Birthing Hope

As a bi-vocational priest, it sometimes seems like opportunities to act in the "official" capacity are few and far between. Yet, when those opportunities arise, there is a joy that bubbles up inside me that cannot be described other than to say, I feel blessed. The month of October brought me two weddings this year, both of which took place outdoors. One was held in the White Mountains on a rainy day in the woods; the other, just a week later, took place at the foot of the Superstition Mountains in the center of a labyrinth. While one of these weddings was completely secular, the other included references to the Divine; yet both couples held Handfasting Ribbons and bound one another to promises. Both ceremonies were glorious. Both couples look forward to long, happy relationships. I am thrilled to have been a part of their big days.

I am preparing to print out a brochure with descriptions and pricing for services I provide in the capacity of priest. It's a little discomfiting, to think of these things from a business perspective. I am a person who deals in human compassion, empathy, and love. You really cannot put a price tag on these things. However, one must also make a living, and our time and effort are worth something. The "day job" provides income and insurance, but being in a social services position is not particularly financially lucrative. It's taken me a long time to bring myself to being able to set a cost to the ministerial services I provide. Now that I've done it, I've procrastinated on printing it out. By rights, it should have been delivered to the local wedding venues and other places before this "snowbird" season in the Southwest began last month. This is how I sabotage myself, isn't it. One of a million ways...

Brigid in the Desert hosted an in-person gathering every month for the first 2/3 of this year. When there were two or more of us sitting together at a table in discussion, it was awesome. Unfortunately, we are a small group of individuals with a variety of challenges. Toward the end of summer, some of our physical challenges made it difficult to meet in person. Instead, we have been chatting on the Facebook page and in the Facebook group, Brigid in the Desert Discussions. We have talked about everything from pain and spiritual experience to our interactions with those who have crossed beyond the veil from this world into the next. We are a diverse, fun, and hopeful group. Feel free to join us!

Now it's November. The Wheel of the Year has taken us past Samhain and the beginning of new life after the death of summer. We head into a time of deliberate thanksgiving, at least here in the United States, as well as a conversation around the meaning of that "First Thanksgiving" and our relationships with the Indigenous people of this land. There is much to wrestle with.

The nights are darkening earlier and we notice a chill in the air, even here in the Sonoran Desert. In the mountains and across the northern parts of the globe, the scent of ice and snow reinvigorates our senses and reminds us of cozy childhood evenings and Yuletide dreams. No matter our religious or spiritual heritage, there are memories of gifts and light and new hope that is born at the end of the calendar year. The Wheel turns. We grow older. Sometimes we forget the power of that innocent hope. At this time of year, we can be reminded of it; it can be reborn in us, if we let it.

If there is anything Americans -- and many others around the world -- can use right now, it's a newborn hope. Let's let it be born in us!

Let us birth a new hope.

Lilies of the Field

It's Christmastime.  Most everyone is talking about Christmas.  Jesus.  Poinsettias.  Presents.  I was thinking of writing yet another blog on the meaning of Christmas for our times.  Then I started to worry about the future.  Thinking about how I'm stepping out of my comfort zone.  No longer holding a full time job, so I can commute to school.  Confused about my place in the church and in the world.  Concerned about what the future holds.  In the midst of this, I was reminded of a comforting scripture.  A scripture about being Present in our lives.  A scripture about lilies of the field.  I remembered that I had written an article about just this very thing a couple of years ago.  I thought I'd share it here:

And why do you worry about clothing?  Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil  nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these…if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will God not much more clothe  you?”  ~ Matthew 6:28—29, 30

     A few years ago, in the early part of my discernment process, I was seeing a life coach and spiritual director to help me discover what I was being called to do with my life.  One of the techniques used by these professionals is called guided visualization.  During one session, my director asked me to visualize myself going into the future and meeting my future self.  I was to imagine that I asked my future self if she had anything important to tell me.  When the session was over, not only did I feel refreshed as if I had rested, but I also had the strong sense that I was to “discover the meaning of the iris”. This enigmatic thought stayed with me, and when a lone purple iris bloomed outside my home the first summer I lived there, I was reminded of it.  What could it mean?  The puzzle remained in the back of my mind, resurfacing whenever I saw the beautiful iris.  Until recently, the only thing I knew about this bulb plant is that in Greek mythology, Iris is the goddess of the rainbow.  I figured that unless I was Dorothy of Kansas, this had little to do with my “message from the future.”

     Then, one Sunday, after the Praise Worship, I sat in the Narthex of the Education Building for over an hour and a half in conversation with Carol and her son Jason.  Carol is a retired botanist, whose favorite flower is – you guessed it – the iris.  As a hobby, Carol works with old-world irises, creating hybrids with the garden variety irises that are more familiar to us.  That day, I learned that at one time, a certain strain of irises grew over the Middle East like prairie grass.  It was a particularly beautiful species of iris, and grew prolifically over Israel and Lebanon.  These aril irises are the old-world variety that Carol works with.  Botanists believe that the aril iris was once known as the “lily of the field.”

     As Carol shared this fascinating story with me, I was struck with the certainty that here I had found “the meaning of the iris!”  It came so quick and sure that I had to share it with her immediately.  I am convinced that I have been assured that I have come home!  The iris represents the long heritage of my Judeo-Christian culture.  I belong in the church in some capacity, and I belonged in it even before I was aware of it.  Perhaps more importantly, I have been assured – as we all have been assured – that God will care for me; clothe me, feed me, and comfort me.  This is the assurance we have all been given by Christ.  Jesus said, “…shall not God not much more clothe you?”  Yes…I have found the meaning of the iris.  Am I not the lily of the field?  Are not we all?

     There is another metaphor in the work that Carol does as well – the modern variety iris is like the Christian, who is grafted by faith to the promise of God to the Hebrews – the old-world lily of the field.  The purpose of hybridization is to create sturdier, more adaptable stock and richer variations.  The older variety no longer grows prolifically in its natural environment.  It is at risk of extinction.  Isn’t that just like people?  We can become set in our ways, resistant to adaptation and vulnerable in the face of change.  When we are open to new ideas and find ways to incorporate new discoveries into our vision for the world, we become something new.  As we learn to adapt to changes in the world and in our lives, we become more fully who God means for us to be.  As I have adapted to my changing world, I have gained strength in its diversity.  A new and powerful faith has emerged as I have felt the Presence of the Holy Spirit in the movement of my life.  As I have allowed my spirit to become infused with the Holy Spirit, I have begun to learn what faith really means.  Yes, God has clothed me – not only in the garments of my physical existence, but in the very Image of God’s Self.

Setting Jesus Free

They moved Jesus.  When he first arrived, they placed him under a roof, behind closed doors.  People came inside to visit him.  They gazed lovingly at his face, reached out gingerly to caress a hand.  Finally, the day came when he could no longer remain sequestered.  There was no hiding, no cowering in fear of attack once he was exposed to the elements.  What kind of life could that be?  For him?  For those who came to visit him, when the doors were locked?

So today, they moved Jesus.  Out from behind the doors of the church, he is available to the community.  He is available to the world.  Though there were many who wanted to keep him to themselves, protected from the wild others who wandered the streets, he is now free of that bondage.  Under the open skies, illuminated in the glory of sunrise and sunset, he can be seen by all.  No more does Jesus belong solely to those who would hide him like a light under a bushel.  No more does he belong to those who fear what others might do to him, or what his presence in the world might reveal.

Now that Jesus is free for all to see – how many more might he set free?

 Bronze Jesus Statue at Gold Canyon United Methodist Church - Inside Narthex

Jesus moving through the air, gently, to be placed near the alcove on the front of the building

Jesus looking over the community of Gold Canyon, Arizona

Pondering Purpose

As we grow older, we all begin to wonder why we are here.  As we struggle with purpose, we wonder if it wouldn't be much nicer to go back to childhood when for most people, life in this world seems eternal and idyllic.  Of course, it wasn't long before we began to realize that the Eden of our childhood is but a temporary place.  If we haven't figured out that life has hardships earlier, adolescence is pretty quick to teach us otherwise.  Entering adulthood, we find the need to make a living overpowers all other desires.  Some of us choose to focus so hard on the duties that society has imposed upon us that we forget that we once had dreams; we cannot hear the Voice of God calling us to be still.  We cannot perceive God's prevenient grace, for we are busy focusing on the noise of the world.

Then, for many of us, there comes the time when we realize that there must be more to life.  We think about all the storms of life, the earthquakes and thunderstorms of our jobs and the whirlpools of family and friends, and then we stop.  We hear the silence, and in the silence, the Voice of God.  Our hearts are warmed, our minds are opened.  Suddenly, we know that it's time to follow a path toward something greater.  This is no "middle-age crisis," no fear of death or endings, yet it is as life-changing and shattering as finding a new love.  It is a new life. It is knowing that there is a purpose that needs to be discovered.  A new Way of Being that needs to be embraced.

Some people find new a hobby, some take up a hobby they left behind.  Some people explore a new career, others take the path they didn't take when they were younger.  Then there are those who recognize a Voice from their childhood; the Voice they didn't understand but felt in their hearts, in their guts, in the deepest part of their soul. This Voice is a Song; a very old Song, a new Song, an eternal Song...it is the Song of the Universe, the Song of Creation, the Song of the Lord of All, of Wisdom, of the Christ with all the angels in chorus.  Those who hear that Voice know there is no turning away from the Call.  It may be a Call to humble service; it may be a Call to teaching children or adults; it may be a Call to any vocation as a Lay Person in a church...and it may be a Call to ordination in the tradition that they follow.

This is the Call that I have heard.  It's a tough Call to follow.  God may be be the Singer, but humans make the decisions, lay out the pathway, challenge the Call.  We run from it, because we can't believe that we might have what it takes to lead people in their Spiritual Walk.  We call ourselves Jonah, until the day we realize that no matter what we do, we're going to end up in Nineveh anyway.  Puked up on the beach and floundering, I became Jacob.  Not knowing for sure where or how I was called, I wrestled with God.  I withdrew from the certification process.  Until one day, there was no denying that I was Called to be an Elder in the United Methodist Church.  To lead congregations.  To write and preach sermons.  To sit with the ill, the depressed, and the dying.  To work for justice.  To marry those in love, to bury those in Love.  To bring the love of Christ to the parish.  To work beside my brothers and sisters to make disciples of Christ for the transformation of the world.

I know I'm Called.  God knows I'm Called.  I pray that those who make the decisions allow the Holy Spirit to convince them that I am Called.  It's not an easy path to follow.  It takes a lot of work, a load of financial debt, and a huge..and I mean huge...leap of faith.

I started working on my Master's in Divinity degree in 2008 with the Claremont School of Theology's Phoenix Program.  I was a single mother, working full time.  I carried enough credit hours to qualify for financial aid.  Eventually, the time came to commute weekly, working as many hours as I could to earn a living while driving to California and back every week.  Had I continued this into the spring of 2012, I would have graduated in May 2012.  Instead, I chose to take all online classes - available for the first time - and work full time.  I had gotten married during the fall semester, and I wanted to spend more time with my family.  It was a mistake.  That semester took me three credits over the allowable number to receive federal financial aid.  I hadn't saved anything from my previous semesters' financial aid.  I paid bills; I supplemented my income; I paid for gas and a room in California, I made vehicle repairs and house repairs. I bought groceries.

I was blessed to receive a scholarship from a church coalition that paid for the online class I am taking this semester as I wrap up my nine year career as a church Office Manager.  Another scholarship paid for my books and some other expenses.  Now I will graduate in May of 2013.  In order to do that, I will be commuting to California each week during the spring semester.  The toughest part is going to be paying for it.  Thanks to the generous scholarship from the church coalition, the tuition for one of my three required classes is covered.  I will still have tuition for two classes, fees, and the cost of the commute and two nights a week in a hotel.  I will no longer be working.  This is the greatest leap of faith I have ever taken.  It feels like I'm ready to jump over the Grand Canyon.

And yet, I know...I have discovered my purpose.  My eyes are fully open to new vision, new ideas, new ways of doing things.  God will provide.