Trust, anger, courage, hope.

Last month I wrote an article on Trust in Relationships for Cafe - the online magazine of the women of the ELCA. Read it here.

Someone thought I'd stolen the idea for the article from Max Lucado. I didn't. I've never read Max Lucado. But yesterday I chanced past a Christian Bookstore and saw a book of his with a cover picture of a boy jumping into water. I wrote about jumping into the water. I can see why someone would think I'd stolen his idea.

I don't plagiarize, but I am influenced by what people write. My sermons these next two weeks will probably draw on the Augustine quote used at the beginning of this month's article in Cafe, a piece called "Hope's Daughters" by Erik Christensen. His article calls us to consider anew just what it is we're angry about in this time of hope.

“Hope has two beautiful daughters,” writes Augustine of Hippo. “Their names are Anger and Courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.”

The quote speaks to me at a time in life where I sense the world is boiling over with anger but lacking in courage. I was together with 3 friends the other day and we all confessed to feelings of deep anger that sometimes took us by surprise.

I'd never thought of anger and courage as related to one another, and certainly not to hope. Something to think about...

Peace - Pr Sarah

Advent bulbs

A month ago, my housemate Elizabeth and I planted over 200 bulbs in our front yard. If you've been to our house, you are probably asking yourself, "where?"

With only about 10 square feet of planting space in the yard, it's pretty dense down there.

I was planning to put in just 50 or so. But the kind people at Glen Echo Hardware gave me extra bags of tulips, crocuses, daffodils and hyacinths. It was so late in the season they figured no one was still planting.

After a month of unseasonably warm weather and constant rain, the bulbs think it's April. They're coming up. I was tickled to see green sprouts in the mulch.

But I'm worried. What happens to bulbs that come up prematurely? Will winter, if it ever comes, ruin these plants? Will they flower in the springtime? We'll see in a few months. At least we know we didn't plant them upside down.

Bulbs are an obvious metaphor for faith. You put a dead looking thing into the ground with hope and trust that the weather and seasons will work their miracles.

Hope is gestated in times when it seems like nothing good is happening. In the bleak midwinter, the Christmas hymn goes. As the weather is getting darker and darker, God's getting ready to be born into this world.

So what's it mean when the bulbs come up early? For me, it's a reminder to always be on the look-out for surprise. God, life and love appear in unlikely places at at unlikely times.

Happy Advent.

I'm thinking about Space

I'm thinking about space. No, no. Not outer space. Inner space. Sanctuary space. Church space. Home space. Sacred space.

A few months ago I went out to Kansas City to visit some innovative churches. I was struck by how much their space spoke to their mission. In one church, St. Andrews, the mission included creating a place for people to be at home and reaching to God. Their space was home-y, complete with living room furniture in the narthex, and transcendent. The high ceiling peaked at skylights that drew your eyes to the sky.

By contrast The Church of the Resurrection, was set-up on a large scale. The sanctuary felt like an auditorium. Their mission was focused on unchurched and nominally churched people. A traditional church setting wouldn't do.

I'm thinking about our space at Prince of Peace because we've got a great sanctuary, flexible seating, and a world of possibilities. I want to do something different for the Thanksgiving Service we're holding tomorrow night in order to mirror the theme of gratitude and community, but can't figure out what. I'm hoping it will come to me tonight in a dream.

In Divinity School my friend Ian cajoled a little crew of people to spend hours moving pews into the round. It was backbreaking work. We did it multiple times partly because we liked Ian. But more we did it because when we worshipped facing one another, a different sense of God's presence came through.

I just heard about St Paul's chapel next to the site of the World Trade Towers. They moved out the pews, which were charred and scarred by the relief workers who slept on them after 9/11. These pews were a beloved and sacred part of the church's history, but the future of the chapel as a "welcoming, dynamic space" required flexible seating. Watch this 10 min video for more.

Friday Afternoon and still writing

Someone recently mentioned to me that it would be interesting to get an inside look at the sermon writing process. So here you go.

I'm sitting at a coffee shop working through my sermon notes for this weekend trying to see what's emerging as the sermon. I've been reading and studying the texts and now have a full plate of ideas.

I've got many thoughts, most of which won't make it in there. I'm pulled in two directions.

One half of me wants to pick up on the theme of faith from the passage from Hebrews: "Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful." As this is confirmation Sunday and our confirmation students have prepared their faith statements, it seems a good time to talk about faith - especially maturing in faith and being faithful in the midst of a community.

The other half of me is drawn to the image of the temple's destruction foretold in the gospel, Mark 13. In this gospel lesson, Jesus sits with some of his disciples and tells them about some events that will accompany the destruction of the temple. Jesus indicates that not only will the temple be destroyed but the whole world will start to end...The beginning of the birth pangs. The disciples are instructed to stay faithful.

In the background for me are images of the fall of the Berlin Wall and a story of Lutheran peace vigilantes who for years gathered weekly to make their desire for a united Berlin known.

Also in the background is the shooting at Ft Hood. How I wished that the shooter wasn't Muslim. I wished his name was something like Erik Johnson. Would have made it no less tragic, but a bit less complicated. Now, again, Islam is the easy excuse for all that is wrong with the United States. It seems like a good time to remind ourselves that Christianity too, throughout human history, bears its share of war crimes and senseless violence.

I have sympathy for those many Muslims for whom this even puts them in an even worse national light than before. This has to be a hard time to be Muslim in America.

What does this event say about the way this war has stressed so many veterans and soldiers. Is there some responsibility we have as Christians and as Americans to be good stewards of our own people? Clearly this shooting indicates a major breach. A military stretched too thin.

How do I speak to this set of sympathies with a strong faith and honor those who died and those who serve in the military. How are we as Christians called to be compassionate to all who have suffered (including our Muslim brothers and sisters) as a result of this shooting?

These are some of my thoughts as I face the writing process. PoP members reading this, expect some of this to show up tomorrow and Sun morn at 8:30; but if I were you, I'd hold out for the 11:00 service where 5 confirmation students will deliver their faith statements.

Peace - Pr Sarah

In peace - Pr Sarah

It's not exactly writer's block..it's reception block

People have been pointing out to me that it's been a month since I last wrote on my blog. Why is that? It's not for lack of material. If all it took was something to write about, I could blog every day.

I've been professionally, personally, and physically exhausted. When I'm exhausted, I can do no more. I guess that's the meaning of the word exhausted. You are spent and have nothing else to give.

Rest wasn't my problem. I was sleeping the usual amount. But I was sapped, tapped and drained. No one thing is to blame, but lots of little things added up. I was working just enough too much that I let exercise go. I was overcommitted to friends and social events. There are too many calls I didn't return; too many birthdays I missed. Too many days I didn't pray. My balance tipped, and I was in survival mode.

Clarity came in a near disaster, as it often does. I crashed my bike a week ago. I think I lost control of my bike because I was so spent. I'm totally fine now, but it was that proverbial wake-up call.

As I sat there lying on Rock Creek parkway trying to get my bearings, I could do nothing. My biking partner had been through this kind of thing herself and was the perfect person to have on the scene.

I was in the position of being able to do nothing but receive. And receive I did. Water, an orange starburst for energy, a ride, a housemate to see me to the doctor.

The crash wounds have healed, but I am still in reception mode.

Yesterday was my birthday. From yoga at 6:00 am, a reminder that I've received a body that still works (praise god!), to coming home from a great Bob Dylan concert at 11 pm to a full and happy household, I did nothing but receive love all day long.

And all day long, as the joy in my heart grew, I realized: I am back! I woke up this am wanting to say thank you to the world and to God. I'm ready to give again.

Discovering Richard Rohr

A few weeks ago a colleague emailed me the name Richard Rohr and asked "Have you heard of him? I think you'd like him."

Monday I was in my retreat center's library. Couldn't find the book I was looking for, but stumbled upon Richard Rohr instead. Remembering my colleague's email, I picked up The Art of Simplicity. I passed a delightful hour reading him and feeling something deep in me resonate.

At the common meal, the director of the retreat center mentioned that he's going to a men's spirituality retreat. That's right, run by Richard Rohr.

Then today, I got an agenda for an upcoming leadership seminar. One of the speakers is a pastor named Tim Keel. Checked out his blog http://www.timkeel.com/Guess who he's been reading? Yep, Richard Rohr.

Who is this man? He's a Franciscan priest who believes deeply that the communal life requires letting other people's pain into your own life. He runs "The center for action and reflection" and he's also well known for his work with the Enneagram and men's spirituality.

In my brief introduction to him, I'm drawn to the message that vulnerability is required for transformation. It feels like a call to get out of my head and into my heart. A call away from contemplation for it's own good (I spend an awful lot of time just thinking) and into an active life engaged with others toward a common purpose.

A few quotes from Simplicity, by Richard Rohr

"By community I mean first of all living in such a way that others can get through to me and influence my life and I can get out of myself and serve their life." pg 65

"The act of our faith consists in donating and giving away what we don't yet have - that's why it's faith. That's so hard for us to understand: How can I give away something that I don't yet even have? Nevertheless I go out and heal others, even though I myself am not yet healed. I heal them through my brokenness, not through my power. Every church community that doesn't include an outwardly directed service for others, a service extending beyond itself, is simply not a Church, it's not Christ." pg 67

My blog post on the DC Young Adults website

A rotation of writers posts on a website designed for DC young adults who are interested in spirituality and religion but find traditional church doesn't work for them.

I posted yesterday about baseball. That's right, baseball. Seems I've come down with a surprising case of playoff fever. Check it out: dcyoungadults