Sunday, December 28, 2014

This is the End- and it's Not

Today was my last day actively serving as the Pastor of Holy Spirit. At the other end of some unexpired vacation time is my next call. And initially I was not preaching at all today- after all typically the Sunday after Christmas is a nice day for all request hymns interspersed with the readings and communion. Still Christmas-ing. And last week was the farewell reception and of course post-Christmas Eve is usually a lightly attended Sunday. And yet, it somehow didn't seem right to simply not preach, not even a little. And then I looked out and saw that the retired visitation pastor was in worship- having come to hear me preach one more time. Well, then- I counted on the Holy Spirit. Which is to say that I did not write down what I would preach and this is just a fairly good recollection of what was proclaimed on a day when I also recognized outgoing council members, and installed new council members and officers- and that would end with the litany for godspeed and farewell as I walked from font to pulpit to altar and relinquished the symbols of the office.

"This is the end. It's the end of the calendar year, and it's the end of cultural Christmas- just looking around I have already seen a couple of trees cast off, stripped bare and forlorn. This is the end too of our time together as pastor and congregation. And yet our readings today would suggest that what seems like the end is not after all. As we hear in Isaiah of God doing new things, and we hear the tale of Simeon in the Gospel. His whole life, Simeon has been waiting to meet the one upon whom salvation will be borne. Waiting. Believing that promise that he would see. And now here in the temple he meets Jesus, and this time has come to an end. Now he could be dismissed- in peace.

And yet, its not the end as we know for Christ will go on to carry out the ministry for which he was sent. There is so much more to the story. And so too for us, as we heard in the epistle, that we who are empowered by the Spirit and bear Christ, for us there is more. Perhaps especially for a congregation that has the audacity to call itself the Church of the Holy Spirit- watch out! There is more, because our God is a change agent. God's story is always one of change, as the church of Christ moves ever forward.

And in each of us, each of you, there are gifts by that Spirit for the sake of the world and this city and this congregation. And we are given a holy job- to bear God's story of good news. We are given this gift- it is a gift. And although it may take us from here to many other places and into the paths of many other people- we are given the gift of this holy task. And so there will be more to the story.

But as I leave you I want to share two quotes I hope offer inspiration. I hope that's not too self- indulgent of me. The first is from Howard Thurman and it speaks to this very season of the year in which we find ourselves.

"When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flock,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among others, to make music in the heart."

Sisters and brothers, this is our work- the work of Christmas, and of Christ lasts throughout the year-this is what we are created to do. Share this work, for the sake of a world desperate to know Christ.
Which leads me to the second quote- this one from Catherine of Siena, speaking to the work of the Spirit in each of us and our baptismal identity.

"Be who God meant you to be, and you will set the world on fire."
Be who God meant you to be. Set the world on fire- keep working for the gospel
And may God bless you in all you do- because it's not the end- the story goes on.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

So You Didn't Send Covered Dish- Tips for relating to Caregivers

So you didn’t send a covered dish and other conundrums- tips for relating to caregivers

Dear community, none of us wants to confront the unexpected or stark reminder of mortality, but we all know people who are facing healing that takes time or disease that changes things. It’s one thing to deal with an immediate event or tragic thing, but what about the situations where there is no one event, but instead a process?

Recently my husband had very unexpected open heart surgery, no small thing. And healing from it and how life is changed are no simple matter. In our early 50’s with no symptoms to forewarn, we were gobsmacked by a sudden onset that ended with quintuple bypass surgery. We are both overwhelmed with joy for a future and overwhelmed with the challenge of recuperation. Including the knowledge that the veins harvested last about 7-8 years. So while the heart surgery is a one big time event, the effects of coronary artery disease and continued lesser levels of intervention are our new normal. And some days healing is great and progress is thrilling. And then as Patsy Cline once sang, “Momma said there’d be days like this.” And after we got past the trying to walk and get to the bathroom and stop oozing days, it is a journey and not a switch to be flipped. There is no doubt that in every way my husband has shouldered the physical struggle.

But as a wise person pointed out when I referenced Michael having the much harder work to do, “don’t underestimate the effect of this on you (the caregiver). What I share is from the perspective of a healing person as opposed to an individual whose well being is diminishing.

I want to first say that thanks be to God, we are in a good place that gets better every day! But, as I have come out of the fog of being, I have noticed what perhaps many other people have and have written about, but I share it just the same- what has been supportive and what has not.

1.   Please do not tell me a war story intended to “one up” my experience. I can assure you that the journey we made from the ER to testing, to catheterization to being kept clinically stable, to quintuple bypass was enough. We do not want to hear unsolicited war stories and help you process them. Nor do we want to feel like our experience is somehow insufficient to warrant care in its own right. Please do not tell me to be grateful for what has gone well. I am. Recently I was looking forward to a break from caregiving and serving as a pastor which is a different form of caregiving.

I went to the community Christmas tree lighting and had someone tell me how glad I should be that my husband was not her friend. Who wasn’t feeling well and laid down and when her husband finished taking a shower, he came out and found her dead. My husband just laid down for a nap-thanks.

2.   Please do not make me the gatekeeper of your conscience. We are all busy- trust me, as a caregiver, I know. If you didn’t get a chance to make a casserole or never meant to, if you forgot to send a card, or never do, whatever. Please do not come to me and tell me what you meant to do and tell me you hope it is OK you did not. This forces me to tell you it’s fine with me (which it may not be, but hey) or to tell you I really didn’t have 50 people banging down my door, and then I risk losing your acquaintance. If you didn’t get that chance, or really didn’t want to, OK. Tell me you are thinking about us or praying for us. That’s fine.

3.   Please don’t tell me to call you if I have a need. Do you know how many phone calls there are in a day? The insurance. Work, his and mine, doctors, nurses, therapy, pharmacy. Family. What means the most have been- the person who just texted they made my favorite salad and were leaving it on the porch- Bonus points for a container I do not need to return. The person who stopped by to visit on her way, and didn’t care that we clearly had not showered. The person who asked what we needed from the store- they don’t cook but got what I needed to do so. The person who offered to be available when we came from the hospital because they knew I needed to go the pharmacy. The person who saw me and just gave me a hug-because.

4.   Some days I am not chirpy. I may not have the grace I normally do or should. Please remember it’s a long term journey and give me a pass.

5.   Please do not tell me how to feel. I am extraordinarily grateful for timing and technology. My spouse has come a long way- but there is a journey. Please do not try to tell me he is “fixed” or “all better” or “normal again.” He is better. And while we recognize that it is hard to imagine the in between from great and extinct, that is where we are- grateful but progressing. It takes a slower pace, but we are grateful for those who walk beside us.

6.   Please know that I am so very grateful but I may not write that thank you right away. Because I am healing too- my healing is not physical, but emotional. Sometimes after all the caregiving and house-tending, I cannot envision one more thing. And sometimes we have not slept through the night- 2 am and 4 am are sometimes awake times.


7.   But please also know that your prayers and cards and emails and texts are a life line. We are blessed to be moving beyond quickly and in a way others do not.


8.   One last thing- when you see that slow moving driver ( one of the things I was least tolerant of) – remember- maybe they are the exhausted caregiver, the person who got  bad news, the person who had to wait too long at the pharmacy, the person who is having that bad day or one too many errands, or the person who just cleaned up a mess with grace but needs to grieve it somewhere else. Don’t be grumpy- pray for them.

So there you have it- a view looking back at the last couple of weeks. We know that even at the end, many others have longer and unsung journeys because as a culture we respond to the acute and not the long term. Please remember that some of Jesus’ greatest ministry was with the chronic.

And for those of you willing to just listen- not diagnose or fix- there are those who are grateful for the simple grace of accompaniment.




























Sunday, December 7, 2014

Ending Wilderness

Back in the day, our reading from Isaiah in the King James read “Comfort ye, my people.” Which when I was little I thought as “come for tea, my people.” Like a tea party was commencing. When I was amusing myself with that this week, I thought of one of the episodes of the “Big Bang Theory” on TV. Leonard has had his heart broken and his roommate Sheldon is generally socially awkward, approaches Leonard with a cup of tea in his hands. Leonard asks- what are you doing? To which Sheldon replies that he understands from where he grew up that when someone is upset the culture dictates you offer them a hot beverage. And he hands Leonard the tea, and awkwardly hugs him, patting his back and saying, “there, there.” And then he steps away thankful that Leonard’s problem is not his own.

In todays lessons of wilderness, I wonder if that’s not part of what’s going on. We have the people in Isaiah in exile because of their unfaithfulness to God, at least the first generation, but perhaps the second generation wondered why this was their wilderness. And in the Gospel of Mark, we hear of John the Baptist in the wilderness and people are flocking to him. From Jerusalem and beyond, they are headed into this place which frankly matches their lived reality. They are already in the wilderness- excluded from the temple perhaps by poverty, illness, ethnicity, by the abject refusal of those with power to see them. Already not receiving what the temple was created to offer- community, forgiveness, God. The temple is where God ought to be found. But some lives don’t matter.

But as is so often the case, while God is present in places of worship, God is also quite likely to be found in the places where one does not expect- places of separation, where its messy, and not proper.

God meets people, seeks them out, in their wildernesses.

Wilderness places still exist today- perhaps each of us has had some moment of this, but on a larger scale, we know in our country alone, there are these places- of poverty, illness, loneliness, exclusion and  bias. Still. The people coming to John are excluded and longing. These places exist still.

While it is a comfort for us to hear that God in Christ meets us wherever that wilderness has been or is, and that God helps us overcome obstacles and see the way prepared, it is not enough that it is for us.

In the Gospel of Mark we don’t get cute nativity sets and fluffy angels, we get- this is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ and bam! The wilderness.

It’s the beginning of the good news- not the end.

We are called to continue the telling and the living of the good news- and of God’s desire that wilderness ends. The way for the good news to be experienced must still be prepared. And the Word must still be declared not only in these comfortable places here, but there- in the wildernesses of others.

We cannot sit here comforting ourselves that Ferguson or Staten Island or California are somehow just elsewhere. Or that the pain and suffering of others is too messy for us to solve, so why bother- be glad it’s not us. We cannot simply think it's not here- in a heartbeat it could be. God forbid it be so. It's not that simple.


In the days of the prophet Isaiah- there were good and right structures and people. Yet things had gone awry and people ended us separated and overcome. In Jesus’ day, there was a good and right structure that should provide for worship and community and support of the needy and forgiveness. But in some places it was fundamentally broken.

This is I think what we too are experiencing in this country. And especially what our sisters and brothers of color face in disproportionate numbers. We simply cannot deny this. We cannot tell another that their wilderness isn’t real, not can we act like someone else’s wilderness is someone else’s problem. We cannot just take comfort that their wilderness is not our experience.

Law enforcement officers put their lives on the line and face exrtremely complicated situations every day, where a split second matters, in a way most of us will never know. People of color face a world where just walking out the door is different, and where being a person of suspicion is true in a way most of us will never know. And we cannot tell them that their perception of life is invalid. We cannot diminish it. We don’t know.

We can honor law enforcement and the legal system while also acknowledging that sometimes and in certain places, it is broken. That’s what sin in our world creates. So we can honor those who serve and yet wonder what happened with Eric Garner and others. We can admit people made a tragic mistake. Because when someone says “I  Can’t Breathe,” you should let them breathe.

Our Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton offers this, “We are church… in Ferguson, in Staten Island ( and more). As we anticipate the arrival of the Christ child, let’s recall our baptismal covenant- to live among God’s people and strive for peace and justice in all the earth.” For all peoples and all wildernesses.

It’s the season of Advent where we dare to say “stir up your power, Lord Christ and come!” Where we again this day will say- “Come Lord Jesus!”

While we live a world of crying and pain and injustice, a world ruled by sin and death. Preparing the way means that we as Christians cannot simply put out our nativity set and be content.

We must never be content with such a world. Wilderness is not OK. It must end.
Because we know that overshadowing that nativity set is the cross- not only good news for us but our mission. We too continue the good news by preparing the way.

Preparing the way means Christians cannot be content with a world where barriers and struggles exist. There are valleys that must be filled and barriers brought low.

Our worship here draws us close to remind us of Christ as “God with us” and our restoration. But then it propels us out, back out into a hurting world- not so we can say “thank God” things are someone else’s problem. But to share the love and grace of God, to keep preparing the way for Christ, to break down barriers and meet those who long for wilderness to end. To name what must change and believe in the power of Christ to respond.

To cry out what must be heard for the sake of Christ whose coming we await and to turn away from the forces that suggest otherwise because all lives matter to God. May it be so.


Tuesday, November 25, 2014


By now you know, this past week has been nothing short of overwhelming in different ways for all of us perhaps. Last Sunday I accepted another call which brought mixed emotions, and I anticipated that today would be a hard day of sharing that with you and that would be on the forefront. And indeed it still is, but then, on Tuesday morning, everything changed and I found myself on the way to the ER, and navigating conversations and history taking and trying to figure out just what was happening for Michael. By Wednesday, the follow-up to “we just want answers” was frankly pretty horrifying- not only were there blockages in his arteries, medical folks were keeping him “clinically stable” which for me sounded like “we’re trying to keep the whole thing from flying apart.”

I listened, stunned and speechless as I learned that Michael’s arteries were so badly blocked, he should not be living. That our dream trip of hiking in Newfoundland was a blessing and a miracle. The day we hiked up 497 steps should have killed him. But we never knew and the view was spectacular. We were truly clueless- we walk all the time and thought the only thing next week was bringing was a hernia operation. And for that everything was medically cleared.

Thank the Lord for that Tuesday of shortness of breath, legs that felt like concrete and chest pressure. Thank the Lord the ambulance came.

Medications and equipment and decisions, potential outcomes, and side effects were pushing and shoving us around, all demanding attention. And it seemed like at any moment we could just get trampled. But we were shepherded.

Thank the Lord for the phenomenally gifted cardiologists. Yes, they were doing their job, but, thank the Lord that there was this one little enzyme reading in his blood that seemed oddly out of sync. The one they decided to keep monitoring.  

Because that one little enzyme reading meant that maybe sending us home for an outpatient stress test was not the best option-it could have been fatal. Thank the Lord there was no outpatient hernia surgery where some poor surgeon would have had an inexplicable fatality. Thank the Lord!

I am not thankful that any of this happened, and not thankful that my husband has now had not just big surgery, but gigantic surgery- 5 bypasses! I am not thankful for coronary artery disease or his family’s history of it.

I AM thankful that in the midst of the textbook definition of overwhelming, God provided. And this is my version of Psalm 100, the alternate psalm for this day. Both psalm 95 and 100 are words we can share so that wherever it seems out of control we can remember who God is with us and for us. God our rock and salvation, whose hand created us, and these words:

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth.

Worship the Lord with gladness; come into his presence with singing.

Know that the Lord is God. It is he that made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him, bless his name.

For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

In the life of people, the psalms take turns praising and lamenting while proclaiming that even in the midst of what seemed almost insurmountable, there was God, providing. It’s a praise that doesn’t depend on “no bad things happen.” It speaks of thanksgiving knowing bad things do happen but God is there with us in it as generations gather around.


We were in God’s hand which provided for us when neighbors took over caring for Toby, and watching the house, and sending food and messages and prayers (even the non-praying types prayed! And maybe they know something more about God! Thank the Lord!)

God provided when my colleagues met me and called me, and enveloped us in prayer and presence. Because I am an only child whose whole family lives elsewhere and I could very easily have sat for hours and days alone. Not so- because God moved in and through them. When one of my colleagues asked how she could help me, words I never imagined in my independent mind spilled forth- “I need you to be my pastor.” And she came- she visited, she prayed, and then she came the day of surgery in the early hours, and prayed and blessed, and sat all day. She had cleared her whole day to be wherever we needed her to be. Steadfast. Enduring. Love. We were in God’s hand and shepherded.

God provided through people we know well and people we barely know, surrounding us with support and offers to call at any hour of the day or night. There was no point in those days where I was not bombarded with prayers and well wishes and meals and consolation. My phone was a constant deliverer of emails, txt messages, Facebook messages and calls. The common terminology for that is to say your phone is “blowing up.”

Even though my phone was “blowing up,”  this onslaught of care and love that God ushered forth was greater than everything Michael and I were facing. Who would have thought that the digital age could offer this new vision of steadfast and enduring love?

While we were staring into scary places- bigger than that was God-never absent. There was a quiet power there but it was powerful indeed.



Before his surgery Michael gave me his wedding band to spare it from being cut off or lost. I wore it on my thumb, and every time I remembered it there, I prayed. After surgery and when they had finally taken out the breathing tube, he put his hand out and pointed to his finger. When I asked if his wanted his wedding ring back, for the first time in 25 years since our wedding day, I placed that ring on his finger as he quietly whispered “I do.”

That hand too showed powerful, steadfast love. From now on when I read that God’s steadfast love endures forever, I will have a permanent image seared into my memory and on my heart. And I share these words for other people whose lives face fear and loss, There in the midst, was a profound unimaginable loving presence-God’s unbounded love looked loss head-on and transported us through it.

And all I can do is to come and praise God and tell you about it. Tell the good news!

In the end, this is what God longs for- that we connect with this profound love, receive it, dwell in it, and share it. That’s what the psalm does- it helps those who are grateful celebrate and those who are not, feel it’s possible. I’ve told my story of God, not yours. But each of us, I hope and pray has a story somewhere of God’s love and power to share. Sometimes it's hard to say Christ is powerful when we can barely muster words.
We don’t have to feel powerful to give God power. Instead we’re simply encouraged to take turns telling of those moments of steadfast enduring love, and living those moments where God is with us in God’s pasture together. And God can work through us with each other, being Christ for each other, loving, providing, shepherding, blessing. Giving and receiving.

This kind of power of “God made known” changes the world. It rules when it seems like nothing can. So give thanks to the Lord and bless his name!  AMEN

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

New Roads in God's Journey

Last night I shared with our congregation council news that I had accepted another call and would be ending our time together at Holy Spirit to begin a new call at Christ Lutheran in Conyngham, PA. Below is the letter that I shared with them and which has been mailed out to our members. I ask for your prayers for both congregations and for our family as we move into this new and very exciting time. While I am sad to leave great connections here in Centre Park and in the congregation, our family is also energized by the enthusiasm and joyful spirit of the folks in Conyngham who have embraced us so lovingly.

“I do not cease to give thanks for you when I remember you in my prayers. I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you spiritual wisdom and revelation in your growing knowledge of him…so that you may know what is the hope of his calling, what is the wealth of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the greatness of his power toward us who believe..” Ephesians 1:16-18


Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

        In 2011, you took a chance on an untested Pastor straight out of seminary. In the years that followed we have shared much together, our joys and sorrows, hopes and fears. I thank God for each of your and for our time together as you have helped me grow. We have celebrated joys, mourned sorrows, and served the gospel together in worship, in fellowship, in our outreach efforts and the very vital afterschool ministry, The Dove’s Nest. You have taught me much and have blessed me by sharing life together. I firmly believe that the quality worship and vital community ministry and outreach must continue and I recognized that to take the long view required evaluating how that might be best accomplished.  

          It is with a mix of joy and sadness that I write to share news that I have accepted another call to serve as Pastor of Christ Lutheran Church, in Conyngham, PA. This has not been an easy decision. Michael and I have been praying and discerning for some time both about the future of Holy Spirit, and our future as well. As we look at the needs of our family and for this congregation, it seemed that it is the right time and right opportunity to relocate. We believe Christ Lutheran is a great fit for the continued development of my gifts and strengths in ministry and offers community and connections for Michael as well. At the same time we pray this transition offers Holy Spirit greater ability to explore and continue in vital partnerships and ministries here.

        With my departure my pastoral relationship with the members of Holy Spirit will come to an end. I treasure the privilege you have given me to serve as your pastor, but upon my departure, those responsibilities will belong to your interim and future leaders. While friendships may continue, it will no longer be appropriate for me to perform pastoral functions within the congregation or for its members. Therefore, however hard it may be, if you ask, I will say No.

This is because I have great respect for the integrity of the congregation and for the ministry of those who will serve you, as well as great love for the church. Sometimes the greatest challenge is to act with ethics rather than emotion but it is necessary for the health of the congregation. For these reasons, I shall decline invitations to preside or assist at weddings, baptisms, funerals or other congregational functions without the approval of the congregation council and bishop. My hope and request is that you as my former parishioners and future friends help me keep a healthy distance from the congregation. On the other hand, I would be honored to be invited as your friend to attend such events.                              
        My last Sunday leading worship as the Pastor of Holy Spirit will be December 28th. Michael, the girls and I then leave for Finland utilizing the last of my unused vacation. My last day of service will be January 10, 2015 as we move and I begin my new call on January 11, 2015.

        It is my hope and prayer that we can share in meaningful celebrations at God’s table, and in heartfelt farewells. In these weeks, I will be visiting our homebound and also putting things in order for the smoothest transition for you. It is also my hope and prayer that as we each respond to God’s call to new journeys that new conversation and opportunities will reveal God’s power and hope and guidance for you.

Yours in Christ, Pastor Carolyn


Monday, November 10, 2014

How Full is Your Lamp?

Just before worship started, I was talking with someone about the modern understanding of the word, “Gospel.” Oftentimes today it is interpreted as “good news” and it is, and yet that good news is seen as being words that affirm and uplift us and tell us we’re ok. Yet sometimes, the other function of the gospel is to speak truth- a truth perhaps we need to hear, spoken in love but not comforting. If you came to church today expecting warmth and comfort from the lessons- Sorry.

This past Wednesday I asked the folks at Table Church to sit and wait for a minute. I’d like us to do that as well.

You all did pretty well, but the truth is many of us don’t like to wait. Including your pastor who as you noticed checked her watch pretty often. On Wednesday, about halfway through many were starting to fidget, and at the end of the minute a couple kids commented on how hard waiting is, especially without Xbox or something. And I suspect a couple adults were wondering what would happen to that hot food if the pastor was going to make us wait. That minute felt long. Waiting can be hard.

"What will we do while we wait?” is the question Matthew’s gospel is addressing today. We’re waiting for Jesus to return- much longer than Matthew's original hearers.

SO what should we learn today? HAVE ENOUGH OIL.

While that seems like something to do, I want to suggest that it is not just about cornering the market on something. The oil is not the kind we watch the news to see if prices are up or down. Literally it’s Olive oil. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this but, literally, the answer to, "What shall we do while we wait?" is "Make sure you have enough oil for your lamps."

In an age of electricity, where we no longer need to put oil in lamps, what can that mean?

The five foolish bridesmaids ran out of it and the five wise ones had enough to go the distance. But what does the oil represent?

Martin Luther thought it represented faith- don’t run out of faith. I don’t agree with Luther. Because Faith comes from God- can you run out of faith if God is the provider?

Others think that the oil represents good works. Don’t stop doing good works.  But then what of grace? Imagine the frenzy of last minute good deeds- that seems to suggest if we do enough, we earn it. I’m not sure good works is quite right. Which speaks a word to lots of people today focused upon community service, especially young adults. Good works are good-and we all could use all we can get. At the same time, when the project is done, what is beyond it? What is the sustaining presence for all the other moments? The ones without projects?

Still someone else suggested the oil seems to be a generic reference to faithful and obedient discipleship as defined by the whole gospel. To be like the slave who elsewhere actively, faithfully, and obediently carries out what he has been instructed to do. It’s about trust. But where do we buy more trust?

Obviously there is something to being active in waiting, and in trusting, but maybe it’s not about doing those things as much as its about not running out of the power to do them.* We who are told to tend the light are also told to go and be light for the world. We need a power that produces good deeds- the power needed to produce light. Maybe this parable is using "oil" to be our relationship with God, who is the source and power behind our good deeds and our trusting.

And then maybe we can ask- how full is our lamp? Perhaps some of us are burning brightly this day, or perhaps some of us are sputtering out. But one thing is sure- the lamp needs to be tended. Like any relationship. Our relationship with God requires our attention.

To borrow yet another relationship phrase- does your relationship with God have a spark? If you walked into Jesus would you feel like you know each other? Or would you sense only a faintly distant connection?

When our girls were little they only saw my parents at holidays and the rest of the year we faced the challenge of helping them remember who these people who were so eager to see them and bring gifts were. We’d talk about how their grandparents were coming. We’d get the house ready for them. But it took other ways of being in touch while we were waiting to keep their relationship current. Phone calls, pictures, videos, telling those distant relatives what they’ve been doing. Even though those deeds weren’t the basis of the relationship, they were part of letting the grandparents know who their grandkids are and vice versa. To a certain degree as parents we mediated the relationship until it was strong on its own.

“If we understand "oil" as having a close relationship with God -- the power behind our lives -- the power that gives us a "glow" as shining witnesses in the world -- we must acknowledge that it is possible to let that relationship "run out". When the bridegroom comes, it (seems) too late to try and establish the relationship.” And in that context when we hear that those frenzied bridesmaids came back they found the door closed perhaps it’s important to note that although the door was closed, we don’t hear who closed it.

We just know it was closed. God gives us a relationship and faith and while God never closes the door, we can. And while our salvation is assured, we can in this life lose the power and strength we need and long for in this life. Our relationship with Jesus – being known by Jesus- can’t be mediated through other people who have it. I can’t do that for Jane, for example, nor she for me. This is why the other bridesmaids cannot share their oil. Our relationship with God needs us to keep glowing. And as we hear in Amos, it’s about more than just going through the motions of worship an hour a week.

It’s a relationship- God longs for and indeed kindles the spark of our faith for much more. Our deeds then are a response and even help fan the flame, but our works are not the relationship.

Being disciples in this way with God means we are tending that relationship and doing what God desires in an ongoing way. It doesn’t mean we cannot rest- after all , all the bridesmaids rested. But it does mean constantly tending our relationship with God so it has the power and meaning and support we need to avoid panic and chaos.
God wants to have a personal relationship- one where we share our hopes and fears, and where God invites us to share in a meal that reminds each of us- this is “for you.” And the door is open.

God is always striving to establish that personal relationship. One where today matters not just someday- for us and for the world. While we wait we can know the power of encountering Jesus, entering now, inviting us in to participate and celebrate the many comings of the Christ: Jesus' presence in the Word; in the Sacrament;  in the gathering together; in our going out to make disciples; as we minister to the "least of these." This is what we are given to do and to experience. And it’s a lot.

Yet, these are also the connections with Jesus that keep our "lights" empowered for witness and service and keeps our relationship burning brightly. The truth is that we all at times are foolish, and we fail to tend those lamps as we should.  What continually enables us is what God continually gives, summed up in this prayer from St Claude de Columbiere I invite you to join in now. Let us pray:

Jesus, I feel within me  a great desire to please you  but, at the same time,  I feel totally incapable of doing this  without your special light and help,  which I can expect only from you. Accomplish your will within me-- even in spite of me.   AMEN

* Brian Stoffregen, Crossmarks

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Communion of the Saints (that someday thin places might stay thin)

As we gather once again on this All Saints Sunday, we see the light of these candles and it reminds us of saints not only from this congregation but who have touched our lives. Those God has given us across time. They are on our minds today. Perhaps today more than ever we sense that presence of the communion of the saints. Today we hear words from Revelation, this last book in Scripture intended to be words of hope. At every funeral I preside over I read words from the book of Revelation and say that they are intended to be words of hope and at least half of the faces crinkle up like that is a strange statement. So many are caught up in things like imagining Armageddon, and the Rapture and who’s left behind and who will be in hell. But what we are really given is saints around the throne of God whose struggles are no more. Tears are wiped away and we’re drawn to God.

The Celtic people in Ireland speak of “thin places”- places where worlds come together- the world here and the world beyond. The barriers we normally experience are not there. There are sacred spaces where you can get that sense. There are also events that function that way and for me All Saint’s Sunday feels like that. Being drawn close to God and a longing to be together when all the struggles are done and all the tears are wiped away. And there’s a moment- that’s communion of the saints. Perhaps you experience it this day as well.

I think that’s what we experience at funerals- the thin place where people come who haven’t been here in a while, drawn closer not only by a life lived for which we give thanks to God, but often a time where people speak of a closer sense of God and what the church means- at least for a moment. We forget the things in life our loved one did that weren’t the best- they fall away and we remember the good of people and community. If only those thin places could stay thin and continue to be communion of the saints.

Yesterday I attended the funeral of a colleague, Sadie, who fought the good fight with cancer and we celebrated her life’s work, in particular, her commitment to criminal justice system ministry. Something I know some of you are connected to in different ways. Most recently she worked as a chaplain at a state correctional facility in Camp Hill where she labored tirelessly. But a mentor said she once called him with a question, in the midst of her labors, she aske- “why did some people respond to God and to help and others did not?"

Her mentor suggested that maybe some people are just broken beyond the point of being helped- their souls are just too broken. And at this point Sadie just laughed at him and said,” Why on earth would God give anyone a permanently broken soul?!” Why indeed.

And for her this was, I believe,  the vision of communion with God and the saints- a place much broader than our vision. A place where the thin place stayed thin.

That’s what Revelation points to this day. That’s what we say each week in our Creed- that the vision John speaks of is so different. The multitude around the throne- different languages, and races and lives lived- all there.

And it’s so captivating he doesn’t even stop to wonder- why are THOSE people there? He’s in awe of what God is doing, calling us all children of God with a place. It’s not about us and “our” beloved- it’s about God who God loves.

And the number continues to grow and grow and the communion gets ever larger because there are no permanently broken souls beyond help-truly. Communion of the saints means we are given this privilege by God. And we are given a purpose.

We are given this vision and we are given words of faith that include saying we believe in this communion of the saints. The words we say in our Creed- our statement of faith. After speaking of God our Creator, and Christ our Redeemer, and the power and work of the Spirit, we say more. That we believe the church is holy- may it be holy when we are here. We say is it catholic- which is a way of saying united and we say we believe in the communion of the saints. That we are in communion with God in Christ and with the saints who have died and for whom God’s promises are made known. And we are in communion here and now-we are each of us, saints. Sinners to be sure, but also saints claimed as God’s children in our baptism. Given communion- a community, and a promise and a purpose. This too is communion of the saints.

Which is why it makes complete sense that after the funeral of a saint committed to criminal justice ministry, I was meeting with a family whose lives are in another part of the system as their son works and indeed labors to make changes and to be reunited with his loved ones.

I asked him what keeps him focused and helps his work and he of course mentioned his family. But the first word was “God.” And he shared with me that he keeps a tiny Bible in his pocket because it reminds him that God is always with him. And he thinks of his family and of this church. And then he shared the work of one of our saints here who, on her own had asked for his address and without waiting to be asked or seeing if anyone else was doing so, sent him a card and a care package. He was in awe, and I was too.

He received a card of encouragement and support and candy that he could share. Candy that helped him make friends with other boys there- and I imagine them all around that box sharing- and while some might look at them and see a group of sinners- God saw communion of the saints.

The gathering of those in this life around God and community is what we are given now to give us hope. Because in this life we labor and struggle, all of us. But God in Christ Jesus gives us communion and community- may it be what we sense each time we are here. Until that day when the thin places stay thin. We’re given these things so we too can be in awe of what God is doing right now and to not rest until everyone knows it.