For Our World

I'm going to be taking the next 2 weeks off from writing in my journal. I'm doing this not because of a lack of time, but because I want to focus more on how God is talking to me and my relationship with Jesus over the next 2 weeks as they lead to Palm/Passion Sunday and Easter. Writing in this journal honestly doesn't take away too much time, but it does require me to give of myself a little more than I take in from others, which I absolutely don't mind (in fact I seriously enjoy writing in this journal with every part that is me, so maybe this will be my Lenten journey). It's just for the next 2 weeks I want to be exclusive to God.

I'll leave you with a poem by one of my heroes, Mattie Stepanek. If you want to know more about Mattie just search his name, I believe you'll be amazed at what you find as much as I was. This poem was written after the World Trade Center attacks on September 11, 2001. It's a beautiful insight from an even more beautiful 14-year old.

See you after Easter.

For Our World

We need to stop.
Just stop.
Stop for a moment.
Before anybody
Says or does anything
That may hurt anyone else.
We need to be silent.
Just silent.
Silent for a moment.
Before we forever lose
The blessing of songs
That grow in our hearts.
We need to notice.
Just notice.
Notice for a moment.
Before the future slips away
Into ashes and dust of humility.
Stop, be silent, and notice.
In so many ways, we are the same.
Our differences are unique treasures.
We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts
To nurture, to offer, to accept.
We need to be.
Just be.
Be for a moment.
Kind and gentle, innocent and trusting,
Like children and lambs,
Never judging or vengeful
Like the judging and vengeful.
And now, let us pray,
Differently, yet together,
Before there is no earth, no life,
No chance for peace.

September 11, 2001

© Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek 1990 -2004
from Hope Through Heartsongs, Hyperion, 2002

Friday Musings

This one made me cry. A good story to sum up my week.

“The Boy Under the Tree” by: David Coleman and Kevin Randall

In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity.

About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out.

As I walked toward him I said, "Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm one of the counselors. It's nice to meet you. How are you?" In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, "Okay, I guess" I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, "No, this is not really my thing."

I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be right to push him, either. He didn't need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over. At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers were eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before: "How are you doing? Are you okay?" To which he again replied, "Yeah, I'm alright. I just don't really get into this stuff." As I left the cafeteria, I too realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought -- if it was even possible to get through to him at all.

That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could. The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final night of camp and I was chaperoning the "last dance." The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new "best friends" -- friends they would probably never see again.

As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn't even look just days earlier. I couldn't believe it was him. In October of my sophomore year, a late-night phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A soft-spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, "Is Kevin there?"

"You're talking to him. Who's this?"

"This is Tom Johnson's mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp?

The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? "Yes, I do," I said. "He's a very nice young man. How is he?"

An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, "My Tommy was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and killed." Shocked, I offered my condolences.

"I just wanted to call you," she said, "because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life."

In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own "boy under the tree."

Leave Them Alone

John 12:1-8

This morning's passage is another one of those I've read, heard, and been taught about many times. The abundance of love shown to Jesus by Mary, sister of the now risen Lazarus, is usually the moral of the story. Okay, so Jesus comes to dinner and brings his friends. They're eating what is most likely a good meal when Mary, still very grateful towards Jesus for bringing her brother back to life, pours a lot of expensive perfume on his feet and wipes it with her hair.

The other side of this story is how we're to recognize the villain, Judas Iscariot, for the evil person he is (because of the parenthetical statement telling us so). We're told to jeer and sneer at the falseness of those words spoken by Judas. We are reminded that God always knows what's in our hearts and on our minds, so always do the right thing.

As I read the passage today I became focused on Jesus saying, "Leave her alone." For some reason these words brought to mind how there are those who are being judged just for being themselves and doing what they feel is the right thing. After all, who is Mary hurting anyway, really. It's her perfume, it's her home, it's her way of saying thank you to the one who brought life back to someone she loves. What right does Judas, or anyone else who may have been thinking the same thing, have in telling her she's focused on the wrong thing and there are better ways to use the gift she's offering.

Mary's gift is hers to give in any way she decides to and so are yours. Mary gives extravagantly  to say thank you in a way she felt she had to. If only we could do the same and not be afraid of being judged because of it.

Wait, There's More

Philippians 3:4b-14

Don't you just love those infomercials and how they sell their wares. They begin by showing us something as basic as a non-stick frying pan, one that's very similar to that which we just cooked our omelette in. We are invited to witness all the ways this new and improved frying pan will cook better food for us and save us money and time. We are then taken through a slew of recipes this frying pan can now make.

Because the sellers of the frying pan know we won't pay $19.99 for something so basic (plus shipping and handling) there will undoubtedly be the recitation of those words we wait to hear..."But wait, there's more!" And there usually is; a second frying pan to "keep for ourselves or give as a gift", an electric blender to mix the pancakes or scramble the eggs we're going to cook in our new frying pan, a cookbook which will show 101 different meals we can prepare in our frying pan.

But wait, there's more! Usually, if we wait until close to the end of the infomercial we might hear these words..."And, as a TV exclusive, if you call within the next 5 minutes we'll cut the price, not $19.99, not $14.99, but for a limited time you can get all of this for only one payment of $9.99 (plus shipping and handling).

In our passage today we hear the words of Paul as he says, "But wait, there's more!"

Paul goes through a list of all the great things he is, or used to be. He makes the point that he is just like one of them, but through his deep belief in the resurrection of Christ and all that means to him he has become new and improved. Too many times we hear the message, or infomercial, of the life we can have in Christ, a life filled with joy in love and peace, that we turn off the message and glaze over all the benefits we can get.

Unfortunately we wait until we hear those all-important words which promise us more until we begin to pay attention. Even after all that can possibly be offered is done we wait to hear the words which tell us our investment in such a promise is now less than it was in the beginning. My guess, though, is that you're like me and at this point you say, "If they're willing to give up so much and lessen the value of what is being given, does this mean something might be wrong with it?"

A life in Christ is will not be an easy one. Nothing will be given away, nor will the cost of what it takes be lessened in any way. However, you will be able to make payments which are comfortable to you, at a pace which you are comfortable at. Just give it a try, and even if you don't like the new life in Christ, keep the unconditional love as our gift to you.

Foggetabutit

Isaiah 43:16-21

Our past is something that both makes us who we are as well as reminds us who we can be.

Those who know how I lived my life during the first 12 or so years of adulthood will agree that it's truly amazing I'm on the verge of receiving a seminary degree, let alone still alive. I did many things I have regrets doing, but have no regrets in doing them. The decisions I made helped me to understand why people make those same decisions, but those decisions also made my life much more difficult than it needed to be.

The decisions I made hurt my health and kept me from having any sort of financial savings. I hurt others along the way as well, close friends, family, and those who really believed in me. In fact, there's a memory I have of one person actually telling me, after finding out I was a user, that he used to look up to me, but now he doesn't know how he can believe in me any more.

Those days are gone. The person I used to be is no longer who I am. I have found a way to put that life away for good and begin living a life for others through the love of God. I haven't forgotten who I used to be, that person is a part of who I am. Instead I use the memories of that person to walk with others who are traveling down that same road.

God has made a new way for me, forged a river through the desert, if you will, so that I could be the person God intended me to be. I know deep in my heart God is doing the same for you.

It Doesn't Matter How You Start

Psalm 126

Two weeks ago I submitted my ministerial profile in to the national office of our church's denomination. A profile is similar to a job resume in that I need to record past jobs, education, position I'm seeking, and salary expectations. I also had to put down the date I was first accepted into the care of our church's local association. The in-care date would be the official date the journey I'm currently on began and that date is August 17, 2006; almost 7 years ago. That was the summer between my graduating from a 2-year program at the Whitworth School of Religion for a Lay Ministry Certificate and attending the Vancouver School of Theology to begin my studies towards a Master's of Divinity degree.

All told, my adventure in education is 8 years, plus 1 year in between. When I began I had no idea what would be expected of me and along the way I learned how to read chapters upon chapters within a week, set aside time for studies, write 15-page papers which involved weeks of research, as well as listen to other's  opinions and find a way to accept and include their ideas as a part of my own.

Now, in this moment and after reading this morning's Psalm, I find myself in a place of contentment. I have found the realization that my formal education is over; that part of my life has come to an ending. I haven't yet  been able to reap anything I've sown as the understanding of what is happening is just setting in, but I do see that I'm in another waiting pattern - that in-between place where trust in God rules all that happens.

What's coming next? I really don't know. What I do know is that with God's guidance I'll be ready to begin again.

Friday Musings

I hope you see the picture at the bottom the same way I did.

Sacrifice

By Allison Chambers Coxsey

The sacrifice of love we give,

Takes less and yet gives more;

An everlasting hand of love,

The heart an open door.

The willingness to give of self;

To lay down your own life;

To touch another persons heart,

In loving sacrifice.

The chance that God has given you,

To reach another soul;

Forever changed by kindness,

A life your love made whole.

For life is but a circle,

Each life part of the chain;

Each link is joined by sacrifice,

That causes man to change.

To turn and reach a hand of love,

To touch and other’s life;

Will cause the circle to be whole,

In loving sacrifice.

Ashram's Haiku 3

By Mittur Ramprasad

Truth is God's beauty

For the hearts and souls to see

Which has honesty

Letting Go