Day 19: This week's gospel

 

I am having a hard time coming up with cool Sunday school lessons at the moment. 

I brought this up at spiritual direction and we talked a while about it. 

The thing is,  I  LOVE this set of gospel lessons from John. They are meaty and challenging but that perhaps is what makes it difficult to encapsulate them in a simple message that is accessible for children. 

These stories reveal a side of Jesus that is unpredictable. The set up is similar in each of them - one on one encounters with Jesus and some expectation about who he is and how he should be. But in each of the dialogs,  there is a disconnect between Jesus and the person seeking him. The person is grounded in the physical reality while Jesus speaks of spiritual things and its clearly going over their heads. Honestly,  there are times it goes over my head too and I wonder if the conversation would make more sense in the native language. 

But exactly that head scratching opens me to the mystery of God. It makes me remember a much as we use "what would Jesus do?" As a very useful thought tool. It isn't always clear what Jesus would do or what Jesus would say. And lingering in the mystery of what Jesus actually did and actually said in very ordinary situations draws me deeper into faith. It is both relatable and unpredictable.  

This Sunday, we find Jesus asking a woman for a drink,  then telling her she should be asking him for a drink.  Then they get into a spiritual discussion,  she's trying to keep up but he's clearly next level.  Then the disciples come and it seems like they are used to Jesus doing stuff like this because they don't even ask what's going on. But they brought back snacks and he says they should be asking him for food and i can almost imagine eye rolling,  like Jesus .. dude,  just like have some bread man,  it's not that deep. 

These verses make me laugh. It's easy to imagine these conversations as confused and a little absurd. What will Jesus say next?

They also open small windows into the nature of Jesus and the nature of God. What it means to live as "one reborn" or as "one from the wind. " Jesus uses words like food, water,  wind,  rebirth, reaping and sowing to paint what life connected to God is like. And every time I read them I catch a small unexpected glimpse into the mystery of God. 

Also, I'm not teaching the woman at the well in Sunday school,  if you are wondering. I'm teaching the good shepherd instead.  It's much easier to explain.... but i am trying to figure out how to reach the blind man story so if anyone had any suggestions i am totally open to crowd sourcing Sunday school.  

Day 18: Discernment the easy way

Discernment can feel heavy.

 At the heart of it, there is usually a decision waiting to be made -- a new job to take, a new house to move to, switching schools, switching jobs, starting something, ending something. I enter periods of discernment to look where God is leading me next and trying to align myself with the work God has prepared for me.

I feel like this middle aged discernment, has been a rolling season that doesn't end -- in each new season praying about what's best for the kids, whether I should work outside the home, what things I should volunteer for, how much time I should spend each week exercising, how to organize the day's schedule to support everyone's growth.

Today I was talking to my spiritual director about the current questions of discernment that I am weighing and the story of the sower and the seed came to mind. The seed particularly.

God has designed the seed to grow and different seeds grow in different conditions. Some require fire. Others need to be frozen for a time. Others soaked in water. Some even need to be eaten and digested. 

In my discernment, I worry about getting all the conditions right. I'm like a gardener reading all the details on the packet -- what zone are we in, what type of soil does this need, what steps do I need to take to get a good germination rate?

But in nature, God orchestrates the system, the ecology, the web of life interdependent to create and sustain life. God has given each creature and plant and mineral a role to play and they do not discern the role that they play in the ecosystem, they simply live as they were created.

Perhaps, I need fewer cycles thinking about what the right next decision is and more time watching the Spirit at work. Perhaps, the Spirit is blowing and if I watched and trusted, that next automatic response to the work of the Spirit in the world around me is the roll that God calls me to play. Perhaps I am created,  as all creatures are, to play my part instinctively.  

Discernment imagined this way is light. It is not a decision I have to make, it is the natural progression of trust. God is bigger than my ability to micromanage my decisions and God will use me even if all I do is what comes natural to me. 

Day 17: The faith of my ancestors

 

I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees. 

What was the Lorax? 

Any why was it there? 

And why was it lifted and taken somewhere from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows? The old Once-ler still lives here.

Ask him, he knows. 

I worry about the the church. When I was growing up, 70% of people were members of a religious organization. Today, that number is under half. I see it in my church, in churches I visit. The church is growing small and it's getting older. 

My church is maybe half the size it was in 2019. The pandemic seemed to accelerate a shift that was happening gradually and many churches find themselves too small to support staff or buildings and are making hard choices about what that means. My church isn't there but it struggles with being a small church when it's been so used to being a big church.

Personally, I've wrestled with the issue of how to be faithful in the face of this trend -- evangelism? A new approach to church? New ministries? Or...a quiet acceptance that the world is choosing another way?

I was at our synod's elementary school retreat. Kids from churches from all over California gathered in the Redwoods for a weekend of camp songs and Jesus stories and prayers sung to superman, the Addams family and Johnny Appleseed. I sat for a while with a retired pastor and we chatted about the future of the church while we watched the kids prepare skits and make neon lanyard keychains. He said something that day, that has given me deep hope.

"There is always a remnant faithful."

The ark.

Lots family.

The 7,000 who didn't bow to Baal in the time of Elijah.

The exiles returning from Babylon. 

The 12 disciples in the upper room.

Sometimes the faithful, must persist for hundreds of years of darkness to hold on to the faith. They must practice and teach, read and pray while the world burns around them. 

But God does not forsake them and from the remnant, God rebuilds.

Perhaps there is as call to do things differently. To be church differently. To worship in different places at different times. But perhaps, the call is to draw on the courage and faith of our ancestors and continue gathering dispite our small numbers. To break bread. To say the words. To remember the promises. To hold onto the faith.

For in that, we have the seed and a seed can be planted in the fullness of time.

Day 16: Unexpected Sabbath

 

It's 6pm and I'm already in pj's. 

Today was an semi planned,  semi unexpected Sabbath day. 

I know from experience that day 2 after an infusion is the worst in terms of side effects. As we've dialed in doses and measures to reduce side effects,  it's gotten less and less but I still try to keep my calendar light if I can help it. 

But what was surprising about today is there were NO EMERGENCIES! No calls from the office to pick kids up from school,  no frantic emails or phone calls. 

I went for a walk and then spent 2 hours cleaning out my in-box. I laid under a blanket in the sunshine and wrote in my planner. I had quiet space in my head and I thought about important things. I sent out a few emails.  I did planning. I doodled.  I reflected on potential future blog posts. 

I felt like God put a bubble around me and created space for slowness. I felt gratitude for the gift of not having to try. Not having to decide what I was up to and what I needed to push back on. The world was quiet. 

The then... texts arrived. 

People checking in on me.  

Words of care.  

Words of solidarity. 

Some folks silently facing health challenges of their own connecting from a place of empathy. 

Others checking if I would like a treat or some sort of care package.  

The mouth of God,  carrying words of encouragement, connection, comfort and love.  

And then ..

A brown paper bag with a note from God. 

Flowers - frivolous beauty for no other reason than to be beautiful. 

Fruit - fresh,  wholesome,  refreshing.  Your body can and will heal. 

Brookies (brownie on the bottom,  cookie on the top) and chocolate covered pistachio - its OK to not be healthy today. You don't have to hit health goals every day. Sometimes it's fine to lay in bed and eat a brownie. 

Someone listened to God's whisper to be hands and feet today. Someone stopped by the store on their way home and dropped of a reminder of God's grace and love at my doorstep. 

Thanks God. Thanks person who heard God.  You preached the sermon on this unexpected Sabbath day. 

Day 15: Side effects

 

Every time it's a little different. 

My infusion was yesterday. It comes with a giant dose of steroids to minimize initial side effects.  

I felt fine during the infusion. I mostly worked. Gazing around the room from time to time.  More cancer patients than usual.  I held them each in my gaze, in my heart.  There are tons like this all over the place.  Silent battles for life.  Prayers hanging thick in the air. 

When my time was done,  the nurse checked my vitals and asked if I felt good enough to drive.  I did.  Bundled up in my sweatpants and hoodie, I headed out into the 75 degree sunshine. The seat of the car was almost too hot to sit down. 

I was hungry when I got home. I had been at the center for nearly 5 hours and it was closing in on dinner time. I warmed up some soup.  I changed into lighter clothes. I flopped on my bed. 

A little nauseous.  A lot of mucus. Some coughing. A little tightness in the chest.  Some wheezing. I inventoried my symptoms.  I was worn out. A bit of a battle was happening inside my body. It was time to rest. 

Today,  I went about my day as normal.  Eddie and I went to the gym in the morning and then to breakfast to work on his writing. We're reading Life of Pi now.  I checked on with myself periodically.  How are things,  body?

I am expecting a crash soon. The steroids begin to wear off and weariness can set in.  But,  like I said in the beginning,  every time is different.  The last few infusions I think we've figured out the right combination of medicines and fluids to keep it from hitting too hard.  I tell the nurses,  "I got five boys,  I can't afford a lot of down time."

And, miraculously,  they've found ways to make these infusions something of a NASCAR pit stop. Zip. Zip. Zip and I'm back on the track. 

I've been thinking about this,  grateful, that generally is been going well. But on the other hand,  how much I shy away from discomfort. Sometimes healing isn't a comfortable process.  Physical therapy usually isn't.  

Spiritual growth and healing  can also come with side-effects. For me,  it has been this painful shedding of self- importance. Man,  when I was younger,  I really wanted to be somebody. I was ambitious. Embracing my call felt at times like a betrayal of self.  And yet,  that is exactly what Jesus asked of me.  To pick up my cross and follow him. Nailing up all the self ambitions of success and recognition that I wanted to earn and learning a quieter, more humble path. 

I'm not done.  But like the nurses. God is gentle tenderly minimizes side effects as the Spirit heals and makes me whole. 

But some days,  like today,  Lent and medicine make me just want to sleep it off. Wake me up when it's over and I'm all the way healed.  

Day 14: What to do with the news?

 I was overseas when Hurricane Katrina hit. I was working for catholic relief services in Cotonou, the capital of Benin,  a tiny West African country. My local friends asked if anyone i knew was affected by the castrophe and poked at me that it was a little ironic that I was all the way over there and America didn't have enough people to take care of it self.

Truth be told.  I wanted to be there.  Helping. 

I am quite a sensative person and I have a mixed relationship with news. I agree that members of a democracy should be informed of what's happening in the world but on the other hand I feel like we could all be a lot more effective at making this world a better place if we stopped complaining about what's happening and step up to love our neighbors.  

For that reason,  most of my life I didn't have much time for news. I knew basic headlines,  big events, but I didn't follow politics or the in depth analysis. I was just busy. I spent most of my single life trying to do something about poverty and injustice. 

But kids came and and my call changed.  I wrestled with God as my eyes gazed on the work I deeply loved. I was 8 months pregnant with Eddie and the call came. Move to Geneva and take a job at the International Labor Organization or be a stay at home mom in Livermore. 

My husband in the other hand,  loved news. I think it was his sport. He rarely talked about it,  so i didn't know for a long time but he could problably teach history from 1985 on strictly from memory.  He had followed everything and he has the memory of a steel trap.  

Mothering shifted my relationship with news. Stories of kids dying in the back seat of an overheated car or being eaten by an alligator at the zoo filled me with deep pain for mothers with empty arms. Filled me with anxiety about my own children meeting terrible tragedy.  I wasn't doing anything in the world,  so I  avoided news.  

I wasn't under a rock on the moon. I was running a biotech at the time.  So i read more nitch news. The latest in fertilty research and FDA regulations. Mostly uncontroversial stuff. I was educated and conversational,  but i wasn't diving in.  

But 2020 changed that.  I was glued to all the early pandemic stuff trying to figure out what i should do for our family and trying to understand the virus and what my call was in this unusual moment in history. But slowly,  i backed away again.  Everything was loud.  People were angry. I had 5 boys and no help.  I caccooned with them.  

But in the fall of 2020, I  had an argument that I think many of us had. It was heated,  personal and dividing. It actually made no sense. It was two people with lizard brains repeating narratives that had been hand chosen by Facebook algorithms. 

It was the first time I felt a call to deeply read the news. But not just my news.  Everyone's news. I signed up for all kinds of accounts on instagram that i would never have followed. I started clicking through on things. Reading them with an open mind.  Fact checking.  Reading other things. I can tell you,  with deep certainty,  no matter what the algorithm serves you, it's not the whole picture and half of it is AI generated.  I found spots of good reporting. But good reporting is expensive - it requires travel and time and discipline to move passed the initial human instinct and ask questions. To listen to a variety of people and to share their witness and views. 

I felt a call to bridge partisan divide and to fight back against misinformation that is rampant on both sides of the aisle. But on the other hand,  most of my life,  I've kept my distance from the news and relied on just my own eyes and ears in the world with my knees on the ground to lead me to ways and places where i can help.  And if i can't help,  what right do i have to insert myself.  I'm not in those rooms.  I don't know the whole story. 

I eased up on news for Lent. Again,  not a complete blackout but not tied to it trying to know every bit of knowledge and reading all the sources to parse out truth. I encounter enough without looking to get a sense of what's happening. 

My jury is still out on what the right and faithful path is. I can see merit in trying to be a bridge but it's honestly exhausting. By reading so many perspectives i get a sense of what people have a hard time articulating and I've had increasingly honest dialogs about controversial topics where trust is built and common ground is made.  But most where relationships are treasured. But to be honest,  I'm enjoying the break.  The endless stress cycle of rage inducing headlines and fear driven content,  is physically hard to pull away findings.  I am enjoying the lower stress levels but it feels almost irresponsable. On the other hand it allows me to meet people in the real world without wondering how they lean politically and what their values are.  

What is the spiritually faithful path? 

Day 13: Ancient homesteads

 When Philip was 2, the doctors said there was a good chance that he had severe autism. His scores indicated that his brain was developed similar to a 9 month old. 

I tried not to look too far ahead. Instead, i focused on where we were and what he needed in that moment. His first step to developing was learning how to pay attention to something for 15 seconds. To learn how to play with toys. I threw myself on the floor and watched and experimented and listened to podcasts and got therapists and played and played and played with Philip.  

I've kept the habit. Not thinking too far in to the future but looking at my kids right now. Are they growing? Are they thriving? Are there gaps we need to work on? I can't assume that school will be the same next year. I can register and tell myself -"the default plan is...." but I always have to watch and wait and pay attention to little details and come August, just before school starts, without fail, adjustments have to be made.  

I work pretty hard to help my family find a way to be themselves and yet be part of broader society. But it is hard sometimes and I like to take them out to the desert where there is a freedom to be completely themselves. I can feel the weights drop off everyone as they settle into the sand and rocks and sticks off the wilderness. 

But vacation ends and we come back.  

Usually it's a good challenge to go to school, go to church, be a part of society. Buy sometimes when the world doesn't look like it has space for them, I start daydreaming about pulling them out of school and moving out to the country and homeschooling on some homestead with a giant barn. I even learned how to make sourdough. 

Sometimes I think there's something more to my desire to homestead. I think i struggle with how to live out my faith in this current moment in history and i have a deep desire to withdraw and to set up new routines and rhythms. 

In my reading of church history, I discovered this impulse isn't new. My seminary trained friends can correct me here, but the first Christian monasteries were not communities but individuals exasperated by the church in the time of Constantine. House churches moved into buildings. Buildings grew ornate with gold, a big chairs for priests and elaborate alters. Clergy gained political power and many felt it was impossible to live out faith in those churches so they fled to the desert in droves. Seeking solitary lives marked by simple religious orientation. 

But lives in the desert were not right either. Christian faith is not lived through prayer and meditating scripture alone. But rather by love, care and generosity. 

Solitary monks found themselves again out of sync with faith and eventually formed monasteries that look more like what we think of today. Communities based on prayer and scripture, but also work, care for the poor and care of each other. 

I'm not alone in my impulse to just run away from the world. But the same faith that pushes me to run away, also calls me back. 

But man, sometimes I want to load up in that RV and drive for a really long time and rest in a wilderness that has no cell signal and just be.