Spirituality

Today’s Word: Exile

Steve · January 1, 2014 · Leave a Comment

Over the past week I’ve read and heard several times now the story in Matthew’s gospel about Joseph and Mary’s exile into Egypt following the birth of Jesus. This is not a story to which we usually pay much attention. It’s a post-Christmas, dark tale about threats of death and the murder of innocent children, and who wants to spend much time thinking about that?

But here’s what I’ve found. There’s a message of hope for us in this story, for we have all experienced exile at one time or another in our lives. Maybe you’re there right now. It could be an exile from God or maybe from a friend or family member. Maybe it’s an exile from yourself, a time of running away from what you think might hurt you. But whatever form it takes, exile can be a time of great spiritual growth if we leave ourselves open to hearing the voice of God in the wilderness. Joseph, a much under-appreciated character in the life of Jesus, is the hero of this story because he was willing to listen for and act upon the voice of God. “Take Mary and Jesus to Egypt, Joseph,” God says. And Joseph does. “Time to come back to Judea,” God says, and Joseph heads back to Israel. “On second thought,” God says, “better go to Galilee,” and Joseph settles his family in Nazareth. Listen. Obey. Act.

This is the call to a life of active contemplation, to a life of listening for the voice of God and actually expecting to hear something. Not a sound, perhaps, but nevertheless a knowing, a sense of God’s presence and direction. It is a life of staying the course and trusting the journey because something tells you it’s right. It’s a life of acting on the still small voice inside of us.

Ask yourself in silence: Am I trusting the journey I am on? Am I even aware of the journey?

Today’s Word: Vision

Steve · December 27, 2013 · 1 Comment

Walking path on Ellis Island (West Alton, Mo) on the Missouri River. SJG photo.

Memo to the Church: Beginning next Sunday, we will have a new vision statement: “Do justice, love goodness and walk humbly with your God.” Thanks to Micah and the mission and vision committee for putting in all the hard work and wordsmithing. I think this has a nice ring to it.

Here’s the only problem I see with adopting this motto: Far too many of you already think you’re doing these three things and, well, sorry but it just ain’t so. Let’s take a look at what we might look like as church if we really take these words to heart.

Do justice: We’ve got to start seeing the people around us and responding more fully to their needs. We’ve got to be more inviting and open to those who don’t look like us, live like us, sound like us or drive the same kinds of cars. We’ve got to look outside of our zip codes and tax brackets if we want to find the Christ that we sing about so joyously. (But thanks to the choir!)

Love goodness: To begin, we’ve got to be willing to redefine what we mean by goodness. It is not what we own, where we went to college (or high school…St. Louis joke), where we work or how much we earn. It is not even how nice we are to each other. It is what we ARE deep inside, at that place where God touches us and makes us come alive. If we were to see and appreciate that place in everyone, we would be surrounded by goodness.

Walk humbly with your God: To have true humility in this world is tough, for everything around us tends to reward our pride, accomplishments and self interest. To walk humbly means to give that up, to empty ourselves and throw ourselves into the lap of a waiting God like helpless children. Give it a shot.

Please pick up a copy of the new statement on your way out of church today and memorize it. There will be a test.

Peace,

Jesus

Ask yourself in silence: What do I need to change about myself in order to help change the church?

A Light in Darkness

Steve · December 24, 2013 · 2 Comments

Winter moon. SJG photo.

A Light in Darkness
A Christmas Villanelle

A light in darkness fights off the cold
thrust into the world yet of its own making.
The new life is fragile but the message is bold.

A gentle king, as the prophets foretold,
stirs in the straw and yawns in his waking.
A light in darkness fights off the cold.

A star from the East beckons prophecies old,
the expanse between heaven and Earth is breaking.
The new life is fragile but the message is bold.

In this child a mystery will unfold,
for wise men there is no mistaking.
A light in darkness fights off the cold.

The angels proclaim what shepherds behold,
for this night the whole world is aching.
The new life is fragile but the message is bold.

A gift from on high more precious than gold,
a life that brings life for the taking.
A light in darkness fights off the cold,
the new life is fragile but the message is bold.

To listen to a recitation of this with music, A Light in Darkness.

Merry Christmas, to all…

Today’s Word: Connection

Steve · December 22, 2013 · 1 Comment

adorationshepherds — The Adoration of the Shepherds, Mattia Preti, 1613-1699.

This event we are about to celebrate we believe to be genuine — a historic moment in time filled with real people and exact places (even if we cannot pinpoint those exact places 2,000 years later). This story of Bethlehem, we believe, is authentic, as filled with truth as it is with the pungent smells of a stable. But why this moment in this time? How and why could this be? The Christmas story is both human and divine, and the divine lies in the “why” of the story. If we cannot fully understand the why, perhaps we can at least kneel in its presence, recognizing the holy — somehow — when we see it.

+ + +

“Who’s there?” he calls out, hearing me trip on a loose stone at the side of the stable.

I step into the light of the fire the man has made. They both look at me and smile, for I am just a child and no threat. I am speechless.

“Come closer,” she says, “and see my baby. Have you ever seen a new-born baby?”

I nod. “My little sister,” I say.

“Ah, well this one’s a boy,” the man says. “Just like you. You were like this once.”

I come closer, and as the flames of the fire flicker and dart across their faces, I see the child, his eyes still wet, glistening and open wide, seemingly taking me in just as I am taking him in. He holds my gaze, and I have this sense of connection, as if I know him or need to, even though that makes no sense even to my 12-year-old sense of reason. I can’t move or speak. The old folks in the temple speak of awe, and I realize this might be what they’re talking about.

It’s like watching the sun set over the hills on the outside of town where I tend the sheep with my father and uncles. I don’t know where it goes every night but I know it will rise again in the morning, and I am strangely moved by its beauty, by its ever-different colors and movement. It’s like the splash of cold water on my face or down my throat, more refreshing and life giving than I could ever imagine when I thirst for it. There’s something beyond the ordinary and obvious here.

It’s just the sun. Just a cup of water. Just a baby. But I am at once both afraid and at ease, confused and clarified. I feel as if I belong to this child and he belongs to me, like there is a strand of fine thread, like a spider’s silk, that joins us — so light that it cannot be seen and so strong it can never be broken. And although I can’t say exactly why, I kneel and cry.

Ask yourself in silence: What connects you to God? To Jesus? How can you make this Christmas truly a time to reconnect?

Today’s Word: Re-gifting

Steve · December 21, 2013 · Leave a Comment

‘Tis the season for re-gifting,
fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Tins of fruitcake are uplifting,
fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
One more year to re-deliver,
fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.
Just remember last year’s giver!
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

I don’t know the etiquette of re-gifting, although I’m sure Miss Manners could teach me a thing or two. But it’s that time of year when, let’s admit it, we sometimes look around and see what we might have that we could offer to others. A gift card we never used, that duplicate toaster oven we never returned, the proverbial ugly Christmas sweater…

Or maybe we give from our own treasures: A book or painting we have that someone else has always admired, or perhaps a family keepsake that perhaps it’s time to pass on. Then again, maybe we can re-gift those most precious things of all, our time and talents. God, of course, is the giver of everything that is good and creative in our lives, even though we tend to call these things “mine.” MY gifts, MY time, MY talents. Carelessly and thoughtlessly, we can convince ourselves that we have earned these things when, in fact, they are pure gifts. No matter how hard we have worked to develop them, build them and use them, our contemplative selves will remind us — in our quiet moments of prayer and reflection — that everything is gift. Our response to the Giver, then, is twofold. The first response is gratitude. The second is re-gifting, passing on that time and talent to someone else in need of something we have. Here, like the family heirloom, we give from our abundance, from our treasure. And God smiles.

Ask yourself in silence: What treasures and talents can I re-gift this year?