Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Today’s word for Lent? Love. It was inevitable that this word would show up for reflection during these holy days. It is the crux of the gospel, the single message of Jesus that we strive to embrace, to live day after blessed day. Sometimes we hit the mark. Most often we fail or fall someplace in the muddy middle.

These words from Paul’s letter to the people in Corinth are the most popular reading at weddings. It seems obvious. And yet, as I always point out in the message during the ceremony, these are not words intended for a couple standing at the altar. They are words meant to be a guide for each and every person, partnered or single as they interact with their fellow human companions. They are words Paul hoped would ring in the heads of a community hell bent on being snarky with one another, of being in competition and in tearing one another down. In that context, these words are full of challenge to our 21st century ears and could be a guide for our own particular time in history.

Love. Yesterday I had the privilege of witnessing love in a profound way. I walked into our sanctuary to find two people sitting quietly in the front pew looking forward toward the pulpit and the organ. A metal walker sat to the side and these two white-haired people were sitting, fingertips touching. As I greeted them, smiles spread across their faces. They were eager to tell me that they both had been baptized and confirmed in this sanctuary. They also had been married in the same room…67 years ago on the day. They had come to see, to remember, to mark the anniversary in the place their married life together began. We talked about where their lives had taken them and they asked quick-fire questions about my life, as well. Clearly, one of the things this couple held in common was curiosity and a deep interest in other people. I could imagine that this was only one of the many common traits that had been woven through their 67 years together. They snapped my picture on their smartphone and immediately texted it to their children. To mark the moment and one of the steps along their anniversary day.

But it was their love that shown forth and their love that confronted me. A love that was patient as one or two of the stories one told was repeated. A love that was kind as they filled in the missing words or memories for one another. A love that was filled with grace and giving and a deep sense of how their life together was precious. They asked if I would pray for them which I humbly did. And as words formed on my lips, I knew it was something so much greater, so much deeper, so much More that held our hands together than any prayer I could muster on the spot. It seemed that time itself was suspended.

Paul’s words may have been meant for a community of people. But it was clear to me that these famous, sometimes overused words, had became a real and present truth in their lives. And I was blessed to be in their presence and the presence of so great a love. All on an ordinary Thursday.

For all the ways in which I found the word ‘mighty’ difficult yesterday, I find today’s word…refuge…a piece of cake. Come to think of it, sometimes a piece of cake is a perfect experience of refuge! Continuing this journey of a-word-a-day in Lent, I will be particularly interested in the photos people might post to give a visual to the word ‘refuge’. Personally, I find this word so easy because I feel as if I have given so much intention in my life to finding places of refuge…places that create shelter and protection for the nurture and care of the soul. The places that have been this refuge for me are sometimes ones I have sought out with great passion and planning. Others simply appeared and offered themselves. 
We all are people of landscape whether we are aware of it or not. There are places where we feel more safe than others, places that tell us quite quickly that we have found a good place to build a nest. I have known refuge in places far-flung…the island of Iona off the coast of Scotland is never far from my heart and s sheltering place to me. I have known refuge on Papoose Lake where my husband’s family has a cabin. Staring at glassy water and hearing the sound of a morning loon provides soul shelter. I have also known refuge in the rolling, green hills of Ohio, along the fickle waters of the Mississippi River and in a certain gold flowered chair that sits in my home office. All these and more are places of refuge, places where I have known the warm and welcoming sense of being held by something greater than myself.

The psalms in the Hebrew sciptures are filled with both images and the actual word ‘refuge’. I can imagine those early writers of such heart-filled and passionate songs calling out to God: “How precious is your steadfast love, O God! All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.” Psalm after psalm declares with great conviction that refuge can be found in the presence of the Holy. A presence available to all people.

Yes, refuge comes in places and in landscapes that provide shelter for those times when fear or confusion shake us to the bone. But there are also the people who are refuge. You know them, don’t you? The ones we call in the night when the dreams and crazy-making thoughts of darkness threaten to overwhelm. The ones who love us even when we cannot love ourselves or imagine we are lovable. The ones who reach out and pull us close and form a circle of shelter…a place of refuge…from all that life can throw our way. The ones whose names are on our lips and etched in our hearts when we say, when we breathe the word ‘love’.

Wherever we are today, there are those walking past who may be seeking refuge. If we are awake and aware, we can see it in their eyes, the ways in which they dart to and fro looking for a safe place to land. We can see it in the way they clutch their arms across their body to protect their heart, their soul. For there is only a one letter difference between refuge and refugee. Something to think about. Today our action might make all the difference in the world to some one. Perhaps we are being called to be a sheltering place for someone. May we have the grace to notice and to know. May we be ready to be a refuge.

The mighty one, God, speaks and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting.~Psalm 50:1

Of all the words that are on the list of those to reflect on during these days of Lent, today’s word is one I have found most difficult: Mighty. And because I have found it challenging and troublesome, I believe there is probably some lesson to be learned, some wisdom to be garnered by spending time with it. Mighty.

Mighty….having or showing great strength or power. : very great. The scriptures are full of phrases that speak of the Holy and other biblical heroes and heroines being described as ‘mighty’. Abraham…David…Esther…Jesus…Paul…to name only a few of those assigned the title of ‘mighty’. Of course, there are also the mighty seas, the mighty wind that sweeps across Creation, the mighty eagle soaring, the mighty mountains rising out of the desert. Not all things ‘mighty’ are of the human nature. In fact, it may be easier for me find comfort in the mighty nature of the nonhuman. Another thing to spend time with on a personal level.

Perhaps my discomfort comes from the ways in which those we have named as ‘mighty’ have, at times, wielded power over another and ruled at times with violence. These characters in scripture are not exempt from such behavior and yet they are not necessarily called ‘mighty’ because of the destruction they created but instead by the ways in which they turned the tables over for justice. That is a kind of mighty I can embrace. 

I think of the ways in which children dress as superheroes, donning capes and stances of power and strength…mighty. Their imaginations carry them outside a world ruled by adults to the place where, though small, they can overcome whatever they perceive as evil and threatening. Places where they could save the day and be bigger and more powerful, creating change in their world. Aren’t there days when we all wish we might be able to do the same only for real but still with a really, cool cape? We also could be called Mighty on such days.

The psalmist praises the Creator for the power with which the day is birthed and for its sun’s setting…mighty. This is the kind of mighty we will never attain. Faced with such power and strength our mighty acts are in the noticing, in the looking, in the reflecting on what it means to be present to the pure gift of living, of passing from sunrise to sunset yet once again. Another mighty act is to honor how it will not always be so.

What mighty acts would you accomplish if you could? How would you muster up great strength and power? What would you do with it? No capes are being given out and the chance of flying or leaping tall buildings with a single bound is probably not an option.

But the act of simply being a blessed human on this Earth is available every day…which could be as ‘mighty’ as it gets.

Go. G-o. It is one of the first words we might have learned to read or write. Simple, short. Knowing how to sound the hard ‘g’ and round our lips into a perfect ‘o’ we may have begun our long and often confusing and rewarding journey with language, with communication in all its ever-evolving forms. But it may all have begun with two letters and a command. Go!
Today’s word on the Lenten journey is ‘go’. For some reason when I saw the challenge of it staring me in the face I began to think of books. I remembered the early reader we spent time hunched over with our two sons: Go, Dog, Go! The enthusiasm and silliness in this memory of this ‘go’ inspired book made me feel warm all over. And then there is the recent book of Harper Lee’s: Go, Set a Watchman. Regardless of how readers felt about this follow up story to To Kill a Mockingbird, it did send many rushing to the Book of Isaiah to look in the 21st chapter for the title’s reference. Seems Lee was calling out for someone to be a moral compass in the story, something the writer of Isaiah says every community needs. With the way our world is moving these days, I tend to agree. Of course the question is always…whose moral compass will we follow when the voice cries ‘Go!’

My mind also when to the opposite side of the equation and thought of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas’ poem ‘ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.’ This poem which uses the images of light and darkness to symbolize life and death was written for his father and seems to give credence to an obituary I once read. It described the deceased as ‘going kicking and screaming into the great beyond.’ The truth and honesty of these words startled me while also making me chuckle. Do NOT go gentle when death comes to call but instead ‘rage, rage against the coming of the dark.’, says Thomas. 

There are signals that tell us to go…..green. And those that tell us to wait, to not go…red. Yellow for the limbo of in-between. There are people and situations to which we want to enthusiastically answer the call to ‘Go!’ There are also those who create unrest and fear in us, situations which stir up a deep wisdom that tells us to stay put.

Where are the places in your life that are ‘go’ places these days? What inner voice is urging you forward? Where are the places that are filled with caution and the desire to wait, rest, see what might happen before moving? Paying attention to both can be a full time job, can’t it?

Often at the end of our worship services something like these words written by Harold Babcock are said: 

And now may we go forth

in the certainty of faith,

in the knowledge of love,

and in the vision of hope.

And in our going, may we be blessed

with all good things on this day

and forevermore. Amen.

Seems to me like a good enough way to reflect on the word ‘go’ to me. And a fair benediction for any day.

The bright, winter sun comes slicing through the window making pools of golden warmth on the floor. Our yellow tabby cat, aptly named Gabriel for the angel-winged pattern that graces the space around his eyes, moves with intention to settle into the shaft of light. Settle. This is today’s word in the Lenten journey. Settle. How will the photographers interpret this word, show its movement, its action/nonaction? I wonder.
When Gabe does this movement into the light that moves slowly across the floor, I am always filled with envy. I, too, would like to settle into the always moving, expanding light. I, too, would like to allow my body the act of simply being in the gift of this warm and nurturing place. I have often even remarked out loud to him something like…”Well, of course, that is exactly what you should be doing.” I am envious of his ability to settle into the moment and follow the path of the day as it makes it visible journey from light to dark. 

Most often the kind of settling I am more familiar with comes in being ok with the lesser of two or more choices. I settle for a sandwich with mustard instead of mayonnaise…fewer calories. I settle for waiting for the movie to come to a theater that has discount prices rather than seeing it the first weekend. I settle for a quick walk rather than a longer time at the gym. These are first world settings, I am well aware.

But our cat Gabe’s kind of settling has always been something I have relished watching. It always makes me think of how, as humans, we want to follow the light. We want to find that place where we can rest, where we can settle down and just be. But life gets messy or the light shifts and we either have to move or risk being in the dark. This is a never-ending dance, isn’t it?

When I think of the scripture stories we might hear in these days in the Christian household, these days we call Lent, there are many in which the people wanted to settle down in the light and glow of being around this Jesus. They wanted to just hang around in the path of his light and go along for the ride. But life intervened and things got messy…and then scary…and then down right dangerous. They soon figured out that to survive they could not settle. They actually had to take his message within and allow its light to become a part of their deepest self. And, in truth, it was his intention all along.

“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.” Jesus says these words in the Gospel of Thomas. 

Settle? Where are you with this word? Chasing after the light or becoming the light? All good questions for Lent.

In this Lenten practice I have chosen to engage in for 46 days, every Sunday has the same word for photographers to reflect on and snap: celebrate. I have chosen to write daily on these words and invite readers to check out the images people post at #rethinkphotos or #rethinkchurch.org. I have already been blown away by the creativity of the photos, the depth of people’s ability to take a single word and find so many images that illuminate it. What a wildly creative world we live in!

Celebrate. There has long been a pattern in the Christian household to withstand saying one of the chief words of celebration, “Alleluia”, during the season of Lent. Except on Sundays. During the week, Monday through Saturday have been meant to be days of solemnity,prayer and even penitence. But on Sunday we were called to remember that there are moments of resurrection,of new life, present even in the deepest times of self-reflection. In our worship, we name God’s presence in the wide swath of life….the joy and sorrow, the hope and the healing, the life and the death….which deserves a great, big old Alleluia. I guess that is cause to celebrate, isn’t it?

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel says: “People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating we seek to be amused or entertained. Celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation.” I like to believe we have moments of this kind of celebration in our worship. It is what we hope for, plan for, pray for as we give shape to words, music and actions that create worship. As people bring the fullness of whatever has happened to them in the past week and offer it to one another and to the Holy, it is an act of reverence and something that creates sacred moments and space. In some ways worship is a suspension of time that creates a container unlike most of us experience during our daily walk. In that act of being engaged in reverence we can express appreciation for what it means to be creations of the Great Artist and connected to all the other elements of this amazing Creation.

Of course, you don’t need to go to church or a place of worship to engage in this act of expressing reverence or appreciation. Many of us have had this experience staring out at the ocean or listening to the call of a loon on a summer’s morning. Right now I am celebrating the way in which the snowflakes are falling so gently out my window. They look like tiny white feathers fallen from the wings of an angel. But I have found that the practice of coming together in a circle of other life-travelers all making some meaning out of life, all trying to name the More, is a good thing, a very good thing and for that my heart swells with gratitude. 

In fact, it might even be gratitude enough to warrant and “Alleluia!” in the beginning days of Lent. And for that I will celebrate.

***I wonder what images of ‘celebrate’ there will be at #rethinkphoto #rethinkchurch?

God has told you, O mortal, what is good;  and what does the Lord require of you,but to do justice, and to love kindness,    and to walk humbly with your God?~Micah 6:8

Today’s word for reflection in Lent is ‘injustice’. Where to begin? There is so much injustice around us and throughout our world that some days are just plain overwhelming. As a person of privilege, which I am and you may be as well if you are honest, we rarely feel the bone deep experience of the devastating acts of injustice. We need only read or listen to the news of any given day and our mind is filled with the pain, suffering, and inequity of injustice. For so many around our world injustice is their daily food.

Prophets of old, and prophets of this day, have never been the most popular kids in class. They are usually loud and say things we don’t want to hear, things that make us uncomfortable and shine a light on our own privilege, our own neat and tidy little lives. The prophet Micah, writing sometime in the 8th century before Christ, was no exception. And yet these three simple rules for living a good life prevail and we often repeat them today in both the Hebrew and the Christian households. “What is good and pleasing to the Holy One? Do justice…love kindness…walk humbly knowing God is by our side.”

These are three short phrases that can be not only a Lenten companion but even a practice for these 40 days in which we seek to deepen our faith life. While none of us may be able to effect the large injustices in the world, there are countless, tiny injustices that happen in the course of our every day. Can you name them? Do we have the eyes to see them? 

Love kindness? I know I love it when kindness brushes my shoulder and I feel heard, valued, and of importance, when the words and actions of another seem the sweetness of life itself. And will I, will you, love kindness so much that we are willing to serve it up on a platter to each and very person and being we meet? 

And then there is walking humbly. Humility, being humble, is not a value in our culture. We more easily puff our chests up and allow our fists to rise to the ready in a stature of power and self-righteousness. To walk humbly with God, I believe, allows us to see the injustice directed at others and to feel it as not only theirs but ours as well. Perhaps that is the beginning of turning injustice toward justice.

It is something to contemplate and even take steps toward in these early days of Lent. It is a long season…and we do not walk it alone.
***People have posted photos of their own reflections of ‘injustice’ on #rethinkphoto and #rethinkchurch.org.

“Look!” “Look, Mom!” “Look at me!” Nearly every parent has had these words spoken, shouted, exclaimed to them at least once if not thousands of times. Look…today’s word for this Lenten practice. I think of the number of times both our sons yelled this word…”Look!”…so I would turn from whatever mundane or important task I was doing and give them my attention. A ball was kicked. A picture was drawn. A physical feat that needed an audience. A creation that deserved a viewer. While the activity changed, the hope was constant. Notice me. See me. Take note of my presence in the world.
There is a certain poignancy to this plea: Look! It is something we all want, sometimes with desperation, always with hope. While our voices may remain silent as we grow older, there is deep within each of us, I believe, a call…look. Please, look. For it is knowing that we are seen by others that we come to know something about who we are in the world. Whether we are young or older, whether we are short or tall, regardless of our status, gender, race, ethnicity, religion, we want to be seen and valued. 

A favorite story in the Sunday School of the Christian household has always been that of Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus, a tax collector and outcast wants to see Jesus when he comes to his town. But Zaccaheus is short and cannot see over the people who have gathered to see this healer, this teacher. So he climbs up a tree to get a better look. As Jesus passes by, he shifts his gaze up into the tree and sees the tax collector. Jesus sees Zacchaeus,calls him down and invites himself to dinner.

It is a simple story and one I have often thought children like because Zacchaeus is small…like them. And Zacchaeus climbs a tree…like they like to do. And Zacchaeus is really saying by his climbing: Look! Look at me! Something that children call out over and over in an effort to name and claim their place in the world and in their parent’s hearts.

Today I pray for all the children who call out ‘look’ and who are ignored. I pray for the adults who miss the opportunity to see and affirm the young ones who long to be seen. I pray for all the adults who are carrying a ‘look at me’ message in their deepest self…a message that goes unheard, creating a deep wound that will take much to heal.

Look. May we know the gaze of the One who breathed us into being this day, the One who continues to look even when we do not have the courage or the heart to call out. 
***Don’t forget to visit #rethinkphoto or #rethinkchurch.org to see what photos have been created on the theme of ‘look’.