Day 1: Ash Wednesday. Who Am I?

Last year I posted everyday to this blog as a meditation and reflection for Lent. It was a deeply spiritual practice and so this year, I will attempt to do it again. I am also going to try to incorporate the Photo a Day idea that the Methodist Church had. Its a powerful, simple way to share our stories and have a collective devotion during these sacred days.

As I reflect on the day and the question Who am I, the imposition of Ashes, the squirmy kids at church, pouring my heart into our business, trying to still be a light and feeling somehow not quite enough at the end of it all. I find God. I am a child of God.

Eddie drove a toy truck down the aisle as we received our ashes. He was overtired and had a short attention span. It was a special moment. Andrew received ashes for the first time. This is his first lent and I was drawn into the journey we will take towards his baptism. It was silent and holy. I was messy and holding two small children. Kneeling on the floor. I looked up and the words "From dust you came and to dust you shall return." For me. For Eddie. For Andrew. Calamity meets Sacred. Life meets Death. Every forehead was marked. This moment meets eternity and I was struck by how God could meet me so simply where I was.

Every Lent with my best ability, I try to meet God and despite all my efforts, God bends low and meets me where I am and draws me into himself. Easter is waiting beyond every Good Friday and I hold on to the promise as I press toward Jerusalem.

Kataphatic vs Apophatic Theology

Had an interesting discussion last week that gave voice to some of the inner debates that I have had over the last few years. We were discussing a video of pastor named Brian McClaren who was describing the difference between Kataphatic and Apophatic theology. Here is a snippet:

He went on to say that leaning too much one way or the other can lead to building up theological walls that prevent faith from growing.

On one side, there is the danger of saying -- this is what God is like -- and you can grow defensive about your beliefs and put God in a box. On the other side, there is a danger of saying -- God is beyond comprehension or experience -- and God becomes a theoretical, hypothetical conversation. Churches I have visited usually fall on one side or the other. "Conservative" churches seem to often put God in a box, while "Liberal" churches seem to wishy washy and theoretical. I have had a discomfort with both views and find myself pushing back.

Brian concludes his talk by describing faith as a boat. The theology, our beliefs, as planks in the boat. As we learn about God and experience God, we add planks to the boat. But the boat is not important. It is the journey. God is the sky above, the water below and the wind that fills our sails.

I think the mature Christian struggles to stay between these two views. Having a firm grasp on who God is while realizing that God is beyond our grasp.

Prayers Answered

The reflective season of Lent gave way to the joy and uncertainty of Easter. The hot July sun makes winter and spring feel like a distant past. It is the long season of Pentecost, a time of working out your call with the help of the Holy Spirit.

My longings and waiting of Lent has been answered and my life transformed. No longer pregnant, I carry little Andrew around in my arms. No longer wondering what will happen with Ulrich's work, he has quit his job and launched his own company. And in all of this God has been with us.

We often hear "Be still and know that I am God." I think my call for the past few months has been, "Be busy and know that I am God." I think this is a harder call. In the midst of the busyness to still recognize God's work in our life. I have seen it. In the way he pulled my family together and held us up at the loss of precious Micah Jon, in the way he's provided exactly what we need, when we need it, in how easy going and healthy Andrew has been so I could have the energy to focus on and take care of things that have come us even with a newborn strapped to my chest.

God is with us. In death and new life. In risks. In love. Always.

Lent Day 43: Condenmed

The words from the cross condemned me today. So deeply did I wrestle with them....

"Today you will be with me in paradise."
"Mother, your son."

In the midst of deepest agony Christ lived his final breaths with compassion. I have been meditating on this and today I struggled hard.

It's Holy Week. It's busy. I led a workout class and had music practice last night, lead a seder tomorrow, support Good Friday worship on Friday, coordinate a wedding on Saturday and celebrate Easter on Sunday.... and I'm pregnant, emotionally drained and tired. It's a lot, but its a very far cry from the cross. In that perspective I can hardly say the week is hard. It is full. Full of optional things I'm choosing.

Yet, I somehow feel that my busyness enables me to tune out requests for compassion. Every interruption today felt overwhelming. And each time I felt the urge to blow up, I heard the voice of Jesus speaking those words. Like Peter, I am ashamed. I failed my Lord. Perhaps, I can hope, like Peter, he will send the Spirit to embolden and lift me up to the challenges of discipleship.

Lent Day 42: Rhythm

I bought my drum today. It is a beautiful, hand-carved piece from West Africa with very real leather (can still feel hairs poking out of it). It has an amazingly large sound. I took it to the sanctuary and played it as loud as I could in the empty hallows. The sound resonated. Filling the space. I imagined worship. Ulrich read the 22 psalm as I drummed. For a moment we were with Jesus. Other musicians joined practice. Violin, Viola, Clarinet, Flute, Bass, Guitar... voices. We brought our gifts and a willingness to offer them for worship. What came together chilled me.

In that dark sanctuary, I traveled with Jesus. Even during practice. We journeyed through the cross. The love, the passion, the pain, the forgiveness, the abandonment, the letting go... So often, we watch the passion from the outside. We watch Jesus take on the weight of the world and we recognize his sacrifice.

This year, the walk seems more intimate. Rather than watching from the gates. Hearing the crowd. Following him down the street. I am listening to the words he spoke. Peering into his heart and discerning his teaching for my own walk.

Lent Day 41: Creativity

As I prepared my to-do list for the week I was struck by how different my tasks are from normal - paint a picture for friends wedding bulletin, buy drum and practice for Good Friday, email family regarding Passover Seder. Art, music, literature, liturgy, prayer, reflection are things that I rarely have the joy of finding time for in a life so dominated by rational planning and dutiful responsibility.

Letting myself venture to the creative half of my brain. Reflecting on meaning. Re-creating meaning around me in worship, words and art opens me to hear the quiet voice of God. A new revealing of the stories that touch this week. A new understanding of God in us and among us. A break from human paradigms to allow the spiritual to permeate my inner being.

My prayers reach out to everyone this Holy Week, that you may find a new way to connect to God and to the spiritual journey you have been called to. To the clergy and spiritual leaders, that your words and thoughts be lifted and inspired as you minister this week.

Shalom. shalom.

Lent Day 40: Walking with Jesus

Throughout Lent, our church has focused on various spiritual disciplines that Christians have used through the centuries. Today, as we celebrated Palm Sunday, we did it through the lens of the spiritual practice of using Labyrinths. Allowing your prayers to be focused by purposeful movement. The pastor had us stand up and walk slowly around the pews as we sang meditative hymns and listened to the passion story.

I nearly closed my eyes and dragged my feet as we drugged up and down the aisles. I listened to the story, looking at the cement floor below. I could feel myself walking the dusty Jerusalem roads. I could hear the sounds. I could imagine Jesus under the weight of the cross as he climbed the hill. I was, for a brief moment, with him.

And... Jesus was with me. 

Holy Week begins. The sacred journey.