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.