Easter

The chaos unleashed when I try to sew

I spent way too much time on my hike today fantasizing about my first cup of coffee on Easter. I could imagine the sound of the grinder, the smell, the warmth in my hands, my face way too close to the steaming cup of joy. I'm glad I gave up coffee this Lent instead of swearing. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it through learning Zoom and how to sew masks without regular muttering and random exclaiming of "sh@#". 

At one point, I realized that I was more excited about drinking coffee on Sunday than I was about Easter. This caused a pang of guilt. In my defense, Holy Week is so completely different this year that I still can't quite wrap my brain around not celebrating my favorite worships in the flesh with some of my favorite people. 

I also realized that even in a "normal" year, death and resurrection are a little tough on my brain. I can visualize my coffee and I have a clear sense of predictable reward. That helps me get excited, but the mysteries of this holy week are not predictable. 

They are beautiful, profound, and tremendous, but definitely not predictable.

We will spend this week telling the stories of unconditional love in the washing of feet, betrayal by friends, torture, death and finally the empty tomb. Resurrection stories are a little slippery. Jesus is never where or how people expect him, but he surprises them with something new and freeing and empowering. 

I'm not sure I can predict those moments Jesus still manages to show up and surprise us with life when we only expect decay and death, but I trust he does and try not to get too detailed and controlling about it. 

I ground my life in that trust, but I'm still really excited about my first cup of coffee next week.

Icons

The death of Kenny Rogers made me sad. He was one of my childhood memories right along with Elvis. I made my kids learn the refrain to The Gambler because I'm sure it is on the citizenship test to be an American. 

Kenny Rogers was an American icon, but I've never quite forgiven him for all the plastic surgeries. I'm a firm believer that country musicians should have deep wrinkles if they have lived half their songs.

Like John Prine. 

He is not as well known in America as Kenny, but wears his wrinkles well. Yesterday I was anxious when he was in critical care with that virus that shall not be named. John Prine is like an icon in the traditional sense; he is a window into what is eternal. He's written over 120 songs, including my favorite love song In Spite of Ourselves. 

Prine is more than a poet; he is master of puns, parables, wit and stories that capture the messiness of being human. He is able to weave words in such a way that they are an experience. Like most great art, when I listen to many of Prine's songs, I feel revealed in my brokenness and offered some grace to live in love instead of regret. 

I have no idea what his faith is, but I wish him a swift recovery. His songs are part of my faith journey. We need prophets like him; we need icons that give us a glimpse of the story God is telling in this world. 

End Times

You have to love Juneau. I hiked out to touch the glacier today (not on the ice so don't scold me). There is something seductive about her on a beautiful day like today. I wasn't going to hike that far, but she seemed so close and tempting with the strange cold and dry touch she has. 

I also love Juneau because this weekend we had a couple of dinosaurs dancing in the roundabout at one intersection and two guys with "The End is Near" signs at another.  I was fascinated by the fellows on Sunday morning warning us that the end is near and to read Isiah 24. 

I nearly lost it. I would have rolled down my window and yelled the correct spelling of Isaiah but I had three teens in my car. Even if the end is near, spell things correctly. Mrs. Mackey, my second grade teacher, would not be happy with such sloppy spelling especially when it is flaunted at an intersection.

It made me think of the quote attributed to Martin Luther, "Even if I knew tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." Even in the end times, pay attention to details and live as if one has hope. 

Live as if one has hope, but hope in what?



How we view the end times influences how we live in the present and how we hope.

If I view the end as a pissed off god destroying all the non-believers and the earth, then there's a good chance I will kind of be a jerk not cherishing the gift of the earth or honoring the perspectives of those who do not believe as I do.

If I view the end as all about having the most stuff and lasting as long as I can before it all gets destroyed, then there's a good chance I will kind of be a jerk.

If I view the end as all creation called into communion with the God of love, then there's a good chance I'll still be a jerk, but at least I will recognize that is not consistent with the end as witnessed to in our faith. 

But that is why I would plant an apple tree, or kale in our case, and that is why I would spell check Isaiah before putting it on a sign. My hope is in the calling of all creation into the communion of love. There are all kinds of violent and destructive images in the book of Revelation, but it ends by saying, "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with you all. Amen." 

Yeti

Today is not Monday, but I feel like in our new Twilight Zone it is. I'm not normally stressed, but I have to admit these last two weeks have made me anxious and edgy. Today was supposed to be the beginning of a vacation, but like many, my plans  changed and now I'm cleaning every corner in my house that's been neglected for 12 years. 
Not really. 
Even with a quarantine cleaning is no fun.

Cassie and I went hiking out to a cabin instead. We lay on the dock and bathed in the sun and snow. 

Until we heard Chewbacca scream from the woods. Then I realized it couldn't be Chewbacca, that's ridiculous, it must be a Yeti. And then I went through all the possible Yeti encounters and what I would do. None of them turned out well. The facade of power and control shattered again.

I want to have calming words to share that aren't dismissive of the seriousness of this pandemic and that don't turn God into a magic genie who can fix everything if we trust enough. 

I'm a firm believer in the trinity, what is eternal is the mutual outpouring of love in relationship, and I'm not a believer in the puppet master in the sky who manipulates things so good people are healed and unfaithful people die. 

God is my shield and strength not as a hamster ball to keep me safe, but as a vision of what eternity looks like. 

It will be okay - love does have the last word. 

So, love and be loved, follow the rules that help you do that, make sacrifices, ask for help, release the control we never really had, and go for walks. And say your prayers. 

And find more recipes with arugula. I love arugula and we have way more of that in Juneau than toilet paper or milk right now so we're good.

Review

I was trying to find the church website and came across the Google reviews. I hadn’t really noticed that people review churches, I find that kind of weird, but a guy gave us one star with the following review:

“It’s a church, something unnecessary in the modern world.” 

There was a part of me that wanted to respond to him with all the reasons why we are so necessary. Think about all the children we feed, the food pantry, and the hospitality to those who are homeless. Look how necessary we are! 

And that’s when the brilliance of his critique was revealed. 

The church is unnecessary in the modern world, yet a vital witness for life. That’s the tension where we live, especially as we approach the mystery of death and resurrection.

It’s easy to be scandalized by the decline, the abuses, and the unneeded role of the church. It’s tempting to start jockeying for a position in the modern world that is necessary and will keep us from going extinct. The church has never been at her most faithful when she is trying to prove how powerful and needed she is. 

I live as someone who is passionately in love with the triune God revealed in the person of Jesus. This puts me in a weird place because I am embarrassed by the popular message of Christianity with the angry Dad who demands a blood sacrifice as payment for our sins and I am weary of the self-righteous desire to fill in for God and set the world right. I feel like these two camps of Christianity pull people into a place where the church is needed either to save souls or to save bodies. I think both those places stroke our egos and miss the point.

The church is not necessary. It’s like being a chaplain in a hospital room full of necessary people. Everyone has a job to help the person, but the chaplain is simply a space for the patient to be human, body and soul. It can be awkward and it’s so tempting to be helpful, but our mission is to provide space and community where the abundant life of the triune God is made visible.

I know I won’t convince people to abandon seeing the church as the ticket to heaven or the church as a social service. We like to feel necessary, but I believe we would be more faithful if we lived as a witness to the abundant life of the triune God. It is a life that gathers, feeds, loves, forgives, speaks truth, rejoices, grieves, listens, and sometimes simply sits with those who are hurting. We are not necessary, but we are a vital witness to life. I’ll give that five stars.

(This is a repeat from our newsletter - I had to work on a speech today)

Yoga

I did my first attempt at yoga this morning. It was an app because I'm embarrassed to attempt a public class where people are expected to know their left hand from their right. I feel like making Ls with every new direction to figure out my left hand would interrupt my breathing.

It was fun enough. I stretched things I haven't stretched before and I learned some new names of moves, which I immediately forgot. I was really good at what I call "double dog dare" position, but I'm pretty sure that's not the correct name.

We begin the season of Lent in the church this Wednesday. I love the seasons of the church. I love the change of colors, music, and rhythms. I like to tell people that if you love or hate what we are doing now, don't worry, it will only last a season. 

Those were regular pep talks to myself when the kids were small. There were things I couldn't do with three small children, but that only lasts a season. There were things I adored with three small children, but that only lasts a season.

Lent is one of my favorite seasons. It is a time of pruning. We are expected to cut back the parts of life that are taking so much energy and not producing fruit. And it is a time of feeding. We take a look at our lives to see what needs some attention; what can help us grow. In other words, you give something up and you risk something new.

Here's the possible list of ideas I handed out in church, in case you're bored of giving up chocolate.

Places to prune:

1. Single use plastic - straws, bags, packaging
2. Screens - make a goal that is attainable i.e. one hour on weekdays and two on weekends
3. Gossip or criticism - say something that builds up every time a nasty thought enters
4. Alcohol - Alcohol still kills more people than drug overdoses in Alaska. Lent is a great time to check in with your body and make sure you are not hooked.
5. Convenience Foods/Meats - Fast from meat or processed food once or twice a week
6. Forwarding Social Media without fact checking

Possible new habits:

1. Worship regularly
2. Give $5 to anyone who asks
3. Journal 
4. Prepare and eat meals with others
5. Read scripture and poetry
6. Walk 20 minutes a day

I'm going to say this out loud even though it kills me a little. I'm going to take a break from coffee. Holy guacamole. I love coffee and I think there is a good chance I'll be irritable in the morning without it, but that's probably why I need to give it a break. And I'm taking on yoga. It seems like a good chance to explore something new and who can resist double dog dare you.

History

History and geography are not my strong subjects. I love stories but memorizing dates and names has never come easily. I love maps but remembering where things are and how to get there also takes a lot of effort.

What stands out to me in history is not necessarily what teachers want memorized or what tour guides want to point out. Big battles and wars mush in my brain, but the stories of life lived in all its weirdness are my favorite.

So I showed my complete ignorance of all things historical and geographical this last weekend in Boston. I’m sorry I didn’t know what Bunker Hill was. I’ll look it, up unless I forget, but it is a nice monument.

I enjoyed the sites for Ben Franklin and Paul Revere; the old churches were cool. I can’t remember which church it was where the pastor refused to take a stand against slavery since there were so many slaveowners in the congregation and he will forever be memorialized for his fear. 

Sophie's enthusiasm for history

My favorite plaque was next to the one about the patriots who hung the lanterns to warn of invasion. It was the story of a man who flew out of the church steeple to the astonishment of the crowd in 1757. Seriously, right in the middle of the build up to independence was the story of a daredevil who had no greater agenda than astonishing the crowd.

I stood there giggling for quite a while. This is what I love about humanity and history. In the midst of the intense divisions and political arguments at the beginning of our nation, someone flew out the steeple to astonish the crowds. 

What made him do it? Was he tired of political arguments and wanted to give people something else to talk about? And what made historians memorialize the act with a plaque? 

Was it a way to practice courage before the real test came? Or maybe a chance to find joy in so much uncertainty?

I don’t know, but it brought me delight and pause in the midst of so many heroes to remember someone who made a completely different choice that didn’t fit any of the normal categories or divisions.

I walked away with the nudge to take bold stands in the face of injustice and sometimes to fly out of church steeples to amuse the crowds.