Lord, teach me. . . .

If you haven’t all the things you want, be grateful for the things you don’t have, that you wouldn’t want. –Unknown Some days (weeks?) are like that. It seems as if nothing is going the way we would like it to go, in big ways and small. Everyone has those days; yet, somehow, we take little consolation in that fact. Misery may love company, but right now—just leave me alone and let me stew. . . . One of my favorite children’s books is called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day , by Judith Viorst (New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 1987). The unfortunate protagonist’s day begins with gum in his hair, and it goes downhill from there: he drops his favorite sweater in the toilet, and at breakfast, when everyone else finds a super duper decoder ring or some other fancy schmancy toy in their breakfast cereal, all Alexander finds—is cereal. And it doesn’t get much better. Everything, it seems, goes wrong. The entire universe seems to be consp...

You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back. –Barbara De Angelis But we’ve always done it this way!  Seven words that bring innovative and creative thought grinding to a halt. One sentence that can single-handedly squelch enthusiasm quicker than a wet blanket on a campfire. Seven deadly words dedicated to preserving the status quo. Stop for a moment and think: If a seed could refuse to change, or a child refuse to grow, ultimately it would die. In the beginning, formlessness, guided by the hand and spirit of the Almighty, was changed and transformed, growing and becoming all that is. But I believe it didn’t stop there. I believe all Creation continues to change, a constant metamorphosis, in big ways and small. And—I believe the Church and all its members, if we are truly part of God’s good creation (and we are), are called to change, as well. Not to do something different just because we can, but to transform and reform in ways that reveal the Ima...

I am very little inclined on any occasion to say anything unless I hope to produce some good by it. –Abraham Lincoln You don’t say. . . . Isn’t it fun to tell people news? Especially good news? Have you ever watched children, running as hard as they can, panting and pushing, tripping over one another, each trying to get home first , to be first to tell their grownup some Really Big News? Mommy, mommy—guess what? I got 100% on my spelling test! Daddy—I roller-skated all the way to the corner and back, and I didn’t fall down once ! The teacher had a baby! And it’s a boy ! When the news is good, it seems there’s nothing that can stop us from shouting it from the rooftops. Usually. For many of us (me, included), when it comes to sharing the Really Good News of the Gospel of the Love of God, we fall silent. Our eyes drop to the floor. We scuff our toes nervously and look for the exit. Someone told me recently, one of the things she loves about church is be...

It is difficult to know why God reveals himself to some and plays the game of hide-and-seek with others. –Baba Ramdas I was never very good at hide-and-seek as a child. When it was my turn to hide, I would duck behind a bush—only to find someone else already there, shoving me away. Go find your own spot! And when I did find a good hiding place, invariably, without fail, I would sneeze. Or cough. Found you! Then it would be my turn to seek. I would hide my eyes . . . count to ten. . . . Ready or not! Here I come! I would look and look, until finally, in desperation, I would return “Home”—only to see my friends casually lounging, waiting for me. What? WHAT?? We’ve been here all along! You must be blind. It seems, somehow, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Only now, some days, it’s God I play with. I can be having one of those days, wondering, Why do I feel so alone, so empty? God, I just can’t seem to find you—anywhere! Then I turn around, an...

What you talkin’ about, Willis? –Gary Coleman Words are funny things. We bandy them about with ease, stringing them together to explain, to tell stories—to learn. Sometimes words just aren’t enough, and silence—or a hug—serve much better. And often, we toss about sesquipedalians with great alacrity, only to discover when asked that “that word” doesn’t mean quite what we thought it meant. The church uses a veritable plethora of words seldom encountered anywhere else: chancel, lectionary, narthex, to name a few. We know what these words mean, right? But do we— really ? The Greek origins of the word narthex literally mean “giant fennel.” According to myth, fire was conveyed from Heaven to Earth through giant fennel stems. (What’s that got to do with our narthex, the “lobby” outside our sanctuary? Good question.) The ancient Temple had several “layers,” or rings, where some were allowed and some were not. The most sacred space, where it was believed the Almighty reside...

To make pictures big is to make them more powerful. –Robert Mapplethorpe My church, Church in the Circle, is a magnificent structure. Our “Holy Oilcan” steeple is a landmark visible, literally, for miles around. It serves as a beacon of hope to a city in need.  And that’s just the outside. Wander up the front steps, and one cannot help but notice the intricate carvings in the stone, stalwart figures flanking the entryway. Their steadfast eyes have seen much over the years; think of the stories their stony lips could tell, if only they could speak. And this is only the beginning. As soon as you enter the sanctuary, especially on a sunny morning, the colorful stained glass immediately catches your eye, takes your breath away with the stunning beauty of the many, many windows. But even beyond their innate beauty, these windows serve an even greater purpose: they tell the stories of our faith, as Christians and as United Methodists. Before a child learns to read ...

Little things console us because little things afflict us. –Blaise Pascal It happens to me all the time, and I bet it happens to you, too. I’m running late, and I really dislike running late. I race around like a madwoman, grab my things and blow out the door, rolling my eyes in disgust. There is no way I am going to be on time. Ack! But as I begin the drive, I notice: traffic seems lighter than expected. I’m hitting every single light—green. And as I pull into the parking lot, there’s a space waiting for me , right up front. I glance at my watch. Somehow, I’m not late. I’m not even on time. I am early ! And then—I just can’t help it—I give thanks: for the traffic, the green lights, the parking space. My eyes roll (again), and I go through my usual monologue with God, because I am acutely aware that every green light for me meant a red light for many of God’s other children. So my monologue usually goes something like this: God, I really am grateful that ...