Southwest Conference Blog

What languages do you speak?

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

Reflections on Orientation-Disorientation-Reorientation (from an Exempt Minister)

by Rev. Jim Fredette

In his sermon Sunday on April 11^th, Pastor Adam Hamilton noted that Walter Brueggemann once wrote that Israel had three circular phases in its life: Orientation, Disorientation, and Reorientation. As I listened to the sermon it struck me how closely the same pattern has been in my life.

Throughout my ministry in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Syracuse, NY., El Paso, TX, Escondido, CA., and Sun City I experienced all three phases. For the most part “Orientation” was my foremost and fulfilling experience. Doing a new church start at Desert View in El Paso was a wild ride between all three phases. My other congregations were far easier and very fulfilling.

When I retired from United Church in Sun City, I wanted to do the “right thing” in ministry. I asked John Dorhauer to lead a service of release of my call to United Church. Nancy and I did not attend or barely drive by the property for more than two years. I was asked by the search committee to meet with Brady, and I assured him of my support and I hope I didn’t do anything that wasn’t supportive.

Nancy and I enjoyed worshiping at the First Congregational Church in Phoenix. We thoroughly enjoyed Steve Wayle’s ministry and the church’s involvement in the community. We probably would have joined the church, but it was 25 miles from us and Steve retired.

We eventually signed a three-way covenant with United Church, the Conference and me defining my “role.” We attended several months, and we felt Pastor Brady was supportive. But we finally decided, we needed to move on. We eventually joined Church of the Palms, and two years ago decided to relocate to southeast Kansas to be near family.

All of this information (I hope I’ve not bored you to death) leads to my viewpoint of being a retired/exempt pastor. I sought exemption status; we were moving to southeast Kansas and attending boundary training and other meetings was not financially or physically possible.

From my experience (which may be uniquely mine) retirement in some ways is a period of disorientation. In my case I found it very difficult to find a role wherein I could still be involved and of some service and yet not intrusive. The Church of the Palms was very welcoming and if we had stayed in Sun City, I probably would have found some role.

What I don’t feel the denomination has really addressed is pathway for some of us to feel we still matter or that our ordination means anything anymore. I don’t want to preach or lead worship. But I also think in some ways exempt status and ordination are almost a contradiction in terms.

Some exempt pastors may find their new status isn’t an issue. I am not exactly sure what the denomination might or could do for some retired clergy. Some retirees may find a new church home and feel “orientated.” Some of us may need more pastoral care and help in finding our footing. In any case I thought maybe my experience might be something that would provide you food for thought.

When there’s nothing good to thank God for

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Give thanks to the Lord because God is good,
because God’s faithful love lasts forever.”
(Psalm 118:1)

In reading this verse I was once again struck by my tendency to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God is good, but because of my perception that God is good to me. If I’m honest, I have to acknowledge that I want to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God’s love lasts forever, but because of my sense that somehow, that love has shined on me.

But what about when bad things happen? What about God feels absent? I confess that my default tendency in those moments is not to “give thanks to the Lord.” How can I thank God when there’s nothing good to thank God for?

And there it is–when it feels like “there’s nothing good to thank God for,” perhaps I’m missing the point of giving thanks. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God is good, not because God does or doesn’t do good things for me. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God’s love is bigger and broader and deeper and more eternal than anything else in my life–good or bad.

As a person of faith, I’m invited to accept the invitation of the psalmist and give thanks to God because of who God is and how God loves. Period.

And you are, too.

May it be so!
Deb

Inclining our Ear Toward God: Listening As A Church

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

In a world full of solutions, opinions, and advice, listening is one of the most important gifts we can offer one another. It is an act of healing and vision. For people of faith and their communities, the gift of listening both to one another and God offers a path to spiritual renewal and grants congregations a vision of their identity. In a time when congregations are experiencing a steep decline in membership and facing significant uncertainty, learning to listen deeply to one another and seeking through listening to discern God’s path for a faith community’s future just might be one of the most important acts a church can engage in.

Rev. Chad Abbott and I minister in a denomination (UCC) that believes “God is still speaking.” The phrase expresses the reality that God is much more mysterious and far-reaching than we can understand. While the Bible continues to serve as the primary source of revelation for Christians, God is still being revealed to us in this world, in a culture the ancient world could not have imagined.

Sadly, it is evident to us as leaders in the Mainline American church that many Christians do not know how to listen for God, despite their deep longing to connect with a God who still speaks. Just as individual Christians struggle to listen for God, faith communities labor to listen for God together. Many are not able to slow down and approach church life in a reflective, contemplative manner.

Chad and I have written “Incline Your Ear: Cultivating Spiritual Awakening in Congregations” (Fortress Press, 2021) to encourage spiritual growth and vitality in faith communities in this listening pursuit. Throughout our book we share spiritual practices designed to help your congregation “incline its ear” toward God. Notice we used the singular “ear.” We believe congregations need to understand themselves as unified — one body, rather than a collection of individuals. As we are both spiritual directors, we explain the principles and practices of contemporary spiritual direction so that congregations can understand and use them. We even outline a “Congregational Spiritual Road Map” at the end of each chapter with step-by-step instructions for leading spiritual practices in awareness of God, reflection on the congregation’s life together, discernment, and creating an action plan to move forward on what is discerned.

With each important decision we make, with every relationship we build, with every church mission statement or ministry we design, and in matters of vocation and prophetic witness, the skills of discernment and listening in the spiritual life will make for vital congregations. While we face declining membership and generational shifts in loyalty to the church, it is clear to us that it is both a challenging, and exciting time to be the church. We have the opportunity to imagine a new future as we listen for God’s leading. All the spiritual resources we need to become that newly-imagined and future church is already within and around us if we will but incline our ear to the work of the Spirit.

We believe this work is so important. The world outside church doors will not wait around for clergy to figure out how to connect contemplative life at home with congregational life at church, so naturally the spiritually curious turn to yoga studios, meditation mats, healing stones, and spirituality apps — and who can blame them? Yet, the church has a deep and abiding tradition of spiritual practices that can help spiritual pilgrims in our time get to the heart of their yearning. In particular, the work of spiritual direction has the potential to not only enhance spiritual vitality in the church, but to push us toward congregational vitality that helps churches more fully live out their mission in the world in a time when a vibrant church is desperately needed.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is the director of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC Phoenix. Rev. Chad Abbott is Conference Minister for the Indiana-Kentucky Conference of the UCC.

Make the Change During Lent

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

We have found some Lenten inspiration in rocks and minerals collected from around the globe: some samples from six of our seven continents are placed on the mantle of the kiva fireplace in our living room. (We have yet to make it to Antarctica and it is unlikely that we would bring back any rock specimens from that frigid place anyway.)

To these ancient rocks, we added dry sticks collected from the arroyo (the steep-sided gully that is bone dry most of the time) in the high mountain desert where we have made our home (for now). Rocks and sticks… seemingly lifeless. After the Festival of the Epiphany (January 6), we had plenty of used, spent, short, stubby white candles on hand. The tired candles from Epiphany were recycled into new symbols for our Lenten journey.

Each Sunday, another candle is lighted. Purple cloth is added now for a bit of color.

Eventually, all six of these candles will be aglow (one for each completed week of this journey through the desert), the stones will be rolled away for good, the purple cloth will be replaced with something else (yet unseen and yet unknown).

So it is with the human heart this Lent. Heavy rocks, dry sticks, leftover candles are symbolic reminders of what might be hiding in our hearts. Specifically, if your life seems out of balance, move things around. (Restructure your work week so that you can balance work, relaxation, and sleep.) If your days are too busy and your life is too full, get rid of what is no longer needed. (Don’t sign up for another socially distant online study group, if another Zoom meeting does not bring you joy.) If you need more meaning in your life, find a place where you can safely volunteer or give back to your community. (Perhaps there are safe volunteer opportunities through your church, the schools in your city, or at the public library.) If darkness seems to surround you and the sky seems gray, then add more light to your home and perhaps a bit more color to your wardrobe. Real, lasting change is hard! Here is a link to article that might be helpful to you if you choose to make changes in your life.

Lent is a time for transformation. As we have counted the days of Lent, beginning on Ash Wednesday (February 17), we have made intentional changes every single day on our kiva mantle. At first, the changes were small – barely noticeable. As the days moved along, the changes have become more obvious. The spent white candles, leftover from a joyful season gone-by, were replaced with purple candles. The rocks and minerals were moved about daily and exchanged for others from our collection. Finally, the sticks were transformed. The random sticks were lugged out to the garage and prayerfully handled, then cracked, snapped, and then broken apart to be made into something new. The straightest parts of our random sticks were fashioned into a simple cross, secured with twine to hold them securely together.

It is not too late to join us on this transformational journey towards new life. Be open to a whole new look and expect a complete transformation in your heart by Easter!

Prayer for Transformation:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.*

*This is what Wikipedia says about this prayer: “The Serenity Prayer is a prayer written by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971). Niebuhr composed the prayer in 1932-33. The prayer spread rapidly, often without attribution to Niebuhr, through church groups in the 1930s and 1940s and was adopted and popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous and other twelve-step programs. Niebuhr used it in a 1943 sermon at Heath Evangelical Union Church in Heath, Massachusetts. It also appeared in a sermon of Niebuhr’s in the 1944 Book of Prayers and Services for the Armed Forces, while Niebuhr first published it in 1951 in a magazine column. Early versions of the prayer are given no title, but by 1955, it was being called the Serenity Prayer in publications of Alcoholics Anonymous.”