I know stress up close and personal. I will not bore you with the details.
My spiritual journey has taught me that when stress becomes a problem it is a spiritual “disease or dis-ease.” Stress is normal to life but stress becomes a problem when I forget the resources God has gifted to me and to all of us. My inspiration of my thinking on this is the quote:
“You are not always free to choose the circumstances in which you find yourself in life, but you are always free to choose the attitude with which you will address the situation” – Victor Frankl
Stress also becomes a problem when I hold onto stress.
Consider the photo above…
I use this multiple times a day but at bedtime it become my “spiritual throne!”
What do I do here…
I consciously choose to “let go” of the physical waste my body no longer needs.
If I could not or chose not to “let go” of this waste, it would create pain, disease, and eventually death.
So, this moment on the “throne” invites me to ask what are the stresses… the fears, the anger, guilt, frustration, pain, anxiety, worry, despair, events, people etc. that I have taken in during the day which if I hold onto it will disrupt my sleep, cause me pain, contribute to disease/dis-ease, or contribute to my death.
God help me let go of all of all this and flush it from my body, mind, and spirit. The key to letting go I have learned is a spiritual gift: forgiveness. I can “hold on” or “let go” and the key to letting go is forgiveness.
When my son died the grieving process required a “letting go.” Therefore I had to forgive to find the healing to go on living… this does not mean forgetting. It was a process not a moment in time. I had to forgive death… forgive God for the reality of death… forgive the overwhelming pain… forgive that the future that would be forever different… forgive those who did not understand my journey, etc.
So, not only do I need to forgive myself, or others, but all that contributes to stress… to forgive cancer, forgive my anxiety disorder I live with, forgive chronic pain, forgive accidents, forgive congested traffic, forgive aging, forgive prejudice, forgive ignorance, forgive fear, forgive divorce, forgive being laid-off/unemployed, and on and on…
I can CHOOSE to hold onto the stress in my life life or I can acknowledge it, forgive it and let it go and live fully in the moment! My choice and my choice alone.
I continue to work at letting go everyday. I have found it to be my path to peace. I am grateful to God for all who have helped me learn and live these important life coping skills.
I welcome your thoughts, reactions, your coping insights.
Learn more about me, and how I help others to let go, in my bio.
I may have confessed my mildly embarrassing love of Buzzfeed before. They do some decent journalism, but I’m mostly there for the shopping lists and pictures of cute animals. Every once in a while, someone creates a list of pure things, or good things, or cute things as an antidote to whatever current dumpster fire is happening. I totally confess that I’m in dumpster fire mode right now. I’m preaching on the holiness of lament on Sunday. Like most of us, I don’t quite know what to do with everything. My congregation doesn’t have the bandwidth for addressing everything that is going on right now. It’s all so much.
So what would make the dumpster fire feel less threatening?
What if we talked about all the good things? What if we named the equivalent of pictures of animals to soothe your soul but it was as ordinary as any given Sunday?
Here’s some of my list, some of the things that make me smile, convince me the Church is actually amazing, and make me forget the dumpster fire for a little bit.
There’s this little girl who is exactly where she should be in faith development and so she’s concrete in everything. She’s doesn’t want to be a vampire or a cannibal, so she’s very weirded out by communion. As if that weren’t enough of the amazingness of this little kid, she talked to me about it. The next Sunday, I gave her a children’s collection of midrash, stories about stories in the Bible. She was curled up reading within seconds. I got a thank you note from her a week later, which is stuffed into my “Warm Fuzzies” folder to take out on the bad days.
People set up automatic bill pay for church giving. It’s a totally mundane thing that is deeply meaningful. It’s a sign of commitment to the church that is deeper than when it feels good. Also, I like being able to cash my paycheck, for a purely selfish reason. This all works because people choose to be faithful in so many ways.
AA. I wish AA were based in science. It’s not. It’s from the 1930s and abstinence is the only way according to the group. But you know what, it works for a lot of people. We have nine AA meetings a week at church and those guys are awesome. All of the leaders in our groups happen to be men. They will do the odd jobs the church needs help with, which is nice. More than that, they are among the shockingly faithful. They understand community and the importance of showing up. In some cases, they show up six days a week at 6:45 in the morning. Whoever is making coffee shows up earlier. It’s pretty amazing to watch and be invited into.
A young adult in our congregation is currently in a long-term residential addiction treatment program. We weren’t sure if we’d see him for the two years he’s in the program. He showed up to worship last Sunday along with fourteen other guys from his program. We started late because of all the hugging.
Someone buys the communion bread every single week.
The deacons tilt the Christ candle for the little kids to light. It started because, well, the kids were too short but we wanted to invite them to participate. What is hilarious is that it’s then how lighting the candle works in kids’ minds. As they grow, many of them don’t realize for a while they can reach the candle on their own. They stand, patiently waiting for the deacon to tilt the candle so they can light it.
People terrified of church still find their way to us. It’s not usually on Sunday morning. It’s the AA meeting or the gun violence town hall or the education forum. They make not funny jokes about the roof collapsing because they entered the building. They look nervous. And it’s all just fine. Because I am certain that God loves them, too.
Why don’t you take a few minutes and make a list of your own.
guest post by Rev. Dr. Don Longbottom, South Central Conference Minister
The clock reads a little past 5am and I am sitting on the aisle seat of a Southwest flight to one more meeting. As I await take off, I am aware that one of my 4 children, Joshua, is in a 25’ sailboat that he has completely rebuilt over the past year. Josh is, at this moment, crossing the Yucatan Channel that runs between western Cuba and Cancun, Mexico.
The memory of Josh in Superman “underoos” and a cape his mother sewed for him remains crystal clear. Shortly thereafter, carried away by his imagination, he jumped off the top of a first story balcony. Already a tough kid at five, he was fine, but 35 years later, not much has changed.
Maybe 2 years ago, Josh took a leave of absence from the UCC Kansas Oklahoma Conference, and decided, post-divorce, to take a little sail boat and navigate from Kansas down the Mississippi and out into the Gulf of Mexico. Eventually, hugging the coastline because the little sailboat belonged only on a lake, he made his way to Pensacola, Florida. “Dad” was not sanguine concerning this “boondoggle.” Having lost one son to SIDS in 1980, I do not live with the luxury of denial. Awful things can and do happen to good people, people that I love.
Call it “kismet,” “God’s providential care,” or even luck, Josh met some characters in Pensacola who make their way in life refurbishing people’s high dollar sailing boats. Several of these were also “blue water” sailors, free spirits to be sure, who travel the world on the wind, “the breath of God.” Over the last 18 months they helped Josh to learn the mysterious ways of blue water sailing and sailboats. It was during this period that he acquired an almost derelict Bayliner 25 he named “Tish.” As good friends do, and with beer in hand, they gave guidance as he poured himself into the Herculean mission of re-furbishing this vessel.
Continuing his journey, the first big test is crossing from Key West 90 miles to Cuba. This is a far more challenging task than one may realize. Between Florida and Cuba flows a river of water named the Gulf Stream, which is powerful and unforgiving. If you’re not competent you can become caught in the current and find yourself swept away from Cuba and out into the Caribbean where not everyone or everywhere is safe. Weather as well can spoil your crossing as wind and wave can conflict, and when this occurs, 25 feet is not a lot of boat. There is an inherent risk in sailing, especially small boat solo sailing.
My self-serving gift to Josh was a marine equipped Garmin, plus a subscription service that utilizes satellites. I am able to track my child…anywhere in the world. It also provides a limited texting platform as well.
Well as “luck” would have it, checking the tracker mid-voyage to Cuba…the track disappeared from the screen. Dad’s “worst case scenario” mindset immediately kicked in. I imagined a 600-foot tanker plowing through my son and his boat. I have a great imagination. My emergency text to Josh was soon answered, “Calm down Dad, I am fine.” It was a tech glitch and Garmin provided a fix.
The moral of this extended narrative is that your five-year-old in “Underoos” is still that same child in your heart no matter their age. I have tried to teach my children to take a big bite out of life, question authority, chart your own course, fear no man and live your life to the fullest. But, I must admit that it is hard to let go! I am blessed by strong-willed, fiercely independent children who are good human beings and I would not change a thing. But it is hard to let go! The love of a parent (biological or otherwise) for their children is as strong a current as there is anywhere anytime.
Here, at last, is my point. I do not care what party or President. I do not care be it an Obama, a Bush, a Clinton, or a Trump. Any government that would take a child from its mother or father’s arms, (save for abuse) is morally reprehensible. Jesus said, “Let the children come unto me.” He also noted that anyone harming one of these would be better off to have a millstone tied around their neck and thrown into the sea.
Jesus Christ taught us to turn the cheek when struck and I for one believe that he meant what he preached. I believe as well that Jesus practiced non-violence, not as a tactic but as a way of life. Anyone attempting to take my child from me would be the greatest test of faith that I could imagine. Jesus taught us to be non-violent but he did not teach us to be silent. It is time to stand up and to speak out!
As I write these final words, Josh is within easy distance of Las Mujeres. He has done well and is safe. One of his friends from back in Pensacola, Leroy, a true veteran of the sea, watches over Josh’s progress and keeps me aware that all is well.
Yesterday was a day of action to state that in this country #FamiliesBelongTogether.
It is terribly sad, disgraceful and angering that I currently live in a country where the powers that be feel it appropriate to separate children from their parents at the border. It is even more disheartening and angering when a politician misquotes the Bible, as if sacred scripture would support such injustice!
I am proud to be pastoring a progressive congregation where members participated in this day of action. I have great respect for Martha and Ray who picked up one of our church signs and went to the intersection that leads to Homeland Security ICE field office here in Albuquerque, and stood in protest. Who then moved themselves and stood outside the US Citizenship and Immigration Service office continuing their vigil and peaceful protest. Two voices — two everyday people — two people of faith who took their faith seriously, risking as Jesus risked to call for justice!
Then last night, as I was winding down my day with Stephen Colbert’s Late Show, Colbert took a moment to speak out against this injustice as well. He got right down to it, shining a light on this disgraceful policy of our government. He asked all citizens to stand against these atrocities. He spoke about the greatest gift you could give your father this Father’s Day is to call your Senators and Representatives and ask for a discontinuation of this unjust policy. #FamiliesBelongTogether
As a person of faith, as a spiritual leader, I feel that I must speak out against injustice. Jesus requires it of us if we are to seriously follow in his footsteps.
In the gospel of Mark, Jesus speaks to the disciples about what it means to the greatest, saying, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” He continues later in that same chapter, “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea…”
Jesus is about protecting our children. He is about making sure that our children, all children, are treated with Love, Respect, Mercy, Compassion. He is about making sure that children are safe, loved and protected.
He is not about tearing families apart just to prove a point, to deter people from seeking sanctuary. He is about welcoming fully those who seek sanctuary.
I believe that Martha and Ray were being Christ — doing as Jesus would do — as they stood in peaceful silent protest before ICE. I heard the voice of Christ coming forth as Colbert asked us all to stand up against injustice. I see Christ’s Light grow each time I witness someone standing in Love and Compassion against injustice, violence, hatred.
I will join my Christ Light — shining the Light of healing and transformation in this darkness. I will call on those in power to change their ways. I will continue to hold up those who risk their bodies and voices to speak out again injustice.
I will seek to be Christ in this world.
I invite you to join me….
because #familiesbelongtogether
guest post by Sandra Chapin, St. Paul’s UCC publications manager
Another school year has come to an end. The occasion has caused me to reflect upon my school days… No “when I was your age” stories about trekking to school in the snow: a) I grew up in Central Texas where an inch of snow closed the district; b) Mom was my gracious chauffeur.
Being the studious type, my fond memories of school center on many of my teachers whom I held in high esteem.
Mrs. Jo Ann Northern taught creative English in high school. Her enthusiasm for story telling and her rapport with her students made the class one I always enjoyed. When Christmas approached I wanted to give her a gift. I put together the fact that John Milton’s Paradise Lost was one of her favorites and that my mom bought Avon which had at the time the fragrance “Bird of Paradise.” With the small bottle of cologne I included a gift card that I wanted to make extra special. And how would a studious girl do that? I went to the school library and poured over a copy of Paradise Lost looking for a quote to write in the card. This is what I found, and what continues to stick in my mind 45 years later:
How little knows any but God alone to value right the good before him, but puts most things to worst abuse or to their meanest use.
Did I happen to mention that I was a weird studious girl? By the way, not studious enough to actually read Paradise Lost, an epic poem written over 300 years ago based on the biblical account of humans’ rocky start.
That quote still provokes my curiosity. One of the ways it speaks to me is how a thing seems to be all about “x” and then “y” results. The unexpected.
I expected to like my high school biology teacher Mrs. Raye Juan Markunas. This was because my sister had her three years earlier and she told me about her funny stories. That expectation was fulfilled. Mrs. Markunas was a delightful teacher and her love for her subject matter – and students – touched us all. DNA aligned and genetics came alive. Fortunately the dissected frog remained dead. (Creepy.) She was one of many science teachers who fostered in me a passion for science. Science geek am I.
No wonder that I tuned into PBS last week and got caught up in an episode of “NOVA Wonders” focusing on genetic engineering. Here’s a lesson in the unexpected: We know that the HIV virus hijacks healthy cells by inserting its own destructive DNA. Now the HIV virus has been hijacked by scientists. Modified HIV can insert engineered genetic code into cells that may cure some diseases. ALD is a deadly genetic brain disorder but in a trial using this method some participants have returned to their normal activities. HIV can be a delivery system that saves lives rather than takes lives.
There is learning after high school. Learning that bubbles up when you least expect it. Sometimes I stay long enough working at church (doing my bulletin/newsletter thing) on Tuesdays to speak with Chuck Canada. He sets up our space for the Buddhist meditation classes that are held each week. If you looked up “bubbly personality” in the dictionary you would see a picture of Chuck. What a character! We talk about TV shows we like and the latest political upheavals. He says he’s not a very good Buddhist but as an ambassador for the enjoyment of life, he’s tops in my book. I’m going to relay to you what he said to me last week which prompted me to say to him, “You’re more fun than Wikipedia.”
How we got on the subject of Frank Lloyd Wright, I don’t remember. Chuck has visited many of Wright’s innovative buildings and has seen first hand that having leaky roofs is a reoccurring feature that did not cause Wright, or owners of those properties, to alter his designs in any obtrusive way. The visual often superseded the practical.
“Fallingwater” is a Wright house in a rural area southeast of Pittsburgh. Created for a department store magnate who wanted a view of a waterfall, Wright wanted his client to become one with the waterfall instead. It was built directly on top of the waterfall and its appearance echos cascading water. The family used this spectacular residence as a weekend retreat for over 30 years. Here’s a lesson in the unexpected: Living as one with a waterfall resulted in hearing loss for the family.
Sure, it makes sense, but it startles my imagination. And so it goes with learning. We can learn from those who prepared academically to be teachers. We can learn from friends long after our days spent sitting in a classroom. Films and books have so much to teach us. But, be warned — when we connect with a teacher our minds may open and take us on unexpected journeys. Lifelong learning. Learning is life.
“This is ME.” Powerful words. To be able to proclaim them aloud in the presence of another takes courage and strength. For before I can make this proclamation, I have to find the audacity to utter these three words to myself.
“This is ME.” Strengths and faults, “This is ME.” While I may not yet be able to fully embrace all facets of who I am, I say to myself and others, “This is ME.” While there may be areas of my life I want to grow in or change, today, I proclaim, “This is Me.”
Throughout my life, a factor so real to me that it became human like consistently kept me from claiming these words. Meet Expectations. Initially, Expectations was a stranger to me. As an infant I had no awareness of its presence. Eventually, I was introduced to Expectations by adults and peers. Its objective was clear, to shape me into the likeness of the majority of people around me. The same people Expectations had already worked its magic upon. Expectations’ creed was “This is us” not “This is me.” I share with you an example of how this played once played out in my life.
New Scene
I had been in my new church for only a few weeks when a church member, who had been part of the team that hired me, confronted me.
“Tony, I think we hired the wrong person,” she said.
“Don’t freak out. Remain calm.” I told myself. “Look confidant.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You talk about Jesus way too much in your sermons and you hold the Bible far too long. Once you read from it, just set it down.”
This event was not a major issue. Initially, none of them were. They were, however, forecasting the weather over the horizon. Sure enough, the big storm blew in and left destruction in its path while carrying me off with it. For four years I used every trick up my sleeve to make “ME” work at that church. Unsuccessful. With time and distance, along with help from others unloading the crap of self-doubt I had piled upon myself, I finally realized that woman was right. They hired the wrong person. They hadn’t hired “ME.” They hired the Tony who they thought they could mold to fit their expectations stemming from a long tenured previous minister. Some of these expectations they probably weren’t even aware of. However, the more I became aware of them, I found courage and strength to start living out the words, “I am brave, I am bruised. I am who I’m meant to be, this is ME.” I didn’t do this on my own. One church member in particular, a psychiatrist, believed in ME. He encouraged me to remain true and steady to my convictions and values in a loving yet powerful way.
This experience helped me realize the further out you are from the accepted norm, the greater the effort exerted by others to bring you into conformity. To bring this about a variety of tactics are employed. At first, they are subtle, pleading and cajoling. Nonetheless, if the appropriate results don’t come about, they hand you an all-expenses paid ticket to Guilt. If you return from the trip looking and acting the same, assorted expressions of disappointment and anger await you at your front door. Eventually, out of sheer hopelessness and despair, they roll out the cannons and start firing cannon balls with the word “Rejection” engraved on each one.
Benj Pasek, one of the writers of the hit, “This is Me,” from the movie The Greatest Showman, at one point experienced some, perhaps even all of these tactics. “For myself, I was a closeted gay man who as a teenager felt like the world was inundating me with messages that you’re not good enough or you’re unlovable.” Therefore, when Director Michael Gracey started looking for “an anthemic song for the people who had lived in the shadows their entire lives and had stepped in the light, declaring they would be seen and love themselves as they are,” Pasek found that wounded place within and begin to compose a song that would resonate with many of us.
New Scene
The Bearded Woman, from the movie The Greatest Showman, sings “This is Me” in the midst of the nobles while surrounded by the rest of Barnum’s misfits. Misfits, the ones you might drop a few bucks to go gaze at and find entertaining; not the ones you expect to see outside of their environment and especially not in yours. If you watch the scene closely, you might catch the cameo appearance by Jesus. Jesus’s makeup and wardrobe make him difficult to spot. Some have thought they saw him disguised as Tom Thumb or Fedor Jeftichew, the Dog-Faced Boy. That doesn’t surprise me. The historical Jesus would have fit in perfectly with Barnum’s motley crew and sang with gusto as he harmonized with the Bearded Woman, “This is ME.”
New Scene
Jesus reclining at a table with those who have been pushed to the margins of society. Jesus appears at ease, comfortable, a smile on his face interspersed with lively laughter. As he receives a slice of bread from the young man who has lost everything because he couldn’t keep up with his debt, Jesus says to him, “You know that you deserve love (Oh-oh-oh-oh) ’cause there’s nothing you’re not worthy of.” Between sips of wine, Jesus makes eye contact with the physically disabled woman seated across the table, “You’re marching on to the beat of your drum (marching on, marching, marching on). Don’t be scared to be seen. Make no apologies. Proclaim with pride, “This is ME.”
“This is ME.” Powerful words. May you and I find the resolve to claim them for ourselves. May we find the passion to support and empower others to do the same.
Watch “This is Me” with Keala Settle, 20th Century Fox
“This is Me” Lyrics
I am not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts
I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one’ll love you as you are
But I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me
Another round of bullets hits my skin
Well, fire away ’cause today, I won’t let the shame sink in
We are bursting through the barricades and
Reaching for the sun (we are warriors)
Yeah, that’s what we’ve become (yeah, that’s what we’ve become)
I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh
This is me
and I know that I deserve your love
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) ’cause there’s nothing I’m not worthy of
(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh)
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
This is brave, this is proof
This is who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come (look out ’cause here I come)
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on)
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I’m gonna send a flood
Gonna drown them out
Oh
This is me
I was sharing work-related woes with a friend the other day. He was relating how there are some in his organization who have a penchant for making things more complicated than they need to be. Sometimes, he noted, work expands to fit the time available and some of us tend to be mesmerized by complexity.
“Your office needs a Sunday,” I told him.
Huh?
Here’s a glimpse into church life: Sunday comes after 6 days of non-Sundays every single week. Let’s say your church has a great Sunday: the pews are full, the offering basket is full too. The message is inspiring; the choir knocks it out of the park. At coffee hour, conversation is lively and welcoming.
Awesome. Now do it again in 6 days.
Let’s say, conversely, that Sunday doesn’t go so well. It’s a holiday weekend and lots of people are elsewhere. The microphone makes crazy noises; the coffee is burned. Someone forgets to grab the bread for communion and the congregation sings flat.
Awesome. Now do better in 6 days.
What I call ‘the tyranny of Sunday’ is this: whether things are good or bad, you get another chance the very next week. Buckle up, buttercups! At my friend’s workplace, they seemed to need the time crunch of a metaphorical Sunday to keep projects moving forward. Sunday is a cure for beleaguered decision-making, perfectionism, and micro-management.
This is the way calendars work, of course. But it makes for good theology.
The pressure is on! Every week, church clergy and staff and musicians and volunteers strive to put together a meaningful experience of connection to one another, connection to our lived experience, and connection to the Mystery we call God. People depend on their church family, and this work matters.
But hey, no pressure! We never know what someone brings with them on Sunday. We can’t foresee what might be touching or meaningful to the people in the pews. We can’t bat 1000 every week, so we do our best and leave the results in God’s hands.
The consistency of weekly worship guides us through the liturgical seasons. The combination of regular gatherings and the poles of the Church year (Lent/Easter and Advent/Christmas) promote balance and growth.
A regular day is okay! I’m sometimes astounded when I recall that I really enjoyed the sermon on a particular Sunday, but now I can’t remember the topic. Being together as a worshiping community is often enough. Lifetimes are made from regular days and vibrant active churches are made from regular Sundays.
Maybe other weekly rituals and tasks work the same way. If you’re a Saturday Night Live cast member, let me know your thoughts.
I’m mulling over Sabbath. Maybe it’s the holiday weekend, when much of the country settles in for an extra day off. They pack bags, go camping, grill in backyards and things like that. Some pastors take off this Sunday, too, but for many, a Monday holiday doesn’t mean a long weekend. I’m in the many.
And still, I’m thinking of Sabbath. Here’s my confession: a while back, I stopped intentionally reading the news. My morning routine had long been to slowly wake up, picking up my phone and browsing through headlines in my favorite news apps. I read Al Jazeera English for a broader range of international news. I appreciated the backstories reported in Vox. I gave up HuffPost as it got fluffier and fluffier. I loved the long form stories of The Atlantic. With equal interest, I’d browse The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Economist. The list was long and varied—a nerd wake-up, I suppose.
About this time last year, I stopped doing that. It was Trump, in case you’re wondering. Reading the news under a Trump presidency became toxic, so I stopped for my own sanity and well-being. I’m aware that’s a place of privilege and feel plenty of guilt about that. Of course, I still get a reasonable amount of news. Some of it is sent to my inbox and other pops up in social media. I just stopped pursuing it and gave myself permission to check out of it all together.
I wish I could say it was a carefully thought out and pursued Sabbath. It wasn’t. It was a move of self-preservation. By the time I was making the decision, it was out of a place of pain, anger, and frustration of the damning variety. My soul could not bear it and remain intact.
I suppose I did declare a Sabbath of some sort, knowing that I would return to my previous habits of devouring information. Some day. Eventually. But not now. Not for a while longer.
Part of my job is offering premarital counseling to couples. Most take it seriously and appreciate the work we do together. In the end, much of what we talk about and work toward is intentionality in their relationship. Plan dates. Talk about problems. Set goals. Talk about problems. Say no to things you don’t want to do. Talk about problems. Time and time again, people seem unaware that we actually get to make choices about what we do and how our lives work out in the day to day.
As I consider my own News Sabbath, I am also aware of how easy it is to forget that we have choices. I see people juggling the schedules and the commitments, seeming to forget that they can say no to softball or soccer even if it is good for their kid in some ways. It doesn’t have to be added on top of scouting and school and swim lessons. I see people desperate for some rest. I see people who think they are unable to linger over dinner and conversation. I see all the people who forget that we can choose things that are life-giving and life-sustaining. “Do not worry,” says Jesus. “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink.” It has nothing to do with Sabbath, and yet has everything to do with Sabbath. That passage ends with, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Maybe it is worry more than anything else that drives us, since that is its own manifestation of control. Sabbath, after all, creates space and reminds us that we are not in control. Rest, weary one, for the world will go on just the same. It’s beautiful and haunting, depending on the person or the day. That’s generally the way the Gospel works.
So keep Sabbath this weekend, dear friends, for that is holy work, too.
Now that my youngest child has hit adolescence, I seem to be harvesting the fruits of telling her since she started school that grades are not important to me. She’s testing my resolve… occasionally deciding that an assignment is not a priority. I’ve mostly stuck to my resolve, reminding both of us that there are more important things in life than 6th grade language arts.
Recently, I confided my struggles to a casual friend, Jenna, and a most interesting conversation ensued. Our tone was lighthearted, but the conversation revealed different ways of relating to life.
KR: So, I’ve always told my children that learning is very important to me, but grades not so much. Unfortunately, it seems that Molly was listening all this time.
Jenna: I have not given Rianne that message… not at all. I tell her that she’s being graded and tested and judged all the time. At school, at home, out in public. You don’t do what you’re told – you’re being graded on that. You have a school assignment – you’re being graded on that. You have an interaction with someone you don’t know at a restaurant – you’re being graded on that. We’re always in every situation being tested.
Is Jenna right?
Of course she is. Human brains are sorting, difference-measuring, weighing-up machines. Making decisions about people and situations is what we do. It has kept our species alive for many millennia. And we also recognize that we’ve all had experiences when we are told in ways both direct and subtle that we don’t measure up. We’re just not ___ enough. Not good enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough, not thin enough, not athletic enough, not conforming enough. Our post-modern, hyper individualistic, youth- and wealth-worshiping society doesn’t exactly encourage us to accept ourselves and others just as we are. We do feel as if we are always being tested and being found deficient.
If I had more time in my conversation with Jenna (and if I had been thinking quickly on my feet), I might have said, “Yes, we feel the weight of others’ judgments. But we don’t have to take every opinion with equal weight. We can walk away from expectations and judgments. And more importantly, we need to share with our children the heart-deep conviction that their worth does not depend on the ‘grades’ given by others – EVEN IF those expectations and judgments come from someone they love and respect.”
Also recently, I’m diving deeper into Nonviolent Communication. At the heart of NVC is the idea that every human person has dignity and innate worth and personal agency. Our needs are both important and shared. When we interact in a way that honors human freedom, connections can be made that serve life.
This is an easy connection to my faith. We are called in ways large and small to freedom.
Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:17-18)
What does this mean for Molly’s ‘History of Me’ social studies project due this next to last week of school? I don’t know, but I know that she will carry with her this idea that she is of tremendous value NO MATTER WHAT far longer than she will care about her 4th quarter grading report. And for this assurance, no matter how frustrating I occasionally find it, I am grateful.
Finally, what’s an alternative to Jenna’s worldview? How can we relate to the way life is, if not as a gigantic classroom with high-stakes testing? Maybe life is a garden where those planted can simply grow. Maybe Mary was more right than we thought… when she thought Jesus was the gardener (John 20).
Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love: we confess that often we don’t know how to relate to our own freedom or the freedom of others. We confess that sometimes our interactions with our fellow creatures don’t serve this freedom. Help us – open our eyes. We so want to live in grace and abundance. Guard in our hearts this vision of open futures and faith-filled garden paths. We pray in faith and gratitude. Amen.
“If I spent enough time with the tiniest creature–even a caterpillar–I would never have to prepare a sermon. So full of God is every creature.” –Meister Eckhart
image credit: Karen MacDonald
“Looking deeply at any one thing, we see the whole cosmos.” –Thich Nhat Hanh
I am proud to be pastoring a progressive congregation where members participated in this day of action. I have great respect for Martha and Ray who picked up one of our church signs and went to the intersection that leads to Homeland Security ICE field office here in Albuquerque, and stood in protest. Who then moved themselves and stood outside the US Citizenship and Immigration Service office continuing their vigil and peaceful protest. Two voices — two everyday people — two people of faith who took their faith seriously, risking as Jesus risked to call for justice!
