posts

My First Tattoo

by Rev. Deb Worley

“…at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered,
because each one heard them speaking
in the native language of each.
Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘
Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?
And how is it that…in our own languages
we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power?’”
(Selected verses from Acts 2, NRSV)

“You’re the coolest minister I’ve ever met.” 
 

So said the tattoo artist who gave me my first ever tattoo, just a few weeks ago, at Talisman BodyArt in Santa Fe. To honor the struggle she and we have been through in the past eighteen months, and the progress she has made, and the commitment we both have to her full recovery, Sarah had invited me to join her in getting a tattoo that she had designed, based on the logo for NEDA, the National Eating Disorders Association. 

In spite of my very real fear that the pain would be excruciating and I would not be able to keep myself from screaming, sobbing, passing out, or otherwise completely embarrassing myself, I took a deep breath and agreed. Truth be told, I felt honored by her invitation. And besides, on the verge of turning the ripe old age of 52, I decided it was high time I got my first tattoo! 

I went first—knowing that if I watched Sarah get hers, I might very well bolt, never to return again, and I really did want to do this. Jordan, the tattoo artist, was a lovely young woman who, as it turned out, had grown up in Los Alamos. She had been doing tattoos for several years and, when she found out she would be giving me my first one, quickly and graciously put me at ease.  

When she was ready to start the actual tattooing, she told me she would do one small section and then check in with me to see how I was doing. I had, of course, shared my fear and dread with her! I told her I was ready, and looked away, looking instead at Sarah, who was sitting on the other side of me. She smiled at me, and I smiled back, putting on a brave face and bracing myself for the pain. And then Jordan began. 

I waited for a moment as the tattoo pen she was using whirred…and then I said, “That’s it??” And she smiled and said, “Yep.” And I, with a mixture of pride and profound relief, exclaimed, “I’ve had three babies with no anesthesia! This is nothing!” Phew….

As she worked, Jordan chatted with Sarah and me, cheerfully answering the questions I asked her about growing up in Los Alamos, about other art she enjoys, about her work, etc. At one point, when there was a lull in the conversation, she asked me, “So what do you do?” 

I looked at Sarah, and we both laughed. And I looked back at Jordan and said, “I’m a pastor.” 

Jordan: “Really?!?!?” 

Me: “Really.” 

Jordan: “Wow! That’s cool!”

Sarah: “Have you ever tattooed a minister before?”

Jordan: “I’m pretty sure I have not! But that’s so cool! I’ll be able to brag to my friends about this!” Pause… “You’re definitely the coolest minister I’ve ever met.” 

By the time we left, Sarah and I had these deeply meaningful tattoos: 

And a very memorable shared experience. And I think that Jordan will remember it, too. I can’t say for sure, but I hope she remembers it as a time when a minister-mom broke some stereotypes, leaving judgment at the door and offering acceptance instead, stepping away from condemnation and stepping into her world with curiosity, extending kindness and respect along with my arm. And I hope that maybe, through our interactions, Jordan was able to hear something about the goodness of God in a language she could understand…. 

In what ways do those we encounter who are not part of the “church-going club” hear us speaking about God? Do we speak in “languages” they can understand? 

God, help us… Amen.

Peace, and the power of translation, be with us all.
Deb

Racism’s Impact on People of Color—RBTS

by Kay F. Klinkenborg

The effect of racism on mental health has a name: Race-based Traumatic Stress (RBTS).

I write this to honor the Juneteenth “Day of Freedom.”  It is important and a crucial time for the church to be informed of the importance of freedom and ending racism; for the mental and physical well being of people of color.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (most commonly referred to as PTSD) became a familiar term following post- Vietnam war era replacing ‘shell shock syndrome’ from WWI and WWII. 

Today there is specific identifying language regarding the trauma of racism on mental health.   Most commonly used is Race-based Traumatic Stress (RBTS)1.  RBTS has not been used as a medical condition but is recognized as a response to a consistent/life-long exposure to racism, discrimination, structural racism and all its implications.  It is the world in which people of color live that white people don’t experience.

In 2002, B.F. Butts2  documented the correlation between racial/ethnic discrimination and PTSD.  From 2005 to now I found ample empirical evidence that attests to the nature and impact of racial trauma on victims.  Should we be surprised?   No!   Are we alert and connected to the reality of those who live under racism daily?  “There is a cumulative traumatizing impact of racism on racialized individuals, which can include individual acts of racism combined with systemic racism, and typically includes historical, cultural, and community trauma as well.”1   American citizens and physicians (in general) are behind the eight ball in applying known medically detrimental stressors and their impact on the mental and physical well-being of POC.

Studies show that White supremacist ideology, the belief in White biological or cultural superiority that serves to maintain the status quo of racial inequality, is deeply integrated in dominant culture values (Liu et al., 2019).4  This consistent racist milieu is destroying lives and our democracy.

“Racism…Corrosive Impact on the Health of Black Americans” was aired on 60 minutes on April 18, 2021.  Dr. David R. Williams, a Harvard Researcher was interviewed by Bill Whitaker.  Williams gave a poignant example of the impact of racism on Blacks in America: “Imagine if you will, a plane  with 220 Black people crashes today and they all die.  Every day in America 220 Black people die prematurely.”5

For decades, the medical community has known that stressors impact physical health and can shorten life expectancy.  What is vital for us to understand is that RBTS is a day-in and day-out lived experience. And that trauma shortens lives significantly and creates mental stress beyond the norm of one significant time, or short duration of traumatic stress in one’s life.  The severity of being in ‘war’ has alerted us to PTSD. BUT we are now learning that a life-time of exposure to racism is detrimental and dangerous to POC and there are life-time impacts of Race- based Traumatic Stress.

A variety of symptoms/behaviors are observed (but not limited to): hypervigilance, depression, low levels of ethnic identity, low self-efficacy, low self-esteem, anger, recurring disruptive thoughts of racist encounters/events, chest pains, insomnia, mental distancing from traumatic events, a variety of medical long-term negative impacts, etc.1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12

 “It is important to note that unlike PTSD, RBTS is not considered a mental health disorder. RBTS is a mental injury that can occur as the result of living within a racist system or experiencing events of racism.” 2

Unequivocally, racism experienced by all people of color is shortening their lifespans, decreasing their quality of life and creating a constant state of anxiety and fear. What should be White Christian’s response to these chronic living conditions?  More crucial, why are we allowing this to continue?  If we are all created in the image of God, all people are equal. Apostle Paul write in Galatians 3:28: : “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (NIV)  Dare we not add:  ‘neither White or people of color’?

Jesus demonstrated for us numerous examples of contact/concern/compassion for persons who are: marginalized, oppressed, economically disadvantaged, those living in disparaging social conditions and lack of physical and mental health resources.

White supremacy does not believe these two quotes: 1) “Every person has equal value”. The Gates Foundation mission statement.  2) “You have never locked eyes with a person who is not worth of freedom, liberty, connection and belonging.” Stated by: Kori Carew, Black female lawyer, feminist, and activist. 

And as recent as the events that DID NOT happen in Tulsa over Memorial Day Weekend, 2021 to recognize the 100 year anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre (Greenwood Black community demolished and over 300 dead, and thousands displaced, John Legend stated: “The road to restorative justice is crooked and rough—and there is space for reasonable people to disagree about the best way to heal the collective trauma of white supremacy. But one thing that is not up for debate—one fact we must hold with conviction—is that the path to reconciliation runs through truth and accountability.”13

 I believe we have a moral and ethic responsibility to work toward ending racism. That begins with me!  The Hebrew Scripture prophet Micah understood this urgent need 1000’s of years ago:  “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (NIV, Micah 6:8).

                                                                                                     

REFERENCES

1Mental Health America website, 2021.   www. https://www.mhanational.org/  “Our Commitment to

Anti-racism.”

2Butts, H. F. (2002). The black mask of humanity: Racial/ethnic discrimination and post-traumatic stress disorder. The Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, 30(3), 336–339

2Mental Health America website, 2021.   www. https://www.mhanational.org/  “Our Commitment to

Anti-racism.”

3Carter, R.T., et al. (2017) Race-based traumatic stress, racial identity statuses, and psychological functioning: An explanatory investigation.  Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 48(1), 30-37.  

-3-

4 Liu, W. M., et al. (2019). Racial trauma, microaggressions, and becoming racially innocuous: The role of acculturation and White supremacist ideology. American Psychologist, 74(1), 143–155.

5Willliams, D. R., Whitaker,B (interviewer). (May 2021).”Racism…Corrosive Impact on the Heath of Black Americans.” 60 Minutes weekly TV news report. Complete interview: https://cbsn.ws/2OYeu70.

 6Helms, J. E., Nicolas, G., & Green, C. E. (2010). Racism and ethno-violence as trauma: Enhancing professional training. Traumatology, 16(4), 53-62.

7Carter, R. T., Mazzula, S., Victoria, R., Vazquez, R., Hall, S., Smith, S., . . . Williams, B. (2013). Initial development of the Race-Based Traumatic Stress Symptom Scale: Assessing the emotional impact of racism. Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice, and Policy, 5(1), 1-9.

8 Cheng, H. -L., & Mallinckrodt, B. (2015). Racial/ethnic discrimination, posttraumatic stress symptoms, and alcohol problems in a longitudinal study of Hispanic/Latino college students. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 62(1), 38–49.

9Flores, E., et al. (2010). Perceived racial/ethnic discrimination, posttraumatic stress symptoms, and health risk behaviors among Mexican American adolescents. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 57(3), 264–273.

10Holmes, S. C., Facemire, V. C., & DaFonseca, A. M. (2016). Expanding Criterion A for posttraumatic stress disorder: Considering the deleterious impact of oppression. Traumatology, 22(4), 314–321.

11Gone, J. P., et al. (2019). The impact of historical trauma on health outcomes for Indigenous populations in the USA and Canada: A systematic review. American Psychologist, 74(1), 20–35.

12Carter, R. T., et al. (2013). Initial development of the Race-Based Traumatic Stress Symptom Scale: Assessing the emotional impact of racism. Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice, and Policy, 5(1), 1-9.

13Legend, J. (June 1, 2021). Hundreds remember riot at historical Tulsa church. Arizona Republic.

To read extensive research on medical treatment of Black patients see:  13Pearl, Robert, MD. (May, 2021) How Racial Bias and Healthcare Inequality Are Killing Black Patients. Excerpted from his book:  Uncaring: How the Culture of Medicine Kills Doctors and Patients.

Elements

by Rev. Dr. Barb Doerrer-Peacock

Elements of the SWC Logo

the saguaro – our faith communities

The saguaro cactus is unique to the Sonoran desert of central and southern Arizona/northern Mexico. It weathers the harsh desert climate through slow and steady growth, adapts to the heat with a tougher skin on its sunniest side, grows its arms to balance itself against the winds, and provides a home and nourishment for a wide diversity of desert-dwelling creatures.  In our logo, the saguaro is the symbol of our Southwest Conference churches, with its adapted cross-like shape it reminds us of our relationship and rootedness with God as shown to us by the life of Jesus. We grow toward God and reach out with arms into our communities.  We are adaptive to the needs of our changing environment and balance ourselves to accommodate the heat of challenge and transitions. We seek to create safe sanctuary and space for welcoming diversities of people. We also draw a unique mission identity from our geographic region that lies on our nation’s southern border.  There are many “borders” in our life, and in following the path of Jesus, we seek to bridge those borders and boundaries with love, justice and acts of compassion.

the sun – our still-speaking God

A primary character in any desert geography is the sun. It gives light and heat, often in extreme ways. It holds the power of both life and death. Our logo sun is the symbol of our relationship with our Still-Speaking God.  The spiral echoes our UCC comma, a metaphor for our continuing testament.  God’s transcendence and immanence is also symbolized in the spiral – the inward and outward spiritual journeys, and the rays of God’s light that reaches into any void and chaos, reveals truth, the warmth of compassionate love, and the heat of passionate commitment to a just world for all.

the mountain – our everyday sacred spaces and callings

Mountains have represented mystical and sacred spaces to human beings the world over, in all ages. The mountains of the Southwest are widely varied from barren piles of volcanic rock, to thickly forested and habitats of wildlife, to colorfully layered canyons and cliffs, mesas and buttes, carved through eons by wind and water.  The mountains in our logo represent our grounded everyday spaces in which we live out God’s calling and incarnate the kin-dom of God.  There are peaks and valleys to our lives that we navigate, there are hidden dangers, yet also grand vistas.  There are deep grounded traditions, yet also places we stand to vision the future.  There is sustenance and nurture, caring for and teaching one another, sheltering the weak, giving challenge and leadership to the strong.

the wind – God’s Spirit among us

In many places in the Southwest, the wind is often a constant companion, blowing across wide expanses of high and low deserts. It carries with it topsoil and dust, much-needed moisture and variations of temperature and weather.  Wind is one of the symbols of the Holy Spirit, blowing with power through the people of God in every time and place, sustaining and guiding life and God’s purposes. Our logo wind, like clouds around the mountains, is God’s Spirit among us, in our life spaces, guiding, sustaining, and empowering us. It brings us through the cycles of seasons, of sunrises and sunsets, it rides on our prayers and our songs to give strength for new beginnings and good endings, fertile soil of creativity and transformative change.

the water – our shared structures and resources for ministry and mission

The element of water in the Southwest is definitive.  It defines life by where it exists, how it flows, and where it is not. Plants and animals have learned to survive and thrive even in the midst of its scarcity. It is vital for life yet can be destructive and bring death in its force. It connects us through shared resources, yet it divides us by defining boundaries and borders. In our logo, as the waters of baptism welcome us to God’s grace and community, our water element represent the structures and resources of our life together in ministry and mission.  We are stewards of our faith community organizations and resources. We strive to maintain a fluidity and adaptability needed to stay vital, yet also recognize the need for boundaries and organizational structure to hold us accountable to each other that we might live with integrity even as we are surrounded by God’s grace.

Come and See

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

“But I did not believe the reports until I came and my own eyes had seen it. Not even half had been told me; … wisdom and prosperity far surpass the report that I had heard.”

(This is Victoria’s loose translation of 1 Kings 10:7.)

For many years now, I have been drawn to Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Having lived a bit in Kentucky earlier in my life, I had visited the motherhouse of the Sisters of Loretto in Nerinx (near Bardstown), Kentucky, and had heard the tales of the sisters there heading out the “wild west” to educate girls. I never imagined that years later I would relocate to Santa Fe and then be employed at what is now called Loretto Chapel Museum.

Like the translation above of 1 Kings 10:7, the Queen of Sheba had heard about the accomplishments and fame of King Solomon, but she did not believe it until she came and with her own eyes had seen it all. Many have heard about the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel, but some must make the journey to see it with their own eyes. Hundreds of guests flock to Loretto Chapel daily to gaze upon this staircase (constructed in late 1879, after the chapel had been completed a year prior in 1878). People of faith call this staircase “miraculous” because we do not know for sure who built it, how it can stand with no center support, or the wood from which it has been made. There are several theories about these things, but the Sisters of Loretto could live with mystery (and so can I).

image credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

Every day that I work at Loretto Chapel, I hear dozens of tales about how modern-day pilgrims have traveled to this remarkable place. Here is one such story:

Just last week, a young Spanish-speaking man came to visit our chapel and was trying to ask me questions about its miraculous staircase. Pedro’s English skills are much better than my Spanish skills, so I let him take the lead on this conversation. Pedro was accompanied by two very elderly people who appeared to be well-worn from lots of sunshine, decades of hard work, and whatever trials and tribulations they might have undergone in life. Pedro told me that these two people were his grandparents and he had driven them in his car all the way from a village outside of Mexico City to Santa Fe. His grandparents had just one wish before they died: to see the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel with their own eyes. Pedro looked so young to be taking his grandparents on a journey like this. Whatever his age, I do think it is noteworthy that a teenager would drive his elderly grandparents from central Mexico to Santa Fe to see Loretto Chapel and its staircase before they die!

Pedro and his grandparents had heard of Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, but they wanted to see it with their own eyes. Pedro was able to tell me that the mystery and beauty of this well-constructed staircase far surpassed any reports that they had heard.

image credit: Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

Why do religious pilgrims of all ages and of all faiths make long, difficult journeys to sacred places? What draws people to these places? Is it the spirit of God that calls us? Or is it the voices of our ancestors that beckon us? Could it be both? Where has God’s still-speaking voice called you? When you finally arrive at such a sacred space, what do you do? Take photos? Buy souvenirs at the gift shop? Sit quietly and meditate? Like Pedro and his grandparents… do you light a candle and say a prayer of gratitude for mystery, beauty, and a miracle that we may never understand? Pedro and his grandparents were expecting to encounter God inside Loretto Chapel… and I am certain that they did.

(If you do not know much about Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, here is a short video clip to whet your appetite!)

What languages do you speak?

by Rev. Deb Worley

When the day of Pentecost had come…all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages….[Everyone] heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that…in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power[?]” (Selected verses from Acts 2, NRSV)

Question of the day: What languages do we speak? Do those around us hear us speaking about God in languages they can understand?

In my late teens and early 20’s, I learned to speak Portuguese and Spanish fairly fluently, living for a time in Brazil and Mexico. I was proud of myself, as I’d wanted to become fluent in another language since I was young. 

As I think about it now, it occurs to me that well before that, I had become fluent in several other “languages.” By that time in my life, for example, I had learned to speak the language of people-pleasing very well, and I was also pretty fluent in perfectionism. The language of judging others came all too naturally, as did the language of “laying down my life for others”—the practice of serving others and putting others’ needs almost exclusively before my own. 

Sadly, my fluency in Portuguese slipped away effortlessly over the years, as I used it less and less; in Spanish, less so, as I’ve had some occasions to use it since college, but certainly I’m nowhere near where I used to be. 

Thankfully, my fluency in the other “languages” has also decreased somewhat over time, although that hasn’t happened nearly as effortlessly as it did with Portuguese and Spanish. Rather, it has taken more of a concerted effort on my part as I’ve recognized that while those ways of being may seem desirable and praise-worthy, they can all too easily cause deep harm to both my self and those around me. 

There are other “languages” I’ve tried to pick up in recent years–ways of speaking, ways of communicating, ways of being in the world–that have taken equally as much effort to learn as those others have taken to unlearn. And, depending on your perspective, they may or may not be viewed as equally desirable.

These new “languages,” however, are much more likely to lead to healing rather than harm, for both my self and those around me. Some of these are the language of acceptance and inclusion, and the language of mistake-making and grace. The language of forgiveness and courage and trust. The language of belovedness.

I hope that in these “languages,” more so than in those of perfectionism and judgment, people-pleasing and self-denial, not only can I move toward greater ease and even fluency, but that as I do, others around me might more readily hear me speaking about God and God’s deeds of power in ways they can more easily hear. 

Because that acceptance and grace and forgiveness and courage–that belovedness–is not just for me; it’s not just for us. It’s for “them,” too. It’s for all. But how will they know if we don’t speak a language they can hear?

Peace be with us all.

Deb


Almighty God, in this season of Pentecost, fill us with your Spirit, as you did the first apostles, and send us to those who need to hear about your deeds of power and Love. Open our hearts that we might learn to speak in languages that are not necessarily our own but that will allow others to hear in ways they can understand. Amen.

What If One Word Could Say It?

by Kay F. Klinkenborg

What if one word could provide clarity for the wide range of emotions we have all felt during COVID-19 since March 2020? Try: languishing.  Dr. Adam Grant wrote an article: “There’s A Name for the Blah You’re Feeling:  It’s called Languishing” for the NY Times, April 19, 2021.

I have heard a wide range of emotions this year: anxiety, fear, empty, listless, depressed, trouble concentrating, and life without a defined direction to name a few. And there have been many sad experiences of loss and resulting grief of loved ones and friends. Also grief of the loss of our normal routines, limitations of what, how and when we could do our predictable routines.      

Grant notes that “we think about mental health on a spectrum from depression to flourishing… being the peak of wellbeing.”  Prior to COVID many have experienced or known someone close who experiences depression. When depressed you feel despondent, worthless, no energy to move forward. “Languishing is the neglected middle child of mental health” states Grant. One of Webster’s definitions: to lose vigor or vitality.

Remember acknowledging that you weren’t functioning at full capacity, but couldn’t say why? You had no overt symptoms or behaviors to indicate mental illness. I recall days of ‘trying to make myself focus.’ Maybe accomplishing one or two of five goals I would have normally set for the day. I have read other articles that comment that during COVID, people were struggling with the long-haul impact of restrictions and the unknown. 

Languishing is the void between depression and flourishing—an absence of wellbeing, but you don’t quite feel yourself either—your motivation is dulled, notes Grant. The potential risk of remaining in ‘languish’ is that one might not notice you are slipping toward depression. You might not be experiencing joy or delight and suddenly realize you haven’t felt that for some time. 

Say it aloud, languishing, name it. Grant writes that might be the first step to learning more about it; because we haven’t done many studies on languishing. “Languishing is common and shared.” And thus, is not an abnormal reaction. We have not been through a pandemic before.  

The professionals admit there is still a lot to learn about this term.

Grant proposes one of the first things to do in coping with languishing is to ‘be in the flow.’  Fr. Richard Rohr in his book, Divine Dance, writes in numerous chapters about the concept of “flow.” To be in the flow is the experience of trusting the moment and staying focused on the smallest of goals. Being present and not letting your mind wonder hither and yon. Don’t spend energy trying to figure out how to control the situation or others or debating solutions for the biggest of problems that professionals/ elected officials are set out to do. Take a deep breath and remember the Creator designed you, and lives in you and all of creation. Don’t go the judgmental path…go the path of discovery the smallest awes.

I find that spiritually to own languishing means I have to name it and experience it and claim that God is a verb in the midst of all that I am witnessing, hearing, and experiencing. Where is God in what I see today? Where is God in what I heard about today from others? Stay in the flow. We have not been alone in this pandemic; nor are we alone post-pandemic.

Second, set boundaries as to when you are not to be interrupted.  You need breathing space to rest and process all that has transpired…even…especially even now… as we see a ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ in America as more are vaccinated.  All processing doesn’t happen in the exact moment…when we can’t name what is happening. We need to bring some grace to ourselves and others for quite reflective time. A time for energy to be restored. Maybe it is a time when you read a novel, do some craft work, have a project. The important thing…it is your time with boundaries and no interruptions.

Third, pick small goals (Grant). This pandemic was a BIG LOSS. Maybe a short word game, one meaningful conversation with a trusted friend 1-2 times a week to own the gift of that friendship to you and to them. Maybe you color in an adult coloring book.  It doesn’t matter the goal…make it a small one. No one is here to judge you about how you spend your time or what you need to do to complete a goal that feels satisfying. 

One of the most important sentences in Grant’s article is: “Languishing is not merely in our heads…it’s in our circumstance.” You didn’t cause this…you aren’t making it worse. Many journalists, mental health professionals, and trauma psychologists remind us we are entering a post-pandemic reality. And with that will be some who have some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for which they need to seek some professional health; particularly if they aren’t eating, can’t motivate themselves to get up, are isolating from others, and feel ‘blue’ beyond what they can manage. 

We can now begin with the lists above to address how the post-pandemic awareness of what languishing is and has been in our past 15 months. Give voice, name it, there is power in naming what is happening with you. Your courage to name it…will encourage others to name it too…and that empowers each of you to move forward with positive steps into more ‘thriving’ modes of living. 

Kay F. Klinkenborg © May 2021                                         

Church of the Palms

Kay is a Spiritual Director; Retired: RN, LMFT and Clinical Member AAMFT. She chairs the Life Long Learning Board at Church of the Palms, serves on the CARE TEAM, and the W.I.S.E. Steering Committee.         

An Antidote for My Racing Mind

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Happy are those…[whose] delight is in the law of the Lord, 
and on [God’s] law they meditate day and night. 
They are like trees planted by streams of water, 
which yield their fruit in its season…” 

(from Psalm 1)

As I lay in bed last week, for hours and hours…and hours…, waiting for my body to recover from whatever bug I had caught that laid me up (or more accurately, laid me down!), there were times when my mind went in a million different directions. On occasion, as it raced, in an attempt to calm it down, I found myself reciting some of these simple phrases: “God is good…God is faithful…God is with us….”

Those phrases are not necessarily found among the 613 commandments found in the Hebrew Bible–“the law of the Lord”–and as such, are likely not what the psalmist was referring to when he wrote about those happy people who “delight in the law of the Lord,” meditating on it nonstop. 

But to me, those phrases–God is good…God is faithful…God is with us–encapsulate much of the truth and beauty and power of our faith. 

And when I can think about those things rather than the things that cause me anxiety or fear, then I become more solidly grounded–kind of like a tree. 

When I can think about those things rather than all the things I don’t know or don’t understand, then I become more deeply nourished–kind of like a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water. 

When I can think about those things rather than trying to desperately figure out how I can solve, fix, or help everyone or everything around me, then I become less tied to both my efforts and the immediate outcomes and tangible results, and more trusting of things happening as and when they need to–kind of life a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water, whose fruit grows when it’s time for the fruit to grow. 

I’m pretty sure I will never find delight in meditating on the 613 laws found in the Old Testament. But I trust I will continue to find meaning in meditating on the simple and profound truths found in phrases such as “God is good” and “God is faithful” and “God is with us.”.

I wonder if you do, too?

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Photo by Michael & Diane Weidner on Unsplash

What Does God See When God Looks At Me?

For Mothers

by Deborah Church Worley  – May 2013

I dedicate this poem 
to my mother, Joyce Mary Payne Church–
who put up with me as a kid;
to my kids, Sarah, Ryan, and John–
who are putting up with me as a mom;
and to all moms everywhere,
who are doing their best every day
to love their kids!

God bless you all!

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see my elbows?
Does God see my knees?
Does God see my nose
and my misshapen toes?
The shape of my chin?
the color of my skin?
Does God see me in the morning,
when I’m looking quite scary?  
Does God see my legs,
when they’re scaly and hairy?
Does God see those bags
I’ve got under my eyes?  
Does God see jelly jiggling
when God sees my thighs??
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…


What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see that bulge
where my waist used to be??
Does God see the [mark of honor] stretch marks
that adorn my lower belly?
…and the muscles underneath
that have now turned to jelly??
Does God see the parts of my body
that will never again be lifted?
…and how my view of the world around me
has forever shifted…
because I am a mother?
The toughest job I could ever love (well, mostly!…)
is being a mother…  
Does God see my gratitude for this gift
that is truly like no other?
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…




What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see me when I’m buried
under dirty laundry?
Does God see me stagger out of bed
to feed my crying baby?
‘Cause I’d do it with a smile
if I thought God was watching…(maybe!)
Does God see the moments of panic
when I realize how true it is
that I really don’t have a clue
when it comes to this mothering biz?!
Why didn’t You send an instruction book, God,
when You sent this child to me?  
What You saw in me when You gave me this gift,
I’m not so sure I see…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…

…and you are more beautiful
and more capable than you know!”

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see me putting band-aids
on banged-up knees?
Does God see me steal a cookie
when I’m making all those lunches?  
I can’t help it, God–sometimes I get
those early morning munchies!!
Does God see me put thousands of miles
on the car, going back and forth?  
And that’s not even counting their activities–
that’s just trips to the grocery store!
Do You see when I get frazzled, God,
trying to keep everything straight?  
I’ll tell You, it’s a good thing I’m married
‘cause I sure as heck don’t have time for a date!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…
 

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see me as I really am?
or as I’d like to be?
I hope God sees me when
I’m being sympathetic, patient, and kind,
and hears me when I’m inconvenienced,
saying, “It’s okay, I really don’t mind!”
I hope when I’m being crabby,
God has looked the other way,
but when I’m loving & sweet again,
has just happened to turn back my way!
Does God see me when I’m short-tempered? 
Just ask my kids–I get downright mean!
But it’s only when I’m being a good mom
that I really want to be seen…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me….


What does God see
when God looks at me?
Does God see me cleaning up vomit
at a quarter to three?
Does God see me when I stay up late,
just to wash my son’s favorite shirt?  
Does God see when I want to shake him and say,
“Stay away from her–she’s just a big flirt!”?
Does God see me when I’m trying
to scrape that old gum off the couch?  
Does God see when, sometimes in seconds,
I go from “loving mom”
to “screaming grouch”?!?
I try to always keep my cool, God,
I really, really do…
but some of what I deal with from my kids
would even be trying for You!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…
 

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…

…even when you’re frazzled and crabby!
But keep breathing–you’ll make it,
and remember–all shall be well….”

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see my heart stop
when my baby screams?
Does God see I feel the same
whether she’s five or fifty-eight–
when I know my child is hurting, God,
my heart just breaks…
Do You see, God, how deeply I long to shelter
my child from life’s pain?
Yet I know that if I somehow succeeded in that,
there’d be more loss than gain…
While no one wants to go through hard times,
it seems to be how we learn best…
Does God see me pray for my child, 
for strength & wisdom when facing life’s tests?
Sometimes I wonder what God sees
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see the pride that fills me
from my head to my feet?
Does God see the delight I feel
when I hear kindness in my son’s words?
when there’s compassion in his actions?
when genuine caring is felt and heard?
Does God see the disappointment I feel
when he chooses to do wrong?
and how I pray for courage for him,
to do the right thing and not just “go along”
with his friends, without thinking,
just part of the crowd…
God, help him be true to himself…
If not for his own sake,
then, God, please, for mine,
for the sake of my fragile mental health!
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see me hold in my concern
as I watch her climb that tree?
Does God see the slight sadness in my heart,
though overshadowed by great joy,
when she walks down the aisle in her lovely white dress,
on the arm of that wonderful boy [or girl!]?
Does God see I just want what’s best for my child,
with all of my soul and heart?  
I know I can’t live her life for her, God…
I’ve tried my best to give her a good start.
Help me to trust that she’s in Your hands,
that You love her even more than I,
And help me to remember that she belongs to You, God,
that You’re just sharing her with me for a while…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…

God whispers to me, “I see it all…,”
and then in my heart I hear God call,
“You are my Beloved…
Your child is my Beloved…
and I have you both in my hands…
Trust me…”

 

What does God see
when God looks at me?  
Does God see my abiding thankfulness
for my family?
Does God see my gratitude
for everything that we have shared?
for all the ways and times and places
that we’ve shown each other we care?
I admit there have been moments, God,
when I’ve wanted to run away,
when it all just seemed too hard,
and I didn’t think I could do it for another day…
But I hung on, I said a prayer,
I took a deep breath, I called a friend…
And I got up again the next morning,
trusting that the rough times would eventually end…
Sometimes I wonder what God sees 
when God thinks to look at me…

But here I am, God, still a mother,
and a mother I forever will be.  
It doesn’t matter whether my child
is one week old or 103!
I’m an imperfect mom who makes mistakes,
but who hopefully gets some things right–
I hope my child knows he’s loved
when he goes to sleep at night…
I hope she knows she’s cherished and valued,
and that she’s beautiful, too…
And I hope at some point they will know for themselves 
how deeply they are loved by You…
That is my deepest and most heartfelt longing;
it’s for that I most fervently pray…
And I have to trust that You will answer that prayer, God,
in Your time and in Your way…
God, sometimes I wonder what You see 
when You think to look at me…

“I see YOU, my child!
I see it all…
and to you, my dear one, I continue to call:
You are my Beloved!

I see you as a mom,
trying your best…
Just keep loving that child–
don’t worry so much about the rest!
You are beautiful, you are capable,
yes, you’re grouchy once in a while–
but you’re allowed!  After all, you’re human!
And that’s a good thing to show your child…
You’re not supposed to be perfect–
that was never part of my plan.
I only want you to be you,
as courageously as you can!
Don’t be afraid, my dear one,
to be who I made you to be!
Accept my Love deep within yourself,
and you will truly be free–
Free to love and accept your child,
and who she is at her very core…
That’s the best gift you can give your child;
he couldn’t ask for anything more!

You ask me what I see in you
when I look your way?
I see a beautiful, capable woman
to whom I continue to say,
‘You are my Beloved!’
Hear it…Let it sink in…Accept it…
and go love on your child!”

I hear it…and I let it sink in…and I accept it:
I am God’s Beloved!

Awesome.  🙂

And you are God’s Beloved!
Let’s go love on all of our kids!!

Happy Mother’s Day!

The Other Pandemic

by Rev. John Indermark

Not long after I had pre-enrolled in seminary, my pastor gave an essay to me written by one of the Niebuhr brothers. The paper explored the theme of freedom and responsibility, and Pastor Pollmann asked me to present a series of short presentations on it during worship. I no longer have what I wrote, which is no great loss. I no longer have the original essay, which IS a great loss.

Fifty years later, the core of that essay looms large – not just for me, but I believe for the viability of democracy. Niebuhr’s core idea, at least the one I grasped, was basic: freedom and responsibility cannot be separated from one another without significant danger. For an individual. For a church. For a nation.

Responsibility without freedom goes by many names. Drudgery. Blind obedience. Slavery. Consider the destructive possibilities of such a state of affairs. Nuremberg comes to mind: I was only following orders. Or three-hundred and fifty years of slavery in this nation followed by a century and more of Jim Crow and segregation, whose consequences still erode this nation– especially when some refuse to grasp (or admit) the affront of those days, reminiscing instead about “lost causes.” Responsibility without freedom is a dead-end street –in its worst cases, it becomes a literal killing field of human spirit and community.

But responsibility devoid of freedom is not the only danger when those two are separated.

To some, actually I suspect to many, freedom has become deified into an unqualified good – which is to say, freedom trumps all other qualities and serves as life’s ultimate arbiter. Absolute personal freedom is to be unfettered by anything or anyone. Or is it? This is the other pandemic now ripping our nation apart.

Freedom without responsibility also goes by many names. Licentiousness. Anarchy. The disintegration of community bonds. Consider the destructive possibilities it has unleashed among us. The transformation of masks and vaccines from public health tools to save lives into a political battlefield where MY freedom to do as I choose is everything, regardless of any consequences for the lives of others. Or the freedom to vote for a chosen candidate becomes a license to lie about the validity of the choices and votes of others, a cancer seen in: 1) the lies about the truth of the November election; 2) the abortive attempt on January 6th to violently install the losing candidate over the choice of the majority; and 3) the efforts now underway to legislate voter suppression to eliminate the franchise of those pesky “others” – whether “other” is defined by party or race or country of origin. Freedom without responsibility dis-members society.

The bottom line is this. We have vaccines to combat Covid. We do not have vaccines to combat the collapse of community when “my freedom” is exalted over all, including truth. Jesus once said the truth will set you free – NOT you are free to invent your own truth. For church, for democracy, to hold together: freedom must be yoked with responsibility. If it is not, the lines of the Irish poet Yeats come to mind, written ironically in the wake of the 1918 flu pandemic and the first stirrings of European fascism:
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
             Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . .
             While the worst are full of passionate intensity.

He makes me lie down

by Rev. Deb Worley

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures….”

(Psalm 23:1-2)

“He makes me lie down…”

I have been struck by that phrase for years. In fact, I looked back last night at something I wrote in April 2017 about it, and it felt surprisingly relevant to our current COVID experience….

I’d like to share that reflection here. Here goes:

The 23rd psalm–such a familiar and beloved psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….”

Unlike many other familiar Biblical passages, it is, perhaps, a passage that remains most familiar to many people in the language of the King James Bible:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me….”

Even the rhythm of the words seems to bring comfort, in addition to the assurance that the words themselves convey! It’s a psalm of trust, a song of comfort, a declaration of quiet confidence in the power, the compassion, the benevolence, and the Goodness of God.

There’s one verse in particular, however, that is speaking to me as I read this psalm today. One part of one verse, in fact, that is calling me to deeper reflection:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” (Ps. 23:2a, NRSV)

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….”  What’s not to like? Lush, green pastures, with pillowy tufts of grass inviting me to lie down and rest. Lush, green pastures, ready and waiting for me to pause, sink down into them, and be rejuvenated.

Of course, God would want, would invite, me to lie down in such a place if God’s purpose was that my soul might be restored (cf. vs 2b)!

Would my soul be restored by, say, lying down in a barren, parched desert?  I don’t think so….

Would my soul be restored by resting in a crowded, noisy shopping mall?  Not so much….

Would my soul be restored if I tried to unwind in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language or understand the culture?  Not likely.

So God, in God’s infinite wisdom, would understandably invite me to stop, to rest, to lie down in a peaceful place, a comfortable place, a place of obvious restoration. God would invite me to lie down in green pastures….

But wait–that’s not actually what the psalm says–God doesn’t invite me to lie down in green pastures, as it turns out. The psalm says that God makes me lie down in green pastures….

Hmm….Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place? Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Today [mind you, this was April 30, 2017!], I find myself considering the idea of being made to lie down, of being forced to rest, of having no choice but to accept a period of inactivity and stillness–all of which seem to imply some sort of resistance, some degree of reluctance, some level of unwillingness on the part of, well, me….

Where might that resistance to “lie down” come from? Does it come from me not wanting to stop doing what I’m doing? Does it come because I’m afraid I won’t know who I am or what my purpose is if I stop doing what I’m doing?

Where might that reluctance to rest come from? Does it come from me being comfortable where I am? Does it come because the place where I’m being made to “lie down” seems somehow uncomfortable? 

Where might that unwillingness to be still come from? Does it come from a feeling that it’s not okay to not be active? Does it come from an impression that it’s a sign of laziness and/or selfishness, or something similarly unacceptable, to not be busy, or productive, or useful, all the time? 

Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place?

Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Maybe, from my perspective, the place where God wants me to “lie down,” to be still, doesn’t look like green pastures at all, but more like an empty, parched desert–lonely…uncomfortable…too quiet…devoid of water and life… Or maybe, from where I stand, my assigned place of inactivity appears more like a shopping mall–noisy…crowded…overflowing with too much stimulation…. Or maybe, the place that God knows will be “green pastures” for me feels for all the world like a foreign land–a place totally unknown, with practices I’m not familiar with and a language I don’t understand….

Perhaps it feels like God is forcing stillness and inactivity on me, that God is making me lie down, in a place that does not seem peaceful, that does not feel comfortable, that does not fit any notion I’ve ever had or could even ever imagine as being the least bit restorative to my burdened soul….

Yet here I am, being made to lie down in green pastures, so that my soul might be restored….

“Clearly, God, You don’t know what You are doing, if You think this— 

[desert/shopping mall/foreign land…health crisis/job loss/loved one’s death…

whatever it is that forces us, reluctantly, into a period of inactivity and stillness…]

–is a green pasture!”


…or could it be that we don’t know what God is doing??…and that “this” is, in fact, in spite of what it may look and feel like to us, a place of green pastures, meant for the restoration of our souls??….

Amen.

And peace be with us all.
Deb