Come, Lord Jesus!

At this time of year, I fumble through my collection of CD’s trying to find J.S. Bach’s cantata Wachet Auf. It shapes the season of Advent for me, even as Bing Crosby’s Christmas Album patiently awaits its turn later in the season. I am especially entranced with the third song in Bach's cantata, a love duet between a soprano who sings the role of the Soul and a baritone as Jesus. The Soul repeatedly asks, “When are you coming?” and begs, “Come, Lord Jesus!” like an eager lover or impatient child. Over and over the voice of Jesus faithfully insists, “I’m coming.” It is a reminder of God’s aching desire to be with us here on Earth, just as we yearn for God’s presence among us. It's painful and beautiful and incredibly full of intimate longing.

God is not coming back one day to punish us. God is not angry with us. God does not wish to hurt us. God wants to embrace us and all of creation. Jesus will indeed be returning one day, filled with mercy and compassion to “make all things new.” Between our festivities about Jesus’ first coming to earth and our hope and trust in his return, we wait. In some ways, our whole lives are spent in the season of Advent (which, after all, means coming).

What music brings the reality of God's presence to your mind? What sings your pain and your aches, as well as your hopes and joys?

devils and dust

People grieve the death of so many civilians and soldiers in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, of so many Israelis and Palestinians, of monks in Myanmar and of religious dissenters around the world. It is horrific and tragic to see people killing and dying in the name of God. Just as tragic, however, are those who apparently survive the violence, and yet are also victims. What happens inside a person's soul when that person kills another child of God? I think Bruce Springsteen captures the agony perfectly in this verse from his new album "Devils and Dust."
We've got God on our side
We're just trying to survive
What if what you do to survive
Kills the things you love
Fear's a powerful thing
It'll turn your heart black you can trust
It'll take your God filled soul
Fill it with devils and dust

Let us pray for all who encounter violence in themselves and others. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.

class time

Maybe it's because I used to be a teacher.  Or because I attended school through two master's degrees, so it's habitual.  I don't know.  But there is something about the start of a new school year that makes me feel like turning a page--literally or figuratively.  Although the world celebrates New Year's Day on Jan. 1st, and the church welcomes the new year with Advent, for me the new year seems to begin right now.  What do I need/want to be learning right now?  Who are my teachers?  What about you?  What "classes" are engaging you these days?  How can we encourage one another and support one another in this constant learning and growing?

gifted

Thomas Merton, a spiritual writer, monk, and poet, once wrote, “A tree gives glory to God by being a tree.” The author of the letter to the Ephesians puts it this way: "Each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift…. Some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ." (Ephesians 4:7, and 11-13).

Certainly I am called to be a pastor and teacher, and in that I do strive to equip the saints for the work of ministry. But beyond my profession, how do I give glory to God? What is my essential Sue-ness? What needs to shine in all its authenticity in order for me to be truly honoring God's creation?

What is it specifically, particularly, uniquely about you that gives glory to God? What gets in the way of it? How can the Church help you embrace that inherent YOU-ness more fully? I appreciate any thoughts you'd like to share....

phoenix rising

I'm obsessed these days with the mythical phoenix. It's not just because of the Harry Potter books (though I love that JK Rowlings has tears of a phoenix as an agent of healing--great image/idea). It's because there's something wonderful about new life rising from the ashes. I know what it feels like to be just a lump of coal lying in the dirt, and I know what it feels like to grow new wings.

The legend of the phoenix is familiar in Arabic, Chinese and Egyptian mythology. In each, the bird is a sign of immortality. The version I know (probably a cultural mish-mash of all of them) is that the phoenix is a bird that lives 300-500 years. It then builds a funeral pyre of fragrant wood and burns itself up, only to be recreated, arising from the ashes as a brand new creature, which lives another 500 years. I suppose the Christian symbolism is obvious, right? In the first century, a wise bishop added the phoenix to the collection of resurrection images. Last year was a toughie for me, but I feel my new feathers fluttering even now.....

My Legacy Matters

On Sunday, March 18, some representatives of Thrivent Financial joined us for a potluck and a conversation about how we want to be remembered when we die. It was interesting not only from a financial point of view (did you know that your beneficiaries would have to pay tax on your IRA, but not on life insurance policies? I didn't), but also for the questions it raised. Really, truly, what mark will we leave when we die? There is an old song sung at various protest marches and rallies that has the refrain, "May the marches I've been in speak for me, speak for me...." What are those literal or metaphorical marches? And what do they say about you? I am curious.

Come in and sit for a spell!

It is so exciting to have a website for St. James Lutheran Church! It's as if suddenly the door to the whole world blew open with a sudden rush of wind. And who knows what the Holy Spirit will blow in?

This blog is a place where I will post reflections, questions, sermon germs, and random insights. It is also a place where we can converse about whatever theological (or otherwise interesting) matters are tugging at us. It's like you and I and several thousand of our closest friends are having coffee in my office together. You are welcome here. Pull up a chair. What shall we talk about?