Julie Rogers-Martin

Soul Feast

Women in ministry see it all: families torn apart by addiction, mental illness, poverty and greed. We hear parents anguish over what they should have done differently. We try to bring light and hope in the midst of deathbed regrets, and newborns with feeding tubes. We long to sit at Jesus’ feet and rest for a while. But after a busy day at work, tending to the needs of others, we then go home to the daily struggles of our families—meals, bills, and errands. The weight of the world is strapped to our backs, so we smile, say a prayer and do the next right thing–put one foot in front of the next, and carry on.

That’s why our denomination offered a Women in Ministry Retreat this week. They probably figured we could relate to the Mary and Martha scripture passage we studied (Luke 10:41). You know, the one where Martha basically calls her sister “lazy” for sitting at Jesus’ feet and leaving her with all the preparations. We wrestled for hours over which is more important—serving others or resting at Jesus’ feet to listen and learn. What began as creative imagining—plopping ourselves smack dab into the middle of the story–ended in a gut wrenching self-examination of our lives and our faith.

I can easily relate to Martha. I love to entertain and live for the smiling eyes as guests go for that second helping. So Martha’s pleas to Jesus are not that new to me. “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work. Tell her to help me.”

Our newscasts and office buildings are filled with these laments. “Why are we the ones doing all the work around here when there are able bodied people just sitting around? Or why are we working so hard, when they are reaping all the benefits?

Do you hear the edge in the voice, that self-righteous tone of resentment that pierces the skin? I imagine the inner voice of Mary getting ready to reply, “I am not lazy. I’m just taking a rest while I listen and learn from the master. He is so amazing; I just want to be near Him–to enjoy his presence for a while.”

Perhaps, Mary is too tired and battle weary to do anything else. She has to sit for a while to recuperate. I feel that way every day, which is why I need two hours of quiet time in the morning before I even face the day. Sitting in darkness and watching the moon set, I meditate and pray. I gain strength from the One who places the sun and moon at opposite ends from each other, rising and setting in tune like the grand symphony of life. “A gift,” my PawPaw used to say. “God gives us two gorgeous gifts each day: a sunrise and a sunset. But most people are too busy or too tired to notice.”

But Mary doesn’t have to say a word. Jesus speaks on her behalf. “Martha, Martha.” His term of endearment is saying her name twice. “You are worried and upset about many things.”(Of course I am Lord. Can’t you see I am trying to hold your world together while others around me are sluggards? If I stop, everything will be ruined.)

“You are worried about many things (dishes) when only one is needful. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her.” OUCH! Just when Martha though she would receive Jesus’ praise for being such a hard and devoted worker, or his intervention with her lazy sister, Jesus turns things upside down.

It’s not that her work isn’t important, for we are all called to serve. Each of us has a role in God’s plan for the world. Perhaps what Jesus was responding to was the tone in Martha’s voice–that ring of resentment. As if to say, “If you are getting resentful, then stop. Come sit at my feet like Mary and enjoy our time together. We may only have one dish (or none) to eat, but the spirit of community, love, and wholeness will be our nourishment. It may not be the feast you have planned (which I know would be delicious) but why don’t you take a rest for a while and delight in our relationship and time together? You choose what you will, Martha, but Mary has chosen what is better, and I am not going to take that away from her.”

You’ve got to love Jesus! He turns the tables on things time and time again!

I can hear the pots stirring in her mind. It’s hard for the worker bees to hear that it’s okay sometimes to sit and refresh. It’s okay to listen for the quiet breath of inspiration, which renews, rekindles, and rediscovers that God has everything under control.

Every time I teach on Sabbath-keeping someone says, “There is no way I can take a day off. Our family/business/world would fall apart. It would produce too much anxiety and loss.” Those of us who know, just smile, remembering that some

Israelites said the same thing with the manna. “There is no way there will be enough for us to eat on Sabbath if we don’t collect extra. I’ll keep some until morning to tide us over. “ And what did they find the next day? What was the fruit of their labor? “Some of them paid no attention. They kept part of the manna until morning. But it was full of maggots and began to smell.” Exodus 16:20

Why did it begin to smell? Because, you cannot hide lack of faith. It comes out in all kinds of ways: resentment, anger, fear, judgment, hatred, and greed.

“Come sit for a while, Martha. Only one thing is needful, right now.”

If only I had heeded his words as a young mother. My own vision for having a happy home was putting a gourmet meal on the table every night. My children beckoned, “Come see what I learned at school today, Mom.” “Come play with me.” But I couldn’t. I was steeped in sauces and vegetable gratins. I had too many dishes on the stove, when only one would’ve sufficed.

The reek of resentment probably wafted at the dinner table each night even though I tried to mask it with garlic. I loved my church work, but at home, I felt I was carrying the burden of shuttling kids, homework, and housework alone. (My pastor husband has always worked 60+ hour weeks.) What I found out years later when I gave up my ideals of perfection and served one-dish soups or tacos weekly was that our family’s soul was restored. I had so much fun with my children, that instead of the stench of resentment when Tim returned home, I felt compassion and care for him, for he was the one that was truly missing out. So rich was our concern for him that we devised ways to include him in our fun and refreshment even while he was at work.

That was probably what Jesus had in mind when he spoke to Martha. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate her hard work. (Who doesn’t love gourmet meals?) Actually, it is part of God’s design that all of us experience the richness of a job where we are appreciated and sought after for our God given gifts and talents. It’s when that doesn’t happen that our hearts are hardened. That’s when we become much more worried about ourselves rather than listening to what the Master has to say.

Remember the Sabbath. Trust me. For I know the plans I have for you: plans to prosper you and not harm you. Plans for a hope and a future.

When we sit down, focus on God, and rest, our resentments fall away. Our souls are nourished. Delight will fill our hearts. And when we get back to work, we might find that others are so intrigued by our exuberance that they will want to join us in serving God as well.

God designed us as human beings, not machines. All we need to do is trust that God knows what God is doing. There is bounty enough for all. The world will still turn. The moon will still set and the sun will still rise. Two gifts each day are ours. Pay attention, rest for a while, and be prepared for a soul feast.

You worry about many things…when only one thing is needed. Luke 10:42

Out of the Fog

It’s super quiet in the wee hours of the morning. The mist that has overtaken the night, thick with its heaviness and dread, dissipates with each new beam.

Imagine a world a little gentler, brighter and simpler. That’s what God intended. All it takes is a little attention to our center, our core, our soul. It’s easy to get distracted with the lights, whistles and bells. Like with the wrapping paper at Christmas, you look around to view the damage you have done to your credit, family relations, and schedule, and wonder if it was all worth it–the presents, the Amazon wish lists, the glitter, the angels and hope.

For a moment, we get a glimpse of the world as God intended, but then doubt creeps in. Was it worth it? Was it even real? Could that dream become a reality? Could peace be afforded by one little step toward another…that stranger, that foreigner, that unwed mother?

Just ask anyone who has been cleared of cancer, welcomed back into a family, or offered a new job–sometimes the loudest voice speaks from within. “I’m going to do it well this time.” In those thin spaces, when the fog clears, and all is well with your soul, you know what matters. Make it count! Happy New Year!

Breathe In

I wrote this on Christmas Eve. But today is the first time I could muster strength to post it, due to a weeklong bout with bronchitis…

Dec. 24^,2015

For the first time in three days, I woke up today and it didn’t hurt to breathe. When you can’t breathe, everything gets blown out of proportion. Desperation lurks at every corner. I couldn’t concentrate enough to read, and I love to read. I couldn’t have phone conversations without coughing fits of fury. When it hurts to breathe, there is no thinking rationally. You are tired, scared, and hurting. And all you want is out of it.

That pretty much sums up the world, today. If you take your wind from others, it looks hopeless. If you watch the news or read the newspapers, terrorism, war, cancer, natural disasters, refugees, rampant greed, hatred, and cynicism are lurking around every corner. And it’s quite evident by our politics that we are not thinking rationally either. I don’t know about you but I’m having trouble catching my breath this season. It hurts too much, really.

But the bottom line of this Christmas season is what the angels said to shepherds long ago. “For today I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all. For unto you this day, a Savior is born.” Even more angels joined to proclaim: Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to all people and goodwill to all.”

What the angels were really saying was, “Can you believe it? If so, come see him.” And they mapped out how to find him– wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a feeding trough. Not the way I would have staged it. No king with military might. No soldiers fighting the evils of the world…just a scared teenage unwed pregnant girl in a land distant from her own. God is like that. Coming in unexpected ways. A feeding trough and an unwed mother.

How could she face the judgment and fear of the unknown that lay before her? How could she catch her breath in the midst of the toils, travels, and tears she would face with this child? I’d have trouble catching my breath, if I were she. I’d be sick with discouragement and doubt. But she chose purpose and meaning instead.

I keep hearing that voice inside–“Can you believe it–peace and goodwill to all? If so, come see him.” If I believe it, do I dare take the steps of the shepherds and go and find the Anointed One—the Christ? Not just say he exists, but actively, urgently, seek and worship him.

It’s when we start the scary trend of believing the words of angels–peace and goodwill to all–that we live into the meaning of what Jesus’ birth was all about: wholeness for our soul, for our community, and for our world.

It seems, we too, are lowly shepherds at that same juncture in the road. Are we going to live for meaning and purpose… or for our own happiness and livelihood? Will we be doing what we have always done the way we have always done it? Or are we going to follow God’s will with hope, generosity, and love—that all may have peace, goodwill, and joy—not just some, but all.

So I ask you. Can you believe it?

Then come see him. Come every Sunday, and every day. Come every chance you can get to sit at this amazing child’s feet because he is the Savior of the universe. He brings hope, wholeness and healing to all. He even proclaimed it as a teen in the temple saying:

“The Spirit (Ruach, Hebrew for breath, wind of God) of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Luke 4:19

And again at the end of his life: “Whatever you do for the least of these, you did for me.” Matt.25:40

And he walked the talk. Healing lepers, teaching women, training disciples, and forgiving enemies—even those who nailed him to the cross. He proclaimed good news to all—the poor, the prisoners, the blind, the oppressed, the enemy, and even you and me.

Do you believe it? Then come and see…come and seek. Seek him with all your heart, mind, and soul. With all your breath, even if it hurts to breathe. Because none of us knows when that tiny voice inside will ask, “Let that young couple stay with you.” The other voices are louder—“they could be out to get you”, or “he has shifty eyes so I wouldn’t trust him.”

But hopefully, we will be intrigued by the smallness of the voice or the tug of the Spirit. And we will have the courage to risk and reach past our own security and happiness, to let the savior of the world move into our garage. For whatever you do for the least of these…

For while others in this world are hurting to breathe—we can breathe in meaning and purpose into our lives–God’s Spirit. Can you believe it? If so, come and see him…

Connecting the Dots

Connect the dots. I’d spend hours on those puzzles as a kid. I’d stare at the paper full of numbers and dots and try to imagine what picture it held. But I rarely could.

My pencil would scramble to #1 and then quickly through the sequence. I’d stop after each few to see if I could figure it out. And then rush to connect more. When I’d see the finished image, I’d sit back and smile. I had brought order out of chaos, beauty out of sequence.

I really need those puzzles now. When I look around at the devastation in the world—mass shootings, thousands of refugees fleeing with crying children in their arms, and ISIS, a perpetual threat growing daily with our fears. I’m having a hard time believing there is a big picture.

Sometimes it feels like we are sinking in a sea of space. We are told that there are buoys and markers out there, to hold on to, to guide us on our journey toward the end. But the wrenched stomach, the distorted boundaries, and the fear all but cripple my hope that there is a plan for good.

But I know there is…Not because I see it. Sure, I see the dots, the buoys to cling to for a while, until I catch my bearings. I take a breath and scan to see if I can see the big picture yet. But I can’t. I am just refreshed enough to take a few more strokes on the blank paper sea.

That’s pretty much how I see my spiritual life as well. Most of the time I’m running so hard from marker to marker that I don’t take time to stop and catch my bearings. Then, when I get to the end of the picture, I’m too exhausted to enjoy the view. I just want the next picture, next image, next experience–collecting them like a visceral junky so I can post them for “oohs” and “ahs” on a synthetic internet galaxy.

All the while, what I really crave is a broad line stroke, something I can touch. I want a connection with the infinite that binds me together with others in this cosmos. Call it what you will—the transcendent, the ultimate, the Namaste of life that acknowledges my soul’s connection to yours. It’s what makes me move forward through the course instead of randomly through some numbers on a page.

But I guess, first you have to believe that those numbers hold a meaning and a plan. That’s easy for me because I have had many people connecting the dots for me–loving, wise people who have modeled the path of hope, patience, peace and joy. They have encouraged, directed, and corrected me on my course.

Because of their influence, I have come to believe that the dots on the page are a plan of wholeness, health, and joy for all to savor because those are the tenets of my country—“life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” and my God—“I come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

But so many do not have any dot connectors in their life. They don’t believe the dots hold a plan, or worse, they can’t even see the dots. I’ve heard some tragic stories and can understand why, to them, the horizon is gloomy. But that is not my business. My business is connecting the dots. Just as those before did for me—offering understanding smiles when my child was screaming in the library, and coffee and a prayer when I felt alone. The most memorable dot connector for me was Audrey, who taught me about Sabbath rest–a way to hang out on the marker and find my bearings.

So you can keep coming at me with your fear, anger, and resentment. And I will respond with love, prayers, and gentle hands pointing you to the markers. The markers may not be easy to see or understand, but if we hang out long enough on them, wrestling with the poignancy of Jesus’ words and actions, even though we can’t see the next buoy, we may just find we have enough strength to get through these storms together.

I may not agree with you. I may not understand you. But that outstretched hand is restorative when we are sinking and gasping for breath. And who knows, one day when we look back, we may just find that our strokes have connected a picture of order, peace, and beauty, when before, all we could see was chaos in that storm tossed sea of space.

Torchbearers

passing-torch I just received SOS flares from two of my friends. Not so coincidentally, they are mothers, with concerns for their sons, asking for prayers, as I have time and time again. And so I mingle mine with theirs:

God, you know too well the heart of the torchbearer

When the handle is heavy

and the light seems but a tiny spark

surrounded by a dark abyss

The lethal words,

whether diagnosis,

judgment, or disillusionment,

hang heavy on our bones

Though we try with all our might

To focus on the light

Hopelessness sucks the life out of our dreams

Please, keep our flame

For the night is long

Our panted breaths that clamor for oxygen,

Don’t have enough energy to cry out to you,

and our feet that carry the weight of the world,

are finding it hard to move another step

So we ask for prayer–

A gathering of that tiny cinder of hope that is left in our heart

Offered out as a torch, to you and to others

In confidence that it can become ablaze

Perhaps by raising it up

It can help us believe again

That all will be well

And it will be well

Because when we raise to you our burdens

Our vulnerabilities, our very souls

It moves us from isolated ashes in the abyss of night

To a communion of fire combatting the wind

And the tiny sparks that others offered me

That kept me, and my (now grown) children alive

As we faced battlefields, and playgrounds together

Are now part of my fire, which I’ve added to yours

Flames that are joined together into a glow of strength,

Pointing us in the right direction,

Illuminating us to the truth

That somewhere out there in this dark, dismal world

There is a peace that passes all understanding

And the path of light we leave

Will mark the steps of our children.

Help us to shine brightly

Breathe deeply, and

Keep raising the torch!

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

Desmond Tutu

Look Up!

I’m going to let you in on a big secret I re-learned this week by taking 14 youth to Montreat Youth Conference. Whether they act like it or not, our youth look to the adults in their families, churches, and communities for hope. But it is not easily found.

American families are teetering on the edge of financial and emotional instability. Our communities are embroiled in bitter battles over flags, guns, and equality. And our churches—which should be offering a sanctuary of hope, guidance and purpose during these turbulent times, are splitting (and even closing) over issues of doctrine and dogma. No matter where they step, the road seems to cave in on our youth—leaving them alone and hopeless to face a multitude of questions about faith, identity, and purpose.

So what can we do to get us all back on track? Let’s keep it simple. Offer them time, hope and a purpose. It works on a multitude of levels. It’s easy to say but very difficult to do because it requires us to LOOK UP. Look up from our phones, our calendars, our social media, and acknowledge that there is something to look up toward. When we look up and engage in our surroundings, we become surprised and grateful for the force that offers a way out of our misery and confusion. There is a force offering love, joy, peace, patience, kindness and goodness. We just have to move our eyes toward it.

When we look up, we give others a sacrifice of time. One hour. (One day, if you really want the world to change!) Turn everything off. Be grateful for what you see. Ask questions about another person’s story, hopes, and dreams. If it sounds too touchy feely for you–take a walk together. The words tend to flow more easily as your feet move. Take a drive together with the radio off. Wheels will turn inside and out, if you let them. The more you engage with others face to face, the more connected you’ll feel and the more optimistic you’ll become.

Unfortunately, America prefers lighted boxes over community. These “devices of delusion”– TV’s, smartphones, computers, and gaming devices–dole out isolation, fear, violence, and greed. Our devices are distracting us from the true community God intended us to live within.

Our Eastminster Power and Light Youth Group watched this you tube video together https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7dLU6fk9QY Since then, when we see anyone missing out on community, we say, “Look up, friend. There’s a world out there.” I think the video says it best. “Go out into the world. Leave distractions behind. “ Time, hope, purpose—pretty simple things to offer our children. All we have to do is look up. Who knows, we may just find that in doing so, it brings all of us closer to our purpose.

What’s Your Sign?

god's table

“What’s your sign?” In the 70’s that question opened up a lot of conversation. What is your zodiac sign? Were you a Libra, Capricorn or Cancer? It was a connecting question, one that supposedly determined your character traits, and propensity for relationships. “What’s your sign?” was a question that revealed a curiosity, and offered an appetizer of conversation away from the political tensions raging at the time. I am a child of the 60’s, so I grew up among astrological signs, peace signs and smiley faces.

I am sad to say that today we are inundated with signs as well, but signs that are quite the opposite. Today’s signs are neither happy, inviting, nor conversational. We see them everywhere—Confederate, gay pride, and American flags being waved on courthouses and social media as a statement. I am saddened by how the symbols we choose to define us have segregated us. We turn off our listening ears and turn on the name-calling: racists, homophobes, communists, socialists, bigots, and idiots. The list goes on and on.

And so instead of using our signs as guideposts that empower and unite us, we use them as weapons against each other.

Today, we too are at the crossroads. Racial tension is heightening. The Supreme Court has made a ruling for same-sex marriage that has cut to the core of what many hold near and dear. It affronts their understanding of “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous.” And so we take out our signs; we wave our battle flags and we take our battle stances. Finally, people are realizing that there is a war of justice and Godly principles. The battle is on.

Luckily, last time war raged on our land (the civil war) we had a president that believed that “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.”

Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address was a call for justice and reconciliation after a time of civil war.

He said, “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.” His was an amazing response to a nation that was eating itself alive, when hopelessness and despair were its bitter fruit. Sound familiar?

Now anyone who shares Mediterranean roots like mine knows that our ancestor’s remedy to everything was my grandmother’s favorite word, “Eat, eat, eat!” The table is where we hot-headed Mediterraneans lay down the tools, the signs, and the weapons, and share the savory delicacies that define us. With grape leaves and cabbage rolls dripping from our lips, we vet the day. We listen to each other, with curiosity, we ask questions, and make sure that everyone is involved in the conversation.

I wonder what would happen if everyone were invited to the table today. I know it’s hard to imagine, because we are so divided. And I can see why. We are a passionate nation, built on Biblical principles. And those principles are what God expects us to defend. But which Bible passages are we defending? When we say that our country is going down the drain because of the lawlessness of its people, which Biblical laws are we upholding?

Is it Exodus 22:21-22? “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt. You shall not afflict any widow or orphan.”

Perhaps it is Leviticus 19:34? “The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt.”

Are we upholding Amos 5:10-17? “You levy a straw tax on the poor, and impose a tax on their grain. Therefore, though you have built stone mansions, you will not live in them…For you oppress the innocent and take bribes and deprive the poor of justice in the courts.”

I wonder about Micah 6:8. Are we living up to what the Lord requires? “To act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.”

Which Biblical principles do we choose to follow? We get entangled because we each have our sign, our banner, our cause that is important to us—state’s rights, gender equality, immigration, or healthcare.

Which Godly principles do we claim as “true and righteous”? Those who oppose Shariah law forget that it is directly from the Old Testament. And if we reject the Old for the New Testament, we have a 33-year-old prophet who hung out with tax collectors (modern day thieves), lepers, and prostitutes—not exactly law-abiding citizens.

Yet, Jesus included everyone. He invited all to the Kingdom table. If we keep people from the table (or from marriage) because they don’t follow God’s principles, then face it—we are keeping ourselves from the table too. Who is fit to come? None of us follow all of those principles.

But Jesus keeps inviting us to the table…

“There is no longer Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:28

“I no longer call you servants I call you friends because a servant does not know his master’s business. I appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. “ John 15:15

When you are invited to the table you are cherished, respected and heard. Once at the table Jesus points each of us toward God and urges us to examine ourselves daily in light of God’s love. Even Judas, his betrayer, was at the table given dignity to the end. “Do what you came for, friend,” were Jesus’ s last words to him. And what is Jesus’s ultimate command? To love each other! And in so doing, we will bear fruit.

What is the fruit we are to bear—the fruit that will last? They are none other than the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.

In working with youth, I urge them daily to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” We, as a church group, have admitted together that we have difficulty figuring this out. When the battle is raging and fear and doubt are at every corner, we need a table, some friends, and a guidebook to consult. That is why we meet together regularly. To hold each other accountable—are we bearing fruit?

Some may even want to bring signs. I am one of those. I love my signs. But at this juncture, it is my hope that we choose our signs carefully. And that IF we bring out our signs, we bring them to the table with a heart of listening, learning, and leadership so that the fruit we bear may last.

And let’s remember the words of our wise forefather:

“The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

Again I ask, “What’s your sign?”

all-are-welcome-graphic-copy

Pebbles and Paths

There is so much pain and confusion in the world today. Those in blue that have committed their lives to serve and protect are seen as enemies. Teachers who sacrifice time, energy, and even incomes to inspire are engaged more as wardens than educators. But that is the empire we are building each day with the pebbles we carefully lay. We don’t notice that we are doing it, but we are.

When we feel entitled to dialing three numbers and minutes later officers are there to serve and protect, but we don’t remember the dangers they place themselves in each and every day—we lay a pebble. When we expect our soldiers to serve numerous tours of duty but don’t consider the families they leave behind fretting each day for their safety, we lay a pebble. When we watch countless hours of TV spewing discord and distrust of the teachers, clergy, and social workers who willingly confront the bloody, jagged edges of society so we don’t have to, we lay pebbles.

Now, let me say this clearly: I’m not saying that there are not those who need to be held accountable to the jurisdictions of their profession. But I am saying loudly and clearly that when a society starts collecting pebbles of blame, distrust, and fear, they form solidly and firmly into walls of prejudice, hate and war. Before long, the walls are so high, that no one can protect us anymore because we are encaged in prisons of our own making.

But there is a remedy: Get out of the entitlement mindset and put on the “attitude of gratitude.” Before you pick up that pebble that the media so generously offers you, turn off the TV or the radio. Take a moment to offer a blessing, a word of gratitude for the hundreds of those on the front lines that are going over and beyond their “duty”. Write a few words of encouragement to any teacher, soldier, police officer, fire fighter etc. who step out sacrificially each day so you can feel secure behind your walls. You might find that pebble not so easy to cast.

And if you are really ready to change this society, find a place of prayer. Light a candle of hope, justice, and peace so we can tear down these walls and use our energy to build paths again. Then put your feet behind it. Where there is injustice—speak up—but be mindful of your pebbles.

Our country is built on the premise that “all lives matter”–no matter what race or religion. And we are famous for the paths we have laid in these areas—paths of freedom for slaves, paths of justice and civil rights (which other countries have followed), paths for women, pathways in technology, even the first footprints on the moon. Yes, we have miles to go, but now, we are known more for our walls—racism, riots, and wars. How did we lose our way?

How about this Christmas season, we take notice. Let’s be mindful of our pebbles and place them carefully not into walls, but into pathways of love, peace, kindness, forgiveness, humility, and self-control—with our words and deeds. We might find that our joy returns. We might even find that being mindful of our pebbles isn’t such a bad thing to do “full time.” Building paths of exploration and discovery has always led to more fruitful lives than building walls.

Melody Beattie says it most succinctly: “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, and confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

The pebbles we place today create the vision for tomorrow. Let’s place them carefully.

Healthy Vision

“Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dank cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will have!” Thanks Megan Filston Johnson for a profound sermon on Sunday. I will be savoring nuggets (and teaching from them) for weeks to come. My favorite part: When our eyes are sick, we look at something like Ebola and focus more on the few cases in America that threaten our security, rather than the millions of cases in West Africa that threaten a society. Powerful!

It’s sad how feeling like a victim (full of fear and powerlessness) clouds our perceptions. We make it all about us. Instead of reaching out with generous hands to those who are really suffering, we push away in fear. We have been given not a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline, yet we make our souls sick worrying about what will happen if we dare to be vulnerable.

The squinty-eyed people I know spread fear, hopelessness, and division faster than Ebola. Daily news feeds, email blasts, and hateful words are aimed at those whose views are different from one’s own. We are all so wrapped up in own hurt and fear that we don’t see the hurt we inflict on others. And we have a vaccination for it, but we choose not to use it. It’s called the greatest commandment. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This translates into every part of our existence: from global health, to family life, to politics. Truly, our eyes are windows into our bodies. I hate dank cellars, so I’m choosing to live in the light. As I attempt to keep my squinty-eyed greed and distrust in check, perhaps I can be more of a light bearer. I have a home remedy—hanging around children. If I want eyes wide in wonder and belief, that’s where I’ll start. How about you?

Lessons From Glass #2–Weak Spots

Everyone thinks I am a strong person. I am in most ways, except one: living in chaos. I am great with chaos, as long as I get to sort, order, and put things away into neat and tidy places of my own choosing. But when the chaos cannot be categorized, analyzed, and put into ordered piles, or when the piles just seem to multiply like Tribbles in a Star Trek episode, then my life gets out of balance. And I don’t handle imbalance very well.

I add rhythms to my life to keep the equilibrium—morning meditation (which includes devotions/solitude), daily writing, and nighttime baths. Each week I take a Sabbath. When I can get those, no matter how cluttered and chaotic my life is, I can stay in balance.

But lately, with our packing, moving and renovating, I cannot find balance. When I unpack one box, three more are found. When I get one room situated, we need to break it down for the sub-contractors to be able to work. Whenever I try to carve a day (or even a few hours) out for Sabbath, some emergency emerges that keeps my wheels spinning. Things just will not stay in their proper places, in their neat and tidy little categories, which bring me such comfort. So my weak spots show through in the form of anger, sarcasm, and general wretchedness. Luckily for me, I have an understanding husband, even though he has been on the receiving end of my tensile stresses.

Isn’t that how it is with life? People and events just won’t stay in the neat little boxes we try to keep them in. They wriggle or ooze out into the rest of our lives causing stress, which in turn reveals our weak spots. In our stressful state, we tend to take things out on those closest to us: our families, coworkers, and friends.

That’s why it’s important to surround yourself with sturdy people. Because when your weak spots are showing, their strength can carry you through, and vice versa. The sarcasm, resentment, and hurtful words I flung at my husband this week were met with his gentle balanced encouraging hugs instead of the rebuke I deserved. (I have done the same for him when he has been in darker hours of despair.) That is what living in community is all about. Our strengths fill in where others are weak.

In glassmaking, there is something known as Prince Rupert’s Drop. Simplified, you drop a piece of molten glass into ice-cold water and it creates a glass object, which resembles a teardrop with a tail. Because of the unique nature of glass, as it quickly cools, the outside layer compresses against the still molten core, causing high compressive stress. The inside has an extremely high tensile stress because it is still somewhat molten.

The amazing part of these stresses is that when they work together, they are almost indestructible. You can even whack the head of the glass drop with a hammer and it will not break. But find it’s weak spot–the tail–and it will shatter. If you twist the tail even a millimeter, the entire piece will not just shatter, but explode into thousands of pieces from the tail up. Prince Rupert’s discovery led to the invention of tempered glass—helping car window glass to shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces instead of one or two dangerously sharp pieces.

Rupert's Drop exploding — Rupert’s Drop exploding

I will never be able to understand all of the intricacies of glass, but I learn from it every day. If life were a Prince Rupert’s Drop, I would prefer to be out on the tail—far away from the maddening crowd. It feels safer and saner there. But I have learned the hard way that I need to be surrounded by people whose stresses can compliment mine and vice versa. Together we create a tempering which not only toughens, but prevents us from shattering.

I can’t imagine my life without my family, my church or my amazing friends, who hold me together from the inside out. Their transparency, resilience, and strength, keep me inspired and coming back for more. Perhaps that’s why I can’t get enough of glass either—its strength is an anomaly, and there are lessons to be learned from it each day.