"The heavens are telling the glory of God…." Psalm 19:1

These days demand that we look up. Look up into the blue sky
that is filled with some amazing cloud formations. I have no idea how and why
the clouds seem so particularly pronounced and beautiful in these April days.
Last night I watched as the clouds settled on the horizon at sunset. From the
window vantage point I had on a treadmill in the  gym where I work out, I could see the sky
like an artist’s easel being painted before my very eyes. On the brilliant blue
background, lavenders and golds were brushed across the bottom of the canvas
near the horizon. Above, dark,nearly navy, blue clouds marbled the middle of
the picture frame, constantly moving to form new shapes and colors like a giant
lava lamp in full motion. Higher above were what seemed to be the leftover
clouds of a sunny day, cotton balls of fluffy white painted with the simplicity
of a child’s hand. It was such an exquisite sight I am thankful I didn’t fall
off the moving machine that was raising my heart rate and, hopefully, toning my
muscles.

 This morning I had another reason to look up. Driving to
accomplish my regular Friday errands, I saw the graceful motion above me of
sight I hadn’t been blessed by for several months. Flying just above the
treetops a great blue heron was winging its way to a spring time lake. On its
way it seemed to be spreading glory as it glided on the first threads of the
morning. It is official…..spring is truly on its way!

 As if that weren’t enough gazing heavenward, only a few
hours later I looked up from the seat of my car, my errands now complete, to be
given the gift of an eagle flying directly across my path. I could see its
white head shining against the noontime sky. It soared with the majesty and the
power of knowing it is our national emblem. Frankly it almost seemed too many
blessings for just one morning but I’ll take all I’m offered and give my
thanks.

I was reminded of a scripture account in which Jesus asks:
”Why are you all standing around looking toward heaven?” Today my answer would
be because there are so many signs and wonders that grace the sky that connect
heaven and earth. Signs that remind me of the amazing gifts of Creator and
Creation. Signs that bring hope and glimpses of new life, of winter’s past and
summer’s future.

 And now I will keep my eyes straight ahead for safety’s
sake…..or at least until there is another glorious appearance that demands my attention.

 Have a blessed weekend……………….

"Every spring is the only spring-a perpetual astonishment." ~Ellis Peters

Today I have been traveling the highways and byways of the Twin Cities traveling to a variety of meetings. As I looked out on the emerging springtime landscape I have found myself exercising a curious behavior. I have been squinting. I have been narrowing my eyes so I can actually see the tiny shadows of green buds that appear minuscule in the grand scheme of tree life. With my eyes functioning in their fullness the green buds are nearly invisible. But if I squint….ohhh …there is the loveliest green. Spring green! In my squinting I am able to allow the emerging spring to find a fullness that is before its time. It feels somehow powerful and magical.

I began thinking about all the things that require us to view them in a way that it is outside our normal way of seeing. Many situations ask us to widen our eyes, to look for a deeper wisdom, a wide-angle lens of perception. At other times our understanding might be best served by view. Many situations require a zoom lens, shutting out all extraneous vision to get to the heart of what matters. Still different situations ask that we close our eyes altogether and allow our other senses to lead us. 

I am what is known as a 'visual' person, meaning I take in the majority of information that comes my way through seeing. Others process information through hearing, through the experience of touch and being fully engaged in an activity. As a visual person,how I experience what I see colors how I remember, what I find important, how I encounter other people, basically everything. What is your primary way of doing these things?

Lately I have found myself trying to look at some experiences with different lenses hoping to gain wisdom about how to react, how to answer some nagging questions. Am I too close to see what really needs to be done? Do I need a wider perspective in order to do what is right? What if I try looking at this situation with totally new eyes, as if I had never encountered it before? They are fascinating questions, easier to ask than answer.

In the meantime what is very easy to do is to squint .With my eyes narrowed into smaller versions of their hazel selves, I have the gift of seeing the springtime beauty blossom before me. By the time the buds reach their full potential I will have the blessing of seeing this greening twice. And really, what could be better?

"One must also accept that one has "uncreative" moments. The more honestly one can accept that, the quicker these moments will pass. One must have the courage to call a halt, to feel empty and discouraged." Etty Hillesum

I was mindlessly leafing through some books this morning when I read these words of Etty Hillesum, poet and writer of her experiences in the concentration camps of WWII. My first reaction was to reject them. But then as I let myself sink more deeply into them, I allowed their truth to take root in me. I connected their truth to the way it often feels in the week following Easter or Christmas. In our homes, and for me, in my work life, so much energy and creativity gets poured into these celebrations that I can arrive in the days after in a sort of stunned state. It seems as if the creative juices have headed south for a little nap on the beach. 

This experience is not specific to those who create whether that is art, music, worship, food,homes, or poetry. No matter what our work there are times when the big ideas, the beautiful life-altering ideas just don't come. My inclination, and I don't think this is only mine, is to resist, to try to force into being what is no where to be found. It is then that discouragement can set in. Is there a gift that resides in being discouraged? Is there wisdom waiting to be discovered in this sense of emptiness? Somehow, I think so.

Perhaps these times in our lives come from a deep place that helps us call a halt long enough to allow our creative selves to take a breath, to relax into what the universe offers us next. If we simply push through the feeling of being discouraged, trying to 'make' something happen, we would miss this grand opportunity. In this way discouragement offers us a 'time out', a resting place so we can actually listen to our lives.

This is clearly what is happening outside our windows these days. The creativity of the earth is available everywhere we look. Green sprouts. Daffodils. Crocus. Budding trees. Nest building birds. Only a few days ago these same creative beings were hunkering down in a halted place, discouraged by temperatures from growing or greening any further. Their 'uncreative' moments were necessary to what is now emerging. Don't you think the same is true of we two-legged ones?

Whatever is discouraging you today, I invite you to take a walk, look around you. Allow the creativity that abounds to wash over you knowing that you did nothing to cause it to be and yet there it is. Out of the emptiness that is winter comes all this beauty. May it be so for us as well.

After a glorious Easter celebration yesterday, we find ourselves on what can be called Easter Monday….the day after the glorious celebrations. For those of us who work in the church, it is often a rest and recuperation day after the many detailed filled days that lead up to Sunday. Others are headed back to work or school and business as usual. The mountain top experience that may have been yesterday's news seems to be over and we move on. 

Thinking about this phenomenon this morning, I was reminded of a quote by Barbara Brown Taylor that I found in an essay I read in the last days of Lent. It caught my attention because of our church's theme of "Coloring Outside the Lines." She writes:“By then, they knew that God colored outside the lines all
the time-as a matter of divine principle-and there was no going back.” Taylor is speaking about the people she has known in her life who understand that being a person of faith is not about belief…..in fact, it goes 'way beyond belief' which is the title of this essay. She is speaking about the people who walk along side the Holy to places they never intended to go, carrying out acts they never expected to do, living lives that continue to surprise and startle them. She says these are the people in the scriptures and those in our daily lives who take seriously a word we don't say very often anymore but is littered throughout the Bible: Behold! 

Behold! The tomb is empty. Behold! The bush is burning. Behold! The daffodils are blooming. Behold! The head is crowning. Behold! The breath is gone. Behold! The stars are too numerous to count. Behold! The river is running. Behold! The tears are falling. Behold! The laughter is contagious. Behold! Behold! Behold!

On this day after Easter, for those of us who call ourselves Christian,our work is clear. We have been challenged once again by the divine principle of coloring outside the lines. If we take seriously the alleluias of yesterday, there is no going back. We are the people meant to walk out our doors every morning ready to Behold! 

If you have already stumbled your way into Easter Monday with a fuzzy brain, a slightly sick stomach from too many jelly beans,a small headache from the trumpets still ringing in your ears, never fear. The good news….at least a part of it…is that this beautiful Creation of which we are a part is filled to overflowing with moments to behold. Our work is to see each one as a stone rolled away moment, a Behold! moment to witness. And then our next step is to tell the next person and the next…one more time.

From the way I read the scriptures, that is what Easter is all about.

I have just finished being a part of our noon Good Friday service. It was a lovely gathering of people, small and intimate. We observed the service of tenebrae..the service of shadows. As the scriptures of Good Friday are read outlining the arrest and death of Jesus, candles are slowly extinguished, the shadows descend on the people. The quiet music of this service can take those present to a place of their own shadows, their own brokenness. The readings can allow people to hear, not only the very specific story of Jesus, but the continued injustices in their own lives, the ways in which we are surrounded all the time by people who are lost, left out, on the margins. We can hear also the voices of those who stand firm, speaking truth to power.

Good Friday leads us toward Easter, the celebration of new birth, of resurrection in all the many ways in can be defined. On Sunday we will again celebrate the specific ways in which the followers of Jesus witnessed his presence after his death but we will also be reminded of the many ways new birth is happening all around us every day. We will be reminded of the earth that is greening and springing new life. We will honor the ways in which healing has happened in our lives, the lives of those we love. We will also look for ways that we as a people have risen above terrible despair to a brighter, richer place.

The reality is that all of life is held in the balance of the experience we have this weekend. We are always someplace between brokenness and new life. Whether this is our personal experience or not, it is certainly true in the life of our world. There are babies born and people die. There are triumphs of success in our work and the failures that travel with us on the same curving road. As the tulips in our yard push their way toward the warming sun, they do so through the dead leaves of last summer. It is the nature of the cycle of things.

How we choose to participate in this makes all the difference. As I listened to the scriptures today I once again came face to face with the many ways I participate, knowingly and unknowingly, in the brokenness of the world. I was reminded of the people I pass each day who have been battered by life's storms, some to the point of near extinction. I am a part of their living even when I choose to turn my head the other way. And on Sunday morning when I join in the joyous shouting of an 'Alleluia!' that too will be a full bodied experience. The important thing is how I remember that they are connected, how I am connected to the broken and the rebirthed. The important thing is how I see the Holy moving, not only in the glorious celebration of Sunday morning, but also in the pain and alienation of Good Friday. 

With this wide angled lens, the gift is seeing the sacredness of the whole in the common places between where we live most days. Between brokenness and resurrection. Between Good Friday and Easter. Between Sunday and Monday and every other day. Seeing with eyes remade for wonder, we can come to know the One who moves in between. And in that we can muster up a resounding 'Alleluia!'

Have a blessed and joyous Easter………….

As a child growing up in a small town in southern Ohio, the practice of observing Holy Week was much different than the one I engage in now. During those weeks of my childhood and teen years, the churches in town held services every night of the week leading up to Easter. The minister of a particular denomination always preached in a church not their own and the choir or singers from a congregation did not sing from their own choir loft. I suppose this presented the challenge of an accompanist playing a strange instrument and a preacher finding a different comfort level in an alien pulpit. There was not much attention paid to what I now think of as 'traditional' liturgy of Maundy Thursday or Good Friday. We simply showed up as guests in the pews of churches not our own to share stories we held in common.

I have to admit to being kind of a 'church geek' even as a kid. I loved going to those services at other churches. I loved seeing people I knew from the grocery store or school in their own worship setting. The fact of the matter is, I know now, there was not much difference in what happened in any of those Protestant churches all highly influenced by a common world view. But, as is also common, we all like to think our way of doing things has a particular flair, a more certain truth than the next person especially when it comes to how we worship. So there was a certain element of spying on how others were doing things in this week we knew to be central to our faith. 

Today as I sat in our small chapel for our Maundy Thursday worship service, I thought about those worship services of my youth. I looked around and saw many people I knew and others I didn't. Everyone there knew pretty much what they were in for: what hymns might be sung, the scripture that would be read. There was comfort in that. As I listened to the scripture of Jesus and the disciples sharing a meal, of him washing the feet of the disciples, I thought about how often I have heard that story. Something about it never gets old. Friends gathered around a table sharing bread and wine, being urged to remember who they were, who they had become, how their lives had been changed.  

Today Christians around the world will hear this same story, one that if you listen closely, if your heart is open, always carries something new. While my experience of how I observe this day may have changed, I am connected in deep ways to those people in my hometown who still travel from church to church. As they take up their place in a pew that is foreign to them, I find my place in one that I occupy with regularity. But what holds us together is the story, the bread, the cup, the spirit of remembering what it means to be people who continue to mine the gifts of this very complicated way called Christian. 

"God of the ages
to whom the hours
are nothing
and everything:
may I know each moment
as a sacred guest
to be welcomed,
to be savored,
to be sent
with a blessing."
~Jan L. Richardson