Plaintive and Hopeful

Earlier this week, I attended an event at the Washington National Cathedral. The evening included selected readings of Rumi's poetry accompanied by traditional Turkish instruments. One of Rumi's poems was about one of those instruments -- a reed flute. For me, the sound of the reed flute was mesmerizing. At one and the same time it was plaintive and hope-filled. As Rumi suggested, these two disparate qualities are reflective of the human condition. For most of us, life is a mixture of rough seas and smooth sailing. Sometimes the rough seas go on and on and on and we naturally lament such difficulties. And yet, and yet, inside most of us is a resiliency that arises from the deep within -- a sheer, possibly tenuous, hope which rises on the stubborn will to live. Evocatively the reed flute was able to blend both the plaintive and the hopeful into one gently poignant sound and between the note-sounding and the ear-hearing the Spirit wafted past. Thanks be.

Kindom Circle and Picasso

Hanging in my office for as long as I have been in ministry is a print of a Picasso art piece. It is one of his later works -- a rainbow-colored crayon sketch of people in a big circle holding hands and a dove with an olive branch in the center. The simple lines suggest dynamic movement. The colors express joy. For me, this is an image of the kindom of God -- the "harmony of harmonies" that God is continually luring us toward. Last Sunday, I shared the print with the congregation as a visual for my sermon. Much to my surprise when the service was over, one of the members shared with me that years ago he interviewed Picasso. To quote at tried but true cliche' -- what a small world. And what a wonderful reminder of the ways that we are all pulled into the circle of life and God's love.

Breathing Room

I am recently returned home from a retreat. I journeyed to the Mandala Center outside of Des Moines, New Mexico. Yep, that's right, not a typo -- Des Moines, NEW MEXICO. It's kind of right next door to the middle of no where and it was wonderful being there. Living as close as I do to the great metropolis of Washington DC and all the surrounding urban/suburban sprawl, I lose sight of the toll the population density and the congestion can take on one, until I get away from it. As I drove up I-25 from Albuquerque, there were stretches of highway where no other car was in sight. The landscape spread out around in wide open space and the sky stretched high and tall and I could feel my being unwinding and relaxing in a way that I never do living beneath big city lights. The photo above is the view from the deck of the retreat center. Twas good for my soul to be out where I was reminded of the grandeur and vastness of God's creation. Twas good for me to be where there was lots of elbow room. Both of which are what retreats are all about -- time away from the things that crowd up every day life so we draw closer to God and regain perspective. I wonder if when Jesus went away from the crowds, he too, was looking for elbow room, wide open space, and a reminder of God's immense reach?

What's This Thing Called Grace?

I enjoy conversations that range wide and go deep -- the ones that make me think and push me to accurate articulation. A while back, I was in the midst of just such a conversation when my friend asked me to define grace. Right then. Right there. On the spur of the moment define "grace" -- a concept that took John Wesley pages and pages and sermons and sermons to articulate. So without Harvey's "Handbook of Theological Terms," without Wesley's Complete Sermons, without the New Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible, I tried to define grace, to distill into a few words the essence of this concept that is foundational and transformational to faith and life. What I came out with is that grace is "unmerited mercy imbued with a genuine compassionate concern for the other's well-being." This definition sums up my experience of grace. I have been recipient of unmerited mercy from God and from people. God's grace saves me; and humbles me; and empowers me. The grace I have experienced from other people fills me with gratitude. Our common task is to find ways to extend grace to one another and to our world.

Creativity in the Moment

When I first started preaching, I would write out a manuscript every week. I would carefully figure out how I wanted to say things, I would tweak a phrase just right and it would be a finely crafted sermon. Then I was appointed as an associate pastor for 2/3 of my appointment working with Cole. Now, I was fresh out of seminary and about a foot and a half shorter than Cole. Well, Cole never used even a note, much less a manuscript when he preached. He would walk out of the pulpit and just start preaching. It quickly became clear to me, that if I wanted to even hold my own with that congregation, I was going to have to preach without notes. So that's what I started doing. Truth be told, I have a bit of a competitive streak that got tapped into. The surprising thing for me, is that I found preaching without notes enabled me to connect more fully with the congregation. For years now, this is how I have preached -- doing all the preparation ahead, letting it incubate and then on Sunday morning, preaching. Recently in reflecting on the process of preaching and how I go about this weekly task, I realized that this way of preaching takes the creative aspect of preaching right into the worship time and moment. When I prepared a manuscript for a sermon, the creative aspect of preaching happened when I was alone with pen and paper or keyboard and screen and what I did in worship was a presentation of something that had been created earlier. When I preach without notes, the creative moment and presentation moment and the hearing moment are all one and the same. The congregation becomes the context where the sermon creation takes place. So, I do not have files of old sermons to pull out and present again. Each sermon is an "in the moment" experience. It means that each sermon is a fleeting thing -- a creation for a particular time and place. Sometimes I feel a tinge of regret that I do not have a written record of this life's work, but most times I feel a certain sense of contentment and appropriateness that each sermon is for a moment -- created in worship and set free.

Where Did May Go?

Well I knew that May was kind of a crazy month and that it had been a while since I had posted any musings on this blog, even so, I was surprised to realize it has been almost a month since I had a new posting here! The poll about the ballpark foods was prompted by my attending a Nationals baseball game at their new stadium. Now, mind you, I am not a sports fan by any stretch of the imagination, but when a free ticket came my way to go to the game with a good friend, I went. It was actually a beautiful spring day and I learned that good company can make even a baseball game enjoyable. We joked that day that it would probably be six years or more before I ever got back to the Nationals stadium. Oddly enough, I was back at the stadium for ANOTHER Nationals game in just 3 weeks! Again, a free ticket and good company. Now the second game was on an evening when it was unseasonably cold -- so that night, my favorite ballpark treats were the coffee and the hot chocolate! Chilli seemed popular, too, with the folks sitting around me. The Nationals won the first game I attended, and they lost the second. Readers of this blog, are any of you baseball fans?

In Memoriam

Panda

May 1996 - May 2008

I am a bit sad tonight. On Sunday evening, my little dog, Panda died -- age finally catching up with her. She was a good dog and a companion that could always make me smile. One of my favorite sounds in all the world were her little snores as I drifted into sleep. Here is a poem I wrote about "The Princess" (a well earned nickname) a few years ago:

Ode to Panda

Lonely rooms are enlivened by

the fur ball with feet

She greets me at the door

tail sashaying, eagerly prancing

Her canine grin calls forth

my answering smile

Certain of her inalienable right

Her imperious paw lays claim

to my attention and lap

Her gentle snores blanket the

long night with comfort

We share space, breathe the

same air

Always, she lingers near

Close at hand

Closer yet to heart