Where I'm From - Word Made Flesh Edition

Over the summer,  I took our "church ladies" on their annual retreat to Christmount - one of our exercises was a writing exercise based on the poem "Where I'm From."  You can read about the poem here and you can read the retreat efforts here.

I thought about this poem as I pondered John 1:1-18 and the word becoming flesh.  Jesus, no doubt, would have a very colorful "Where I'm From" poem.  So, I took a little creative liberty and wrote "Where I'm From," the Word Made Flesh Edition.

I’m from sawdust piles and dinner tables, from fishing boats and healing mud.  

I am from unknown years lost to history, and imagination set on fire – it feels mysterious and as inviting as the taste of fresh baked bread.  

I am from olive trees and salt water stinging a blistered heel.  

I’m from silly puns and storytelling late at night, 

from Joseph with a bruised thumb that got caught between hammer and nail, and 

Mary with her spontaneous singing that seems to welcome the world.  

I’m from weird cousins, and Peter, James, and John, from Martha and Mary. 

I’m from laughing at inappropriate times and overstaying my welcome.  

I’m from “Child, why have you worried us like this?” 

and “I’m your mother, that’s why.”  

I’m from Yahweh, the God of my ancestors, 

from faith that commands me to love – God, neighbor, and enemy.  

I’m from Bethlehem or Nazareth, depending on which book you read.  

I’m from red wine and broiled fish.   

I’m from God’s heart with choirs of angels singing into the night.  

I’m from a teen-aged girl awkwardly greeting exotic kings bearing incense and oils. 

I’m from an old book with gold-trimmed yellowed pages curling up at the edges.  

I am from flesh.  I am from heaven.  

I am from diapers.  I am from Gloria in excelsis Deo.  

I am from shepherds.  I am from stars. 

I am from the word.  I am the word.  

I am from everywhere.  I am from nowhere.  

I am the word becoming flesh and pitching a tent in a camp full of nobodies, and together, we become somebody, so that I can be born in the heart of everybody.”

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, I sat outside our sanctuary with my mother - she was playing piano for our service that night - and we wondered about how the other half lives on Christmas Eve.  For those who don't go to church, do they eat a leisurely meal?  Read stories?  Drink wine? Wrap presents?  Eat popcorn and watch Christmas movies on TV?

I confess that sometimes I get wistful thinking about spending a quiet Christmas Eve at home around a fire - of course, this year with its 75 degree weather, I suppose a Christmas Eve fire would have been a bonfire outside instead of a fire in a fireplace with "the stockings all hung by the chimney with care."

Anyway, with parents who were professional church musicians, we have always, always, always been in church on Christmas Eve...usually several times.  We would start at the Moravian Church for an early service and a love feast.  Every year, the Moravian choir would sing:

"Morning Star, o cheering sight, Ere thou cam’st, how dark earth’s night! 

Jesus mine, in me shine;

In me shine, Jesus mine;

fill my heart with light divine.

Then, they would serve us sweet rolls and sweet coffee.

Afterwards, we would head to our church - a Baptist church - for communion.

Then, it was off to join the Episcopalians for the 9:00 PM service and the 11:00 PM service because my sister was their guest musician.

Once we moved to Statesville, the church service for our home church was much bigger. Musicians and a full choir singing "Still, Still, Still."  I sang in that choir with  years beside my good friend, Robin.  We were inseparable in our high school youth group, and we made quite a formidable alto section.  We were loud and proud altos!  And, we stayed that way - even after we were both grown up and living in other places, we came home to sing in the choir.

So, this year, it was particularly meaningful to me to have Robin and her mother and sister join us for our Christmas Eve Service.  During "Angels We Have Heard on High," I caught her eye and I knew we were both nailing the alto line of "Gloria in excelsis Deo!"

As I reflect back on all the Christmas Eves I have spent in church, I realize how important faith has been to my personal celebration of Christmas from childhood all the way to my, uh, mid-forties!  I realize that the rituals - the candles, the readings, the carols - shape the way I understand God - I DO believe in the God who came in our flesh!  What a wonderful, beautiful thing!  I realize the power of singing the story of faith with others - family, old friends, and new friends.  

Have you ever really paid attention to the words of the carols?  Sing them, and you come face to face with the power of "Mild he lay his glory by, born that we no more may die" and "Word of the Father now in flesh appearing."  We come face to face with the promise "when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling, and all the world give back the song which now the angels sing."  That's good stuff!

I may never know how the other half lives on Christmas Eve.  But, as I look out across the congregation holding up their candles, I glimpse  the "radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace, Jesus, Lord, at thy birth."  I feel a glimmer of hope for 2016.  Maybe the power of Christmas Eve extends far beyond that one night. Maybe there's more to this birth than we ever imagined.

Peace on Earth

One of my favorite Christmas carols is "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," mainly because I like that last verse about "God is not dead nor doth he sleep."  But, after hanging out on facebook for a little while, I'm stuck in an earlier verse..."Then in despair, I bowed my head. "There is no peace on earth," I said, "for hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men."

If the terrorist intent is to divide the rest of us, they are doing a fine job. Quite frankly, we ought to be ashamed.

I have seen such ugly things posted and re-posted.  I have seen ugly comments between "friends."  I've seen the media spin stories - with little regard for truth, it seems to me - to appeal to their viewership or their readership or whatever.  It feels like we've lost all decency...not to mention integrity.  It feels like the "sides" are using great tragedy to benefit themselves...and that is shameful. Are we even capable of feeling shame anymore?  Are we even capable of feeling embarrassment?  Are we even capable of recognizing our own participation in "mocking the song of peace on earth, good will to men"?  Or, are we mainly interested in being right and making our point?

I don't know.  I don't mean to post something so negative.  I guess that today, I felt overwhelmed with the heartlessness I believe I am witnessing.  I just cannot believe some of the things that are being written and spoken.  Today, I feel as though we are so far away from the higher good that faith calls us to.  In fact, I feel as though we are not interested in the higher good.  We are content to wallow in the basest parts of human nature.  In essence, we are content to let terrorism define how we feel and how we treat each other, and that just makes me sad.

As soon as we can define someone as a "liberal" or a "conservative" or a Republican or a Democrat - and we are doing this constantly in response to the terrorist attacks, I guess, because it makes us feel like we have some control if we can name who we don't like and who we ought to blame - as soon as we can stick a label on another person, they cease to be a person - they are a category - either a friend or foe.  And, we are getting into trouble with that.  People are getting angrier and angrier and meaner and meaner and we cannot find any common ground.

Somebody needs to do something.

Somebody needs to demonstrate a better way.

Somebody needs to "fear not" and "behold the good tidings of great joy which shall be for ALL people."

That somebody is us.

I don't know how to do it - but I am going to start by being careful about what I post.  I am going to start by praying for people I don't like and with whom I disagree.  I am going to start by reviewing my day every day and assessing where I've participated in "mocking the song of peace on earth."  Then, I am going to ask for forgiveness and I am going to do better.  I am going to put my trust in God and believe that Jesus was serious about loving God and loving neighbor.  I am going to read a gospel - probably Matthew - to see if I can jog my memory as to what Jesus actually said about enemies and strangers and peace and friends and God and all that stuff.  I'm not relying on someone else's editorial to do that for me - I'm relying on the Holy Spirit and my genuine effort.

I can't fix the world, but I can improve my corner of it.  I will not let my faith be defined by fear or anger.

A Day that Counts

Every day counts, but some days, that truth seems especially salient.  Today was one of those days. Early this morning (OK, it was 8:15 AM but that counts as "early" on a Saturday), I met several of our "church ladies" in the church parking lot.  We were heading to Raleigh to walk in the LUNGe Forward Walk.  We are not normally a group that is too keen on community fitness events.  However, today was different.  We were walking for our friend, Sheree.  So, we had on our active wear, our walking shoes, and our church t-shirts...and our coffee was already in "to go" cups.  We prayed a short prayer on the side porch and loaded into our cars for the drive.

Just when we thought the rain might hold off, the bottom fell out of the sky!  Rain came down by the buckets!  Visibility was bad, and we started to have second thoughts on our very noble plans of walking.  But, the parking garage was easy to find, and more importantly, a parking space was easy to find!  We put on our ponchos and jackets, and with umbrellas in hand, we walked out into the rain to find the registration tent.  After getting our free t-shirts and race numbers, we stood around...still raining.  We visited the porta-potties...still raining.  We found Sheree's team tent and put our new shirts in a bag to keep them dry, and then we stood some more...still raining.  It was then that Sheree's sister walked over to say "hello" and to give us the surprising news that Sheree had come to the walk.

That news was like a break in the clouds and a bright ray of sunshine for us.  It was the boost we needed to stop feeling sorry about our sopping socks!  We immediately left our puddles and went to find Sheree - she was hanging out in the survivor's tent, and she looked great and even seemed happy to see us with our bad hair and muddy shoes! So we posed for pictures and visited for a little while, and then the walk started.

Still raining.

But, with Sheree there, we felt a particular determination and we didn't mind the rain.  In fact, it almost felt cleansing.  In fact, it felt like an honor to walk for our friend.  In fact, it felt like...church.

Church is a beautiful thing.  Church is standing out in the rain and being soaked by friendship that is spirit-driven.  Church is your heart being lifted simply because someone else's heart is lifted.  Church is stepping out of your comfort zone to do good in the world.  Church is the healing that comes from laughter and knowing you are loved.  Church is the connection we have with each other through God that starts before birth and never ends.  Church is the presence of God fully recognized in each other's eyes.  Church is all that and more.

So, we had church in the rain today.  We "passed the peace" as we walked with each other.  Although we had no Table, we still managed to experience communion with pizza and bottled water.  And, believe me, the Spirit was there.  Yes, the Spirit was there.

Silence!

I have just returned from a 24-hour retreat at St. Francis Springs Prayer Center.  I had decided to attend this retreat back in June when I received an invitation from my spiritual director.  If that terms seems mysterious to you, it's just someone who helps me identify God's activity in my life - someone who serves as a pastor to me.  She had invited 14 of us, I think.  And, what a beautiful mix of souls!  Of course, we were reminded about confidentiality - no spilling the beans about conversations in the sessions...and then to make it even a safer environment, no talking to each other about conversations in the sessions if we happened to bump into each other in "real life."  That was all very comfortable for me.

We prayed silently together quite a bit.  I'm not sure why we don't do this in church more often, as it can be very powerful to be silent with other people before God.  There's just something about that practice that right-sizes us and binds us together...or at least, that's what happened in the last 24 hours!  We reflected on scripture.  We wrote a little.  We talked.  We ate wonderful meals.  We laughed.

The interesting thing was this sign that hung on the doors heading into the guest room hallway.  "Please observe silence in the residential hall."  NO TALKING??!  And, not only was there no talking from us, there was no talking from the television because there were no televisions.  And, no talking from the phone because you had to go outside and climb a hill to have phone service.  Instead of TVs, we had large writing desks in our rooms with a nice bright light and a little coaster for our coffee or water.  We had comfortable chairs that sat in front of large windows displaying the beautiful grounds.  We had nice comfortable beds, and when I turned my lights out earlier than usual, it was already a silent and holy night.

I've been thinking about how healthy silence is and how hard it is to practice.  Even when we are not speaking, we are typing, texting, facebooking...and it's not that I think technology is evil.  I don't.  I use it.  I'm using it right now!  But, when it becomes filler - background noise - and we cannot be comfortable without it, we have a problem.  When it becomes our preferred mode of communication, we have a problem.  When we believe that the glow of the computer screen is an open invitation to free speech from us, we have a problem.  What I mean is that words get us in trouble.  In Psalm 141, the Psalmist  prayed Set a guard over my mouth, Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips. The Psalmist understood that rarely does the unspoken word get people into trouble.  The Psalmist understood the quote that "My most prized possessions are the words I haven't spoken."
The past 24 hours was a good reminder to me of how restful life can be with fewer words and more prayers.  It was a good reminder to me of how little I actually need to speak.  And, it was a good reminder that silence is a friend.  I hope that in the coming days I can claim some spaces in my own life where I ask myself to "Please Observe Silence." It's not a bad thing.

In the End

A few nights ago, I watched a moving documentary on PBS about JFK's assassination and the reporters who covered the story  (and the difficulty in trying to get their stories straight without smartphones).  I watched Walter Cronkite announce to the nation that their President was dead.  I watched the footage of parts of the funeral and Mrs. Kennedy with her children - carrying all of that grief and being swamped with the trauma of being in the car when her husband was shot.

That got me thinking about Jackie O's funeral.  I remembered watching her burial years ago, although I did not realize how long ago that was until I googled it and found it on youtube.  The navy choir sang "Eternal Father, Strong to Save."

Continuing in my googled stream of consciousness, I watched part of Reagan's funeral - the second part - where he was laid to rest at sunset.  Watched Mrs. Reagan not want to leave the casket.  Watched their children try to comfort her.

All very different personalities.  Very different people.  Very big family names.  I grew up respecting one of those names and the other not so much.  Apparently, a lot of people grew up that way, and their feelings showed up in the youtube section for comments.  Some made glowing comments.  Some made markedly ugly comments.

But, after watching a little of the coverage of these three different funerals, I was struck by the fact that the same God was called upon for comfort and strength.  The same promises of eternal life were spoken.  The same efforts to remember the good in the person were made.  The same empty looks of grief were on the family's faces.

The world often feels so divided with our leaders at each throats - and sometimes us, too.  But, that is pure arrogance on our part.  God's light shines on us all.  God's promises are on us all.  God loves us all...the same...the important ones and the nobodies.  In the end, that's what matters.  We are God's beloved.  In the end, that is it...and that is enough.

Where I'm From

We just returned from our eighth annual women's retreat.  Our first exercise was based on a poem called "Where I'm From."  This first poem is my example to our rockin' church ladies.

The second poem is their version to share with the congregation.

Where I'm From

I'm from piano keys and stacks of music yellowed with age
from folded Kleenex
and orange Tang
I am from bricks and small towns
treasured
and smelling like pot roast
I am from dogwoods
and blackberry bushes
with fruit for granny's cobblers
I am from naps on Sunday afternoons
and operatic arias rising up from the steam of a shower
from Dan and Jane, Elizabeth and Clarence, Mattie and Hobson
I'm from orchestras and theatre
study and good grades
I'm from "Roll Tide" and "Surely to the Lord"
and "Every man for himself"
I'm from "Just as I am" and "I Surrender All"
from "Amazing Grace" and "Jesus Loves Me"
I'm from North Carolina and Alabama
from peppermints and mashed potatoes
I'm from church choirs that never watched closely enough
and piano students who never practiced hard enough
I'm from music
its notes chasing each other into the melody that is my life.


Where We're From

We are from Rocking Chairs.

From colored pencils, pink alarm clocks, and Alka Seltzer tablets.

We are from Cake Night.

Shaking It Off while we Shut Up and Dance. 

It looked like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain or maybe Blurred Lines, but it made us Happy

We are from Black Mountain

               Where Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.

We are from the hymns that make us Smile Like We Were Saved and Wake Us Up to the possibilities.

We are from Johnny and Ben, Bobo and Amy the Unicorn.

We are from Fanny Tucking and praying in color.

From     No Pressure But…….

               and Clear Hearts and Clear Minds

We are from Let There Be Peace On Earth and second chances.

We are Wilson’s Mills Christian Church

               The Bread and the Cup. 

Where all are Welcome

               and We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

We are Sarah & Paula, Tanya & LeAnne, Lea & Melanie, Janet & Pat

We are Susie & Carrie, Kristine & Lynn, Linda & Sheree & Regena

We are Claudia & Jane & Lynda, Ginny & Heather, Trudy & Rose

From the Prayer Walk that opened our eyes to wonder, our ears to listen, relieved us of our worries and reminded us to intentionally meet God each day.

We are from the small but mighty trying to bring Joy to Every Heart.