by Crawford UMC | Apr 24, 2020 | Conversations
Who saw the incredible light on Tuesday night after the rain? Gilding the sky with warmth, radiance and hope, the light was a sight to behold.
Each day, I try to spend time outside and whenever I do, I experience hope and grace. To notice the flowers in bloom, the budding trees, the fox free to roam, I find peace and light. When I cannot get outside, I struggle to find the same freedom, and struggle to appreciate the gifts of creation, the gifts of God all around me.
If nature inspires me, what inspires you? Where in the midst of this pandemic are you finding hope and light, peace and grace? Where are you seeing and experiencing God?
It is a lot to hold. There so much change that it is hard to take all of it in. It is even harder to stay at home and “do nothing.” But when we take a moment and notice, we may find that in our prayer, in our nothing, there is life and light and God.
To share this experience with others, would you send me a note or a picture or a story about where you have seen and found God in the last six weeks? I would love to share this with others, spread a little hope and share even more of God-with-us in it all.
In honor of the 50th anniversary of Earth Day and the gift that creation is to me, here is a prayer:
Let us pray …
for trees, plants, crops, and forests
for water, oceans, rivers, streams and ponds
for air, wind, climate and weather
for sun, clean energy and the reversal of global warning
for animals, especially endangered species
for humanity learning new ways of being in the world
for recycling and consciously limiting our personal consumption
for proper use of chemicals and disposal of toxic waste
for the gift of your Earth and unity among your children
Life-giving God, we thank you for the gift of creation. We ask your forgiveness where we have failed to be just stewards. And we now ask for your guidance in restoring the Earth. May we learn to live in harmony, safety and justice. May we graciously grow in sharing resources among all so that we become more fully your kindom here on Earth. Amen.
“See” you on Sunday,
Hope
by Crawford UMC | Apr 16, 2020 | Conversations
From Hope’s friend David:
Years ago, the Seattle Symphony was doing Beethoven’s Ninth under the baton of Milton Katims. At this point, you must understand two things:
- There’s a long segment in this symphony where the bass violins don’t have a thing to do. Nothing. Not a single note for page after page
- There used to be a tavern called Dez’s 400 right across the street from the Seattle Opera House, favored by local musicians.
It was decided that during this performance, after the bass players had played their parts they’d quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage rather than sit on their stools looking (and feeling) dumb for twenty minutes.
Well, once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and have a few brews. After they had downed the first couple rounds, one said, “Shouldn’t we be getting back? It’d be awfully embarrassing if we were late.”
Another, presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied, “Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string around the last pages of the conductor’s score. When he gets down to there, Milton’s going to have to slow the tempo way down while he waves the baton with one hand and fumbles with the string with the other.”
So they had another round and finally returned to the Opera House, a little tipsy by now. However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor’s face told them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious! And why not? After all (get ready, here it comes)…
It was the bottom of the Ninth, the score was tied, and the basses were loaded.
If you liked this joke, then you will love the worship service on Sunday. Taking up our Eastern Orthodox Christian siblings liturgical designation for the Second Sunday of Easter as Bright Sunday or Holy Humor Sunday, we will celebrate risus paschalis (the Easter laugh) that acknowledges that Easter was God’s supreme joke played on death. So this Sunday is a time for us to tell jokes and to have fun at church!
Which reminds me … You can either have a nice day or you can help your child with their math homework. You can’t have both. — Coronalations 3:30
“See” you on Sunday,
Hope
by Crawford UMC | Apr 9, 2020 | Conversations
For weeks, people have been debating about whether or not Easter will be canceled. A little like wondering if Christmas will come this year, the Easter celebration of life over death, love triumphing over hate, hope overcoming despair, Easter arrives.
You see, Easter happens every Sunday. That is why Christians worship on Sunday, instead of on the Sabbath. Because every Sunday Christ is Risen. Easter can’t be canceled—it can’t be stopped from happening every week. But the feeling that missing out on the special music, the brass quintet, the Alleluia’s and the Lilies and Tulips seem to mean we are missing Easter. The loss is real.
Although we may not be together on Sunday, especially in this time of physical distancing, of caring for our neighbors by staying apart, of struggling to figure out how to gather, worship, and connect through the internet, we still have an opportunity to identify what is essential to be church. The short answer is Easter, resurrection, and proclaiming this amazingly good news.
To be the church we must go out and Easter the world around us—sharing the bounty of God’s love with the world. While we stay safely in our homes, we can Easter by calling one another, sending notes and cards, bringing extra food to the church for the Food Pantry and by spending time with God in prayer.
Whether we are gathered in the Crawford sanctuary this Easter or not, the rest of the world will know about Easter if we live out the good news. When we say “Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen, indeed. Alleluia!” we mean that in the midst of this pandemic there is good news for all including those who are homeless, hungry, sick, for those that are in prison, in violent relationships, living with addictions and mental health challenges.
Because God offers us hope, we offer have the opportunity at Easter to share our hope with friends, neighbors and strangers alike. During this season of Easter (50 days long), let’s spread the spirit of hope and life and love with everyone God brings to mind and all those who cross our paths. That will really be Easter!
“See” you on Sunday,
Hope
by Crawford UMC | Apr 3, 2020 | Conversations
As we move into Holy Week, I cannot get this blessing out of my heart. Some of you may recognize it as a piece from Fiddler on the Roof; some may be hearing the blessing for the first time. My friend and former pastor, Joanne Engquist, shared it on her Facebook page. It is a blessing from the Kaufman family who will miss a beloved Bar Mitzvah due to the stay-at-home order. They share this beautiful blessing with these words: No matter your faith or your beliefs, I think we can all agree we hope our children feel safe and loved in this world.
This week begins another part of our journey of faith — a triumphant entry into Jerusalem, a struggle for justice and for love, a crucifixion, a death and ultimately a resurrection. The last of these is where we find our faith, it is the source out of which we grow strong.
Shelter us in these days, O God, bless us with connection and grace, love and life everlasting. Amen.
“See” you on Sunday,
Hope
by Crawford UMC | Mar 27, 2020 | Conversations
Today, I had some really hard news. A friend whose husband had beat all the odds with a terminal disease had a heart attack yesterday and died. When a mutual friend called to let me know, I wondered how we could be present for her when we cannot visit her or hug her or let her lean on us physically, emotionally, spiritually.
This news was on the heels of a note from the Bishop reminding clergy about the theology of why we cannot virtually celebrate Holy Communion and what we are to do should there be a request for a funeral, a wedding or any other public gathering at this time. As people of faith, how do we respond? How do we, as Paul writes in I Corinthians 12, rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep?
Sitting with these questions, I am drawn to the Psalm for Sunday. Known by the Latin name De Profundis, Psalm 130 is a cry that reflects our time and our physically distant lives.
Help, God—the bottom has fallen out of my life!
Master, hear my cry for help! Listen hard! Open your ears! Listen to my cries for mercy.
If you, God, kept records on wrongdoings, who would stand a chance?
As it turns out, forgiveness is your habit, and that’s why you’re worshiped.
I pray to God—my life a prayer—and wait for what God’ll say and do.
My life’s on the line before God, my Lord, waiting and watching till morning,
waiting and watching till morning.
O Israel, wait and watch for God—with God’s arrival comes love,
with God’s arrival comes generous redemption.
No doubt about it—God’ll redeem Israel, buy back Israel from captivity to sin.
In these words, in the emotion of the psalmist, I find myself and I find my prayer. When it feels like the bottom has fallen out of my life, I know that God is present with love. When I cry for help, I know that God will arrive with generous redemption and unmerited grace. I know these things because I know you. Without touching, you touch my soul. In days of physical distancing, I know you are calling each other, checking in and offering words of comfort, gestures of faith and gifts of love. I know you are praying for those who cannot see loved ones and for those who worry about being forgotten. I know you are reaching out in your own ways sending cards, sharing food, texting emojis and emailing beautifully evocative meditations and poems to get us through.
As we wait and watch, as we check in and reach out, as we sing and pray, there is no doubt about it: God is with us, God connects us, God loves us.
“See” you on Sunday,
Hope
by Crawford UMC | Mar 19, 2020 | Conversations
On Monday, after homeschooling for the very first time ever, I was interviewed by a reporter from the Christian Science Monitor about how clergy are responding to the current state of life and faith. The reporter asked really compelling questions which left me thinking deeply, not about social distancing and isolation, but about opportunity and hope.
Last year during Lent our theme was reconnecting with our unhurried God. Each week we practiced breathing and noticing God with us. Even though we took a break for a little while, after the six-week journey, our routines and the demands on our lives returned with a vengeance. Some of us are even more committed to work, to committees, to councils and to organizations than we were before we reconnected with God.
Right in the busyness of our lives, as we moved into Lent this year, we began a journey toward healing and wholeness; yet, we find ourselves separated, distanced and isolated by a pandemic.
In the middle of all of this, I have seen God in friends making phone calls checking on one another. I’ve seen God in a five year old coloring cards that she plans to put in the mailboxes of all her neighbors. I’ve found God in the email conversations that imagine a Give and Take Food Box outside our church doors; a box in which people can give their extra and people can take what they need, no questions asked. I’ve discovered God in the willingness to learn from parents, the silly writing prompts, the communities that will not let us go and continue to connect through virtual meetings and text check-ins. I’ve heard God in the laughter of children. I’ve felt God in the recess break that included thrilling uphill and down bike rides. I’ve seen God in the greeting of strangers from six feet away, looking each other in the eye and saying hello.
Where have you seen, discovered, heard and felt God this week? Where have you found opportunity and hope? Where were you more aware than ever that you are not alone?
When my six year old has a Zoom meeting for Daisies (Girl Scouts) and my eight year old has daily Zoom play dates with his BFF, I say we are navigating a whole new world. The gift and joy of all of this is re-imagining our time, relearning to simply live, remembering that breathing and space is essential to being fully alive, and rediscovering that we are never alone — God is with us.
Zoom you on Sunday,
Hope
