Caught in the Spinning Mirror Ball

In The Message translation of the Gospel passage for the fourth Sunday of Advent this year (Luke 1:47-55), Eugene Peterson has Mary tell Elizabeth:

"I'm bursting with God-news;

I'm dancing the song of my Savior God."

I will never cease to be amazed at how God works to focus my attention.  Weeks ago when I posted the cover picture on my Facebook page (which I've also put below) of my Christmas parade debut as a dancer, I had no way of knowing that in the last week I'd be reading Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr.  I bought the book last summer, hoping to read it before starting my new job.  That didn't happen, and the book, along with 4-5 others I had ordered, sat on the bookshelf until last week.

In the early pages, I was struck by a quote that Rohr uses from author and psychologist, Bill Plotkin:  "...many of us learn to do our survival dance, but we never get to our sacred dance." Later as Rohr talks about the spiritual journey of the second half of our lives, he notes that as we age the dance "has a seriousness to it, but also an unself-conscious freedom of form that makes it bright and shining."  I'm beginning to embrace the "unself-conscious freedom," and liking it.

I moved from tap and ballet lessons as a 6 year old to dancing behind the closed door of my bedroom along with vinyl records turning on the portable record player to somehow emerging on the disco floor as a late teenager.  This week's addition to the Advent altar is a scarf that reminds me of the ones I wore as Donna Summer blared through the speakers.  It also represents how my dance has changed.  In the late 1970s, the scarf was a decorative accessory meant only to flow with the movements of the music, shimmering in the light of the disco ball.  Now, the scarves I wear have a purpose - to keep my neck warm, my ears covered from the wind, and my nose from turning bright red.  Oh, the mystery of life that continues to unfold with growing older: That life's ultimate meaning does not come in youth or defined by our culture, but through a difficult, yet amazing walk of faith, recounting God's presence on the journey and discovering new ways to draw closer to the Sacred.

So why is it that churches hesitate (or just plain fail) to challenge adult faith?  We're too often content to focus our energies on supporting and nurturing "adults" where they are right now in their faith. Yet God isn't calling us to do that.  God is urging us to realize that the 50 year old ballerina costumes don't fit any longer, that we're dancing to different music - much less that the record player has all but disappeared, and that the years have brought new purpose and meaning to life. 

We need to transform how the church is in ministry with maturing adults before the scarf gets caught in the spinning mirror ball and chokes us.... 

Confession is Good for the Soul (Especially on Sleepless Nights)

This third weekend of Advent has been quite a musical one.  It started with a somewhat private concert at the Christmas Gala at The Hermitage in Richmond on Friday night and ended with rousing choruses of “Because He Lives” with all those gathered in the living room at the Lydia Roper House in Norfolk. In between, there were three offerings of the Christmas cantata at Shady Grove UMC.  Now, here it is 3:30 AM on Monday morning as I sit with a cup of chamomile tea trying to make myself go back to sleep. It’s not working, and a few minutes ago I realized why.

As I reflect on this Advent Sunday that is supposed to remind us of joy as we move closer to Christmas, I must confess that I haven’t been there when it comes to my own faith life for quite a while now. This is the first cantata that I have sung in four years, and I’ve offered a lot of excuses when people have asked me why.  The joy of singing – well, no…if I am really being honest and confessing my sins…the act of public worship – had become a “job.” It wasn’t until I was reading a book by Jane Marie Thibault recently that I suddenly was slapped in the face with where I have been spiritually.  In A Deepening Love Affair: The Gift of God in Later Life, Thibault wrote that there are many who go through life “doing church” when their inner spirit is stagnated.  I read her description and wept because that’s where I’ve been for a long time now.  I’ve known it…. I’ve talked to Spiritual Directors, Pastors, friends, lay leaders, and strangers about it and how it impacts the church…. I’ve attempted to cast it aside or cover it up…. I’ve tried to help others with it but never confessed it for myself.

So in reflecting on this Gaudete Sunday weekend, there were many joy-filled moments, and most of them had to do with music. 

·    “Little St. Nick” sung by a barbershop quartet of amazing 60+ year old men just has to make you smile.  As they talked about channeling the Beach Boys, Steve and I sat with new friends that a year ago we could never have imagined being in our lives, in a place that I never saw as a part of my faith journey at this point in my life.

·     I pondered the experience of the cantata in a special way with all those who had multiple generations of their families singing, playing instruments, and representing the characters of the Christmas story together. I was 13 when I finally got to sing in the Adult Choir.  I could hardly wait for the day that I could join my father in that choir.  We got to sing one cantata together in 1974 before he died the next February.  So thank you to all those in the Shady Grove choir who let me relive that experience this weekend with you and your children.   You had no way of knowing that you were helping me experience that joy once again.

·     Bill and Gloria Gaither came up several times this weekend – from a conversation in our living room on Saturday afternoon with a friend who was recalling how his mother loved to listen to their music to those rousing choruses Sunday afternoon led by Group Therapy from Messiah UMC in Chesapeake – otherwise known as “The Roper House Band.”  Oh, the power of spontaneously singing together - strangers and friends. It amazes me how many times God can work in a short period of time to try to get a point across!

So today’s addition to the Advent altar is a Methodist Hymnal, 1964 edition, given by neighbors of my grandparents to Fieldale Methodist Church in memory of my great grandmother, Martha Lovell.  With it comes tremendous gratitude to all those who have instilled in me a love of church music and been so instrumental in my discipleship – even those of you who forced me to wear those little white choir poncho-type things with big red bows under my chin!

 

"Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! Make it as clear as you can to all you meet that you’re on their side, working with them and not against them. Help them see that the Master is about to arrive. He could show up any minute!”

Philippians 4:4-5 (The Message)

 

Halos Made of a Gold Strand of Tinsel

I received my first angel ornament as a Christmas present in 1982.  Then, the ornament was just a wonderful way to remember 4 years as a Meredith Angel.  The person who gave the gift had no way of knowing that it would start a 32 year tradition of asking for and purchasing angel ornaments as memories of people and places.  The original is hanging near the top of our tree. With it are angels from Bermuda and Hawaii, homemade and expensive, stained glass to straw.  The list could go on and on since almost every ornament on the tree is an angel.  Each holds special memories.  Two things always top our tree:  an angel with head and hands of porcelain that was my first real purchase for my own Christmas tree (and still put away each year in the original box with a price tag from Globman's Department Store in Martinsville) and a halo made of a gold strand of tinsel with hanging stars.

 

There have been so many people who have entered my life and guided me on my faith journey - some for a short time, others for a lifetime.  Each has left a lasting impression on my heart and soul.  Some have taught me what true faith should be.  Others have shown me what it shouldn't be.  When I moved into the first apartment on my own in Richmond, I started searching for a United Methodist Church to make my church home.  I visited a number of churches in the West End of Henrico and have interesting stories I could share about those experiences.  Honestly, I visited Shady Grove a couple of times early in that journey, but it didn't feel right at the time.  I was still searching when I went back in December of 1992.  That afternoon, I put on my most ragged, comfortable clothes and pulled out all the craft stuff I was going to use to make Christmas presents.  Things were spread out all across the living and dining area of my little condo.  Soon there was a knock at the door, and before me stood two women who introduced themselves, said they were from Shady Grove, and handed me an African violet.  While I desperately tried to apologize for how I looked and the state of my home, Diana Atkins showed me nothing but the most unconditional acceptance.  It wouldn't be long before Diana had me cooking dinners for the Short Pump Ruritans, chairing the UMW bazaar, and joining her in all kinds of antics at church - one of which was an Advent drama about angels.  Our angels wore white sweatshirts, poster board angel wings, and halos made of a gold strand of tinsel with hanging stars.

 

Diana was one of the most authentic people I have ever known.  She battled cancer, dealt with a multitude of family issues, struggled as we all do, but through it all you knew Diana loved you and loved Jesus.  She would give all she had to please God - with no pretense or pride.  A hair stylist by trade, Diana had to do my hair for the first family portrait that Steve, Ashley, and I had taken.  And even though our wedding was an intimate gathering of family and friends, Diana was insistent on doing my hair again - with the same professionalism that she would have given to a bride having the most lavish of weddings. Only a few years would pass before Diana's health would take a turn for the worse, and soon she would be gone.

 

The day after I received word that Diana had died, I pulled a small, thick envelope from our mailbox.  I recognized the address, and was floored to find a tiny book about friendship inside from Diana.  She had written short notes on a few pages, placed stars by quotes she liked, and underlined words and phrases.  She was continuing to offer me her unconditional love even in death.

 

Diana always reminds me of what church should be: a place where you are loved no matter what the first impression may be, a place where others take the time to recognize your gifts and help you find ways to use them to serve others, a place where no matter what your backgrounds or circumstances in life you can laugh, learn, and love together.  The Rev. Dr. Russell Levenson, Jr., rector of St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Houston, TX, wrote in his sermon for the 2nd Sunday in Advent in 2011 that the lectionary reading about John the Baptist calls us "to be beside one another - building paths for each other and all the while, allowing Christ to increase."  That was Diana's lesson for me. As I put the tiny little book and halo made of a gold strand of tinsel on my Advent altar this year, I pray that my life may have the same impact on others.

Diana - angel on the right.

The Story of the Green Lion

It was 1972.  I was 11 years old. Our Girl Scout troop, which met at Fieldale UMC - my home church, was preparing for our Christmas party and gift exchange.  It was to be one of those typical children's parties where everyone was to bring a gift worth a certain amount of money.  I have no idea what that amount was, but for some of the girls in our troop it must have seemed like a fortune.  Now remember, this was Henry County, VA, where most of our parents worked hard in furniture and textile factories.  They provided for their families, saved all they could, and still took out loans for vacations and special purchases. They had a pride in their work that showed in each piece of wood that was cut, each stroke of stain that was added, every piece of yarn that was woven into a sweatshirt or a towel, and each thread of nylon put onto a spindle. 

 

The gifts were to be numbered as we placed them under the Christmas tree in the church fellowship hall.  Later, we would each have our chance to draw a number and select the gift that matched.  I have no memory of what I brought.  Before the gift giving began, our troop leader pulled me aside.  The way I remember it, she shared with me that one of the girls was not able to bring a gift that was worth as much as the others but she and her family could not afford more.  If I would accept the gift that she had brought so that she would not be embarrassed, Mrs. Wilson would bring me another gift later.  So I took the number.  What I found inside the wrapping was a ball and jacks.

 

A short time after the party, Mrs. Wilson gave me a ceramic green lion: the same green lion with a tear coming from its eye that this day sits in a curio cabinet in one of the bedrooms of my house.  Each time I look at it, I'm reminded of the real meaning of the Advent season and Christmas.  Yet this year with all that is going on in the world, I'm drawn to the tear. 

• Our Christian belief in the true meaning of Christmas calls us to love each other, no matter how much money we have or where we live.  Today, there seems to be more hatred and questioning of each other than love and certainly little understanding of differing opinions. Maybe we all need to shed a tear this Advent.

• Christmas should remind us of the necessity of honoring one another as children of God, no matter what color our skin tone or number of years of experience on this earth.  But just listen to the news stories. We're about as far away from living in community as we can get. If we’re ever to become the beloved community of God, we need to shed lots of tears this Advent.

• If the collective whole is to thrive, the unique gifts each person offers must be recognized, appreciated, and respected: whether they are gold, frankincense, and myrrh or friendship, laugher, balls and jacks.  But sadness surrounds us because we can't see the value in one another or more importantly, even the value of life as stories of violence around the world escalate.  How can we not shed tears this Advent?

• And sometimes, we have to wait, eagerly anticipating what is yet to come - just as Advent calls us to search our hearts for a few weeks as we anticipate the celebration of the birth of Emmanuel. However, as I write people are still battling with each other to get inside retail stores for the best deals on material stuff that a few weeks from now will mean little.  I wonder if Jesus is shedding a few tears over us this Advent?

I've decided that this Advent, I'm going to place a reminder from my journey of faith beside each correctly colored candle in my not-so-traditional Advent candle holder.  The green lion will be put out today.  And with it, if I can find them, will be a set of jacks with a ball.  May they continue to remind me of the most sacrificial gift I’ve ever received - God's Son - and keep me grounded in the real meaning of the season.

Make My Life an Alleluia

I was blessed recently to hear Ruth Elaine Schram's choir anthem, "Make My Life an Alleluia," for the first time.  I've found myself thinking about the second verse numerous times since then.

"Make my life an alleluia, a gift of love to You, my King.

I will join with all creation in the song that the heavens sing!

The earth will turn, and the planets spin, 

as the seasons ebb and flow;

Still, Your grace surrounds me as I go.

Lord, make my life an alleluia."

I have really found myself discerning the ebb and flow of the seasons, and how they return.  This might have a little to do with the fact that I now spend my work days focused on people who are aging, and the resulting impact that my job change is having on my contemplation of my own life course. Experiences of this week have added to all this deep thinking....

- "The earth will turn..."  I was on the Eastern Shore for a Learning Circle at the Hermitage on Tuesday.  I had just sat down to have breakfast when a familiar face appeared to my right.  There stood a former Exceptional Education teacher that I had worked with in the Henrico County Public Schools more than 15 years ago.  A reunion in the least expected place.  

- "...and the planets spin..."  During that Learning Circle, I was struck by a story shared by one of the participants.  He told us about both of his grandmothers who would tug on their gray hair and say, "You don't get this by being stupid."  I had to stop momentarily and consider how God's grace has sustained me to this point of gray hairs and the amazing people of generations before me who have mentored me by their wisdom and experience.  

- "...as the seasons ebb and flow..."  I was at a conference in Nashville several weeks ago when a woman asked if she could join the three of us who were sitting together.  As she introduced herself, I realized that she was the woman I had been sharing emails and telephone conversations with for 6 or more years as part of my service on the SEMAR Board of Trustees for the Southeastern Jurisdiction of The UMC.  Through all those years, we had never met, but suddenly in Nashville, we found each other.  She asked before leaving if she could take a selfie with me just to prove to all the others she worked with that I really did exist.  Today, one of her coworkers who had been in on many of those same emails and phone calls, called our office asking for the development person.  He got to me, and we talked as if we had known each other for years - not just as faceless voices, but true friends. 

God's plans, not mine.  God's timing, not mine.  God's grace: thank God it's mine! Now if my life can just be an alleluia, a gift of love in return.

Be the Leader...

I had the opportunity yesterday to hear Simon Sinek and see him face-to-face.  I had seen his TED talk on "Starting with Why?" but never thought I'd spend more than an hour of my day waiting in line to get a signed copy of his latest book.  Yet, I did stand in line for about 30 minutes to buy the book and then spent another 45 minutes waiting for his signature.  A great benefit of that time was the networking that occurred. 

The woman behind me in the purchase line works with the senior communities of The United Methodist Homes of New Jersey.  Her story was one of losing her long-time job in sales with a manufacturing company, then finding an opportunity with UMHNJ.  She ended her story with "I feel like I'm where I was supposed to be all along."  We talked about how both of our career paths had brought us to the places we now find ourselves and what Sinek had just told us in the general session about leadership not being measured on a daily basis, but only over time.

Standing in the second line with a CEO and board member from a continuing care community of Quaker heritage, I Iistened with great interest as they described how they used consensus and silence, true values of their faith heritage, in their board meetings and decision-making.  Intrigued by their style of governance and wishing that I could experience board leadership of that type, I caught myself reflecting on a statement that Sinek made during his presentation that "We've all sat in meetings and thought, I'll never get this time back."  I've been in way too many church meetings like that.

In front of me was a young man who was representing a construction company that specialized in senior communities.  He described how his grandfather inspired him to move from building office buildings to applying universal design principles in housing for seniors.  He spoke with great passion about this purpose that he had discovered for his life and vocation.  With three copies of the book in his hand, he asked Sinek to dedicate one to him and the two others to members of the team with whom he worked.  I heard him tell Sinek how much he appreciated his comments that leaders are not responsible for the results, but are responsible for the people who make the results.

My night ended in conversation with someone who said she was moved to tears during Sinek's presentation - not because something specific he said touched her, but because she wanted to so badly be in a setting where the type of leadership he described was evident.  "Leaders set the environment. Leaders go first, and make it safe for others to follow." - from Leaders Eat Last, the book I waited so long to have signed.

How different would our churches (and our world) be if we were the types of leaders who strive first to create a safe place for others to share their stories, tell us about their needs, and know that we are fully present in listening to and hearing them?  Of course, leadership can't stop with the listening, but requires commitment and action, often in challenging and demanding ways.  How willing are we to be demonatrate this type of leadership?

Making a Difference

Last Sunday after worship, I received a "thank you" for speaking the truth - the reality as I saw it - during a church meeting last spring. I was also thanked for asking for a time of prayer before a major decision and then offering that prayer at the same meeting.  For fourteen years I encouraged this in lay leadership training classes.  The one time I modeled it in my own church, I'm thanked months later for my courageousness.  I hadn't planned on going to that church meeting. Earlier in the day, however, I received a call from one of those in lay leadership just to talk through some questions. God nudged for the rest of the day, and so I went.  And now, months later, I'm told that my presence made a difference.

Today, while sitting at lunch with an 85+ year old, I listened as he described a 50-year reunion of co-workers that had taken place last Wednesday.  The group had worked together to create, construct, and deploy a satellite that gathered information from space that is still used in weather prediction models.  As he closed his story, he shared that he was so thankful that he could leave this type of legacy.  A second person came to join us who was about the same age.  After hearing stories from his ministry as a pastor, I asked him as the conversation came to an end, to do one thing for me:  pray that I might make a difference in my new work role.  "That I can do," he said.  

The e-newsletter from the Lewis Center for Church Leadership at Wesley Theological Seminary always ends with a section on asking the right questions. Months ago, there was a story about a church leader that asked one particular question before every major decision.  The question was something like this: Will those who come after us shake their heads and say "What were they thinking?" or will they thank us for our leadership?

My prayer for this day:  that we might all leave a legacy, big or small, that others will thank us for, hopefully before we take our last breaths. 

Thank Offerings

Here is the final devotion to go along with September's lessons in the International Bible Study series (for Sunday, September 28th).  The scripture focus is Jeremiah 33:2-11.  Again, if you haven't been following and want to know why this is being posted, look back 3 weeks.  After this, I'll be back to "normal" entries, whatever that is for me!  Here's the devotion, written during my last week working with the VAUMC Conference....

As I write this final devotion, I am close the end of my 14 years of service as part of the Connectional Ministries staff.  The question that caught my attention in the preparation materials for this week’s lesson was: “How do you mourn your losses?”  Let’s see, for the last few weeks, I’ve cried every time I’ve been asked to pray at the start or close of a meeting or phone call, while offering the blessing before a meal, and during the entire time that I was assisting Bishop Cho with serving Communion as the Bishop’s Cabinet and Connectional Ministries staff gathered together.  Yesterday, the tears came as I read cards from my fellow staff members.  Tonight it was while writing an email message for a gift I was honored to receive.  So, how do I mourn my losses while at the same time being excited about new possibilities?  I am eagerly looking forward to new things to learn, new adventures to undertake, and new relationships to form. Wait a minute!  Didn’t I start these devotions saying the same thing?

Jeremiah is still imprisoned when God reminds him once again that those who seek God and call upon God’s name will be joyful once again.  The voices of the faithful will be heard singing, laughing, and rejoicing.  They will bring their thank offerings to the Lord.  

Just like the inhabitants of Judah who had turned away from God, I’m giving thanks that God forgives:

- all my mistakes when I didn’t make the best choices over these 14 years – no, let me be honest and say over the last 53 years,

- my pride that doesn’t always let me admit I’m not perfect,

- procrastination when I’ve had lots of time to prepare,

- my weakness when I’ve thrown up my hands and yelled, “I can’t do this,” while knowing that God is the one who equips,

- and my complaining and whining which are certainly not reflective of who God wants me to be.

And I remember that God offers the healing:

- as I need to forgive myself for things left undone,

-when I harbor grudges or have a hard time forgiving the hurts,

- in times when I’ve had to accept God at work in ways that I didn’t plan for or want.

And I bring my thank offerings, realizing that difficult times are followed by recovery, that tears often come before laughter, that it takes chaos to bring about calm, and after Good Friday comes Easter.

A Little Gardening Therapy

I was very surprised to be asked to autograph a copy of this month's Advocate while visiting one of the VUMH communities this past week. Of course, the person wasn't serious, but it was nice to be recognized for writing a Bible study lesson.  Here's the devotion for Sunday, September 21, that goes along with the International Bible Study series on Jeremiah 32:2-9, 14-15. If you have missed why I'm sharing these lessons, look back 2 weeks.  Now, for a little gardening therapy..,.

 

War is raging. Jerusalem is under siege. Jeremiah sits in jail for his prophesying. And what does he decide to do?  Buy a piece of land from his cousin.  Everything is going badly yet in the midst of it, Jeremiah decides to make a commitment that shows those around him how God has promised that the future will be different.  Jeremiah demonstrates the kind of hope, the commitment to action, that prepares the ground for the future.  It’s the kind of hope that can prepare the church for a new day, a new reality, a new way of being in community.

 

There is a quote from Praying in the Wesleyan Spirit by Paul Chilcote that reads “…inner healing requires a long process of divine therapy.”  There are days when I realize that in addition to lots of divine therapy, I need dirt therapy.  I just need to play in the soil – to plant and trim and create.  I need to turn the soil with a shovel and push the wheelbarrow.  There are times when I need to dig up dead rose bushes and replace them with new ones.  And get the scratches to prove I did it.  I need to pull weeds, and haul all the dead stuff to the dump.  There are just times when I need to get dirty and sweat while playing in God’s creation.  Dirt therapy: as a professionally trained social worker, I recommend it highly.

 

As a Christian who knows that no matter what happens God’s final word is always renewal, there’s nothing better to remind me of who is ultimately in charge of all life than playing in the dirt.  When healing and wholeness for whatever struggles we face are needed, there is no better therapy.  The tulips will bloom again, the herbs will grow, the seasons will change.  God is always making an investment in the future.  My job is to prepare the soil, care for the seeds, and prepare for the growth and changes.  As Christians and as a church, do our lives, choices, and priorities show that we are making an investment in the future, or are we too preoccupied with life’s trials and woes? Are you willing today to go out and buy a piece of property? Or even commit to cutting the dead limbs off the rose bush?

Equipped for the Present and the Future

Well, The Advocate has arrived in people's mailboxes, and my mother has told me how many copies of the September Bible study she forced the church secretary to make.  You can see more about why I'm sharing these devotions in the start of last week's blog. Guess it's time now to share the devotion I wrote for September 14th based on Jeremiah 31:31-37. 

Carolyn Winfrey Gillette composed the words of a hymn, sung to the tune of “Jesus Loves Me,” where the verses tell the story of God’s covenant with Noah, Abraham and Sarah, Moses, and Jeremiah.  The fourth verse of “Long Ago, God Reached in Love,” reads:

“Jeremiah came to know:

God would help us change and grow;

so God’s law would fill each heart,

giving us a fresh new start.”

The final verse of her hymn shares that Jesus came to fulfill God’s loving plan for us. This new life through Christ is what transforms us and the world.  With all that is wrong with the world, our faith in God guides us toward hope and joy.  As Jeremiah told his people, the present may be filled with despair and weeping, but God promises a different future – a fresh start, a new covenant.

Several years ago I helped with a New Consecration Sunday stewardship program at a church in the Richmond area. As I was preparing to meet with church leaders, there were many things happening in the world which brought devastation to communities and fear to hearts. I researched a little history of 1972, the year I was confirmed into membership in The UMC.  Some of the things I read seemed strangely similar to events around our world then and even today….

• Back in 1972, the world was concerned about an outbreak of smallpox in Yugoslavia.  Now, the death till is rising from the Ebola virus.
• A 7.0 earthquake killed 1/5th of the population of the Iranian province of Fars in 1972. The news stories of the past weeks have focused on recovery in China following an upper magnitude quake, typhoons in The Philippines, and hurricanes headed toward Hawaii. 
• In 1972, the last U.S. ground troops were withdrawn from Vietnam.  Our family now awaits the return of a soldier from Afghanistan.

Today, as my faith journey enters the second half of a century, I realize more and more clearly how each of us has the power to shape and change the lives of others – those in our families, those sitting next to us in the pews on Sunday morning, and people around the world – by the example of our discipleship as followers of Jesus. God’s promises don’t change our circumstances.  The world situation or our personal crisis may not suddenly be transformed. Yet we are called to remember that we’re living under God’s new covenant, one that equips us for the present and the future. So the question for each of us is this: “What is God calling me to do to extend Christ’s transforming, restorative love to others?”

Lost or Certain About the Future?

The time has come to get back to the blog now that I've got a week under my belt on my new job with the Virginia United Methodist Homes.  I'm still going to be sharing my stories, but they will come from a variety of new settings and places - yet still with the same goal of trying to impact (or I guess I should really say, transform) the world as a follower of Jesus Christ in the United Methodist tradition and person still trying to be the best lay leader and lay servant that I can be. 

Before I left my position with the Virginia Conference UMC, I agreed to write the devotions for the International Bible Study lessons for September in The Adovcate, our Conference news magazine.  This series of lessons focuses on the 30th - 33rd chapters of the book of Jeremiah. That task turned out to be much harder than I ever imagined, in part because of the emotions connected with leaving a place of comfort for adventures in a new, unknown world.  The story I was living felt too much like the times Jeremiah was describing!  Since The Advocate will be out soon, I decided that the way to get back to the blog was to share what I had written with you.  If you subscribe to The Advocate, you can read ahead!   

The lesson for next Sunday, September 7 comes from Jeremiah 30:1-3, 18-22. The passage begins:

“The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: 

Write in a book all the words that I have spoken to you.” 

(Appropriate words for a blogger,right?)

This time of the year always reminds me of returning to school.  I find myself reminiscing about going back to class, new things to learn, and new adventures to undertake.  Various scholars tell us that Jeremiah was a very young man at the time of his call.  Some think Jeremiah may not even have been 20 years old when God instructed him to “write in a book” all the words God had spoken to him.  I wonder if he might have been more interested in going back to school than announcing God’s judgment on the nations.

I was feeling lost back in the fall of 1979 when I left the comfort of Henry County and headed to North Carolina to college.  I didn’t know a single person who was attending the same school, but something about the campus the first time I set foot on the property made me feel it was where I was supposed to me.  My mother did not seem to feel the same way when we moved into the dorm.  She kept noting that I didn’t have the same type of clothing or jewelry that the other young women had.  I don’t think I had ever heard the description of “preppy” until then. I knew about overalls and steel-toed safety shoes, not espadrilles, madras plaid, or ribbon belts.  On her first visit back to campus, my mom handed me a few things she thought I needed:  a pink Izod shirt and a gold add-a-bead necklace.  At times, I really didn’t feel that I fit in, and the shirt didn’t help.

What felt safe when I was missing the security of my home community, what reminded me most that I would move beyond the loss of friendships to new relationships - from feeling desperate for a return to the life I had known to a new way of being, came from a ministry intern at the Wesley Foundation.  While on a retreat that first fall of college, we celebrated Holy Communion on the beach.  That was the first time I ever remember being called by name as I received the bread and juice.  Oh how powerful that was!  I had been lost in a world that was changing dramatically.  I was young, but God called my name in a new way. Sounds a little like Jeremiah, doesn’t it?  I was reminded in that moment – in a way I will never forget - that I was a child of God and covered in grace because Jesus had died for me.  I wasn’t called to write the words God spoke that day in a book, but they have been written on my heart ever since.  I was no longer lost, but certain of God’s promises.

Whatever Way in Life You Go

In 2008 when my mom moved from her home of almost 60 years into a senior apartment, among the many things that came into my possession – to now keep at my house – were scrapbooks of the notes and cards she received when my dad died in 1975.  At 14, I wasn’t really too concerned about what she was doing with those cards back then.  I knew where she sat at night while I was doing homework (and other stuff) and worked on them.  I was very much aware of the sacred space where she had kept the scrapbooks.  When she moved, I became the caretaker of the books.  Of course, she told me that I didn’t have to keep them, but I can’t bear to part with them.

My mother kept every note, and placed each one lovingly in these books.  I looked at each one when I brought them to my house. Inside are notes from school teachers who taught my dad, a resolution from the company where he worked recognizing his service, and notes from men he fought with in WWII. Tucked right inside the cover of one of the scrapbooks was a copy of the thank you note that my mother sent the church.  It was read to the congregation on March 23, 1975, by Rev. Frank Laine who was serving Fieldale UMC at the time.  I remember sitting in the choir the day the note was read and being totally floored that my mother wrote this beautiful piece.  I’d never known her to write anything other than Christmas cards.  

I’ve re-read it many times.  Here is what it says (and why there are often tulips as my Twitter and Facebook cover pictures):

”As I walked into my living room Sunday morning, I received a wonderful message from the lovely tulips that had bloomed out in the night. Each bloom had spread out into a different direction and I know Jesus spoke to me through them saying, “Whatever way in life you go, just ask and I’ll be by your side.”  Verse 15 from the 50^th Chapter of Psalms reads, “And call upon me in the time of trouble and I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me.”  I know He has been with me, walking by my side in our sorrow.  Living for Jesus and loving Him is a wonderful and sweet life.  I know that my loved one is with Him today.  In my quiet moments, I can hear Gene saying, “He touched me and made me whole.” (My dad sang that song in churches all across the Martinsville area.  The note went on…)

I want to thank everyone in our church for everything they have done for us and we love every one of you.

Tomorrow’s sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mass of clouds, but it will rise.  Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow for yet it is unborn.  Yesterday is gone, that leaves only one day, today.  Today I will try to do something for my Jesus because He has been so good to me and my family.

Remember us in your prayers.”

Every time I see a tulip, I think about this note and the statement in it, “Whatever way in life you go, just ask and I’ll be by your side.”  

Even though I didn’t have to rise early this morning, the natural alarm clock in our house (a four-legged one named Darla) was up and wanting to go out at 6:15 AM.  And since I’m technically not employed between now and August 25^th, on the first day of my working life when I don't have a job to worry about, I was up with the sun, watching a woodpecker feast on a tree, and remembering my mother’s note and of the words from Matthew 6:28-34.  This version is from The Message.

“Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.

If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”

And the tulips continue to say “Whatever way in life you go, just ask and I’ll be by your side.”  

And Lesson #1...

I've come to Lesson #1.  If you're looking at "Walking Martha Home" for the first time, you might want to look back at May 29th to have an idea how this got started.  Little did I know then that this lesson would come at this moment in time. It was much easier to write the original list for an intern that was leaving and to make a scrapbook of memories for him from Camp Rainbow Connection than it is to look back on my own time.  Ten years ago, I wasn't thinking about how I would personally have to live out this faith lesson in such a dramatic way in my life.  Here's Lesson #1:

Memories are great treasures.  Using what you have learned from your experiences – not just remembering with fondness what took place in the past – will lead you forward in your spiritual journey and make even a small part of our world a better place.

Back in October, I wrote an entry to this blog while sitting in a hotel in Nashville waiting for the start of the meeting of the directors of the General Board of Discipleship.  I was pondering how I got to that moment, that place - the opportunity to serve the denomination and the Virginia Conference.  I was reflecting that morning on the many opportunities that God had set before me.  I wrote that we never know where God will lead us, what opportunities will present themselves or what roadblocks there might be along the way.   (What did God have up God's sleeve that day???)

Today, I sit in a hotel in Manilla anticipating the start of another GBOD board meeting.  I have even more things to ponder as I've seen life here these last two days - a life so very different from my comfortable setting in Glen Allen. Despite the challenges of educating children in a place where life is so hard, I saw the dedication of the faculty and staff of Harris Memorial College yesterday as they talked about the dream of early Methodist missionaries to The Philippines to provide learning and experiences to young women who would become deaconesses across the islands, bringing people to know and follow Jesus Christ.  Today, almost every UMC here has 2 or more deaconesses leading program and worship ministries.  And several times we heard them say they do it for little recognition and less money.  I heard the current administrator at Mary Johnston Hospital say he immediately said no to taking the position when first asked because the hospital was in dire financial and physical states.  But God nudged him on, and now as the hospital continues to improve financially and in its physical equipment and buildings, the work of providing care to the poorest of the poor is strong in a part of the city that in many ways has been cast aside.  I worshiped with the staff and District Superintendents of the Manilla Episcopal Area, singing "Blest Be the Tie That Binds" at the end of the service as we held hands across the room.  Then tonight, we met and shared a meal with the Division of Ministries with Young People, hearing the personal stories of those who attended the Global Young People's Convocation and Legislative Assembly only to encounter super typhoon Glenda.  Yet, before the Convo ended, the young people - current and future leaders of our church - agreed to a statement of unity which will be a model for the rest of us.  And I wonder how I got here....

I've also been thinking a lot about the task (physical and emotional) of returning to the Conference Office next week to try to wrap up 14 years of service:  all the memories, all the stories, all the mistakes I'd like to forget.  I've been pondering the start of new adventures with the Virginia United Methodist Homes and other changes in our personal lives - all at ages when most people would probably like to tell me and Steve that we are completely crazy for making drastic changes in our comfortable, stable lives. And I wonder how I got here....

Quite a few years ago now (my guess is 1997-98), Fieldale United Methodist Church where I grew up and was confirmed, had planned a summer revival service with a guest speaker.  I don’t remember who the speaker was to be, but I very clearly remember the night my phone rang and the church lay leader asked for help.  They were just a couple of weeks from the start of the revival and the speaker was hospitalized.  After an emergency meeting, the church leadership decided to have a laity-led revival.  There were some speakers from the area they were going to invite and a few of us who had grown up in the church.  He asked if I would come speak one of the nights.  I was honored that they thought I had something worth sharing!

As I thought back on revivals I had attended, all the guest speakers had vivid, grabbing stories of how Jesus touched their hearts.  Many of the personal witnesses I could recall were about events or moments in time when these people knew God had changed their lives.  I don’t have that type of story.  I can’t talk about the moment I knew I believed and accepted Jesus.  What I told the people of Fieldale Church was that I had a legacy.  Because of them, their faith and example…my faith had grown and become strong.  Because of their commitment along with my parents on the day I was baptized to nurture me in the faith and raise me in the church, I could stand before them sharing the witness of what God has done in my life.  I constantly give thanks for how they shared their faith with me. And I know how I got here!

I've come to the end of my “Top 10 Lessons of Faith," but certainly not the end of the story. We each have our own story of faith to share, a witness, a legacy, a testimony…however you want to describe it.  Don’t let your story become just a treasured memory.  I challenge you to use your story to transform the lives of those around you for Jesus Christ. 

My prayer is that we may be the ones that the children and youth of today someday give thanks to for the lessons of faith that we offer to them.

And It All Started with Simple “Hellos”

I'm coming to the end of my Top Ten Faith Lessons.  Here's Lesson #2 for this week.

In the moment it takes to say “Hello” and offer a hand or hug in friendship, 

the world can change for one person.

I’ve been reflecting a lot in the last week about how I started my position on the Virginia Conference Connectional Ministries staff.  Most of you know by now that I will be leaving the staff on August 8.  Last week was extremely emotional, much more than I ever anticipated.  On Wednesday, I shared with the Bishop’s Vital Congregations Steering Team about my first three weeks on the job back in 2000.  It was hard to hold back tears as I told them of the requirement that the Personnel Committee first made clear during the initial interview that whomever took this position would travel for the first 3 weeks with the Voices of Youth, our Conference mission youth choir.  Little did I know how lasting friendships would be formed on that trip and the adventures that would take place between Salem, VA, and Tampa, FL, then back through the Virginia Conference.  It’s amazing now to see how the 47 youth who were on that trip are continuing to change lives through their ministries in various occupations in communities far and wide....And it all began with simple “hellos” at First UMC in Salem a little more than 14 years ago.

That trip also brought my first experience at Camp Rainbow Connection, where I got off the bus to find a camper stuck on top of a local fire truck.  He had gotten up there to ride in a parade through downtown Blackstone, but then couldn’t get down.  There was a whole group of CRC staff and volunteer fire fighters trying to get Barry down off that truck.  Last Thursday, I went to tell the On-Site Directors at Camp Rainbow Connection that I would be leaving.  We decided not to tell anyone else right then, but I certainly fought the tears as the campers and staff members told me they hoped I’d be back next year for the whole week.  As I drove up to the Assembly Center (...sorry, I will never be able to call it the Blackstone Conference and Retreat Center), I remembered that first day at camp in 2000 – arriving to Barry being stuck on the fire truck. And as I left in the rain on Thursday, I remembered leaving in the rain that very first week.  It was pouring rain as we boarded the Voices of Youth bus to begin the Virginia tour.  As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, Rev. Barry Foster shared story from the dedication of the new chapel at Africa University.  Dr. James Davis, president of Shenandoah University from 1982 – 2008, was in attendance for that dedication.  The rains came in and poured for days, including the big day of the ceremony.  But Dr. Davis said that it didn't dampen spirits at all because in that part of Africa, rain is the "BEST BLESSING" God can bestow on God's people.  He compared it to American's and our disappointment when it “rains on our parade” and how different the attitude was with the people of Zimbabwe on that dedication day....And it all started with simple “hellos” as a small parade crisis was being calmly handled.

Toward the end of that 2000 VOY trip, a song was composed that I have kept all these years.  It speaks to me again today, and so I share it with you.

STEPPING UP

Voices of Youth 2000

We stand upon the narrow step, and ask if God’s around.

We move up to the wider step, and know His love abounds.

Take a look and see that others need more help than me.

Who will stop and help them up as others pass them by?

No one seems to notice on that stair step there

That’s where I used to stand before, before I felt God’s care.

You meet someone who walks with you and shares your every stride.

God’s presence makes us sure of step; His love we cannot hide.

With innocent and childlike trust, His hand just reaches out

Helping others up the stairs as life goes rushing by…

Take a look and see; others need more help than me.

Who will stop and help you up as others pass you by?

Who will stop and help you up as others pass you by?

As others pass you by, as others pass you by

Words by Jerry Morgan

Guitar chords by David Crosier

Arrangement by Nicole Newcome and Kate Gillette

July 2000

I also have to include one of my very favorite pictures from these last 14 years.  It was taken on that trip and work at the Rosa Valdez Center in Tampa.  I don't recall the name of this little guy, but his smile still lives with me.

That one moment when you reach out in Christian love – even if just to say “Hello” and offer a hand or a hug - may totally transform another person’s life.  What an awesome responsibility!  Never let that opportunity pass by. It may even be your life that is changed.