Sweet Child of Mine

The Holy Spirit rocks my world sometimes. 

What I enjoy about my Lutheran tradition is we put some structure into place and then open the door so the Holy Spirit can mess it all up. 

Here are three of the many Holy Spirit moments from Sunday's celebration of graduations, baptism, confirmation, third grade Bibles, and faith formation leaders (it was a whole lot of celebrating and I'm sure there was some whining about how long church was):

1. Simul Justus et Peccator (simultaneously forgiven and sinning). 
There was a moment in worship I never thought I would experience. A young man played Guns N' Roses as special music. I'm pretty sure Axl Rose never expected his music to be in church and I could feel the moment when those of a certain demographic in the congregation all realized what song was being offered up.

I almost started laughing and then worrying about my job, but it was so amazingly beautiful and holy I didn't do either. 

I love the young man who played the special music dearly. He's brilliant and an amazing artist and has probably been scolded by most of the adults in the congregation. We've had some challenges over the years.

There is no better paradox that captures the love of the Christian community than this particular young man playing Guns N' Roses Sweet Child O' Mine. It was perfect.

I don't know any of the lyrics besides all the "Os" and "sweet child of mine", but that is enough to make me smile. The profane and sacred, the sinning and forgiven all mixed into one bag in the church. Church isn't about putting your holy on, but showing up as a sweet child of God's, giggling as the waters of baptism are poured out, and offering a beautiful gift no one else could have offered.

2. The offering of the crosses

There is a point in the service when parents place into their 8th graders' hands a cross and say, "May the cross keep you strong through all suffering and sorrow." 

As they spoke those words, I saw in more than one parent's face the truth of those words. I witnessed the realization dawn that they can't protect their kids from all the heart breaks and hurts ahead of them. We place the cross into our kids' hands not thinking they will escape suffering, but hoping they won't be alone in it.

3. The postlude

It was a gift this year to hear special music from so many of the 8th graders, but the final song knocked the breath out of me. I'm not sure what it was, but it sounded like a river and a perfect sending for a day when we celebrated so many transitions. The bubbling and swells, the stillness and rapids seemed to capture the flow of our lives. We know we can't hold on to a moment in time; we can only ride the river of God's grace. 

I freaking love my job and this whole crew blessed me in many ways. They added a few gray hairs to my head, but also made my heart and life so much richer. 

Amen. Come Holy Spirit.

Speech

I love being a pastor, but it's been nearly twenty years and I still suck at knowing the right thing to say.

I replayed some of the conversations over the years where I have failed:

"Pastor, I caught my husband with a horse." 

"Eat more green grapes, Pastor, keeps you regular."

"Have you ever had contact with aliens, Pastor?"

I think I just stared at people in response. What does one say?

There's also the more normal stuff. I have no idea what to say to "nice sermon" let alone when folks are wrestling with trauma and death. 

Here's what I came up with today after replaying some flubs I made recently. 

I asked myself, "What would my speech therapy teacher say?"

I spent most of elementary school in speech therapy for not being able to say "s, r, or l." I don't remember anything about the classes other than my teacher loved Ireland and a girl named April laughed so hard snot hung from her nose to the table. 

Speech therapy did nothing for my impediment because I didn't realize I had one. I sounded normal and most of my friends in speech class sounded fine too. It's hard to work on a problem you can't hear.

I even got to do summer speech camp. I've blocked most of that from my mind other than the animal flash cards. I rocked it until we got to the damn squirrel. Do you know how hard "squirrel" is when you can't say "s, r, or l?" I'd see that squirrel coming and I'd get so worked up about saying it right that I'd just sit there exasperated and humiliated screaming "thgaw." 

So how speech therapy help saying the right thing?
1. I can give up on being right and try to be aware of what is wrong. What sounds normal and right to me may sound wrong to another so I need to pay attention to how I'm sounding to the other person. 

2. Don't get so anxious and worked up that I just sit there muttering intelligible sounds because the task of saying something meaningful is too daunting. I know when I'm hurting it is often enough to know I've been heard and everything else sounds like thgaw. 

3. Swear. I'm pretty sure everyone who's struggled with speech has learned to swear. Swearing and singing come from a different part of your brain than formal discourse. Sometimes I need to release that part of my brain and no one wants to hear me sing.

4. If I really mess up and say something I want the other person to forget, I just let snot drip down my face. Those gross memories obliterate everything else. Poor April is still remembered 40 years later as the girl with the hanging snot, but at least I can't remember anything about her speech impediment.

Anarchy

I'm thinking about anarchy. 

Some of it is the sunshine and heat; my brain melts in such conditions.

Some of it is our recent bishop election. Lutherans gather as geographical synods once a year and this year in Alaska we elected a bishop.

When we finished this year's election, someone asked me what I thought. I love our bishop. I think she is a faithful and steady servant so my immediate response was not to critique her or the process, but I did question the nature of hierarchy. I'm just not sure out current leadership structure will see us into the future.

Finally, some of my thoughts come from an article out of the Christian Science Monitor with the sub-heading, 

Spontaneous mass protests in the former Soviet state of Armenia have ended a deceitful power play by a longtime ruler to stay in office. In throwing off their fears, Armenians showed others in repressive countries how to ‘live in the truth.

I'm fascinated by spontaneous gatherings of people who show others how to "live in the truth." 

A leader in Armenia was later raised in the midst of the protests and I want to believe that will be helpful to good order, but I can't say history has many examples of new leadership that doesn't imitate the tyranny of the old leadership.

It also made me think of a story we learned when we visited the DDR museum in Leipzig last summer. A group of students in 1956 in communist East Germany sat in silence for six minutes at the beginning of class after the Soviets crushed the revolt in Budapest. It was a spontaneous act of solidarity with the protestors in Budapest . The principal yelled at them for their silence, the head of the education department yelled at them, and finally the Stasi interrogated the students to find out who the leader was. 

But there was no leader. They all just knew it was the right thing to do. And then they all escaped to the West together. Even when they were interviewed after the threat was over, there was no leadership they could point to.

What creates the sense of trust and fellowship in a group of people that frees them to risk their lives to live in truth?

 I don't know the answer to that question, but I think it's an important one and I'm pretty sure the answer is not hierarchies (it's probably also not anarchies). 

Leadership is important for good order, but I do think in the church (and probably our nation) leaders can repress the creation of spontaneous communities who have a sense of the truth and are willing to risk witnessing to it. Leaders tend to take charge and leave folks feeling impotent and disconnected.

Confirmation youth making stoles for ministry

I'm not sure what that means for pastors. I was taught pretty early on that I'm not in charge and it's not my church, and on my good days I see myself as a trainer, observer, and student of scripture. 

Sometimes, on my not so good days, when my ego butts in, I see myself as "right" and "in charge." 

That's probably the best place for my anarchical tendencies to start dismantling hierarchies and then I'll worry about the rest of the church and world.

Jurassic Park

I'm working on a screen play for Jurassic Park XX. After 19 failed attempts for humans and dinosaurs to coexist, developers decide on the next best thing. . .


A THEME PARK WITH CHICKENS!

They are T-Rex's closing living relatives so it is a perfect evolution.*

But naturally, the chickens also give into their wild instinct and the climax of the movie will be a chicken flying a helicopter and me doing some Die Hard kind of action moves to save the world from chickens gone wild.

You see, I love my chickens, but I also know they would probably be happy to eat me. My chickens are carnivores. I saw a dozen eggs at the store that highlighted the fact that the chickens were vegetarians and I felt sad for those chickens. It's not as bad as being stuck in a tiny cage, but I'm pretty sure after watching my chickens rip a shrew apart that they are one step away from Velociraptors.

If I only deliver leftover veggies to them from dinner they give me the look like the old lady in the "Where's the beef?" commercials. Meat makes them happy.

It sounds like a good idea to have vegetarian chickens who don't fly helicopters, but that's not who they are (well, maybe the helicopter part).

I'm slowly figuring out how to love things and people for who they are without making them conform to how I think they should be. I'm slowly releasing my agenda

for this world and figuring out how to delight in the mystery of the moment.

How do I enter relationships without insisting people or chickens be who I want them to be?

My answer to myself: Meet people where they are and let the relationship transform us both. 


That's my new motto next to "Don't let chickens have access to helicopters."

The problem is that some folks, or maybe I should say all folks some of the time, act like assholes or worse are incredibly dull.

How do you meet behavior like that without letting it sap all your energy or destroy any chance at relationship? 

There are times we need to confront behavior that is destructive to relationship, but it is for the sake of the relationship, not for my agenda or romanticized notion of who that person should be.

There are times I have to give my beloved creatures a good talking to for digging up the garden or wandering into the neighbor's yard. Some of the confronting is for safety, but some is because destroying my plants does test my love for them and make me think about dissolving our relationship, especially when they follow it up with pooping all over the porch or screaming at me through the dog door. I have to set good boundaries so I can keep loving them.

I'm pretty enamored with a recent quote I found by Leonardo Boff about Dostoevsky. He writes, "For Dostoevski, the opposite of the beautiful was not the ugly, but the utilitarian; the spirit of using others, and thereby stealing their dignity."

Meet people where they are and let the relationship transform all. Let go of who you think they should be and allow yourself to discover who they are. Confront what is destructive and forgive what is annoying. That's how the chickens and I coexist.

* The analysis shows that T-rex collagen makeup is almost identical to that of a modern chicken - this corroborates a huge body of evidence from the fossil record that demonstrates birds are descended from meat-eating dinosaurs," said Angela Milner, the associate keeper of palaeontology at the Natural History Museum in London. "So, it is very satisfying that the molecules have provided a positive test for the morphology." (Who Are You Calling Chicken by Alok Jha, The Guardian)

Read More Books

Two things:

1. I learned at a blogging workshop to number things

2. I think that's silly, but I also learned to set a schedule for writing so I commit to writing every Monday. 

Blogging on a regular basis brings me delight and pushes me. Most of it is a "waste of time", but I've found that often  right in the middle of wasting time I see things new or make connections I otherwise would have missed. 

Here's the thing that feels a little self-promoting and weird. My blogs don't always fit into Facebook's algorithm so people don't get notification that I've posted something if it doesn't fit into what you normally read. I know it's slightly embarrassing to admit that you read this blog, but I've added a button so you will get notified when I post about my next favorite bodily function or chicken story that doesn't fit your demographic.

3. I hate tennis shoes. Seriously, I am self-conscious when I wear tennis shoes so when I ran into a door at the Festival of Faith and Writing I couldn't laugh it off like I normally would, but suddenly felt horrifyingly embarrassed and almost cried. 

The flight of ciders also made up for the door incident

It's all because of the tennis shoes. I struggle matching colors anyway and I don't understand how to coordinate them with the rest of my clothes, but I'm also strangely fascinated by how they make my feet look so I tend to stare at them. Hence, why I ran into the door and nearly knocked myself silly.

4. Other than that incident, the Festival of Faith and Writing was tremendous and inspiring. Often clergy continuing education events tend to be soul sucking. You go, hear the church is dying, get several tools to help it survive, and then return to the real world of death and dying. I tend to walk away with a mix of guilt and despair, which is why I go to the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids. This celebration is mainly librarians and I get to be inspired, stretched, and imagine a different way to tell our story.

Here are some of the authors and books I walked away with:

Kwame Alexander told delightful stories about being affirmed in his being, even in a world that so often discounts young African-American men. He spoke of his friendship with Nikki Giovani, one of my favorite poets, and had us giggling hard. I picked up both Crossover and Rebound but I refuse to stand in line to get books signed.

Nikki Grimes was a hoot and a half and I bought Words with Wings because of her eloquence in defending the power of day dreaming.

Kate Bowler could be my new favorite person. I'm going to encourage everyone to buy Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved.

Sandy Eisenberg Sasso is a rabbi who's written some fabulous resources for teaching children Bible stories in a way that you don't have to unteach them. I bought three books from her that I hope to incorporate into our storytelling.

Carrie Newcomer is a fabulous musician and storyteller so you should buy her CD right now, but I don't think people buy CDs anymore.

5. Read more books and listen to more music. Turn off the TV or computer and curl up with a book. In some ways, I think that's the healthiest thing we can do to sustain the church. Read, daydream, imagine.

Labyrinth

It takes about four miles of hiking to get my brain to rest. I finally stop running lists and for the four miles back my brain can wander to more fun places, like singing Long Black Veil in response to the wild winds.

Hiking is good for my brain, but the labyrinth is good for my heart. 

The church has a beautiful Chartres labyrinth we lay out in the sanctuary through Lent. It was created about six or seven years ago by a whole host of folks connected with the church and each experienced the process as a slightly different metaphor.

People can get a little freaky about labyrinths and their role in one's faith journey. I'm not a freak about it. I am a freak about many things, but this isn't one of them.

The labyrinth is a lovely metaphor for life grounded in God's grace. There are no dead ends or wrong turns; there are twists and turns but ultimately you end up in the middle where you can rest and delight in a warming sun beam. 

We had sun this year beaming into the middle of the labyrinth so it was especially delightful. We also had a crew of kids who enjoyed putting obstacles on the path, but it fit the metaphor well so I rarely picked them up. 

The funny thing this year is my beloved son found a mistake. 

There was a curve that missed getting drawn so a whole section of the labyrinth had been cut off. 

I've walked the thing over a hundred times and never noticed. It got fixed and was kind of a hoot this year to wander into places unexplored. 

And again a lovely metaphor because I feel that way in my life. 

I've gotten to wander into this unexplored territory being married to law enforcement. That's been a whole new reality and adjustment. There are teenagers in my house preparing to leave my home and venture on their own. That's a new adventure. Then there's these flashes of heat and irritation that leave me opening windows and snapping at things I've long ignored. I'm not sure what to call that.

When I feel discombobulated, I just keep imagining how all those unexplored sections are still grounded in and leading to grace. 

That metaphor lets my heart rest.

Oils

Who knew there were so many ways to bless oil in the church?

I'm not talking about the industry that fuels 85% of my state's budget, but the oil used for different ministries in the church. 

I brought the subject up at the local clergy group and learned lots about how the Catholics and Episcopalians bless their oil with a lot more effort and intentionality than Lutherans do. Surprise.

We were discussing the Service of Healing at Shepherd of the Valley and how I was moved by the intimacy and delight of anointing folks with oil. It freaks me out and brings me joy every year. Maybe "freaks me out" is strong. It's incredibly vulnerable and intense to touch people on the head, look them in the eyes and remind them that they are God's beloved while dousing them with oil. 

No oil, but a picture from our first Easter Egg hunt in Juneau

My lovely Episcopal and Catholic brothers have a big shindig with the bishop and priests to get the oil blessed for all its different uses (baptism, confirmation, healing, and ordination are the ones I know but there could be more). I was a bit envious because I do like worship shindigs.

But no shindigs for me. 

I walked into the kitchen, pulled the olive oil out of the cupboard and the community prayed over it in worship. I did pour it into a pretty cup so I'm not totally tacky, but that's pretty much how we witness things becoming holy. 

The common is given a purpose as a bearer of grace and a prayer for the Holy Spirit to show up. Bam. Holiness. Now you're sacred. 

I'd probably even say the oil is holy when it's poured into the pan to fry the onions for summer lunch or eggs for food pantry breakfast. God knows there are many prayers uttered when we're prepping those meals and the Holy Spirit is bouncing off the walls when we're gathering around the table and there is food for all.

Bam. Holiness. Now you're sacred.

Okay. Maybe the "bam" makes it ridiculous, but as much as I would love more pageantry, I appreciate the simplicity of how Lutherans approach the sacred because it's not just about making common things into sacred vessels; it's also about us.