"No one calls on your name; no one bothers to hold on to you, for you have hidden yourself from us, and have handed us over to our sin." Isaiah 64:7
This one is taking me a minute to sort through. Why would our loving God decide to hide from us? Why would God our Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer, just hand us over to "our sin"? This is an image of God we just don't like. Or at least I don't like.
However, when I re-read the passage, I missed a BIG context clue. God is there. God is hidden, but we are not calling out to God. We are not holding on to God. God is hidden, but has not abandoned us. I think of my own journey as a mother. There are so many times, when I know I have reminded my children a million times of what to do. Little reminders and naggings. All the time. It's like I don't exist. Then, when something happens, they are upset. They are upset because they haven't listened to the suggestions or recommendations, and they get hurt or maybe something doesn't quite go to plan. I feel like this is a bit like God. We wonder where God is sometimes, but we also have forgotten to look for God. God is always there. We just need to seek God.
"We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away."
Isaiah 64:6
How perfectly appropriate of this advent day where we talk about the
wind in Isaiah, we have been issued a wind advisory in effect. With this wind
warning, comes a rip current warning and a small craft warning. The wind can
also pick up fire and cause destruction by spreading the fire. The wind does not
just affect the trees. The wind can be dangerous. However, we also know that the
wind is welcome. It is especially welcome this time of year. In Guam, the
tradewinds come and grant us a reprieve from the overbearing humidity. The wind
becomes nature's air-conditioning, and we can sit outside relatively comfortably.
The same wind that can cause so much destruction, can also bring relief and
comfort.
I think about this when I think about who I am as a person. What kind
of wind am I? Am I a destructive wind or am I a wind of comfort? Or can
sometimes the destruction lead to new growth? I noticed after all of the
devastation of Typhoon Mawar; we saw so much destruction. And some of it was
irreparable. And some of it led to new trails and new paths to old places. And
there are moments where we need to destroy things that keep us from forward
motion. Old habits become so familiar and comfortable, but they are the very
things that hold us back--we need that wind to shake things up and help us see
the world from a new perspective. We need to destroy the parts of us that no
longer serve us.
It also helps us think about how the Holy Spirit moves. And
sometimes, it has to move in a way to destroy who we were and disrupt the way we
used to think. And other times, it moves in a way to provide comfort. It is my
hope today to not only be challenged, but to find comfort.
This question haunts me. I have been struck by it since the day my darling, then 5 year old asked. I think it it has weighed on me because, while I do other things aside from being a mother, I do all of those things because I am a mother. Even my running came out of being a mother.
I have been going through my 30s in existential crisis mode. I struggle daily, weekly, monthly, yearly with the question "Who am I?" I exist in so many different worlds, that it is hard for me to find my one path. I am a teacher. I am a children and family minister. I am coach. I am an event planner. I am a runner. I am a friend. I am complicated. I am too much and I am not enough.
All of those things work together to make a broader me. The me that would still exist without any of the other parts. The 'me' that informs these other parts; the parts that would likely cease to exist without my 'me' that informs them. I am a mother. Being mother has so effectively informed every part of my life, that it has become such that I don't even know if those other parts of 'me' would still make up 'me' if I weren't a mother.
Initially, this question bothered me. It shook me to my core that I don't even know who I am if I weren't someone's mother. It bothered me that for 25 years of life, I was not mother. I then remembered that, even if I was not mother, I am still part of a larger community. I was then and am still a shepherdess at times, providing comfort and help to those in need. I am also part of a community and can receive guidance when I am in need. Even when I was not 'mother' and even now as 'mother' I belong to a community. Which brings me to a Godly Play story which I find comforting in times of existential crisis. I also find it comforting in a world that seems to have forgotten how to be in community with one another.
There was once someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful
things that people followed him. They couldn't help it. People often asked who he was.
Once when they asked him who he was, he said, "I am the Good
Shepherd."
"I know each of my sheep by name. When I take them from the sheepfold
they follow me. I walk in front of the sheep to show them the way."
"I show them the way to the good grass and I show them the way to the
cool, still, fresh water."
"When there are places of danger, I show them how to go through.
I count each one as the sheep goes inside. If one of the sheep is missing, I
would go anywhere to look for the lost sheep; in the grass, by the water, even
in places of danger. And when the lost sheep is found I would put it on my
back, even if it is heavy, and carry it back safely to the sheepfold. When all
of the sheep are safe inside, I am so happy that I can't be happy just by
myself, so I invite all of my friends and we have a great feast."
"The ordinary shepherd takes the sheep from the sheepfold, but does not
show them the way. The sheep wander. When the wolf comes, the ordinary shepherd
runs away, but the Good Shepherd stays between the wolf and the sheep and would
even give his life for the sheep so they can come back safely to the
sheepfold."
In this Godly Play story, we hear of a good shepherd. A shepherd
that walks with us beside still waters, through brilliant green
pastures, and also a shepherd that is a guide in times of great darkness or danger. I
think it is important to note that the poetry of the Psalm tells us of a
Shepherd who not only guides, but provides comfort; this story tells of a Good
Shepherd who is gentle and kind. A shepherd who, no matter in what situation
the sheep may find themselves, is there to comfort and guide. I imagine holding
hands with the Shepherd as I am led through the best of times and the darkest
of times.
One of the questions we often ask after the story is, “Where
do you find yourself in the story?” There
is still another option though, what do you do in the times of darkness in
which both of you are grasping into the air to find the hand of another
shepherd. It is in these times that I implore you to
stop. Breathe. And look, really, truly, and deeply look into your own hands. Thich Nyat Hanh says, “Ifyou look deeply into the palm of your hand,
you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them
are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the
continuation of each of these people” Your community is in those hands. And each person you have touched hands with, you are sharing in something greater than you can imagine. Your hands start so young, so new, wanting to hold
and love, and over time they develop wrinkles and spots, but those wrinkles and
those spots show how you’ve grown. They show the lines of life. Life
that can be messy, dark, joyous, fun, and full of surprise. And, in time, your
hands will work to guide a new generation either through a family of your own
or in the work you do. My prayer is that as your hands grow older, you will
remember to hold each other in love.
We are also called to be the hands and feet of Christ in
this world. Your hands can sow love where there was once none. Your hands can
lift up others or tear them down. Hands can create, but hands can destroy. I
ask that in moments where all seems lost, you look at your hands to see Christ
in them. I ask that in moments where all is right with the world, you look at
your hands to see Christ in them. I ask that you find the Good Shepherd.
I have a final anecdote. Once I took my kids to a pumpkin
patch with a haunted house. My oh-so-brave 6 year old at the time begged to go
in. Iwas worried he would be too
frightened. We walked through and he said to me, “It’s dark and I’m scared, Mommy,
can I hold your hand?” We held hands. With his hand grasped tightly around
mine, very nearly cutting off circulation, we made it through the haunted house
and he was all smiles in the end. You will experience scary moments in your life, but the hands of your partner, your family, your friends, your community, The Good Shepherd, are there to guide you, to comfort
you. Your loved ones, your community are there for you and, likewise, you are there for them. Go and do life together, in whatever way 'together' makes sense to you. Remembering
the simple beauty of a soft touch, a gentle squeeze, and a few wrinkles down
the road, and remembering that your hands are joined forever together to do
beautiful things—together.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
God our Father, you see your children growing up in an unsteady and confusing world:
Show them that your ways give more life than the ways of the world, and that following you
is better than chasing after selfish goals. Help them to take failure, not as a measure of their
worth, but as a chance for a new start. Give them strength to hold their faith in you,
and to keep alive their joy in your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Prayer for Young Persons, BCP p. 829
This box is closed. There is a lid. Maybe there is a parable inside. Sometimes, even if we are ready, we can't enter a parable. Parables are like that. Sometimes they stay closed.
The box looks like present. Parables were given to you a long time ago as presents. Even if you don't know what a parable is, the parable is already yours. You don't have to take them, or buy them, or get them in any way. They already belong to you.
There was once someone who said such amazing things and did such wonderful things that people followed him. They couldn't help it. They wanted to know who he was, so they just had to ask him.
Once when they asked him who he was, he said, "I am the Good Shepherd."
"I know each of my sheep by name. When I take them from the sheepfold they follow me. I walk in front of the sheep to show them the way."
"I show them the way to the good grass and I show them the way to the cool, still, fresh water."
"When there are places of danger, I show them how to go through. I count each one as the sheep goes inside. If one of the sheep is missing, I would go anywhere to look for the lost sheep; in the grass, by the water, even in places of danger. And when the lost sheep is found I would put it on my back, even if it is heavy, and carry back safely to the sheepfold. When all of the sheep are safe inside, I am so happy that I can't be happy just by myself, so I invite all of my friends and we have a great feast."
"The ordinary shepherd takes the sheep from the sheepfold, but does not show them the way. The sheep wander. When the wolf comes, the ordinary shepherd runs away, but the Good Shepherd stays between the wolf and the sheep and would even give his life for the sheep so they can come back safely to the sheepfold."
--Godly Play, vol.3 pg.77-83.
I chose to also incorporate the the water from the Baptism story and the Light of Christ from the story as well. These are to remind us that the water that the sheep drink from is the water of creation, the dangerous water of the flood, the water the people went through into freedom, the water Jesus was baptized in, and the water of our baptism, and so much more. I chose to place the Light of Christ in the water, to show that sometimes, even when it's the water of the dangerous flood, we will find the light of Christ.
I take comfort in knowing that in this time of darkness, there is the light of Christ. That when we are in the dark and dangerous places in our journey, there is the Good Shepherd waiting to guide us, showing us the way through. We may not know why we're on this path, we may not have the ability to comprehend what has happened, we may have lost hope in times of overwhelming darkness and despair, but there is a great light we can find and a Good Shepherd that will lead us. And, much like a parable, sometimes we are ready to be opened and lead, other times, we struggle and we're not ready. The Good Shepherd will always be there, likewise, the Light of Christ is never extinguished. In Godly Play, we change the light, we watch as the like is transformed from a flame to smoke. The smoke fills a room; we can see it for a bit, but as it vanishes, we can still smell it. The Light of Christ is always there, in whatever particular form it may take, it is there.
**I just re-discovered this. This post was never published and I'm not sure why. It spoke to me today. I have been very focused on running, on swimming, on a million other things, but I have neglected my mindfulness and my quietness. This is what I needed to remember today.**
I have this problem. My problem is that I don't have enough time in my day to meditate or save some space/time for quietness. However, in staff meeting on a particular Sunday, I realized (after a short formational piece at the beginning of the meeting led by Rev. Aimee) that I'm wrong. I do have time in my day, but I CHOOSE to not make space. I think that it has to be this absolutely silent, no children, no talking, monk-like moment. This is crazy talk. That will never be my life, nor do I necessarily desire that life (okay,once in a while, yes, I desire that life). I realized after attempting some form of quiet, alone time before the kids woke up (and not getting said quiet, alone time because Baby Girl woke up), that what my soul craves is not those carefully planned and constructed moments, but using the moments I am given--moments waiting for me to discover them.
Sometimes, I find that I'm alone, but am unsure for how long. Sometimes, I find that I am joined by a couple of little people. These are the times where my silence and meditation look like this picture. Yoga Pretzel cards, candle, and finger labyrinth. Each card guides me into position, slowly, and usually in four parts. As I move through each position into the final pose, the card offers a small meditation to guide me. I have learned that, in this moment given, the space I need to give is in my heart and my head. I forget that. I forget that timing isn't everything, but using a moment, that's what is valuable.
I also forget that moments happen when we least expect them. I washed 4 pairs of muddy shoes yesterday (yes, this meant that for the day I had 6 kiddos in the house-- 2 babies, 2 three-year olds, and 2 four-year olds. Yes, I was asked if I had 3 sets of twins). I used this moment to create silence and pray. I was given a moment and I graciously took that moment and created a space. A space for prayer, for silence, for stillness, for peace.
