Mountain Goats

I'm surprised a mountain goat hasn't tried to mate with me yet. 

I've mastered the mating call. You can hear it any time we get near the cliff by Nugget Falls where they like to hang out. I can't keep myself from bleating out a MAAA! 

My children have become weary of my attempts to woo the mountain goats down and find it somewhat embarrassing, but I remind them that one of these days a goat is going to perk its head up and then come flying down the cliff towards me.

They ask me the question that I'm sure is also on your mind, "And what would you do then, mom?" 

I do think one of my contributions to this world is my creativity. I can imagine, dream, and plan significant visions.  But I'm not always gifted in knowing what should be left undone. What should I leave behind? What is not brilliant, but foolhardy or even destructive?

We need visionaries, but only if they surround themselves with people who ask good questions and who are good observers of reality. I don't need naysayers because that only makes me a bit more rebellious and more likely to mate with a mountain goat just out of spite. 

I need scientists, poets, musicians, mathematicians, politicians, law enforcement, philosophers, theologians . . . I need those who are trained to observe, ask questions, and reflect on what they see and hear. I need those who challenge my brilliant idea without negating it. 

I don't trust leaders who aren't surrounded by those who challenge and help form brilliant ideas into workable and creative visions. This is true on a national, state, and local scale, but even in our families, schools, and churches.

We raise up leaders not by raising up bullies who insist on their own way, but visionaries who are surrounded by those who can help shape a brilliant idea into something doable. 

This happens at our church council meetings all the time. One of us will throw out an idea that might be somewhat outlandish. There's a whirlwind of "what ifs", but before too long, we get to a plan or we drop it. You can't be too emotionally attached to an idea or take things personally, but willing to let the community help shape it. 

Not that I think getting a goat to respond to my mating call is a brilliant idea, but my kids did suggest I might get closer to the goats if I were quieter. See how helpful listening to the advice of other's can be?

Greetings

Some might call it laziness, but I'm going to call it recycling. I'm playing in the sunshine and reading books (and cleaning bathrooms so no one mistakes our house for a truck stop). 

Here's yesterday's sermon, but not the one where I wore the chicken outfit. You had to be there at 6:30 am for that. 

The things I do for Jesus.

Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Title: Rejoice

Date: April 16, 2017

There are very few things I miss about living outside Alaska, but I do miss Waffle Houses. I’m not talking about the waffles in Auke Bay, but a true yellow and brown Waffle House. They are scattered all over, especially in the South. There are many things I love about Waffle Houses. I love the hash browns that you can get scattered, smothered and covered. I love that the juke box has a Waffle House original song about falling in love with the waitress and her polyester slacks. I love that when you walk into a Waffle House, all the workers turn around and greet you with a “Morning” or other appropriate greeting. No matter how alone you feel, walking into a Waffle House makes the world a little less lonely.

Greetings matter. The matter especially in Matthew’s Gospel and especially in the resurrection story today. On the back of your bulletin are some Bible verses from Matthew.  

Chairo - Rejoice, be glad

Mat 2:10

When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.

Mat 5:12

Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Mat 18:13

And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off.

 Mat 26:49

Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed him.

Mat 27:29

and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, king of the Jews!” they said.

Mat 28:9

Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him.

The Greek word is the same for overjoyed, rejoice, happier, greetings, hail and then the risen Jesus’ greetings. So let me jog your memories about where all these stories happen or you can guess. 

First one, when they saw the star. What’s that story? When the foreign magicians find the baby Jesus, they greeted him with joy. 

The next one is in the beatitudes when Jesus reminds the disciples that when they are persecuted by society they are closest to God’s joy.  The shepherd who finds the lost sheep. Judas’ betrayal with a kiss. Mockery by the guards before crucifixion. 

The same word for greeting with joy is used when the foreigners are included, for those who are persecuted, lost, those who betray and humiliate. That word of joyful greeting stands out in all those stories of brokenness and alienation. And then it gets its climax on the lips of our risen savior. 

After the horror of betrayal, torture, death, and then the shock of the empty tomb, Jesus greets them in their fear and joy with the greeting “rejoice.” In all their doubts, failures, and fears, “rejoice”. 

This is a new beginning. Your worst failure will not define you forever, there is a chance to be made new, tap into the eternal life and love of God. 

Here is what God is doing in the world; God is greeting us with joy. 

Death, division, and hatred are not the final farewell; love, life and forgiveness come greeting us with joy.

Sometimes I think the church should be a bit more like a Waffle House greeting people in their darkness, doubt, and fear. The waitresses are probably better pastors than I will ever be. Waffle House was the only place open on Thanksgiving and Christmas so it was standard practice for my friends and I to meet there after family get togethers. I love my family dearly, but there are lots of us, we don’t always experience the world in the same way, and there are things we just don’t talk about. My friends were much the same so Waffle House was our evening of comfortable fried food and an endless cup of coffee where we could be ourselves and break our silences to talk about everything. It felt like a place you could be broken, instead of pretending everyone was fine. More than once, a waitress became part of our conversation with a sympathetic ear and another cup of coffee. They didn’t have the ego to think they could fix our messes, but many had the hearts to hear them and offer what they could in comfort.

Sometimes the church should be a bit more like a Waffle House, greeting people with joy and inviting them into abundant life. My favorite memory of a Waffle House was in Florida with my folks and family. After a long day at Legoland, ready to escape the crowds and theme parks, we landed in a deserted Waffle House, exhausted and starving. Sophie was probably around 8 or 9 and going through a Taylor Swift stage so she put her quarters in the juke box and played some pop song by her over and over. She and my dad danced around the Waffle House and the crew working that slow night laughed and clapped right along with us. It’s one of those beautiful memories of love and grace breaking into unexpected places. One of those moments where we are greeted with joy and life when we only expected quick, cheap food.

One of my favorite songs is by Carrie Newcomer about the ministry of a diner waitress and the grace of those all-night places when we get greeted as we are with joy and love.

Here we are all in one place

The wants and wounds of the human race

Despair and hope sit face to face

When you come in from the cold

Let her fill your cup with something kind

Eggs and toast like bread and wine

She's heard it all so she don't mind

The good news of this day is not that everything is okay and we can all keep on like we’ve been doing. God’s main goal in this world isn’t necessarily your comfort. The good news is God’s heard it all and still fills our cup. The good news of this day, this place, is that we gather with our wants and wounds, our fear and doubts and God interrupts with a shout of joy. God greets us where we are and invites us to dance into a new creation, out of our tombs and into life. 

French Kissing a Chicken

I feel like a boundary has been crossed in our household. 

Tonight as I was talking to my chicken, she perked right up and stuck her beak into my mouth. I think she mistook my tongue for a worm, but this is unacceptable behavior even for a beloved chicken. I rinsed my mouth out with vodka and hydrogen peroxide so I'm pretty sure I'm okay now.

Not one of the 37 pictures of my
chicken - please note.

I have some boundary issues. Not the normal ones. Don't worry, your children are safe with me.

But, I do forget that people don't want to hear about their pastor's sex life. 

I share stuff on purpose, in case you were wondering. 

I think it's an important part of ministry to celebrate healthy and vibrant sexuality. It might be the best counter to pornography that we have. Celebrating sexuality in proper context is a faithful response to the weird mix of prudishness and warped sex industry that plagues our country.

But, I won't do it anymore because it makes people uncomfortable. Unless I forget, or think discomfort is helpful in growth.

I have also realized that trying to publicize Palm Sunday as "Get you Ass back into Church" was a bad idea. I'm sorry for any offense I might have caused by this brilliant homograph. 

Except I'm not that sorry. 

Boundaries are helpful and vital. We should not stick our beaks into each other's mouths. It's unsanitary and a horrible idea. 

But there are times that we need to push back on the prudish piety that lets us disguise good manners as faith. Again, I'm all about good manners and civility, but sometimes creating a safe space where folks can be present with all their messes means profanity and crassness. 

The incarnation is about taking the profane and making it sacred. We too often hide the profane and settle for sterility. 

I could use some reminders about using better manners. I don't mean to offend so please tell me when I'm hurtful. 

But I do mean to push. 
I want what causes shame and brokenness to be brought into the light so it may be healed. 
I want people to move from isolation into community.  
I want my chicken to love me without tongue.

Naked

We read through the crucifixion story with the middle schoolers on Sunday. 

We read through Mark's version with a naked guy running off; that part is so weird.

Every time I read through that gruesome story of torture and death, I am struck by its lack of uniqueness. I'm still involved enough with Amnesty International to know that the torture and death of a political prisoner is not unusual or relegated to times past. 

I suppose what is unique is that we read about this torture on the other side of hope. 

Part of the Christian story is the entanglement of hope with sorrow. We can face the one because we have the other. 

Unfortunately, there's so much mushy shit out there with a Christian label that turns hope into "always look on the bright side of life" and the sorrow as a good teachable moment or something to be ignored. 

I don't know how you hold hope and sorrow in tension, especially on a brilliant spring day, but it seems like life creates the tension even if we don't want to live in it. As C.S. Lewis wrote after losing his wife, “The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal.”

So I delighted today and then read about torture in the world. 

I delighted in the lovely walk with my hubby, a little nookie on the beach, and the beauty surrounding us.

I delighted that the bar with a great lunch also had my new favorite nudey girl picture and a lending library of paperback books. 

I delighted as I tried to teach my chickens tic tac toe for the millionth time. They were so close and made me laugh with every attempt.

I delighted with a house full of kids and their friends running around in shorts and t-shirts. You could tell it was a balmy 50 degrees.

We rolled sushi and spring rolls together as a family while catching up on all the stories and gossip. I drank wine and danced in the kitchen cleaning up to some fabulous music.

Then I could face the news, the stories of life without dancing, nookie, or bars. I could face the fact that cancer, accidents, and addictions can send reality as I know it into a tailspin. 

The delight of love and beauty gives me the hope and courage to face the sorrow without dismissing or sugar coating it. I take the delight into the sorrow and the sorrow is always part of the delight. It's that whole death and resurrection thing shaping this week and pretty much every week in my life.

Prayer

People expect pastors to post about prayer. And use alliteration.

Prayer is on the list of "shoulds" right next to giving money.

Hence, why it's often hard to talk about prayer without tugging every guilt string folks have. Not that I'm against guilt. Guilt should hopefully keep us from being assholes all the time and that is helpful for community. 

I've been taking my turn as the chaplain in the Legislature. We live in a small town and I've had the privilege of praying for the Legislature for nine years now. I'm never quite sure what to say because I'm not quite sure what praying with the Legislature means. If it's all about blessing what they are doing, then I might hesitate next time I'm asked.

Is prayer getting God to do what we want? My post-enlightenment theology abhors the idea, but then I think in all my other love relationships I ask for what I want so why not in this one. 

Sometimes I think prayer is about getting our agenda in line with God's or in the case of the Legislature I like to think of getting their agenda in line with mine which I assume is in line with God's. I'm joking. Mostly.

I'm starting to play with the idea of prayer as similar to reading books. Prayer helps us experience other perspectives and develop empathy. It's an exercise in imagination. We pray for our enemies because it makes them human, which then helps us be human. We pray for far off lands so we are engaged in the world not isolated in our fears. We pray for those who are suffering so we don't become blind or callous to the hurt of the world.  

Somehow prayer breaks down barriers so we may connect with each other and the world with a bit more grace.

Prayer breaks open our hearts and eyes so we can see where God is at work, so we can be honest about our desires, and so we may be mindful of those who are tempting to forget.

My immediate gut prayer goes back to the whole guilt idea and I want to pray for the Legislature as well as for myself, "O God, help us not be arrogant, hard-hearted assholes." 

I realize this would not get spread across the journal. They vote on accepting our prayers, which is kind of a hoot.

I wrote new prayers for Friday and Monday with no swearing.

I normally recycle old ones, but I had some energy and wrote new ones so now they have to work double duty and finish this blog.

Friday in the House

Respecting the beliefs of all, I offer the following prayer.

Thank you God for Fridays. 

Thank you for endings.

End of the week.

End of the month.

The passing of what has been.

Thank you for all those who once sat in these chairs and served in this place. Those who’ve died, who’ve moved to other vocations, who’ve experienced defeat. 

Thank you for their presence and service. 

Thank you for endings that keep life and time in perspective. The comfort of knowing this too shall pass.

Thank you for endings so we may know beginnings. Out of death comes life, out of the dust comes new creation. 

This Friday, help us give thanks for endings instead of fearing them.

Then may we have the courage to do what is just for the most vulnerable, even if it challenges the powerful. 

Give us courage to listen for wisdom in our opponent’s view even if it goes against our agenda.

Give us the humility to remember we all will end and pass this land, this state onto generations to come.

Endings remind us none of us are God, we do not have the complete picture, we need each other for wholeness and health. 

Thank you God for Fridays.

Monday in the Senate

On this day in 1898 an avalanche crashed through Sheep Camp on the Chilkoot Trail in the midst of the gold rush killing 43 men.

As I offer this prayer, I think of the legacy of our state. The wild dreams that have brought people to the edge of the world, of fear, of endurance. The force of nature that crushes everything in its path. The spirit that helps us live in this tension of dreams and destruction.

Today as we remember dreams and lives swept away in the blink of an eye, we pray for humility. Keep us ever mindful of our limitations and help us trust that which is greater than ourselves.

We pray for boldness. May you all face the daunting tasks before you with the same strength and stamina as those who carried 1000 lbs over the Chilkoot Pass hoping for a better life. Thinking of that drudgery and toil might make a budget seem a bit more manageable.

We pray for passion. Fill us with a desire to nurture a state where treasure is found not just in the gold veins, but in our veins. May our lives overflow with awe at the abundance of resources and beauty of this land so we may treasure them and pass them on to those who come after us. 

And maybe some wisdom too so we are not conned like so many into chasing rumors of riches, but do our homework to see what is worthy of our investment and energy. We’ve learned from history that children, elders, the land all return a treasure far greater than any gold strike.