Raspberries and Reconciliation

Five years ago yesterday I was ordained as a pastor.  Shortly thereafter, I began my first (and so far ONLY) call in a congregation.  In all honesty, the congregation had a reputation as being decidedly hard on clergy.  Because I was an older, second-career pastor and hopefully a little bit seasoned, there were people that felt I was a good candidate for this call.  I am now convinced that the Spirit was well and truly at work in the process, although I would not always have said so. 

At any rate, it was a recipe custom created for tapping into my near-pathological drive for perfection and resistance to failure.  I made my share of first-call pastor mistakes. (For the record, age and 'real-world' experience do not immunize one against those.)  Combine first-call pastor enthusiasm with a tenacious Celtic spirit and add in a little over-zealous drive to do well and well - yeah, it wasn't always pretty.  The landscape of a challenging congregation in a small community is littered with landmines and I found just about all of them.  I am lucky to still have limbs.

Early on in my journey with the congregation, a number of people took issue with my style of leadership and my gender.  Many ended up finding other communities in which to worship.  One person, in particular had a very difficult time with those qualities.  Over time, things became untenable for that person and in the midst of misunderstandings, miscommunication, and mishap they left the congregation.  We both contributed our share of fuel to the fire that had apparently burned bridges.  I tried to leave the door to conversation open, but eventually, I went on about congregational life having adopted a bit of an out-of-sight-out-of mind attitude.  I held no grudge, but also made no further effort to reconcile.

Imagine my surprise to call home from a meeting and hear from my husband that this person had dropped by the house on a summer evening bearing a half gallon of ice cream and an equal quantity of freshly-picked red raspberries.  A peace offering, they said.  The news brought tears to my eyes.

Later, when I called to say "thank you" we both apologized and asked forgiveness for the things we had done and said that wounded.  Will we be close?  Probably not.  But because we were able to ask for, give, and receive forgiveness we are reconciled to one another.  Make no mistake about it - this was not an achievement of human might and power.  It was an offering of humility and vulnerability made possible in Christ and through the Holy Spirit. I am decidedly grateful that one of us was able to be the initial instrument of the reconciling work of the Holy Spirit.  That made it possible for both of us to experience the Spirit's reconciling work.

For those of you who wonder if or where God is at work in the world - it is through moments like this.  We have been reconciled to God through and in Jesus Christ.  That reconciling love flows like a waterfall into our lives and through them to others.   We can experience reconciliation with God in the sacraments of the church - baptism, the Lord's Supper.   But it needs to spill over into the daily fabric of our lives.   And in my book - for this week, at least - nothing spells reconciliation like a little ice cream and raspberries on a summer evening.


Raspberries - an unofficial fruit of the Spirit.

Having been reconciled, may we bear fruit and be reconciling in the world.

Peace -
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HEADING for the SURFACE

I cannot believe that it has been six weeks since I have made a blog post.  I am even more surprised that there have actually been folks reading it in the last 6 weeks in spite of no new posts.  I was prepared to check to see if anyone had been viewing, delete it, and start over.  Instead, I find myself with the challenge of returning to the surface - getting my head above water.

I won't bore anyone with the reasons or details, but life took a subtle but challenging turn of events a couple of months ago - just before Easter, and I found myself completely overwhelmed in almost every aspect of my life.  I ended up drained and drowning - physically, emotionally and spiritually. 

"Out of the depths, I cry to you, O Lord."  (Psalm 130:1)

I am not a scuba diver and I have never played one on TV or anywhere else.  In fact, I am actually a little afraid of the water, and thus am not even a very good swimmer.  However, I have learned from some friends who are that when you are diving in the depths and it is time to return to the surface, it is critical to take your time and pause periodically or decompression sickness - the bends - can be a real hazard.  Re-surfacing too quickly can be deadly.

I think that is true of our spiritual lives as well.  Admittedly, it was a rough couple of months.  But the worst of the craziness was wrapped up and done with by mid-May.  I was ready to get back at it full-force.  In fact, I kept trying to get back at it full-force only to find myself repeatedly slowed down.  Some days I felt like a student driver with an instructor in the passenger seat who was perpetually applying the brakes.  What I have come to see with 20-20 hindsight that I was riding with God in the driver's seat and God was setting a pace that allowed me to come out of the depths and re-engage in way that kept me spiritually, emotionally, and physically healthy.

I will admit that the slow re-entry is not always easy for me.  It isn't for many people.  Plus, we are not very patient with God's kairos time.  Our society has taught us that such things are unproductive and inefficient.  I suspect that the truth is we just are not all that comfortable dwelling with pain - especially emotional or spiritual pain.  We can, and often will, brag about our capacity to withstand extreme levels of physical pain.  Emotional and spiritual pain we seem to want to avoid, deny, or 'get over' just as quickly as possible.

Yet I will admit that in the dark, dreary, and exhausted moments when I just knew I should be back going full-tilt at 150%, I discovered a quiet peace and strength.  While I was trying to rush head-long back into the hectic life that had run me right to the deepest depths, the Spirit was busy drawing me into an embrace of love and mercy and grace.  While I was thinking of everything that I could or should be DOING, the Spirit was inviting me to repeated and extended times of just BEING.  I discovered that I was adrift in a sea of love.

I have long appreciated the verse from Psalm 46 "Be still and know that I am God." I am not sure that I have ever truly experienced it as fully as I have in the past 6-8 weeks.  What I have learned is that sometimes experiencing the awe, wonder, and life-giving presence of the Spirit happens more fully in the ascent from the depths that it does from the peaks of glorious mountaintop experiences.  I suppose that should not be surprising when I consider that the very image of God's love for God's world is an instrument of Roman torture and an empty grave.

I am finding delight in my days and even in my depths - as odd and perverse as that sounds.  My head and torso are above water now, but my feet are still trying to find purchase.  I am okay with that.  I'll still call out of the depths to God.  But while God is pacing my ascent, I'll just keep kicking.  I may never learn to scuba dive or even swim any better.  But floating in the sea of the Spirit is a pretty darned amazing place to be.

Be at peace wherever you are.  And if you find yourself in the depths and calling out to God, ascend as slowly as God allows you.  You may just discover that you are not drowning at all, but drifting in a sea of love.

Shalom -

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Life-giving Light

In the beginning the Word already existed. He was with God, and he was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  He created everything there is. Nothing exists that he didn't make.  Life itself was in him, and this life gives light to everyone.  The light shines through the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.  (John 1:1-5 NLT)

This has long been one of my favorite scripture passages.  Yet if anyone had asked me "why" I would not have been able to give a specific reason.  Until today.  Something happened today that made me realize why this particular passage holds such intense meaning and promise for me. 

This morning I was granted the immeasurable privilege of being invited to walk with a young woman journeying through a difficult time in her life, to share her emotional pain and spiritual wrestling.  The privilege was granted because I had journeyed a very similar path many years ago.  I need to confess right up front that I didn't sleep especially well last night.  I tell myself that nightmares, hard memories, and old demons have long been laid to rest.  The reality is they lurk just in the shadows waiting for the smallest opening through which to reappear and launch their attacks on my self-esteem and faith.  Walking with this young woman was as good as flinging a door wide open and inviting them to sit down and eat me alive.  The old saying about fools rushing in where angels fear to tread seemed fitting in the circumstances.  Yet I knew that this was something that I felt especially called to do.  I, better than most, know how critical it is at times like that to hear someone say "I've been there.  It gets better." 

I listened this morning, and shared a little.  I was the best non-anxious presence I could be.  We prayed together. Maybe I even helped a little.  I hope and pray so.  Yet the biggest miracle of the morning occurred in me after the young woman and I parted ways.

I cried  - a little for her, tears of sadness because I know the road she has ahead of her.  Then the floodgates opened.  Tears for me - an emotional and spiritual downpour of relief.  I flung a door wide open and laid myself open to all of those demons, set a spread for them over which a gourmet would have raved.  Then I sent them away hungry.  As memories and demons were chomping ravenously, I was able to hear my own words to that young woman. 

There is light in even the darkest, deepest hole.  It SHINES in the darkness and the darkness can NEVER prevail over it.  I KNOW this.  I lived in that hole.  I experienced a dark night of the soul; such complete hopelessness and despair that I would go to bed at night praying that I would not wake up.  Then I would wake up every morning railing at God for not answering my prayer. 

What I know now, in every fibre of my being is that every night when that prayer reached God's ears, God wept.  God wept knowing that I felt such despair.  God wept knowing that I felt beyond God's love.  And while the Father wept, the Spirit prayed with sighs too deep for words, and the Son kept shining into the darkness of my despair.  That truth, resonating in the very core of my being, allowed me to send demons away hungry today.  It allowed me to sit and enter into a young woman's pain and proclaim love and light and new life. 

NEW LIFE:  I am living it - every day.  The hole is not bottomless, the darkness is not all encompassing, and despair is not without hope.

I write this tonight because I want others to know that truth.  It matters.  It changes everything.   

Life itself was in him, and this life gives light to everyone.  The light shines through the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. 

I know.  I pray that you do, too.

In Christ -

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