Wait. What's the difference between safe spaces and brave spaces? Without boring you, it's like this:

• Safe spaces usually make us feel good but do not always invite new ideas, thoughts, and perspectives. All are welcome but don't live as your true self because it might make some uncomfortable.
• Brave spaces invite people to listen to each other and gain new perspectives. All are welcome and are affirmed for who God created us to be, and those voices most often ignored are always included.

Why is this important? There's nothing worse than being told "all are welcome" and that "you matter here" only to experience, explicitly and implicitly, that this means you conform to this way or that way. If you have to give up a part of who you are to belong -- then you don't belong. 

Jesus created spaces of belonging -- the premise of the Reign of God. Jesus listened to the lives of those pushed to the margins: those deemed other, the outcast, the overlooked, and the stranger. Jesus demonstrated bravery in how he centered the voices society insisted remained silent. To them, Jesus says the reign of God comes! 

I believe the Church is to be a brave space. I'm glad we welcome and celebrate the fullness of what it means to be human. I'm glad we commit not only to being welcoming but belonging -- embarking on opportunities to deepen our connection with those in our community who may feel left out. And I'm glad 1PC is a space where people can be themselves -- and embrace the multiple layers of our humanity.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day--Rain

 Rain

To my knowledge, it hasn't rained recently. I see there's a chance of it later on in the week. While it did not rain today, the trails were muddy. Here in the midwest, we are in the part of the year where the ground is constantly hardening and thawing -- making for a muddy, slippery mess on well-traversed trails. 

I like the muddy trails despite slipping two times and nearly falling flat on my bottom. The soft ground captures fellow travelers in this season. Deer tracks, Raccoon prints, and paw prints from Canines remind me that we have companions we may not often think of. I'm mindful of Sparrows and Juncos because of the feeders outside my window. Oh, and the Geese! Goodness, I love how they interrupt my walks and invite me to look up to the heavens. I find comfort knowing my footprints join the critters of the woods and that in the near distant future, I'll see one of Chloe's and rejoice for the gift of her life. 

I continue to reflect on Isaiah's text from Sunday's service. Here's The Message paraphrase for Isaiah 11:

 

A Living Knowledge of God

6-9 The wolf will romp with the lamb,

    the leopard sleep with the kid.

Calf and lion will eat from the same trough,

    and a little child will tend them.

Cow and bear will graze the same pasture,

    their calves and cubs grow up together,

    and the lion eat straw like the ox.

The nursing child will crawl over rattlesnake dens,

    the toddler stick his hand down the hole of a serpent.

Neither animal nor human will hurt or kill

    on my holy mountain.

The whole earth will be brimming with knowing God-Alive,

    a living knowledge of God ocean-deep, ocean-wide.

The vision the Living God gives the prophet is a peaceful community of all creatures. Sure, each animal might represent a nation during Isaiah's writing. But it could also be the prophet conjuring up an earlier time in which animals lived in peace to imagine the king's reign of peace. 

When you're out and about this week -- look for signs of life. What critters share your space with you? Your neighborhood? Your favorite park. Then, pray for their peace and yours. May we do all we can to disrupt practices and policies that stand in the way of living in harmony with God's creative energy of love! 

It didn't rain. But I'm glad for the moisture that makes the soil soft! 

Here's one of my favorite quotes about rain by none other than Thomas Merton:

Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and distribute for money. By "they" I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival, who do not appreciate its gratuity, who think that what has no price has no value, that what cannot be sold is not real, so that the only way to make something actual is to place it on the market. The time will come when they will sell you even your rain. At the moment it is still free, and I am in it. I celebrate its gratuity and its meaninglessness.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day—Ready

 

“The lad wanted it desperately, yet I fear he was not ready.”
“None of us is ever ready,”
“For knighthood?”
“For death.” 
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Ready

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter asked us.

“Oh, yea. We are. Go ahead.”

My friend Brian of 20+ years ordered first. Then I did. And we went back to talking — as we always do — as if there hasn’t been distance and years between us. 

We talked about everything. Music, the Cubs, the Bears, Brady, our families, our work, our creative projects: my DMin and his second novel(!) and the handful of new songs he’s finishing up. We reminisced about the bowling alley — and we wondered out loud together if we would ever be in a league again with our other close friends. [Brian and I, along with my two cousins, worked at the Christian Center Bowling Alley for … over 5 years together. Those were some of the most important seasons of my life.]

We sat there in this restaurant for an hour and a half — catching up, laughing, lamenting, dreaming, and being present to one another. 

“Well, you ready to head out?” 

“Yup!”

And back to the house we came where he was able to say what is likely his last ‘goodbye’ to Chloe. 

Brian is that friend who is there — ready for whatever you need. It was Brian who, when I told him Chloe’s diagnosis, said these words that have been my mantra:

“I’m not sure what the future holds. But what I do know is that we are together now, and that’s all that matters.” 

I’m grateful for lifelong friendships and for those people like Brian who know me. Brian has always been my friend who is ready for anything. It isn’t unusual for us to call each other up, lament whatever season we are in, and plan another epic road trip. Our conversations always end with him saying, “Whenever you want to go, just let me know. I’m ready!”

I’m not sure where ‘ready’ comes from in today’s readings. I read them all twice and didn’t see the word ready. Yet, today, I’m reminded of how the love of God is readily available — and sometimes comes from the most familiar faces. This last Sunday’s text was Jesus telling the disciples to be ready. I’ll be honest — I think we complicate the reign of God and make it more elusive than it actually is. It is fleeting, don’t get me wrong — and it is what we are praying for even now. 

And yet — it’s here — within — ready for us if we would but receive it. 

Our time ended with Brian reminding Chloe of her goodness. It was special. It was holy. All of it gave me the courage I need to be ready for whatever comes next. 

And for that — for Brian — I give thanks.