Zen Ice Trays

Any drink is improved with ice. I put ice in my drinks in the hot summer, the warm spring, cool fall, and even the cold winter months. At least a couple of times a day the ice trays in my fridge need refilling. 


Turning the tap on to a fast, steady stream does a poor job of filling the trays, it not only wastes water as it splatters, but I get wet. There is no fast way to fill the trays.

 

Instead of whining and complaining about my lack of an icemaker, I've turned this time into a spiritual practice. I pause as I approach the sink, turning the faucet on to a near-drip.

I breathe in and I breathe out. 

The water we rely on to live, fills each compartment of the ice tray one drop at a time. I focus on the yellow-green ice tray, the water, and the task at hand. If my mind wanders to other thoughts, I redirect it to the source of life, water. If my emotions shift to impatience,

I breathe in and I  breathe out. 

 Spiritual practices do not have to include incense, candles, or chanting. They have their place but small, daily practices are what help me to be centered. Filling the ice trays helps me to be present in the moment.  I strive in my faith journey to focus on being, rather than doing. My particular challenge is to define myself by who I am rather than what I do. It's challenging in our noisy culture; I don't always succeed. 

But, I breathe in and I breathe out for a few minutes everyday as I pause to fill the ice trays.

It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's God! No, That's My Wife.

No, I'm not really suggesting that my wife is a god. That heresy is even beyond me. I suggest that it is in deep love that we glimpse the nature of the divine.


This is our double-trinity anniversary. My beloved, my imzadi, my soulmate and I were married thirty-three years ago today. In our three decades + three years the following are ways in which I've glimpsed the one I call God in our relationship.


Presence. Since the day we committed ourselves together Maggie has been present. When not able to be physically together she is within me. Even during my seminary years when we were separated by 350 miles and weeks, she would text me about little things in her day, seek my empathy, to check on something with which she knew I struggled, or to rejoice in my successes!


Unconditional love. Maggie's love for me is unconditional. Even when I don't deserve it, she offers me grace. Though, sometimes she must cool down, her love for me never wavers. The slammed car door as I drop her off unsettles me but not to my core. This is because I feel the depth of her love even when she's angry with me.


Sustaining love. In the 70s, Harry Nilsson sang "I can't live if living is without you." The love that Maggie and I share sustains us. Her love transforms me. I am not the person I would be without her. I could more readily give up food than the love of my beloved.


Reciprocal love. She needs me as much as I need her. I don't know why; it makes no sense to me. In the giving to her, I find a boundless supply of love. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her.  I know that the same is true of her love for me.


Knows me & sees me. Maggie's love, like that of God, is inexplicable. She loves me not despite my faults and annoying habits but through them and, because of them. What is more inexplicable than that?


Calls me out. Because Maggie knows me at the soul-level, she also knows when I'm taking the easy path. She sees when I've been sleeping, she knows if I'm awake, and knows if I've been bad or good. She's also not afraid to make it crystal clear that I need to be the person I'm capable of being.


Takes my side, protects me. When the world hands me lemons, Maggie makes the lemonade for me. I know that no matter how bad a day I've had she will take my side. She will wrap me in her arms and hold her fist to the world at the same time.


Never gives up on me. Ask our kids. We've been known to have some metaphorical "knock down, drag outs" in our time as a  married couple. Throughout it all, Maggie doesn't give up on me. She can sometimes get pissed -- beyond pissed -- but we always reconcile our differences and do the work necessary to heal our conflict.


So, though my imzadi is not God, it is within our relationship, within the nature of her love for me, that I so often glimpse the extravagant love of the One.


Related Posts


The Core Secret of Our Marriage
Keeping Covenant When the Storms Roll In

Sacred Ground

Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ Exodus 3:5b NRSV (Read in context.)

My mother taught me that God is everywhere.  Most Christians would agree with her; the One we call God can meet us anywhere. Indeed the sacred surrounds us, enveloping us. Each human being even reflects the divine (Imago Dei), according to most followers of Jesus.

We often co-create sacred spaces with the divine, the one I call God. In churches and other places we invoke the spirit with candles, prayers, or incense. (I often burn incense and light a candle to remind me of God's presence. They help me to remember that my gifts are from God.) Some indigenous people burn cedar or sage. Most faith traditions of which I am aware have ways to draw our distracted human minds to focus on the One, on the sacred. These rituals are not limited by location.

But there do seem to be places in which God's presence is palpable. As I've been hiking the Columbia River Gorge this year, I have happened upon places that draw me in, call me to prayer and meditation. Some of these places are simply pretty spots where the artistry of the Creator's brush compel me to awe.

"Some of these places are simply pretty spots where the artistry of the Creator's brush compel me to awe." Photo by Tim Graves

Others have been co-created by human beings. Another person has felt compelled, for reasons I am unaware, to modify the location. The zen rocks along the Coyote Wall trail, for example, demand a sabbath along the journey to the peak.

The Coyote Wall Zen rocks are flanked by Mt. Hood. Photo by Tim Graves

Sometimes the sacred ground I encounter is long, narrow, and winds through Mother Earth's majesty. The experience of putting one foot in front of the other -- of the journey -- is itself holy. Being present on that trail as it wanders through the forest, meadow, or along the river, the One walks with me.  The God who loves extravagantly heals me, prods and challenges me, and reminds me that the majestic unfolding realm of God includes each of us.

Photo by Tim Graves

Note: As I begin the long-term project of creating a spiritual guide to various trails within the Columbia River Gorge, I will be highlighting Sacred Ground that I encounter on my hikes.

Idolizing the God of Moderation

 Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.’

So God created humankind in his image,

in the image of God he created them;

male and female he created them.

Genesis 1: 26-27 NRSV (read in context)

Living closer to nature, we live closer God. By slowing down, we see the subtleties of creation. We see the nonstop transformation of the world. There are deaths and resurrections all around us. Dry creek beds, surging waterfalls, ice storms and debilitating heat all come to an end. The Divine energy  pulses and vibrates throughout it all. (This is also reflected in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.)

We experience and observe the resurrecting nature of the One I call God in Creation. It is where we can take our rightful place as one creature among many. We are called to practice a dominion over the earth that reflects the image of God (Imago Dei) within us. That god does not control us. The One who loves us with abandon and feels our every emotion creates and transforms with us. Without pausing, God prods us to reflect God's loving creating nature.

Nature is filled with death and resurrections. Photo by Tim Graves

Responding to this call requires empathy. Empathy with the salmon struggling upstream and with our kindred humans fighting for dignity and justice. Without empathy we fail to reflect the Imago Dei.

Yet, we idolize a god who does not feel or transform. We isolate ourselves from the opportunities to empathize and love.

In our modern world of air conditioning we forget that a little sweat is a good thing. Instead of feeling the warm summer blowing on our face, we insulate ourselves. If we feel moisture on our skin with the thermostat set to 78, we sequester ourselves at 72 degrees. We live in a world insulated from the nature of God and one another.

Moderation and comfort are our idols. But without the highs or the lows, the anguish and the exuberance, we do not experience the One who is always creating, the One who dances in joy and weeps in despair with us, the God of the ancient Hebrews who heard cries and responds in mercy. The God who grows through the crack in the asphalt demanding that beauty win, that love win.

Extravagant Community

I cringe when I hear Christians respond to the "spiritual but not religious" by extolling the importance of community. Yes, we all need community for spirituality. We are social creatures. 

They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each
as any had need. Acts 4:35 NRSV  Photo by Tim Graves

But, while there is truth in this response it is based upon an unproven assumption. That is, that the "spiritual but not religious" lead the lives of hermits never talking with friends about their faith journeys. The community-defense also assumes that community must take an organized form. It does not.

More troublesome about the community-defense, however, is that it allows followers of Jesus to avoid our own failings. Too often churches are not places of community. Community is about caring for one another in deep ways. It is about assuring that everyone has their basic needs met. The reality is we spend more time worshiping consumerism and capitalism than we do sharing with our neighbor--even those within our churches. 

Too many churches have within their midst those struggling in very real ways while others live in relative laps of luxury. Aside from this being contrary to the teachings of our purported savior, the attitude of the relatively wealthy community members disturbs me. In my experience, when help is provided it comes with strings and pettiness. We reflect the resentment of a culture that elevates rugged individualism to idolatry.

Within this context of blaming the victim, we operate not out of extravagant love but out of begrudging duty. We do not believe that Jesus fed the whole crowd with a few loaves and fish. We fear that if we give too much to someone, even someone within our own community, there will not be enough for us. 

Jesus answered, ‘The first is, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” The second is this, “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’ Mark 12: 29-31 NRSV (Read in context.)

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.  Acts 4: 32-35 NRSV (Read in context.)

Trustworthy God of Abundance,

You give extravagant,

   undeserved grace.

We give out of love,

   limited by our human fears and worries.

Help us to trust in your abundance,

   help us to love you as you love us.

Help us to give lavishly to others,

   within the koinonia,

   and to the whole human family.

Amen  

A Trip Up the Mount

A trek along the rocky trail through the cool damp woods,

 leads me across a meadow of swaying grasses and wildflowers.

Finally within sight of the summit, 
   the walls of earth fall away leaving me vulnerable to craggy rocks,
      above the emerald river.

The sun above rises predictably toward mid-day,
   warming my skin in the cool morning.

Blowing and gusting winds from the west,
   threaten to take,
      my hat (or life) with one swift powerful burst.

Fearful of a trail-less descent, I continue my climb baboon-style,

   finally sitting before reaching the apex.
   

The rock beneath my bottom is, 
   hard, jagged, and solid.
Between sky and heavens,
   I exist on a narrow swath of earth.

Encompassed by the cloudless azure,
   I rest in the home of the eagle,
   the creature who soars closest to the Divine.


The topmost crest taunts me with its proximity;
   it is only twenty-five steps away.

The windy breath of God,
   whispers in my ear that peaks are not journey.


Ahead, a few paces beyond reach, is the land where the birds meet the One.
   It is where God,
      Yahweh,
         Allah,
            Father Spirit,
                Jehovah,
                    the Holy One communes with the winged.

The pinnacle above the raging waters, 
   atop the weathered rocks, 
      and guarded by billows that move my body against my will,
         is the place where love culminates.


Yet it is not time to reach the One.


It is time to follow,
   to rest,
      meditate,
         to learn to be.


Vulnerable.


Desirous.


Frustrated.


I sit.

I yearn for the view from above,
   the vista that answers all. 
Like the wanderers, I whine in the wilderness.
   At least as a slave I had regular meals, I rage!


I contemplate opposing the very gusts of the One,
   to be reminded that on this precipice my humanity could cease.

Stopping. Being. I trust.
   I listen to the heedfulness, the spirit within, that tickles my core and spine,
      and prevents my bodily ascent.


I sit on solid rock in the land of broad-winged birds,
   and feel the extravagant, loving breath of God on,
      my neck,
         my face, 
            and my heart.


And I journey.

Wings

You have seen . . . how I bore you on eagles’ wings
 and brought you to myself. 

Exodus 19:4 NRSV (Read in context.)

An eagle as seen from Coyote Wall in across the 

river from Mosier, Oregon. Photo by Tim Graves.

Their broad, protective wings surround me in the the sky above the tiny Oregon town in which I live. I've seen them - as many as seven in number - surveying the town when I return home in the early evening. In the early morning I've seen them circle in a spiral to the surface of the river to catch a fish. When the winds for which the Columbia River Gorge is famous, bring out human windsurfers and kiteboarders, these magnificent birds can be seen rising thousands of feet above colorful kites and sails to catch the wind currents. Watching, they seem to float in mid-air in even the most powerful gale. 


When I walk along the Columbia, I eye the shore where they sometimes perch just beyond human reach. When I journey to hike the Coyote Wall and Labyrinth trails across the river in Washington state, they follow me reassuring me that I am not alone nor far from home. 


And, today, a feather lay across my path reminding me that the One is blessing my journey.

It's All Made Up Anyway!

Painting by Anthony J. Kelly. Image retrieved 
from Rev. David Eck's blog.

"The Holy Trinity is all made up, anyway!" My friend thought I was joking. I wasn't and I'm not. I'm not an atheist; I believe in God. I'm even trinitarian with a higher sense of the Holy Spirit than many other mainline Christians. Still, it's pretend.


I perceive a divinity that connects us, that flows through us, and encourages us to lovingness. Our stories and theologies -- including trinitarian theology -- reveal truths that are beyond the rational, scientific explanation. They are not, nor were they ever intended to be literal, historical retellings of facts. 


Through the Christian biblical narrative, however, God continues to speak. For me, Jesus is,

"the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you have really known me, you will also know the Father." (John 14:6-7b CEB Read this passage in context.)

This is the path upon which God has lured me. This is the only way for me to be the loving, unique person that God created me to be. It is in the life of Jesus, that I enter into a relationship with the love that underpins all of creation. It is in the human Jesus that I learn how to be who God calls me to be.


Jesus functions as a gate for me (John 10: 1-10 CEB). However, just as it is naive and ineffective to expect all children to learn via only one modality (e.g.; visual, auditory, or kinesthetic), it is naive to think that God's love only opens through one gate. The arrogant teacher is one who thinks there is one -- and only one -- way to reach all children. This assumes the gifts, skills, challenges, and experiences of each individual is the same. 


Arrogant Christian spirituality, is one that projects its own gifts on all. When we do this we deny the truth reflected in Paul's writings to the Corinthians. That truth is that as we seek to follow the One, we each have unique roles and gifts.

Certainly the body isn’t one part but many. If the foot says, “I’m not part of the body because I’m not a hand,” does that mean it’s not part of the body? If the ear says, “I’m not part of the body because I’m not an eye,” does that mean it’s not part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, what would happen to the hearing? And if the whole body were an ear, what would happen to the sense of smell? (1 Corinthians 12: 14-17 CEB Read this passage in context.)

Though Paul wrote to a squabbling community of Jesus followers, to expand this truth beyond Christianity is to hear the voice of God in a new time and place. Paul -- and the other authors of the canon -- wrote contextually. That is, the biblical writers spoke to specific people in a specific era, place, and culture. When we read and study the texts thoughtfully, communally, and prayerfully, we hear God's voice for today. We can find truths.


The gospels interpret the life of Jesus as he challenged the prevailing human-defined circle of acceptable behaviors and the people that were worthy of God's love. The Good News of the unfolding Realm of God (love) is that it is for all of us. God's love is expansive and extravagant! The One is love. The One, who I call God, reflected in the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament reveals an arc of loving inclusiveness and justice for all.


To find God through Jesus, does not require dismissing others. On the contrary, to follow the teachings of Jesus is to engage in loving, respectful relationship with others. Other peoples have stories, metaphors, and narratives that describe their experiences of the One, the divinity that I perceive. Just as the Christian Bible reveals truths, the sacred writings (or verbal stories) of Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Rastafarians, and others reveal truths. They reflect the ways that others have experienced the One. Is it really that hard to believe that the mysterium tremendum that is God, might speak to others in ways that make sense to them?


Rather than limiting God, I accept the Trinity as a metaphor that helps me to describe how I experience the One. It helps me to follow the Divine's call on my life. I don't need to idolize it into a literal fact anymore than I need Jesus to be the only way to the extravagant, expansive love of God. 

The Journey of the Bent Tree

Another rainbow crosses the Columbia River as I write this morning. I do live in a magical land filled with rainbows. It is also a place in which trees are deformed by the same robust winds that lure windsurfers to the area. 

photo by Tim Graves

These are not the model Christmas trees, shaped like so many isosceles triangles. Giving up their westward facing branches, they more accurately resemble right triangles. Hunched over, they bend away from the wind.

photo by Tim Graves

This is particularly true of those trees on the edges of groupings, along the river, or at the top of hills. Exposed, they match the persistence of the wind as they reach upward toward the energizing sun. Sometimes damaged, or appearing dead, the trees resurrect in the spring.

photo by Tim Graves

photo by Tim Graves

The trees remind us that beauty is not found in chiseled abdomens or wrinkle free skin but in the Divine journey.

Though I am barraged by fierce winds,

I will reach upward to the One.


Matching the tenacious gale,
I persist under blue skies and grey, wet blankets.
I dance with the wind making him my partner.


As I journey toward the One,
the Divine is already with me,
surrounding me in the mossy green of winter,
and the purples and reds of spring and summer.


And when I finally succumb to el viento,
I will be the soil that feeds my offspring,
living within all those who follow,
and seek the divine One.

photo by Tim Graves

Hope in Wholeness

photo by Tim Graves

When I get too focused on protesting or on politics, I become discouraged and cynical. I see evil behind every human frailty; I see conspiracies at every turn. I see a battle of good versus evil. Eventually, I become a miserable person. I feel betrayed, impotent, and angry. Hopelessness descends. Despondent, I give up.


Focusing on the One whose love envelopes me and connects me to each grassy blade, each sea anemone, and each human being, results in optimism. I find hope in wholeness. That wholeness -- that for Christians emanates from the Table set by Jesus and manifest in love that overcomes death -- is powered by the extravagant love of the Divine. When I focus and respond to that loving grace, I am compelled to act for justice, love with abandon, and strive to be my best self. 


Attuned to the divinity that coarses through you, me, and all of creation, I see see goodness despite human frailty. Filled with hope, I strive to do my part for the whole knowing that I am not alone. Goodness is within every annoying bureaucrat, murderer, and abusive parent. When I respond in love, love multiplies and ripples powered by the One. 


At its core this is the Good News, love always wins in the end. It is more powerful than death, conspiracies, or greedy politicians. When we respond from the divine love within us, justice will "roll down like waters, and righteousness an ever-flowing stream." (Amos 5: 24 NRSV Read this passage in context.) 

The Rainbow of Humanity

When you say that marriage is only for one man & one woman, that who someone loves is a sin, or to wait for justice, I think you must know a different God than I do. When you say these things I hear that in your eyes, my family, my friends, my most beloved in Creation are somehow not worthy of God's love. Well, I'm here to tell you I worship a God who loves extravagantly. I worship the One who is love. I worship the One who created the rainbow of humanity in all its diversity and promise.

A Thought About Truths

The rational, the observable and measurable capture some truth. We are blessed to live in a world of science and mathematics used to sustain us. To focus only on this one truth, or aspect of the whole, is to perceive the bark as the whole of the apple tree. It is to enjoy the apple without its core of seeds.

Uncloaking the intricacies and mechanisms of Creation does not explain the abundant love which is within, between, and that envelopes us. For that truth we must tap into the spiritual. We must simultaneously go within and beyond ourselves. We must be long enough to perceive. When we do that, we experience another truth: that the One binds you and I together with the polar bear and the ant, the blade of grass and the artichoke. 

Liberation & Loss: What It Means to Follow the Spirit

Following the Spirit requires loss. Loss of control. It also means giving up things that used to matter. It is also liberating.

Responding to a "Holy Spirit moment," my wife and I embarked on a journey across the country. We sold our home and became renters. We said goodbye to a dog. We gave away all of our possessions but what fit in two cars, moved to Oregon, and sold one car upon arrival. Our response to the Spirit meant becoming more nomadic; we moved three times in ten months. I've simultaneously doubted myself and been confident that I'm on the path upon which God desires for me.


There are many things and attitudes that I've given up over the last year. I sobbed when my Matchbox car collection sold quickly on eBay. Not a day passes that I don't reach out for my beloved friend Jade who had to be put-down. I yearn to sing silly songs to her, give her too many dog treats, and feel her head resting on my leg.


Selling my car, in my mind, was giving up not only mobility but a sign of my personality. Like a cheating husband who looks at other women, I still fantasize when I see Scion xB's around town. Yet letting go of these and more were necessary to follow the direction the Divine has laid before me. We would have been in bankruptcy court before Christmas of last year had I not sold my car and emptied my pension to pay bills. 


***


It might seem that I would be in a deep depression but I am not. I did have several weeks of lethargy and blues in the midst of confusion when my literal interpretation of the precipitating "Holy Spirit moment" was shattered. I doubted my impressions, my intuition, my sense that the Spirit was leading this way because it didn't fit my image of what was to happen. (See Leading the Malleable Life Amid Hurricane Force Winds). Though, I worried during that time that I had abandoned the path I put one foot in front of the other.


Following the Spirit is trusting that which you sense. Our culture's idolization of rationality dismisses remaining faithful to that which we cannot quite see. In some ways it is anti-spiritual and severs an integral part of what it is to be part of humanity and creation. 


Hyper-rational thinking discounts intuition and trusting the Divine. In The Shack, Wm. Paul Young describes the Holy Spirit through the primary characters eyes:

"But he knew all this as more an impression of her than from actually seeing her, as she seemed to phase in and out of his vision." (Wm. Paul Young, The Shack, p. 85)

Even during times of discouragement, doubt, and fear, I follow. I whine a lot, yell at God some, but trust that the One who has set me upon this trail will not leave me lost in the wilderness alone. At times my vision is clear; I know I'm following the Spirit. Much of the time, however, I simply risk believing my impressions as the Holy Spirit seems to phase in and out of my vision.


The result is a generalized sense of contentment. I feel liberated from the impossible task of being in control of tomorrow. Following the Spirit is about being in the present. It is about living, caring, loving, and accepting the One who is within, between, and around us. When the Spirit dances just outside my vision, I try to trust my intuition and sixth sense. 


When I fail to trust as fully as I wish I would, I accept that feeling, too. I pause. I refocus. I pray. I make only those decisions that must be made that day. I remember the One who forgives and loves me extravagantly.

A Lone Blossom

A grey day,

   a lone blossom.

Divinity within,
   yearns to burst forth,

      touching all of Creation with love.

Those Within Us

Today is my mother's birthday. Maybe that's why I woke up feeling a little blue; she died nearly eleven years ago. She was a remarkable woman, but I suppose most of us think that about our moms. Though I miss her physical presence in my life, to say that she is a part of who I am is not a platitude. The interactions, the relationships we have with others change us. This is particularly true of those with whom we have the strongest attachments.


Robert Mesle describes the experience of being changed by a relationship, 

She and I have shaped each other. Decisions that she makes about who she will be and how she will act call forth responses in me. I experience her, and then [decide]. . . how I will act. Her love and anger and joy and frustration express themselves in ways that I experience, experiences that are literally part of who I am. (Mesle, Process Theology: A Basic Introduction, 56.)

Mesle wasn't writing about an important relationship with someone who had died, however the same is true of those who we have lost through death. I still carry within me the interactions I had with my mother. My unconditional love of my children, my insatiable curiosity, my commitment to God, and my passion for young children and their families all have their roots in the mother-son relationship. My fondness for pistachio ice cream, my silly songs, and, yes, even my spaciness also can be traced back to the one who died eleven years ago. We carry those who came before us within us. 


Though I never met my paternal grandfather, an alcoholic who abandoned my mother, I carry him within me, too. Though I cannot identify specific personality characteristics within him that are within me, I know that his relationship with my mother changed her. His personality as well as his alcoholism are a part of me, transferred to me through my mother. Who she was included her Scottish immigrant father; who I am includes her. 


We are interconnected; we are one humanity. We are not only bound together through those we personally meet but through those generations that came before us.


***


American culture, especially Anglo-American culture, downplays our connectedness with our forebears. (Perhaps this is the result of our relatively short time on this continent.) We think we are disconnected from our ancestors. We are not. To pretend otherwise is to lose sight of who we are and who we can become.


We think of time as a linear experience that begins with the present. We surgically remove the past from our personal and communal psyches. That is unless that past reflects well on us. Americans like to take pride in our entrance into World War II as liberators. We conveniently forget that our isolationism contributed to Hitler's rise to power. I like to take pride in my grandmother standing up for an unwed mother in her church while ignoring her bigotry toward a neighbor. 


Our sense that time begins with us, prevents us from reconciling with others. It prevents us from healing historic rifts with other peoples and wrongs committed by us. We are responsible for the actions of our forebears. 


As humans, we all sin and we all do good. My people are responsible for much good. We are also responsible for heinous acts. We are responsible for the Crusades, the slave trade, theft and colonization of other peoples' lands, and an atomic bomb dropped on innocent people in Japan. Though I am not personally responsible for any of these actions, they are a part of me. 


We must change our sense of time. We must accept the sin we share with our forebears or we will never be able to reconcile with our kindred human beings. For those of us who claim to follow Jesus, reconciliation with all of God's people should be a part of our DNA. Reconciliation is more than striving to be loving people in the present, though that is critical. Reconciliation requires that we love all peoples enough that we're willing to confess the sins of our past.

The Sun Rolls In

Yesterday's dampness,

lingers as greyness.

The grey that,
was forever,
cracks open.

The heavy mist that,
clouded eyes & hearts,
clears beyond the bend.

The unending gloom,

the darkness,
that was forever is ending.

Around the bend,
down the river,
and over the hill,
the skies are blue.

Peaking over the bluff,
the sun rolls into sight.

Imperceptible at first,
the murkiness moves away,
followed by a glimpse of golden light.

God is in our presence,
steadily, 
reliably,
and predictably creating anew.

The creating Divinity,
dances in the sunshine,
laughs giddily,
and breathes us within godself,
as we take the One into our hearts.

Hope abounds,

divinely creating together,

    led by the abundant Love,

     we evolve and grow.


***

I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert. 
Isaiah 43:19 NRSV
read in context

Was God Testing Us?

After snacks, the lights on the plane dimmed and a hush descended. I was left with my emotions. Rather than excitement about going to see family, I felt angst. Worry and grief gradually superseded the guilt of abandoning my students for a week. Mom was not well. 

I was hopeful that I could provide some respite for my father, and especially my sister, who cared for Mom full-time. In a scenario which remains unclear to this day, my mother had a stroke while driving. She crashed her white Corolla into another car, left the scene, and ran off the side of the highway before being rushed to the hospital. Now that she was home again following the hospitalization, I made a third trip since her initial episode.

It was a challenging year for our family. My mother was ill. My mother-in-law's health was also failing. My wife Maggie was in seminary, traveling three-hours each way to Boston every week while serving a difficult congregation. I  overworked to make the financial pieces of our life fit together as we traveled to the midwest as individuals or as family to care for our mothers. The children struggled with the fear of losing their grandmothers, adolescence, and stressed out parents. 

And then it got worse.

"Noooooo," was followed by Isaac's wild sobs and squeal of pain that will forever pierce me. My cell phone to his ear, Maggie just told him of her mother's death.

***

"I can't go through this again," our daughter Jessie cried. We sat on the bed in the Motel 6 debriefing my mother-in-law's funeral. Jessie knew my mother's health was precarious at best. She knew that she might lose another grandmother soon.

***

Back home, the phone rang. While we were away at the funeral, Todd killed himself. The young gay man - my daughter's friend - could no longer bear it. Death was preferable to life. And so, in less than a week was another funeral.

***

The family scrambled to help Isaac find his cat. We found Trio too easily; she was lifeless in the rural road in front of our house.

***

"Don't I recognize you?" the smiling rental car clerk said, "Welcome back to St. Louis!" His smile faded when he learned we were back for the third funeral (fourth if you count the cat) in eleven days. My mom had died. 

What did I do wrong?

Our human urge for a pattern to the randomness of life is strong. We want an explanation. When science fails us in life's deepest questions, if we believe in a Divine presence, we turn to God for that explanation. 


If we perceive God as all-powerful, capricious, and unreliable, we may believe that God punishes us for small or large misdeeds. It is easy to fall into this trap. Some of the early writers of Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament experienced their god in this way. If I believed this, I would be wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong that caused God to kill my mother-in-law, mother, an 18-year-old boy, and my son's cat. 


That is one harsh image of God! Still, it is not a hard perception to find. Many ancients explained their misfortunes this way. The theology of many of the writers in the Old Testament reflects a reward and punishment mindset. Even in the twenty-first century there are those who picture a capricious and angry god in natural events. The prosperity gospel, in which those who please God become wealthy, is the flip side of this theology. 


But this is just one theology found in the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament). The Book of Job, for example, raises many questions about the nature of God. An exhaustive exploration of those questions are beyond the scope of this post.


The Book of Job, however, does provide us with a biblical witness of ancient kindred who reject the notion that bad things happen only to bad people. In the narrative, Job is a good man, righteous in God's sight. Yet, tragic things happen to him.


Was God testing me?


How could God allow the trauma of four deaths in eleven days? To explain the challenges of life, many see God as a testing deity. The problem with this explanation is that it characterizes God as a bully and a taskmaster. We are just pawns of a harsh teacher. 


If we accept this explanation, God tested my teenage daughter's worthiness by pushing her friend to kill himself. In this view, my son whose maternal grandmother just died, needed to pass another examination. So, God killed his cat! 


One way that many Christians describe the Divine is as a Father. Aside from the patriarchal problems with our neglect of God's femininity, a good father doesn't "test" his children by making their lives a living hell. An actively testing god is intertwined with the idea of an all-powerful deity who chooses not to help God's people. This image of divinity is far from loving.


In the Hebrew Bible, the narrative tells us that despite repeated evil actions, God honors covenant with the Israelites. In Judges, God is rightfully angry with God's people. The loving God sets hostility aside, honors covenant, and offers undeserved grace because God “could no longer bear to see Israel suffer” (Judges 10: 16b NRSV Read in context).


A testing god is an abusive father and contradicts the primary message of Easter. The Easter narrative in the Christian gospels emphasizes the same undeserved grace reflected in the Hebrew Bible. Though we don't deserve it, the Divine offers all of humanity grace. 


Sometimes, life just sucks!


Though life is challenging and even traumatic at times, the extravagant love of the One, works through all that happens. The Divine lures us to reflect the Imago Dei (image of God) by responding lovingly in each moment. When we love, we are God in the world.


Less than satisfying to our culturally-ingrained sensibilities, bad things happen to good people. Three human and one feline death in eleven days was a lot for my family to handle a decade ago. I still sometimes weep over my loss. Today was one of those days that my arms ached to hug my mother. 


So, I sobbed as I did so many years ago. 


But in that moment, I felt - again - the abundant love of God that I felt when friends showed up unexpectedly at my mother's memorial service. I sat on that curb grieving with my brother again; the loving One perched between us. And I recognized my mother within me: the good and the annoying.


God was present then and now. God is not testing. God is not punishing. God  sobs with me. God feels the empty spot within me as surely as I do.