Rejoice! It's a Bumper Crop!

Rejoice with me and with my classmates at LTSG as we graduate tomorrow!!

If you've ever gardened, you know that when you plant seeds you don't know what will happen- some will grow, some won't and some will grow but they will not look like the picture. It's part of why it is tempting to just let someone else do that work and buy the already tended plant. But even so, someone had to do the growing. Even when you have the plants you don't know what the garden will look like. The picture above is from a field on the commute to LTSG- one year the farmer seeded the entire area in sunflowers. I honestly don't think even he expected such a bumper crop.

For 43 years people planted and tended the seed in me- I was a slow grower. For my classmates, the growing schedule is as varied as the day is long, but we each have a story that got us here. In May of 2007, I was getting ready to meet with my synod candidacy committee to learn if they would approve my entering seminary. Now here I am in May preparing to graduate four years later having been surrounded by some truly amazing people, and while I always dreamed it would turn out well, it has exceeded expectations. Our class has been that bumper crop!

Four years ago I became a “Blogging Lutheran” and met a fellow blogger in the blogosphere who said he was coming to seminary. Later that year we sat across a circle from each other sharing call stories. He later created the web page that kept us all connected on internship. We came from all over the country and right next door. One fellow student came from Alaska, but turned out she originally grew up down the road from my inlaws. and our lives have grown together in many ways. I've met people transformed by outdoor ministry, a few of whom will now work with my daughter this summer at a Lutheran camp. After years of supporting the church’s ministry in Tanzania, I can now say I know a seminarian who's been there and has a passion for that global ministry. And there are some who dared to make the long trek from places like Ethiopia to here to serve the church and open our eyes to new visions. With some of my classmates I have traveled halfway round the world to walk in the footsteps of Paul, literally. I have experienced beautiful music, Easter Peep dioramas, and worship in different languages, Luther Bowl, inspiring preaching, innovative teaching and stinkbugs (the last of these I would be glad to forget).

Some were engineers, social workers, bookstore managers, athletic directors, legal types, and many more were the truly risky ones- those who came straight from college. People from many traditions who have deepened our understandings in ways we could not have seen that first August. We all got here by the Spirit because of mentors and experiences that encouraged us to hear and dare to respond to God’s call. For most of us there has been some pruning and tending, and twists and turns but as I look back to four years ago, I can see that what looked like a group of possibilities has grown into a group of people whose sense of call has grown and flourished.

I've seen people blossom and come alive as they passionately share their experiences, hopes and dreams for young adult ministry, creation care, rural ministry, teaching, chaplaincy and much more. And I've been awed by people who have been transplanted over and over again, each time on the belief that God is calling. As a commuter I realize I only scratched the surface of life here but I have seen enough to know that the church is incredibly blessed to have my classmates entering various types of public ministry. And now we are about to join the grand procession of those who will enter to leave and to serve. Years ago the group Supersonic had a song “Closing Time”- the best line of which is this:
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end”

So it is for each of us. It is a new beginning for each person leaving here, as we go forth to plant and tend all over God's field.

But I hope also for a new beginning of sorts for the church.

On the horizon are more budget cuts which will decimate funding for some of the ministries that brought us here- talk to seminarians and many will tell you of how campus ministry, outdoor ministry and youth ministry were fundamental to their sense of call. Likewise funding of seminary education is always at risk while congregations long for leaders. Instead of throwing up our hands saying the scarcity is too large, let's not get discouraged. Cutting these areas is like destroying the seed corn (I heard those words from someone else) – we can’t grow from nothing.
While I would admit that God can, I am not sure that this is a test of God we should engage. The plants have to come from somewhere. They come from congregations and synods and the larger church. We all have a critical role together.

And if you need proof it's worth it, and you’re on the Ridge this week, or any other seminary, when you’re celebrating, look around and ask what the picture would look like if those seeds had never been planted. They are after all a pretty amazing group that God sprouted. And then together let’s dream of more bumper crops.

It Took a lot of People to Get Here

Yesterday was our Senior Banquet, our way of celebrating the fact that (pending the fulfillment of all academic requirements) we really are going to graduate, but more importantly, saying thanks to all of the faculty, administration and staff who got us to this point. No matter how old we are we have all needed a few "mothering" moments along the way.

When I speak of "us" I think about how many children have come into the picture, babies born, little ones growing up. I think of my classmates who are exploring adoption and foster parenting and am amazed. I think of classmates who could not be at our meal because they needed to be with their family. I look around and see how many people have gotten engaged or married since they began seminary. And I think about how over four years we have grown more fully into our callings. And to get to that point it has taken a lot of parenting figures.

I give thanks for each person who in the name of Christ has at some time has been there- in the face of friends and in the face of everyone from the person who fixed a problem in the dorm, a billing or finanical aid snafu, server connection issues, course registration conundrums and a myriad of other things. They in addition to our professors have tolerated our confusion, affirmed our discoveries and occasionally dished out a little reality check. Through all of the things that have stretched and shaped us, there is a giant network of people, some very visible and some behind the scenes who have helped to make our "growing years" bear fruit.

Thanks be to God for you.

Stories from the Road

Luke 24: 13-35
When Michael and I were married, we were given a piece of cross-stitch that exclaims- “The road is bright before us, as hand in hand we start, united in love forever, one mind, one soul, one heart.” So too at the Seminary, I remember those first days of Summer Greek when we were giddy about launching our paths toward ministry, in those first days before participles, group projects and many other things would challenge our sense of it all. I could tell you that the road of either of these journeys has always been bright and we have always been in solidarity about the journey.

Or I could be honest and share that inevitably, disappointments and anxiety about what’s next takes on a life of its own in community. “Some people saw… these people said… others discovered…” We're really quick to share those stories. When we’re on our walk, we can become so focused upon sorting it all out. Where’s God? We went looking, we thought we knew.

And now with social media, the concept of flash mob meets doubt in ways that quickly take on epic proportion as we click and comment in the frenetic pace of our need to analyze and know. As I prepare to end my time in seminary, I would love to be able to say that those of us intent on pursuing a closer walk with God were somehow more adept and remembering where to find the Lord. But we all have had those moments when we are sure it is all for naught, when we have no clue what will happen next and how we might as well accept that it is about to turn out badly. From the time we began, we have all had those crisis moments about coursework, or relationships, or when we find out that where we have been sent by God isn’t at all the road we sought out or expected. We have agonized over whether the economy will doom our chances, or whether the currents of dissent in our churches will. How will I survive teaching parish? I can’t take another day of CPE. I can't believe what that (professor, classmate, supervisor) said! Will there be an internship site and will it be what I hope for? Will a bishop choose me, or a congregation? What does it all mean? What if at the end of the road, it’s just the end of the road?

And I think maybe God lets us spin for awhile until we realize we are still fuzzy headed and empty handed, as we keep turning to what we think it ought to be. We get ourselves all tied up in knots, listening to those who are the self-proclaimed experts-I think there’s a reason in this age they are called Spin Doctors. Because all of the self-generated analysis leaves us spinning. How ironic then that the disciples turn to the man who later they will see is Jesus and in the midst of all of their lack of knowing tell him that only a fool would not know what is going on. Have you ever noticed that when you’re sure someone else is an idiot, a lot of times you later see things clearer and differently? You’d think we would grasp that more permanently, but alas, our nature is that we make only slight progress at best. We find that we both are the dishers-out and recipients of dashed expectations and terse words said in the moment. And each of us has had moments where we too exclaimed-“But I had such hopes.”

But as we kept walking and listening, across those miles, at some point, we took a break from our pace, and took a breath from all of our words. And in those moments, the ones where we sat a spell, Jesus showed up to us, giving us strength for the journey in the midst of the community. In small, but intimate ways. Fleeting ways. And then as soon as we blinked, it’s gone. But we know it has happened- and this is why we have still continued the journey.

Here in my house, as we’ve have been going through all of the things we’ve accumulated, in anticipation of perhaps moving in the next year, it takes longer than I’d like to think. Because we get sidetracked with each thing into all of the memories- Has really been that long since…? Remember how crazy that was? What a great day when…All of those memories, burning in our hearts. We cherish where God has been in all of the people who have touched us on the road so far. Because each time we were in doubt, somehow it all turned out. Places where forgiveness seemed impossible, made whole. Perhaps not when or where or how we envisioned, yet we could look back and see where Christ really was.

Mark Oldenburg once noted that “on the way to doing the ministry you think you are called to do, something or someone will cross your path and there, real ministry will happen.” That may not be verbatim- but close enough. Those words have always been with me here. I think Luke’s gospel offers a corollary: On the way to looking for Jesus in the places and the people where you are sure he will be found, Jesus will meet you somewhere else and real presence will happen in ways that change you forever.

Now we are all preparing to head out on the road to new places from LTSG. To my classmates, the faculty and the staff, to all of those in all of the contexts I have been blessed to experience-
I give thanks to God for all of the times and places where you brought the risen Christ into my awareness. These are the ways that now send me forth to tell others what I have seen and heard in the breaking of bread with you on the path of discernment. And to hopefully do so with eyes at least a little more open to meeting Christ on the journeys to come. I hope it has been so for you and pray it may continue to be so for you. Go forth and be eager to share these stories wherever the road takes you.

Are You Willing to be a Rebel for Resurrection Hope?

Today I attended Spring Convocation at LTSG, which made a big splash having as key speaker, journalist and author, Chris Hedges, who has written extensively across media, including books such as The Empire of Illusion and The World as It Is. Hedges’ appearance was a part of the convocation theme, “We Tell to Love the Story,” a day which included an outstanding presentation on the scripts of Scripture by Rev. Dr. Marty Stevens and on story brokering by Rev. Kathy Vitalis Hoffman. I wish that the crowd in attendance for Hedges had been present for the other two presentations, because without it I suggest the story left an incomplete picture. And while much of what Hedges gives voice to resonates with my sensibilities and with the message across the canon of Scripture in prophetic witness, Hedges himself is not big on lifting up the life and work of the church. This is not only true because this isn’t his role (though he has an M.Div. from Harvard Divinity) but also in part of his own acerbic sentiment toward the church as institution born of his lived religious experience as the son of a Presbyterian pastor whose prophetic voice met with cataclysmic opposition over issues still on the horizon today- oppression, poverty, gay rights, the military-industrial complex. From my brief conversation with him, I understand opposition to his father’s witness culminated in drumming out of his father over his voice of resistance. I’m attempting to take in Hedges’ compelling words which at times one might suspect were intended to function as an emetic administered to the listener. I note that I am neither an acolyte nor a “hater.”
“I have walked through the barren remains of Babylon,” he began. No one can doubt the profound scope of what Hedges has witnessed in his global journeying as a journalist. Anyone who has read even some of his work quickly realizes the gravamen of the accretion of events he confronted as bystander to warfare and aggression, despoiling of environment and seeming callousness of those who are the perpetrators. Amidst the din of this, Hedges began his address with words of Percy Bysshe Shelly- about the feeling of standing amidst the ruin of Egyptian pharaohs: And on the pedestal these words appear: “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.” Akin to Ezekiel, Hedges launches into a full tilt assault on the “increasingly rapacious elite” and “a world where ideals no longer correspond to reality, where the frightened retreat into isolated compounds and enclaves of wealth and priviledge. Those in power extract wealth upward with greater ferocity until the hollowed out edifice collapses.” As was the fate of Rome, the Mayans, the Babylonians, so too we see the fate of those in the Middle East, Africa, Europe and ultimately here at home. I full well expected him to say, “Thus says the Lord YHWH.” As the canary in the coal mine protesting more wars, grander monuments, and increasing debts foisted on the backs of the poor, he continued lifting up historic parallels across time of “elitists who become extremists squeezing the last drops out of humanity before they ossify and die, destroying what they claim to be about.” As Hedges offered a summation of sorts for the notion that humans seem destined to be cursed to repeating the cycles of exploitation and collapse at the hands of ignorance and hubris, I found myself writing and underscoring a single word: SIN. I wish I could even remotely approach the skill of writing and oration Hedges possesses yet the word SIN never was uttered. Which is too bad, because he is spot on and that is what it is. We should name it as such. The world we claim to be ever more adept at controlling and engineering like all of those other refined civilizations is still captive to the force of sin. Hold that thought.
Hedges then turned his sights upon illuminating the failure of those who put themselves forth as proponents and indeed proclaimers of the Christian faith are often co-opted by those who not only are OK with systems of power, oppression and death, they would prefer them to remain in place. Hedges takes the framework of religious institutions and the liberal class to task for naively placating these forces, “inviting the wolf in” as he puts it. Not only that but he frames leaders of the “liberal” end of the political spectrum as only looking like liberals while selling their souls to the corporate world, turning the American dream into a cruel hoax. “Tolerating the intolerant leads to destruction of the tolerant.” Hedges sees the end result in this country (not only elsewhere) as reconfiguring our world into “neo-feudalism.”
But back to the church – Hedges tosses more fuel on the fire alleging that the church has forgotten that heretics exist, excoriating evangelicals (and others) for re-connecting with Newt Gingrich and others who “mock the core teachings of Christ” and who “stand by mutely as others betray and exploit the gospel of Christ with bigotry, hatred and greed.” As I was again thinking of Ezekiel taking on those who claimed to speak for YHWH that “all is well when all is not well” he moved in for the kill. “What was the point of ordination is you think you never have to fight for the message of the gospel?” It really doesn’t matter whether Hedges is speaking as one with or without faith, inside or outside the church- these words matter. We serving and aspiring leaders could ask ourselves- what will we risk for the sake of the gospel? I was reminded of the scene in the “Luther” movie when Luther is being cleaned up and prepared for his meeting with officials from Rome. He’s being counseled to back off and hold his tongue. With absolute clarity of purpose he pushes back against this with “when you so boldly sent me out to change the world, did you think there wouldn’t be a cost?” While there’s a point where Hedges’ polemic and I will part company, I cannot quibble with the claim that the longer we are tricked into investing faith in power systems we will be tricked into paths that lead to death-I think I heard this a time or two in Scripture. He speaks of what many would call “kingdom urgency” though never allowing such words to pass his lips. When do we decide we are too busy critiquing our critics or the process to actually take a stand on issues of peace, ecological destruction, injustice? They are in our own backyard. When he says we must be willing to accept the discomfort of action- was it not but a short time ago we wondered if we would deny Christ?
Where I ultimately believe Hedges’ vision is incomplete is that he seems to suggest that resistance, being a rebel and standing with the oppressed as a moral commitment are an end unto themselves. He quotes Augustine, the author of the notion that “hope has two beautiful daughters- anger at the way things are and courage to see that it doesn’t remain so.” He adjures that external reality around us cannot be a yardstick by which to measure life. As he ended his presentation he noted that the words we heard are not his, but his father’s – the Presbyterian pastor who stance ended his career- and noted:“And in Christian faith we call this resurrection.” These words brought tears to my eyes- but then I had to ask- what does the word “resurrection” mean? Redemption, vindication? Is this a buzzword for the God-people at LTSG or is it something more uttered by one scarred but still living that definition of “hope?” I don’t know- but this is why everyone who missed the talk before and the talk after- the ones who came for Hedges alone-missed the “rest of the story.”

Being a rebel means living and telling a story whose narrative is over against all of the other voices. Your strand might look different than mine but in the end the refrain is one that says for Christians that the voice we listen to (or endeavor to listen to) is the voice of a risen Christ. And it’s the voice of God who across time is not bound by the limited narratives of those who seek to co-opt. It’s still a story worth sharing in all the hurting places. It’s a story we cannot share but for a faith that takes more than we have to give. It’s a story we build with others-not as rebels alone. And it’s a story we tell to love because God’s word and not ours is the last and triumphant one that gives us strength to try again. I would never dream to suggest that everything that leads people to hurting places should be just smoothed over. Instead I would love to tell them about a God who offers and calls us to more because of the true and ultimate meaning of resurrection. To Hedges I would say that though nothing erases pain, the other word missing is GRACE- what we need, what we get, what we are called to tell and to live. Each of us.
As I got up to leave the chapel I noticed that off to the side was the large wooden cross that had featured writ large in Holy Week, now looking a little left behind- perhaps waiting to be put away. Maybe that’s the point-would we really tire if we looked at the rough hewn cross in the midst of the beautiful chapel, or would we prefer to not be reminded of the cost? Maybe even when we don’t intend to, this subtle actions of ours remind us we have much to contemplate even when it comes from voices beyond our place of sanctuary. Think of how much richer the story we share will be when we do. How Christ's narrative might speak louder than cacaphony of doom. It's risky- Are you willing to be a rebel for resurrection hope in our world?

Who is this King?

Even when he was sitting astride the donkey, Jesus knew what the others did not- where the road would go after the parade. From excitement in the air, and people craning to see, asking,"Who is this?" To the same question asked over and over again, by the Jewish leaders, by Pilate, by soldiers, in the events of that week in Jerusalem.

Who is this "King of the Jews" anyway?

As the final drama begins to unfold, Matthew’s story inverts the notion of who this King is and how we treat him, leading to the cross on the outskirts of town.
After the betrayal has occurred, and the trial is over. After the onlookers and disciples are gone. We find ourselves, if we dare to stop here, in the moments after the sentencing and before the crucifixion. The Passion of our Lord.

“Passion” in this sense is “the condition of being acted upon”- of letting others do to you; and also the “endurance of suffering.” Any of these speak to what Jesus knew would and must come, even as He regally sat astride the donkey. And as he now stands seemingly at the mercy of the soldiers. This is a King? Hardly a figure of power!

Maybe the soldiers acted on orders, or maybe they got carried away. After all, what's a little excessive force when national security is involved? “They say this guy is the ‘King of the Jews’ – that militant on the list.”Everyone stands poised to play their roles as the players take the stage.

“Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters”- the curtain comes up on Jesus truly living out this “passion.” He apparently says nothing, and if he cries out it hasn't been recorded in what happens at the governor’s headquarters, located just beyond the temple wall, in the shadow of the Holy of holies.

From his birth, called the King of the Jews, by those who hope that he is not. His mere existence threatens the prescribed power struture. “You want to be a King? We have a way of dealing with Kings here.” And we need to because it's the Passover, and we need to keep an eye on this would-be king. Who does he think he is?

Can we imagine watching the spectacle unfold? This deadly dance exposed in the courtyard, not tucked away in some dark dungeon. Publicly, in the shadow of the sacred and holy spaces of the Temple. Mere feet away, yet we want to turn a blind eye and erect a wall of silence.

“They gathered all of the cohort over him.” Not a few men like we might imagine, but an entire military unit of as many as 600 men there to quell any potential uprising. As many as 600 men--- and one of Jesus. Can we picture that? Will we dare?

Tom Wright suggests many of the men may have seen buddies killed by these rebels. Tired of being away from home, and longer than they thought. Maybe a few begin, at first, but the number swells as people want to see what will happen with this potentially dangerous militant.

Once the energy emerges, group frenzy takes over. They're not just around Jesus, but over him, both physically and psychologically. The just-flogged Jesus perhaps crumpled and lying in a heap, dragged from one place to another...maybe on his knees before them.. powerless.

But, they say he is “dangerous.”
The next thing you know, they are “Stripping him.” This perverse and demented drama includes a costume change. Did they immediately put that cloak on him, or was it a part of the sport of it all and the humiliation of nakedness?

The king deserving a royal robe, ironically forced to wear a military robe in a battle where he's been drafted into service.

The king, forced to endure the taunts and jeers he knew there would be.
“Where’s your power now, King?”

“After twisting some thorns into a crown they put it on his head.” Anguishing mental cruelty carried out in a slow, protracted hell that seems to have no end in sight.

“And they placed a reed in his right hand.” Not a stick, or a sword, or even an object of substance. A flimsy, breakable reed, which will be bent to inflict the ultimate insult in Jesus’ day- slapping his face. What a great way to settle scores by those resentful of the hordes of the occupied who have shown disdain for the soldiers.

Well, who's in charge now?

"Kneeling before him they mocked him”, the one to whom kings once traveled, who was worshipped with gold, now reviled and ridiculed in this reversal of how it all began so long ago. Gifts of honor twisted by sick humor as soldiers pay a warped homage to their victim.
How long did it take to get the reed, and the crown of thorns?
How long as one by one each added his own tribute to the king?
“Hail! King of the Jews” A juvenile and cruel take on the honor shown to Caesar. Maybe they even forced him to process and receive their accolades.

This mockery, repeated mass mockery that one writer has suggested,offers us a commentary about words as instrument of torture. Maybe they threatened and taunted Jesus, about his appearance, his people, his religion, his family. Threats, lies. Warfare designed to make a man break, to finish the destruction of his soul.

Not one person, or one comment, but a swarm of angry, bullying men, each taking turns in this pageantry of destruction.
Hail!“Long live the King"- the one we are about to kill.

How long does it go on? Does Jesus begin praying for sweet death to just come?

They begin “ spitting upon him.” Once baptized and anointed, now passed from one person to another each inflicting pain, until he begins to be unrecognizable.

But now this drama is closing – the gifts are taken back-“They took the reed and struck his head."
“And when they have finished, they strip him of the cloak.
This performance will soon be done.

“They put his own clothes back on him.” He is led away to die.

Who is this King of the Jews? Rejected by those who insist “he is not our king!”
Refused by those who claim- “you cannot be king!”

Who can we see as the curtain falls in this sad and sordid drama?
So horrific yet we did not intervene. Watching the group, knowing it's wrong, but captivated anyway.

Have you ever seen someone being mistreated but decided it was none of your business, and turned away?
Walking away quickly, head averted?

We'd like to believe this kind of wicked brutality was limited to this story.
But whose face is it we see in the bullied, the misunderstood, the tortured, and the ridiculed in our world?
Who is this King of the Jews?
Do we see him today?

While those in charge will conveniently have no recollection of the events, will we remember?

"Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee."

Thanks be to God it's not the final chapter

But, still we ask- Who is this King?

Your hands, Lord

The washing of the feet
Ghislaine Howard (b.1953 ) Acrylic 2004 Methodist Collection of Modern Christian Art, No.40

John 13
Jesus knew what he had to do, what he would endure- and that it was in his hands. When things are in our hands, what do we choose? What would we have chosen if things had been in our hands? We probably would not have chosen to strip away the dirt and grime of others. To personally embrace all of those dirty, stinky, gnarled and calloused others. And to love them anyway.
As he went along he could no longer see his face in the reflection of the water, just all of the dirt churning.

We probably wouldn't choose to continue to be patient with those who were slow to get it, who were rude and insistent. We surely would not embrace the chronically irritating. We most definitely would not embrace those who would betray us behind our backs- who already had. And to love them anyway.
As he listened he could tell he could no longer be heard over all of their self-absorbed concerns.

And after he washed their feet, we do not hear that anyone washed his, or even that he cleaned himself up, getting rid of all that dirt. We hear only that he got up and put on his robe again. And kept serving- feeding, teaching, and loving anyway. All the way to the cross. Where they forgot all they had seen and heard.

Sacrificing everything-in love- though we like the disciples only seem to excell in taking...though we fail to grasp or embrace this vision...though we become callous toward not only others, but to our Lord...though we really don't want to get our hands dirty...though we would hate and kill and betray if everything was in our hands. Even though we wish to deny this truth. How can we love as you have? -Seemingly simple and profound, yet impossible in our hands without you.
It's clear just how dirty that water has become. And how your voice is lost in our babble.

Lord, wash away all that, and then wrap your love around us.
May we stop to ponder before we walk on.
Then by your power, may your call to love each other as you have loved emerge in us, but when it does may it always be you they see.

God changed him too

1 Samuel 1:9-18 is the prompt for the day.
On the heels of this past Sunday's lectionary texts of the "dry bones" and Lazarus, today we see the story of Hannah, mocked and taunted by her rival, Penninah who has scores of offspring while Hannah is unblessed. Weeping at the temple she confronts the priest who seemingly speaks to her first to encourage her to get lost, but God has other things in store. I first began to wonder about all of those times that we would rather chase away those who remind us of barren places, losses, poverty, dark sides we prefer to place far away lest we confront our own fears. We see it in those we pass on the street and even in churches that have lost their way yet long for new life. And it is easy to see ourselves in the Hannah role, but what about the priest?

He must have been changed too.
The God-person who sits by the doorway of the holy place.
Face to face with desperate unending pleading, and weeping
His heart as barren as her womb-
Locked up yet holding the keys.
How easy to call her a spectacle
For embodying “pray without ceasing”
And daring to believe that maybe, just maybe…
God will again create something where it seems like uninterrupted nothing.
Bring joy out of a desert of anticipated loss.
He had to be changed as implored,
Look at me-see me!

She who dared to confront him with his own dried up faith!
Remember me!
While he prefers to side with those who mock.
“I have been talking all this time, yet you do not hear me,” she says.
“Barren doesn’t fit your model of growth and success,” she says.
How easy it is to bless those who are already blessed.
Give me more than your pity, or your leftovers.
Give me your heart, praying with mine that I may have abundance too.
He had to be changed as he spoke to her, spoke with her- O Lord, hear our prayer.
Maybe he too only mouthed the prayers,
Like we do when we are so worn out, unsure but praying anyway.
Saying “may” God grant
Leaving open the question
And the seeming impossibility
That birthed new life.
How could it be that SHE changed HIM?
Lord, open our eyes and ears to those who cry to you from barren places
In all of those moments when we too
Say in our hearts- Lord only knows how this can change
Create in us fertile ground that expects
You will indeed bring forth your surprise and joy.