Monday, April 27, 2009

Overboard - Fishers of Men


Last evening while we enjoyed dinner with friends, I looked out the window toward the marina. Usually, I see boats moving at regular speeds in and out of the dock areas. This time, I saw a boat, not moving, sitting in the middle of "traffic." It caught my eye and as I looked closer I could hardly believe what I saw. There was a man being pulled up from the water! Immediately, I ran to the deck for a better view. Everyone left their dinner plate to watch the remainder of the rescue unfold.


While we stood there, we tried to guess what happened. We saw rescuers pull out a couple of people along with coolers, a backpack, an oar. There was no sign of a boat. Were they were coming back from a fishing trip, were so drunk that they jumped off, or fell off? We had no answers because we came in to the rescue scene "at the end" of the story.

This morning, when I walked out to the deck again with my morning coffee, I looked out at the same water which was now calm, quiet, void of excitement. I wondered again about the identity of those who had fallen in. While drinking my coffee, I decided, quite smugly, that those people weren't helpless - they were stupid. They shouldn't have needed rescued. They probably were drunk or rowdy or something. Oddly, my cynical assesment satisfied me. . For a moment..

A few sips of my coffee later, and the words "fisher of men" came to mind.
AH! Jesus said we are to be "fisher of men." Isn't that funny how an early Bible lesson comes to you at 5:30 in the morning when it's just you and your coffee mug?

Jesus said we are to be fishers of people, be he wasn't talking about saving drowning people.. literally.
But metaphorically, Jesus saves us who drown in sin. To follow him is to extend his saving grace to all.
Last nights rescuers didn't judge the persons like I did. When they found them, they fished them out of the 60 degree water. They didn't ask why they were in trouble before extending them a hand. They probably even wrapped a warm blanket around them.

To extend grace to the world, we must be as indiscriminating in our grace as those rescuers. After all, God's saving grace is extended to all of us, for all are in need of it.

We are all overboard.. and yet, by God's grace we are all , also, fishers of people.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

The Search is Over

The Search is Over is a love song from the 80’s by Survivor about a guy who spends his life searching for true love, only to discover it was “with him” in his longtime female friend. He sings that she was just a girl he knew that he took for granted. Until one day, he looks in her eyes, their hands touch, and they realize that love was with them all the while. He describes his life as a highway that led him, no matter which path he took, straight back to her. The passion of the song, for me, is in the story of searching and searching, making mistakes and being forgiven when all along, the person you love (and who loves you unfailingly) is right there by your side. All that effort and worry when love was “right before your eyes.”

In the Gospel of Luke, we find a similar story of known as The Road to Emmaus. Two friends are walking the long road back from Jerusalem after the Passover. They are discussing the unexpected brutal crucifixion of their leader, Jesus of Nazareth. They are still emotional, upset, confused because some have said that Jesus is missing, some have said that he is alive. They are discussing this when a stranger appears and walks with them. This stranger is none other than Jesus – but the Bible says that their “eyes were kept from recognizing him” Luke 24:16.

The two disciples get a bit snippy, in my opinion, with this stranger who hasn’t heard the news. “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” asks Cleopas. He fills him in on the details – but the stranger (Jesus) has a completely different take on the events. In fact, he says they are foolish for not viewing all that occured through the lenses of scripture. He reminds of what the prophets declared. Then, for many miles, he walks with them, interpreting scripture from Moses to Isaiah.

They reach their home and urge the stranger to stay a bit longer. This man was making sense. They wanted to hear more. His knowledge, his sincerity, his wisdom, his peace..

They sit down to dinner with this stranger… who takes bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them. Aha! Their eyes are suddenly opened! This stranger is Jesus the Christ. Their search is over, love was with them all along.

The dramatic ending of the story is really it’s beginning.

The dramatic ending of the Passion, the angels at the tomb, the Risen Christ who appears alongside the disciples - that may be the literal end of the story - but for us who discover the love of Jesus, it is the begining of our story.

Once our eyes are opened, we see all of life differently. Where once we were asking, "Why did this have to happen?" We now look back on the past with a sense of awe at how everything "worked together for good" (Romans 8:28) Where once we were impatient with our present turmoil asking "How long do I have to wait?" We now have this thing called hope - a grace from God which imparts patience in the midst of problems.(Romans 12:12) And finally, where once we needed to know all the answers in order to face the future, now we have the assurance of faith. (Hebrews 11:1).

Love always changes us. When we think that the search is over, that is when our life just gets started.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Little Lamb of God

Ok. I don't spend so much time in the cemetery - although judging by the last 2 blog entries this may be hard to believe.

I took this photo of Sophia, when she discovered the small lamb atop one of the headstones at Olivet's cemetery. Unlike the other grave markers, this one was at her level - and it has that cute little lamb that seemed to be placed there for her to pet and adore lovingly. She talked to the lamb for awhile.. babbled at it, smiled and then...uh, put her mouth around it's snout.

Headstones like this were common in the late 1800's to designate the death of a baby or child. I have seen these same headstones in other cemeteries in Washington, DC. Sometimes the marker for a child will have an embossed lamb, to symbolize the innocence of a child - but other times, the lamb will sit atop the marker like a sculpture.

While Sophia enjoyed this little lamb of God, I pictured the parents and family gathering 100 years ago at that spot covered in grief. As a mother, seeing the headstone causes my heart to ache as if was there that dark day. For Sophia, seeing the headstone was like meeting a friend.
On Easter, we celebrate that death is conquered through Jesus' resurrection. Our greatest foe, death, doesn't have the last word. Instead, something completely mysterious awaits us: Eternal Life. We don't know exactly what it will be like, but we are sure that Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for us and knows our every need.

That said, try as I might, whenever I see the headstones of those little lambs, I feel sadness, loss, confusion at the brevity of life. To trust that eternal life awaits me perhaps requires me to return to childlike wonder and appreciation for all that is around me.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

The Geocache'd Tomb


When I first learned of geocaching, the outdoor treasure-hunting game in which the participants use a Global Positioning System (GPS) to navigate to their way, I thought it an odd way to spend time and energy. I wondered what fun could there be in driving a distance to hike through a field and locate a Tupperware container? All of this effort for a trinket? Friends told me it was actually a fun game for all ages. And I eventually warmed up to the idea. After all, the search is the best part of a good hunt.

Yesterday at church, a car pulled up and two ladies hopped out and walked quite purposely, into Olivet’s cemetery. As is my clergy custom, I approached them and introduced myself. I noticed they had a paper in hand, which I assumed showed information about their ancestors. I said, “Do you have family here at Olivet?” She told me, “No” she was geocaching.

Evidently, Olivet is part of this geocaching treasure-hunting phenomenon. Afterwards, I logged on to the website (www.geocaching.com) to find out more. I found our church cemetery. It is a part of two hunts. Both of them refer to the ghosts you can find. This was unsettling to me. And then I read the comment, posted yesterday, by the woman I met. She wrote that she was muggled by the pastor. Muggled means that a non-geocacher “finds” the spot.

In reading her comment, I became troubled. From her perspective I had interfered with her hunt. Although, she was a visitor on our churches property – I was an interruption. Yet, from my perspective, to enter a cemetery with out intention to pay respect to the dead is an interruption. The cemetery is not a play yard. And it is not a setting for staging ghost hunts.
I walked through the cemetery this afternoon, during my time of prayer and reflection, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how upset I am that people are walking across the gravesites peering into their handheld GPS –in search of a trinket. It seems they don’t enter as I do, in humility that my time will come when I, too, will return to the earth. And they don’t enter it in reverence – that someone has been laid there to rest. As I walked, I became more and more upset because I felt like our cemetery is being treated like a sightseeing marker – not a place of holy ground.

I thought about the gospel story for Easter morning, when Mary arrives at the tomb and finds Jesus’ body missing. (John 20:1-10) She thought robbers had taken him. Her sorrow must have been mixed with a similar feeling of violation on behalf of the deceased. Can’t they just leave Jesus alone? Why must they treat him like public property that can be handled or dragged off in any manner they chose?

The days leading up to Easter are always, for me, a time when death, the tomb, the grave all become more real. They feel closer. Certainly, others around may be getting ready for Easter without attending mid-week services. For some, Easter has nothing to do with Jesus' resurrection. Nothing to do with the cross.

Living the Holy Week experience in a world where Easter is about Bunnies, can be like standing next to someone who seeks direction from a GPS. Both are in the same spot. But each see it quite differently.

Mary at the tomb, perhaps can model for us the best response to a world that "misses the point" so to speak.

She cries.

She cries and through her tears - says that she is willing to do whatever it takes
(Tell me where you laid him, and I will go get him).
Jesus meets her - and us - in that place of sorrow.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Photos from Palm Sunday by Doug Hood

Palm Sunday at Olivet




The Olivet Choir led us in song -as we followed the children's band and waved the branches of palm trees!
The church website won't let me post these, or anything for that matter.. so I am posting them on the blog. Enjoy.












Wednesday, April 1, 2009

All that Matters


"You'll find a colt. Untie and bring it."
"A woman will pour out expensive perfume. Let her be."
"You'll see a guy with a jug of water. Follow him home."


In the fourteenth chapter of Mark, Jesus gives the above directions to his disciples on the road to Jerusalem. It all must have been surreal - these disjointed, random strangers and events that occur right in line with Jesus' prediction.

I imaging that following Jesus on his entry (palms waving, people shouting) was both exciting and exhausting for the disciples. When they finally reached the upper room, they probably reclined, poured some wine and settled in for a good night of conversation about the days events.
But not Jesus.
His heart was heavy.
He'd already been handed over by Judas - and he knew it. (Mark 14:10-11) As he looked around the table, his heart must have ached as he pictured each of his beloved friends scattering like sheep. (Mark 14:27-31)

"A rooster will crow twice - and you will betray me.. but don't worry, I won't betray you, " he tells them.

When I was in elementary Sunday School, I remember distinctly reading Jesus' words to Peter (above) and actually feeling a chill come over me. I knew that if I was in that situation, I would be just Peter. I'd run. It gave me a chill to think that Jesus "saw through" Peter ... and despite this still loved him.

Since then, I have certainly psychoanylzed my "chill" response to this scripture and, in fact, I have never told anyone of how deeply it effected me.. for fear of being labeled an emotional child with anxiety related to blah, blah, blah.

But I believe now that that chill I felt was conviction. The truth of human nature as relayed in the Gospel is powerful. No matter our age, it can convict us.

The story of Holy Week convicts my daughter who asked me yesterday to tell her again about Jesus and the cross. She popped her head up from the pillow and interupted, asking, "Was the Holy Spirit there?" When I assured her, yes, the Holy Spirit was there - she was relieved. She put her head back down. "Good," she said.

If the Gospel doesn't convict us, if we don't see ourselves in this drama of Christ dying for us, than we are missing the grace it offers.


So here I publicly and openly "blog" that, as a third grader, the sound of the cock crowing haunted me.. and still haunts me.

Can I stick by Jesus on this road that leads to a hellish place known as the skull?


Holy Week is almost here.

Will I deny him this year?

On Palm Sunday, I am pretty confident I can make the steps. I am pretty sure I am strong enough to go with my Lord.


But when I clean up the palms from the pews this Sunday afternoon, I know the truth. I am no different than Peter.
By Good Friday, I will be weeping in the church pew.
Because I can't go with him.
I run.
I hide.
My love fails.
But it's okay. His love remains steadfast. And that is all that matters.