‘I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness….make straight the way for God.’~John 1:23

Today’s word in this Lenten practice is ‘voice’. I am looking forward to the images people might post on the #ReThinkChurch website that represent this word. It will call on a deep well of creativity! 

For those of us who find a creative outlet in words, ‘voice’ might seem to come much easier than images. And yet I think of the number of times I have sat with people who talk of ‘trying to find their voice’ or are lamenting having ‘lost their voice’. This is not due to some midwinter virus that has filled the lungs and stripped the vocal cords of sound. No. This is the result of some inner place of hurt or silence, some deep loss of being able to speak one’s truest self. Sometimes these statements are made by people who have hit some creative block and are reaching into some deep inner place to find the next line of a story or a lost word to fit into a poetic puzzle. More often than not, when we say we are trying to find our voice it is because, for whatever reason, we are unable to say something about who we really are, our deepest expression of our God-created self.

What does it mean to ‘find our voice’? As I reflect on the scriptures we share in the Christian household in these beginning days of Lent, Jesus’ forty day journey in the wilderness could be viewed as a time of finding his voice. He is confronted by temptations and is offered the lure of power and physical comfort and yet he stands strong…in his God-created self…speaking the truth that was planted within him, the truth he claims for the work of his life. He is not swayed or bullied and finds his voice for his own way of being in the world. 

As someone who has spent a fair amount of time coming to an understanding of what my true voice is, I know the push and pull of other’s expectations. Learning to listen to inner wisdom and trusting in it is a life-long practice. When we are blessed to find our voice and have the strength and humility to speak our truth when it is needed, it can be a powerful affirmation of who we were created to be. The same thing can be said for having the wisdom to know when this truth is best kept to ourselves. It is an ever evolving learning.

A week or so ago I walked out on a warmer, winter morning to be greeted by the songs of a tree full of chickadees. Their collective voice of hope was strong and I stood still and allowed their truth to wash over me. Yesterday I purchased a handful of purple hyacinths and placed them in a vase on my desk. Their fragrant voice now fills my office with spring song. 

Both bird and bloom were making their voice known…their God-given statement to the world…’I am here and I have something to say.’ Like a voice crying out in the wilderness, they declared the presence of the Holy.

May it be so for each of us.

***Check out people’s photos on the word ‘voice’ at rethinkphotos and #rethinkchurch.

“Gather us in the lost and forsaken….gather us in the blind and the lame….”

These words are found in a lovely piece of music created by Minnesota composer Marty Haugen. I begin with these words as a way to open up a daily practice for the season of Lent which begins on this day, Ash Wednesday. This practice has its inspiration in a challenge of sorts created by ReThink Church, an online forum for looking at new ways to express what it means to be people of faith. The challenge is to be present to a word, a particular word, for each of the 46 days of Lent. In being present to this single word people are invited to take a photo, create an image, that expresses that word. ‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’, right? Last year I watched as people used these words and then posted photos. It was inspiring and challenging and often even amusing. 

I have been absent from these pages over the last few weeks as I have participated in a weekly course of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. This course has taken my creative time in different directions and a different kind of daily writing. But I have chosen to use the words of the daily Lenten word practice to return to these pages, offer reflection and invite people to Pause in the ordinary tasks on the every day. Each day I will write about the word offered in this challenge and direct people to the images people have created using the same word. I am excited to see where it might lead and what might bubble up through this kind of observance. 

Today’s word is ‘gather.’ It is impossible for me to think of the word gather without seeing circles. I think of the many circles that make up our lives. Circles of people around tables. Circles of family and friends sitting closely sharing stories. Circles of people from the beginning of time gathering around fires making meaning of their lives. 

In churches all over the word people will gather today to have the mark of ashes placed on their foreheads. It is a gathering to remind ourselves that we share a faith story and the human condition of being finite. It is a gathering that says ‘I am with you in the joys and sorrows of living.‘ And it is a gathering that affirms that the Holy One walks the journey of wilderness and discovery with us.

‘Gather us in the rich and the haughty…gather us in the proud and the strong.‘, the song goes on. The circles of community in which we make our way are often diverse and perplexing. And yet we continue to gather because being known and moving, living in the circle is the soil of life. Rich…poor…haughty…humble…proud…strong. At some point, we have been all of this and will be again. And being gathered with others can help us know compassion and empathy and give us grace for the things life throws at us, for the twists and turns of the circle dance.

The final verse of the song goes: ‘Gather us in and hold us forever…gather us in and make us your own..gather us in all peoples together…Fire of love in our flesh and our bone.’ As we come to be marked with ashes, a symbol of what it means to be born of the earth, knowing we will return to the earth, that Fire of Love pulses through our flesh and our bone calling us to fullness of life.

And so Lent begins….

****You can find out more about the photos for Lent at http://www.rethinkchurch.org/articles/spirituality/2016-lenten-photo-a-day-practice.

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot”…
Over the last few days I have seen two different articles trying to dissect the words of the song we sing on this night…the final night of the year. For as long as most of us can remember, this is the song with words by Scottish poet Robert Burns has capped one year and sent us head long into the next. Whether it is sung with friends at a large party or quietly watching the ball drop on television, it is music that becomes the soundtrack for entering the promise of a new year. Perhaps it is only fitting that we don’ really understand the meaning of the old Scottish words or that we, at least, struggle to find a home for them in our mouths. We are, after all, walking into unknown territory as we step into 2016.

By now many of us have begun making mental if not actual lists of ‘resolutions’…those things we want to change in our lives or add to our lives or subtract from our lives. Have you noticed the uptick of weight loss commercials on television? The lure of ads for joining health clubs? Since losing weight is the number one resolution of most people, the world of advertising knows our weak spots and is ready to slip right in. May those who have the goal of better health for 2016 find ways to be successful and may it open doors to greater happiness and more joyful living.

As I have thought about this approaching new year, I have been stumbling once again over the word ‘pilgrim’ in several things I have been reading. It is a word, a concept, that draws me in. Ever since I heard the poet David Whyte say that the one thing we humans share in common is that we are all pilgrims, I have been infatuated with this small but powerful word. Pilgrim. Are we not all beginning our walk as pilgrims into the new year of 2016?

Having been blessed to lead a few pilgrimages, I know that being a pilgrim has certain expectations. A pilgrim commits to the road knowing that they can only see a few steps ahead. They can never have a vision of the road’s end. A pilgrim opens their heart to those they meet along the way knowing, believing, that their fellow travelers have gifts to offer, gifts they cannot receive from anyone else. A pilgrim expects to be changed by the walking though they cannot know what form that change will take as they begin only that when the journey is completed they will be different than when they started. A pilgrim knows that they will lose things on the path…a sock, some pounds, an attitude, a deeply held opinion, a long buried hurt. A pilgrim also hopes to find some things…a beautiful stone, an outstretched hand, a warm cup of soup, a mended heart, a transformed life. 

As we enter this new year, we all come to it as pilgrims. We have no crystal ball that will tell its future or how the year will actually evolve. We may have goals and plans that have been lovingly and wisely molded and shaped. These goals may be accomplished and there will be celebration. They may also be derailed and take a different form. May we find grace in that and be gentle with ourselves as we know that this is the life of the pilgrim. May we be patient to wait for the lessons the detour offers.

Our faith stories are almost all wisdom tales of pilgrimages. Abraham. Sarah. Moses. Ruth. Mary. Joseph. Jesus. All these people walked the pilgrim path and from them we have shaped wisdom to be our companion on the way. The good news of pilgrimage is that it begins again with the rising of each new day and the dawning of each new year. It is written on the palm of our hand and lives within the chambers of our heart.

And so now we begin again…the pilgrim’s walk…into 2016. May the Holy bless our path. May we be protected and guided in the ways of Love and uplifted by the stories of those who have gone before. May we watch for signs and wonders. May we bless those we meet along the way and receive with graciousness their blessing to us. May we be open to the gifts and the challenges that come with each step. And may this new year find us kinder and gentler with ourselves and our world.

A blessed New Year to you all.

“Our stories are all stories of searching. We search for a good self to be and for good work to do. We search to become human in a world that tempts us always to be less than human or looks to us to be more. We search to love and to be loved. And in a world where it is often hard to believe in much of anything, we search to believe in something holy and beautiful and life-transcending that will give meaning and purpose to the lives we live.” 

~Frederick Buechner, The Longing for Home

The theme of ‘Turning Toward Home’ is ending now for our faith community. We have walked through Advent with these words, been surrounded by images of homes for four weeks, sung songs that used lyrics that opened up what home means. It is Christmas Eve and Advent is coming to an end. And yet the work of turning toward home is ever present. As author and theologian Frederick Buechner reminds us above, we are living, breathing stories of searching, of turning toward what is the Home that always is calling us toward our lives, toward our fullest expression of the Holy One’s presence within us. 

In a few hours, I will be present to some who have turned toward home. In all of our worship services there will be those who have come home to our particular faith community to once again engage in the story that holds us. College students, young adults, grandchildren, those we have baptized and confirmed will once again make their way into the circle along with those we see nearly every Sunday. They will be joined by others who are guests and do not know the particularities of other stories being played out around them. Those who may have moved far away and have returned to family and friends often make their way to the church which once was a home for their questions, their doubts, their certainties, their celebrations. It will be for many as if they never left. For others, they will notice change which they will resist or embrace. It is always so and perhaps has always been. Home is not as static as we would like to believe, like to hope. All this is happening in nearly every sanctuary around the world.

What draws us to turn and return? Of course, there is the hope of seeing those who have walked the path with us for even a short time. We search for a touchstone that reminds us of who were once were or hoped to be. We look for faces that shaped our early years or provided a word of support or affirmation. We also stare into the places where someone once sat but is no longer present and it reminds us of how precious life is.

We are also drawn, I believe, by the deep desire to connect to this ancient story of the miraculous. Angels sing. Shepherds are awakened. A young woman and her husband give birth to a child under what seems hopeless circumstances. Stars guide even the Wise to what has come to be. We all search to find something of ourselves in each of these characters. Beauty. Humility. Courage. Fortitude. Faith. Hope. Love. Above all, love. We are drawn because ‘we search to believe in something holy and beautiful and life-transcending that will give meaning and purpose to the lives we live.’

And so may it be. As we light the candles of Christmas today, may we find some answers to our searching. May we embrace something of the Heart of the Christ Child, however we perceive it. May we turn toward Home and find a welcome there. And may it be for everyone.

I offer to you this blessing of John Philip Newell for this Christmas season. I also offer this image of the ‘The Flannel Nativity’ by Cindy McKenna which has graced the calendar I have consulted every day of December.

“O God of new beginnings,

who brings light out of night’s darkness

and fresh green out of the hard winter earth,

there is barren land between us as people and as nations this day,

there are empty stretches of soul within us.

Give us eyes to see new dawnings of promise.

Give us ears to hear fresh soundings of birth.”

A blessed Christmas to you all……

You can prepare,but still

it will come to you

by surprise,

crossing through your doorway

calling your name in greeting,

turning like a child

who quickens suddenly

within you.

It will astonish you

how wide your heart 

will open

in welcome

for the joy

that finds you

so ready 

and still so

unprepared.

~Jan Richardson, Circle of Grace

Joy. We prepare for it. We anticipate it. We hope for it. We desire it. We long for it. We are sometimes desperate for it. Especially in these days of waiting for Christmas to arrive, we look for joy in all the corners and behind every door. All the outward messages say it is something we can buy…or steal…or find wrapped up in a beautiful box. But joy is much sneakier than that.One thing that living a few years can teach is that joy can be elusive. Different than happiness which can be found in a good joke or a laugh here and there, joy goes bone deep. It finds its home in our heart and moves out from there into the way we move and act in the world. And when it is playing its hide-and-seek game with us, it can be a painful dance. 

Last night I was privileged to be in the presence of people who were seeking after joy. They were trying to find a dance partner named Joy while also holding the deep loss of a loved one or the pervasive loss of the world right now. We had come together to rest in the comfort of sacred words and music in a search for hope and healing. They were doing the work of preparing for joy even when its presence seemed impossible or at least improbable. But their honesty of feeling and experience was rich and humbling and it prepared the soil of their hearts for the return of joy. It was a blessing to me to help hold the space for their waiting.

It is easy to get caught up in the lights and tinsel of this season, to think that we are all walking around in a Hallmark television special just waiting to be filmed. One of those stories where everything is in soft light and lovely and predictably joyful. But we need only change channels to know it is not true. Small children are handed from over-filled rubber, lifeboats to total strangers in an effort to flee a country gone wild with misused power and fear. Certain people, those given to mistrust, cower as they pass by those they have named ‘other’, ‘stranger’. Labels and names are assigned to faiths other than our own and become the people who hold their faith as sacred as I do mine are demonized.

And even in these times, perhaps especially in these times, we still prepare for joy. Why? Because, I believe, at our very core, we were made for this bone-deep emotion. As the Creator breathed over the waters and brought forth all that is, what was there but joy? Joy at creating. Joy at its beauty. Joy at the promise of it all. As the Spirit moves through each and every breath and beating heart no matter the color of skin, or what they believe or their life situation, joy is the thread that weaves through it all. Sometimes that joy is overshadowed but its wisdom and nature lives at the center.

Today the invitation is to prepare. Today we have the opportunity to fling the door of our heart open and make wide the welcome. May we find there the gift of surprise. May we find there the gift of joy.

Last night my family and I attended a performance of “Between the Worlds” at In the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theater. For as long as I have lived in the Twin Cities, I have loved their work and the depth of their creativity. I must say that I have learned as much about the importance of ritual and how to create it from these artists committed to craft and social justice as I ever learned in seminary. I know that the work I do on a weekly basis would somehow be less if not for the inspiration of Sandy Spieler and her troupe of those dedicated to what can be done with simple objects…paper, wheat-paste, paint, sticks and poles, and a little wire. It is magic they create, a magic that draws the audience into an encounter with Mystery.
Last night’s performance was a celebration of these dark days we call Advent in the Christian household. But these are days that have been honored throughout time by cultures who lived closer to the earth than we now do. Those who lived in the rhythms of the seasons and who patterned their lives around the give and take of the Sun and the Moon. Those who knew in their bodies the power of both darkness and light. As people whose lives are now dictated by the flip of a switch, those who believe they have control of light and its arrival, we have lost the wisdom of those ancient ones. I personally believe we are lesser for it.

A poem by Marilyn Krysl graced the program for the show, a few of the final words I will share here:

the moon stops the fountain of your sleep/ and drives you out to wander and pace/ wide awake and burning, mouth dry eyes burning/ so that you are forced to acknowledge your own body/ and to remember the body is holy/ and to remember the body is one body/ and this earth the one holy body you cannot desecrate with impunity/ so that you understand that if you deny the dark/ you make a mockery of light.

These words draw me not only to the gifts of darkness and of light but also to the thing we say we are celebrating when we lift our candles high on Christmas. Incarnation. The belief that God shows up in the body. In the body of a newborn baby in Bethlehem. The body of the grown up Way-Shower, Jesus, who held before those in his time the power of both darkness and light and invites us to do the same.

Incarnation is both specific and individual and also communal. The Holy was born in a stable more than 2000 years ago. And the Holy is born in us when we remember and act as if we remember that ‘ the body is one body’. We are inextricably connected together as humans and with the earth which is our home by the One who created us to be reflections of the Sacred in the world. To do so is an honoring of what it means to be the face of the on-going Incarnation. 

In these last days before Christmas, we would be wise to notice the play of dark and light. In these last days before the Winter Solstice, we would be wise to watch how the darkness holds the space for the Light to be born. These are precious days that hold us ‘between the worlds’. They are pure gift of grace and promise.

Stay awake! The Light is coming.

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy is when (wo)men are afraid of the light.”~Plato

Neither of our children ever seemed to be afraid of the dark when they were small. Though, like most parents, we spent our fair share of sleepless hours going back and forth between rooms calming restless minds and legs, I don’t remember that darkness was what kept them awake in the night. More often it was an anxiety that had taken up a home in them. Anxiety over something or someone at school. Anxiety over wanting to do well, over fearing that they had not. Anxiety over being unable to fall asleep. These kinds of mind-bending thoughts can fill the darkness of night with a fear that overwhelms but it is not the lack of light that haunts. It is what we imagine will come, might come, may never come with the coming of the morning light.

As I have been sitting with and exploring this dance of darkness and light, I came across this quote of the philosopher and ancient one, Plato. It reminded me of the Marianne Williamson poem in which she writes of how most of us are more frightened of success than of failure. That somehow bringing forth into the world what is most true and light-filled about ourselves and having that embraced is much more fear-producing than falling flat on our faces in front of those we love and those we don’t. I believe both these wise ones speak great truths across centuries.

Over the last weeks I have been participating in Julia Cameron’s study The Artist’s Way:Creativity as a Spiritual Practice. Much of this amazing process is a path of noticing and recovery of the creative life we once knew as children, the creative life that aligns us with our Creator and invites us to be fully the person we were created to be. In many ways it is an invitation to wrestle with what frightens us in the darkness and to walk fully in the Light. Over the span of these sessions with folks who are also committed to this process of recovering their own light drenched path, I have been blessed to watch ideas flow, minds expand, hearts open and spirits healed. This is Light.

As I have been tying together the threads of this quilt of light and darkness that is our gift in Advent, I have been thinking over and over of the words of the adult Jesus as recorded in the Gospel of Thomas: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” 

As human beings we are constantly doing a dance with darkness and light. The fear that is born of our darkness can confront us and call to the deepest part of who we are. So, too, the light calls to us, urging us to the fullness of what it means to be created in the Image of the One who breathed life into us, the One who lures us to reflect goodness and holiness into the world.

How are you making your way around the dance floor with darkness and light these Advent days? What fears do you hold for the night and the day? What lies within you waiting to be brought forth, waiting to be born, waiting to save you? 

Blessings on your nighttime. Blessing on the light that illumines your days.