At the beginning of this week, my sister reached out to me to invite me into a season of prayer with her. I agreed immediately. It’s always a good idea to have someone praying for you regularly. Each morning this week, we texted each other our prayer requests, and then at 10am we both entered into prayer on opposite sides of Florida.
About midweek we had a check-in phone call and chatted about our philosophies on prayer. My sister mentioned the Persistent Widow, whose pleas were answered by an unjust judge simply because she kept coming back. It’s one of those parables that has always made me think. This parable is found in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 18: Then Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart. He said: “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my accuser.’ For a while he refused, but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect of anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’” And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says, And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?” A couple Sundays ago, I preached a sermon on the difference between a relational God and a genie God (if you’re wondering, our God is the former). God does not exist for the sole purpose of answering our prayers like a Genie grants wishes. Our God created us to be in relationship with Him, and part of that relationship is sharing our intimate fears, desires, anxieties, and hopes. The judge in the parable is neither a genie nor relational. He is described as neither a man of faith nor of the people. He just answers the widow’s prayers because he is annoyed with her. Consider how a relational God may respond to this same pleading - a God who loves us and compassionately hears the intimacies of our prayers. This God answers our prayers not out of annoyance but out of the love He has for us. Matthew records another metaphor Jesus uses for prayer in his Gospel: “Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for bread, would give a stone? Or if the child asked for a fish, would give a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him!” I believe in the power of prayer, persistently brought to the Divine. I believe in the way prayer moves God’s heart and changes our own. I believe the relational nature of prayer between us and God is a gradual convergence of what we desire and what God desires for us. I don’t believe God gives us everything we want, but I do believe prayer aligns our wants to God’s. Sometimes explicitly praying for that is a growth opportunity in our prayer life and our relationship with God. “Lord, we believe you have the power to do all things, and we pray for this specific thing now. However, if it is not your will for this to happen and there is a plan far greater than my own, please change my heart’s desire to align with Your will. Amen.”
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I am currently on the way back from Lutherock camp with two 15-passenger vans full of kids and a van full of luggage after an incredible time in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. I wonder sometimes if God created the mountains to remind us how small we are in the vastness of Her creation. I can’t help but be humbled in the midst of trees that are hundreds of years older than me, sunsets that seem to close the gap between us and Heaven, and rapids that reflect the roiling strength of the Divine.
As we walked the trails through the Appalachians, I felt the sacredness of the journey of hikers that had gone before, and I was mindful of the hikers that will continue to traverse these paths long after me. Most hikes end in some beautiful, scenic view from the top of a mountain or a waterfall; but really, the whole journey reflects the brushstrokes of God. Life is kind of like that. So often we have a goal in mind we are striving towards—a graduation date, a promotion, a wedding date, retirement—but when we put blinders on and focus only on the destination, we miss the stunning beauty of the journey. If God wanted us to focus solely on Heaven, why would He have created tiny purple blossoms scattered through a meadow or the intricacies of a sea shell washed ashore? We honor God when we delight in His creation, and our lives are richer when we take the blinders off and allow wonder to be a constant companion on this journey of life. Run the race, as Paul advises to the Corinthians, but don’t miss the opportunity to marvel at the magic God imbues along the way. When my brother was a child, he loved Thomas the Tank Engine. We had two large plastic tubs that contained Thomas and his other train friends along with all their wooden train tracks that, when spread out across the floor, took up about half the living room. My brother was very particular about how the trains moved along the tracks and would correct anyone playing with him if their train wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
The most important place where your train absolutely needed to be in the right place at the right time was at the railroad switch. This part of the track was where two separate tracks would merge into one track so that two different trains could start from their own train platform and eventually ride the same railway. In order to prevent collisions, railway signals would illuminate when the path was clear for your train to enter the single railway. Sometimes my brother would decide that several trains were going to enter the single track from his platform, leaving my train to wait at its platform for what felt like forever. But had I moved my train from the platform before the signal turned green, it would have collided with my brother’s trains. So I had no choice but to wait until the path was clear. Sometimes this happens in life. We get stuck on a platform. We know we are being called from the platform, but we have no idea where we are being called to. What results is a frustrating state of limbo where we feel that we are not living into our purpose, but we don’t yet know what that purpose is. We begin to feel burnt out or lose motivation. We are no longer passionate about what we are doing, and we feel that our gifts and talents are not being utilized. We feel like we are wasting time. Or maybe the train track just isn’t clear yet. Perhaps there are a few more things we need to learn before we are prepared to live into our purpose. Perhaps the job we are being called to is not open yet or hasn’t even been created. Perhaps the place we are supposed to be living into our purpose is not yet ready to receive us or our work. Perhaps there is one big train still on the tracks that we have to wait to move. Trying to start the journey or go our own way before God has prepared us or the way will result in dead ends or train wrecks. In those times when you feel like your life is at a stand still, know that you are not wasting time. You are being called to be still, to wait in place, to prepare yourself to receive the call in God’s perfect timing. And when you do receive the call, you will know it is the right time because the path will be clear and the direction certain. For now, just breathe and be still, for “God has made everything suitable for its time.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Maybe we just need to have a little party on the platform while we wait (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13). During my time in Germany, I had the opportunity to visit Buchenwald Concentration Camp.
I have no photographs to share because it did not seem right to photograph a place so sacred - in all the horrors that had existed on those grounds. Although Buchenwald wasn’t a death camp, over 56 thousand prisoners died of starvation, over-work, failed escape attempts, or execution. On the silent bus ride back from Buchenwald, I wrote to process my experience. I am sharing this reflection with you this week. Buchenwald Walking through the gates of Buchenwald, the air seems to change. It’s as though the trees themselves are holding space for death and remembrance. The only eye-witnesses to the atrocities committed on these grounds. It is quiet. The birds and the wind are the only sounds. I was expecting arid, dead earth on this site. It seemed that would be fitting. Instead, the camp is surrounded by lush forest and grasses, tiny wildflowers blanketing the sites where the prison barracks once stood. It is as though God was cloaking the fields with flowers in lament, as God once clothed Adam and Eve in lament of their exile. Our God, allowing us the choice to love, knows that at any moment we may choose the opposite. Standing in a concentration camp, the physical embodiment of the Holocaust, we face humanity’s collective choice not to love. We see the fallout of humanity choosing death instead of life, destruction instead of creation. And in response to this cooperative destruction… Jesus weeps. Jesus wept when the barbed wire fences were constructed. Jesus wept when the first guards entered the camp. Jesus wept when the first prisoner walked through the gates of Buchenwald and never walked out. And so we stand on hallowed ground, blanketed by the tears of our Lord who cried out in anguish at the suffering of His people. And every Spring God lays flowers down in memory. Reminding us that even in spaces of death and destruction, God will create life anew. All around Buchenwald, buildings are decaying. But life encroaches between the bricks, grass growing through tile and stone. As though God is reclaiming with life this camp of death. As God reclaims us, over and over again. What keeps you from having your friends and family over more often?
For me, it's the paralyzing and unrealistic expectations I have on myself to be the perfect hostess in an immaculately clean house with a Michelin-Star menu. Yep, I don't have people over much. What this has done is create barriers between me and making space for community in my home. I've allowed myself to get in the way of my relationships. Can you imagine if Zacchaeus had responded to Jesus inviting Himself over with, "Sorry, Jesus, I haven't had time to clean up. I haven't had a chance to go grocery shopping, and I just don't have any food in the house." No, Zacchaeus without hesitation, "welcomed Jesus gladly." (Luke 19:5-6) What if this was our attitude towards hospitality? When we open our homes up to guests just as we are (in sweatpants and hair undone) and just as our house is (dishes in the sink, and our floors not mopped), our guests know that it's okay to come over just as they are. A level of intimacy develops when we stop hiding behind our masks of perfect host and gracious guest, and instead live into the reality that we share the same messes, the same bad days, the same imperfections. Building authentic relationships requires the vulnerability to let people in, even when we and our homes are a mess. In our lives and faith journeys, we often grapple with what to do with suffering. How do we reconcile our own suffering, others’ suffering, or the suffering of the wider world with a loving God? These questions are at the crux of much theological discussion and debate, developing into an entire school of thought called theodicy. I find it helpful, when grappling with theodicy, to look towards “the cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1) throughout the centuries, particularly those who lived during times of great trial and suffering, who provide thoughtful frameworks of hope and faith. This cloud of witnesses are our extended intentional community of faith. We are not alone in our wandering and wondering about God, and it is helpful to look to others who have walked these paths already to provide us the Wisdom of generations. One such “Doctor of the Church” to whom I’d like to introduce you this week is St. Catherine of Siena.
Catherine Benincasa, later canonized St. Catherine of Siena, was born in 1347, a year before the height of the Black Plague and famine in her hometown of Siena, in the Tuscany region of Italy. 30-50% of Siena’s population was decimated by this plague and famine, including several of Siena’s siblings who did not live past childhood. The survivors of these two cataclysmic events continued to suffer from the repercussions of a faltering economy, resulting from the steep decline in population. As a survivor, Catherine was well-acquainted with the suffering all around her. Likely influenced by the humanistic philosophies vibrantly spreading through the Tuscan region at the time, Catherine took on a hopeful perspective on suffering and the nature of God amidst suffering. This attitude is prevalent in much of Catherine’s writings during her short life. From a young age, Catherine was drawn to a life consecrated to God. She is said to have witnessed visions of God throughout her childhood, which solidified her desire to dedicate her life to God and to serving God’s people. In her late teens, Catherine took the vows of the Third Order of St. Dominic, dedicating her life to serving the poor and suffering in Siena. As part of her life’s work, Catherine began to write, credited with over 400 letters, her Dialogue, and her prayers throughout her life. Catherine’s writings were persuasive in social and church politics, caring for the poor and needy, and spiritual growth. Her commentary on suffering is particularly profound. “Strange,” she once said, “that so much suffering is caused because of the misunderstanding of God’s true nature. God’s heart is more gentle than the virgin’s first kiss upon the Christ. And God’s forgiveness to all, to any thought or act, is more certain than our own being.” Catherine’s core theodicy was that God is a loving, gentle God. Despite our suffering, God is present and actively working in our lives, providing sustenance and comfort even when we cannot feel it. Her writings are imbued with this sense of warmth and intimacy with the Divine that sustained her in her daily experiences with individuals deeply suffering. This week, I want to share with you one of my favorite prayers by St. Catherine of Sienna. I hope you will keep this prayer in a special place and return to it during those times when pain feels more present than God. Often, it is helpful to lean on our Spiritual Community, both those living and those who have passed on, who may have the words we need when we cannot find the words ourselves. His Lips Upon the Veil ~St. Catherine of Siena~ He has never left you. It is just that your soul is so vast that just like the earth in its innocence, it may think, ”I do not feel my lover’s warmth against my face right now.” But look, dear, is not the sun reaching down its arms and always holding a continent in its light? God cannot leave us, It is just that our soul is so vast we do not always feel His lips upon the veil. As we enter Holy Week, I have a very simple message for us today:
You are loved. You are deeply and completely loved by the Creator of the cosmos. You are loved so deeply and completely that God took on human flesh in order to walk among us again for the first time since Eden. Jesus was so enamored with us that He joyfully became human so that He may physically embrace us, physically care for us, physically join us in breaking bread and drinking wine, and yes, physically giving over His body so that we may be fully one with God and all of God's creation someday for eternity. Jesus so loved us that at the time right before His arrest, Jesus cried out to the Father to see if there was any way He may stay with us for just a little bit longer. You see, I don't think Jesus was afraid to die. I don't think Jesus was afraid to face the torture of crucifixion. I think Jesus was deeply and completely grieved that He would be physically separated from us again. And even though a thousand years is as a day for God, God does not want to spend even one day without us. He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers and sisters or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you.”
~Luke 14:12-14 When Jesus told His hosts to expand their table to include not just their friends and relatives but also the ostracized in their community, He was helping them to stretch themselves towards contributing to a community of wholeness and belonging for all people, which would ultimately enact positive change in their wider community. In Jesus’ time, the ostracized were regularly excluded from aspects of societal engagement and sometimes worship if they were deemed to be unclean due to their affliction. Unfortunately, in today’s church, we are not doing much better. There is still a tendency to bar individuals from our worship spaces. Perhaps because they are homeless and dirty, unpredictable and not quite fitting our social scripts. Perhaps because they have a past we fear, a history of felony charges or gang involvement. Perhaps it is their gender identity or sexual orientation and a (I would deem misguided) theology that precludes them. However, in barring individuals from spaces that are meant to be sacred sanctuary and refuge, we are wrongfully gatekeeping when Jesus explicitly called us to do the opposite. Our Christian identity should be the primary binding agent in our Church communities so we do not fall into patterns of discrimination based on other identity markers. As Paul writes, “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28-29). As part of adding seats to our table, we have to redefine our own and others’ identities to be primarily in Christ with other aspects of identity as unimportant to their right to belong and of the utmost importance to the gifts each uniquely share with one another in community. In welcoming all to the table, we are reversing the social injury of ostracism in individuals who are outcasts, and we are enriching our shared communities with diversity. We are made more whole, our churches are made more whole, and our wider communities are made more whole when we honor all people as children of God, inviting their peculiarities and their uniqueness. We are blessed, not because of what these individuals are able to repay in our worldly sense, but rather what these individuals are able to gift us in a Godly sense – the wholeness that comes from embracing the rich tapestry of diversity. As [Jesus] went a little farther, He saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately He called them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and followed Him.
~Mark 1:19-20 All stories have supporting characters who may play a large part in the narrative, following along and interacting with the protagonist from start to finish, or a much smaller part, mentioned in passing and soon forgotten as the epic continues. However, regardless of whether a supporting character plays a small or large part in someone else’s story, every supporting character has a story of their own. In the call story of James and John, this supporting character is Zebedee; and I’d like to tell his story (at least how I imagine it may have gone). Zebedee was a fisherman, as was his father before him and his father’s father before that. He was raised in Galilee and spent as much time on the water as he did on land. When his sons, James and John, were old enough, he taught them the family trade. For years they fished together, went to market together, and fared many storms together - literally and figuratively. All that came to an abrupt end when a man named Jesus called James and John from their father’s side to follow Him. A few days later, Jesus found Zebedee sitting on the bank of Galilee and sat down beside him. A few minutes passed in silence as the two men sat watching the water lap against the shore. Finally, Zebedee spoke, “Why did you call my sons, James and John, but did not call me?” Jesus looked at Zebedee and said, “Zebedee, you were called by my Father to be a fisherman. Since you were a boy, you’ve had the ability to predict the weather and the movement of the fish. I’ve seen you in the marketplace determining a fair price for your fish so as not to exploit your neighbors while still supporting your family. Someday, a little boy will bring a few fish from your catch, and I will multiply those fish to feed 5,000 people. Your call to be a fisherman matters to the Kingdom of God, and it is just as important as your sons’ calls to be disciples.” We are each called by God to certain professions based on our own unique gifts. For some that is teacher, for others it is janitor, still others are called to be astronauts while others are called to be actuaries. All are important to the Kingdom of God. God created you exactly as you are in order to impact the world through your gifts. Just because your call is not to “formal ministry” does not mean that your call is not to do the work of God. When we use our gifts to better our workplace, the people in our lives, and the wider world, we are doing God’s work. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work” (1 Cor 12:6). No matter where you are or what you’re doing, invite God to work through you and use the gifts you were given to make the world a better place. I grew up in a family that does not do conflict. We will do everything in our collective power to avoid hard conversations. As such, I didn’t really learn how to engage in conflict in a healthy way until I was much older. Now, although I can have hard conversations, I still don’t love them. Hard conversations are, well, hard. Hard conversations often bring up a lot of vulnerability, a lot of wounds, and a lot of fear. Hard conversations may bring up memories of old conflicts that did not end well or may be entirely unfamiliar because you have avoided them most of your life. Hard conversations may bring up fears of rejection or abuse. However, hard conversations and conflict are necessary to engage in an authentic community; and we have a good model of how to have these in a healthy way in Jesus.
First, the best time to have a hard conversation is sooner rather than later. Matthew recounts Jesus’ thoughts on this in his Gospel: “Settle matters quickly with your adversary…do it while you are still together on the way” (Matt 5:25). The longer we allow a conflict to fester, the more time we allow our feelings to grow, and what may have begun as a simple disagreement has the potential to grow out of proportion. When a disagreement has first occurred, you may still be “together on the way” with that person, meaning there is still a relationship to salvage. Allowing time to pass and feelings to grow build a chasm in the relationship that becomes much more difficult to cross. Second, identify your responsibility within the disagreement before pointing out the fault of your adversary. Again, in Matthew, Jesus says, “How can you say to your sibling, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:4). Take some time to analyze the situation from all sides and identify how you have contributed to the disagreement. Lead with ownership of your own mistakes followed by how the other person’s actions/words have impacted you. The simple formula for this is, “I apologize for my part in this disagreement, which is _________. I felt _______ when you did/said ________. I would like to resolve this, and I commit to ___________. I need ________ from you.” Then, provide the same opportunity for the other person to do the same by truly listening. Finally, commit to reconciliation. The goal of any disagreement should be the preservation of the relationship, not to prove who is “right.” As you move through the disagreement, focus on what is needed to resolve the issue in order to move forward in relationship. This often means setting aside our egos. In his Gospel, Luke recounts an argument among the disciples about who was greatest. Jesus steps in by bringing a child into their midst and saying, “It is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest” (Luke 9:46-48). Building and sustaining community has absolutely nothing to do with who “wins” an argument and everything to do with our willingness to set aside our selfishness and enter into brave spaces of hard conversations. There are two very important caveats to all of this. First, none of the above is relevant in cases of abuse. If someone is abusing you mentally, emotionally, sexually, or physically, your safety is of utmost importance. Reconciliation in these instances is not healthy, and you should never feel that you must continue a relationship that is harmful to you. Second, there is not space in this blog to fully expound on having hard conversations in an effort to build authentic communities. Entire books have been written on this. However, use this as a starting point, knowing that there is always more to learn and ways to grow. At The Hearth, an aspect of our Mission is creating space within authentic community. I, as Worship Leader, will make mistakes because I am human. You will also make mistakes because you are human. Perfection is not an expectation of authentic community; acknowledgement of our imperfections and acceptance of others’ imperfections is. In our society today, there is a tendency towards leaving community instead of having hard conversations; but I would argue that this is a huge reason we have such a problem with loneliness. Abandoning the people and communities where we feel belonging perpetuates our own isolation. Although conflict is difficult and doesn’t feel good, it is a moment that passes and then strengthens relationships and communities. As Glennon Doyle says, “We can do hard things.” Let’s do those hard things together. |
Kaylee Vance LMFT, LMHC
Worship Leader |