personal privilege

It is a pastor's privilege to be with people in some of life's important moments. As easy as it might be for someone to say, "Of course the preacher is there...", it is nothing to take for granted. Over the weekend I was invited to participate in both a funeral and a wedding. It was very touching to bury one woman's spouse of 60 years, then move to blessing the first day of another union. I am slightly overwhelmed at the way a door swings open and arms pull me inside. In one situation, I had never even met the family. In the other, I had only known them briefly. How remarkable that we could sit and cry together. How remarkable that we could laugh and pray together. How remarkable that in this holy moment for both couples, suddenly I (a mostly complete stranger) am suddenly standing with them. I feel as though I must step lightly. I feel as though I should confess before entering the space and praise when leaving. Ministry is a beautiful, messy, intimate, sacred vocation. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

sad puppy

All relationships are doomed to an end. Knowing our broken world, it's inevitable that things will eventually crumble - whether in life or death. And when that time comes, do you keep marching with stoicism? Do you wear bright colors? Do you fight for the right? Or do you let your mascara drip? Do you sing James Taylor songs? Do you accept the inevitable with a sigh?

What do you do when you're really, really sad?

W. H. Auden:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

strange worship habits...

Sunday morning I managed to visit another congregation across town. Having heard much about it, I was excited to see what great things they were doing. I confess that I was slightly biased against them. Nevertheless, I knew that they were doing some thing right.

I entered the space and was immediately greeted by folks. They gave me a gift bag (with nice travel mug, magnet, and church information), introduced me to some ladies, and pointed out the differnet information stations around the hall. They even escorted me into their worship space and helped me get situated. I wasn't embarassed to sit by myself, so I plopped down between other young adults and prepared to worship. The music was professional caliber, the congregation was engaged, and the leadership was enthused. Despite the lack of prayer and other congregational participation, I was enjoying myself.

Then, they announced that we would be gathering "around the Lord's table". "Great!," I thought. "This will be neat. I've never had communion in a church like this." Well, folks, let me tell you. For all of the imagery and story telling they gave, there was no table to gather round. There was no scripture read. There was no cup or bread. No breaking or pouring. Instead, ushers came down the aisles and passed baskets down the rows. We reached into the baskets and pulled out PRE-PACKAGED COMMUNION!!! Underneath a layer of plastic, there was a small wafer. The wafer lay on top of another plastic layer that covered the small juice cup. (about a thimble) The outer layer of plastic had the words "This is my body which is broken for you. Take, eat. Do this is remembrance of me." My jaw hit the floor.

Is this communion? If someone packages stale crackers in a factory far, far away, is it the body of Christ? If wine is never poured, if Scripture is never read, is this communion? If no one ever prays, if the community is never gathered (in some way: prayer, music, common words as you pass it to your neighbor), is it communion?

I have been mightily troubled by this aspect of worship. It is calling my theology into question. Am I becoming one of those uptight Presbyterians? What do you think?

encounters

A few artisans have found their way into my life recently. Though many would take them to be country bumpkins, they have amazing stories and incredible art. One such man is a painter who has long silver hair (in a pony tail), wears wife beaters, and boots. He used to be a drag racer, but decided to start painting because "it seemed like something he should try." His paintings are incredible Andrew Wyeth styled works. Without any professional training, he offers his uninhibited gift to folks. http://www.hrlovellgallery.com/

Another gentleman fell into my path who also used to race cars. (He holds some title in California... what's the connection between car racing and art??) George takes old horseshoes and fires them into different shapes, words, and figures. Marvelous treasures! His workshop is a collection of every manly tool and machine available. He decided that in his retirement he would do something different with his days.

I found these folks in one of Tennessee's tiniest towns. A town that was going to be the state capital, but Nashville came along and stole the show. Rural America has much to offer. Support your locally owned businesses, your independent craftsfolk, and those isolated restaurants on the forgotten highways!

two rants

OK, so I have two rants:

1) Are doctor's offices and other busy people allowed to follow different social rules because of their position? I recently visited an office to meet the doctor before coming under her care. I called ahead of time to tell the office what I wanted. They promised me that I could have 10 minutes or so with the doctor. I arrived for my introduction and was kept waiting for over 45 minutes, then finally left without ever seeing her. Apparently, the doctor was tied up with another patient. I completely understand this. My frustration comes in that after I left the office without meeting the physician, no one has called to apologise or invite me back. If I ever missed an appointment or was running so late, I would call to apologise or reschedule. It strikes me as incredibly rude for them to just ignore the situation. I'm not trying to be this important person worthy of royal treatment; I only want respectful care from someone who will be seeing me naked. I don't want a doctor who doesn't have time to meet me. Am I being too high-maintenance?

2) The Olympics should not be a competition for the most medals. I think that medal counts (by country) are obnoxious. Isn't this the one athletic opportunity when folks can come together and celebrate? Of course there are winners and losers, but must we be so competitive as to need to know how MUCH better we are than others? We romanticise the Olympics as some grand event when the world unites. Commercials singing of world peace, showing competing athletes holding hands, and singing songs. That is ridiculous! They are only united in that they are playing games in the same city. I wish that there was some game or competition when people from different countries played on the same team... Americans next to Chinese next to Ghaneans, competing against another international team. Does this exist?

tales from the town

It has taken me a few months to get myself settled in here. Time has been absorbed by moving, packing, painting, building, etc. But I am finally getting myself grounded enough to resume normal activities. The house and neighborhood are lovely. I frequently see deer, turkey, rabbits, owls, and other fun creatures parading through the yard. Addie loves it!

Here are a few fun tales from folks I've met around town:

A contract service person was working at the church one day. As he wandered around my office, he commented on pictures of my spousal-equivalent. The gentleman said, "He looks nice. Is he a minister?" To which I replied, "No, but he is nice. So, just out of curiosity, do I look like a minister?" (I never should have asked.) And the guy said, "Welllll... no! (ensue laughing)" Thus ended our conversation. Not my favorite person.

I purchased my lawnmower from a guy named "Louie". Seriously. I walked into his shop on the last day that it was open. Seriously. He told me that if I ever had any problems that I could call him. Seriously. So I call Louie and he calls me "Girl". Seriously.

Folks in the congregation here think that I am a teenager. A few can't call my sermon a "sermon", but call it my "comments". Everyone continues to be surprised that God can call a young woman into serious ministry. C'est la vie. My burden to bear for the next few years.

how much can you stand?

Sometimes I wonder how much I can deal with. The current leaving of one congregation for another is testing my patience and endurance. Certain relationships that have been unhealthy in their day-to-day life are flagrantly out-of-bounds in these stressful times. Of course anger is not a sin, though I firmly believe that violence is wrong... still, there are moments when I would really love to punch someone in the nose! Is this sin calling my name?

How much can you take?
How much are we supposed to take?

A bully on the playground always pushes you down. At what point do you react? How do you react? A 90 year old in assisted living listens to people patronise him every day. At what point is it all right to get cranky? At what point can you demand an alternative?

I don't like being the one who always stands up. I get tired of being the pushy one or the loud one. But I have zero toleranace for injustice and immaturity. At what point am I justified to stand up? Why do we have to take a certain amount before it's OK to defend or call out?