A FRIDAY MEDITATION – And there was Light

These are the days of Elijah declaring the word of the Lord And these are the days of Your servant Moses righteousness being restored These are the days of great trials of famine and darkness and sword. Still we are the voice in the desert crying, Prepare ye the way of the Lord! Behold He comes, riding on the clouds shining like the sun at the trumpet’s call. Lift your voice, year of Jubilee out of Zion’s hill, salvation comes. ~ Days of Elijah, att. Robin Mark

Here we are at the end of the Epiphany Season, Ash Wednesday being this week.  Have you decided what you are going to do for spiritual practices during Lent – giving up something, taking on something, both?

Two things caught my attention today – The Gospel reading for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, coming up; and today God said to me, “Let there be light” straight out of Genesis 1.  What do these have to do with Lent? I do not know.

The Gospel: From Matthew 17:1-9 – Jesus takes three of his closest friends, Peter, James, and John with him on a hike up the mountain.  While they were standing atop, Jesus’ face changes and shines like the sun and his clothes become as white as the light. Suddenly – it’s always suddenly, isn’t it – Moses and Elijah appear and have a conversation with Jesus. Peter is so excited that he wants to build dwellings for Jesus, for Moses and for Elijah.  But then a bright cloud surrounds the three and a voice from that cloud declares that Jesus is his Son and the disciples (we) need to listen to him. This terrified the disciples the Bible says. You think?! But Jesus touches them and says, “Get up and don’t be afraid.” They look up and Elijah and Moses are gone. Then Jesus says a very strange thing. He says, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” Whiplash!  What?

“Get up and don’t be afraid.” Why does this story hold my attention so much this week?  Why does the above song by Robin Mark do the same? Especially here at the almost beginning of Lent. Why did God say to me this morning, “Let there be light?” Isn’t Lent about darkness, repentance, sacrifice, and maybe some groveling?  And isn’t it about Ashes?  Those that will be marked on our heads on Ash Wednesday with the spoken words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return?” Yes.  Well maybe Lent is not about the groveling, but listen to the words of the service this Wednesday.  If you can’t attend, read the words from The Book of Common Prayer beginning on Page 265.

Thoughts:  Lent is mostly about turning around which is what repentance means.  The Ash Wednesday service reminds me that I am not God.  When God said, “Let there be light”, I remember that in the beginning, God intended and created light, which is probably the same thing, and we were to live in that light in a constant relationship of love with him. “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” – 1 John 1:5 tells us.  Light shows us when we have gone off course – when we have decided to take our lives into our own hands rather than follow God’s plan for us.  Lent gives us a time to rethink and repent of our decisions to do our own thing. Light reveals to us those things that we do that lead us away from God instead of toward him in a relationship of Love.  The light of Jesus helps us stay on the path and is what we are given to share with others.

Question: What Lenten practices will help me to notice when I do my own thing and help me to return to all that God wants for me and for others? What will help you?

Lord God of signs and wonders, when sin has silenced our song, sing about the good you still see in us. Great Son, friend of all who stray, when shame has broken our best, create a new and living way for us. Wild Spirit winged with healing power, when lies destroy our standing, remind us that you share this road with us.

Therefore, we’ll run, stagger, and bow, then kneel, In penitence because you care for us. Amen – Russ Parker, Prayer Poems for the Journey

 

 

 

 

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A FRIDAY MEDITATION – Grace & Peace

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way.  The Lord be with all of you.“- 2 Thessalonians 3: 16

Question – Do you think it’s time to take down my Christmas tree in the basement great room or should I hang flags on it for President’s Day, miniature pancakes for Shrove Tuesday, purple ribbons for Lent, shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day, etc. and leave it up all year? Not a bad idea, I’m thinking.  The week is totally out of control along with my mind, and God is peeking out at me from everywhere.  I couldn’t settle my mind down for quiet time and silent prayer, so I listened to praise music on YouTube for an hour. I am grateful for the warmth and sun which reminds me that I should trim back the rose bushes.  Sigh.

This is the week that I have to write two articles – Soul Food to meet the deadline and this meditation for today.  There was no other time this week to write and after writing the first, I am without words.  However, I love this meditation or whatever it is from Frederick Buechner, so I’ll share that with you this week instead.

Frederick writes, “Theodicy is the branch of theology that asks the question: If God is just, why do terrible things happen to wonderful people? The Bible’s best answer is the book of Job.

Job is a good man and knows it, as does everybody else, including God. Then one day his cattle are stolen, his servants are killed, and the wind blows down the house where his children happen to be whooping it up at the time, and not one of them lives to tell what it was they thought they had to whoop it up about. But being a good man he says only, “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21). Even when he comes down with a bad case of boils and his wife advises him to curse God and die, he manages to bite his tongue and say nothing. It’s his friends who finally break the camel’s back. They come to offer their condolences and hang around a full week. When Job finds them still there at the start of the second week, he curses the day he was born. He never quite takes his wife’s advice and curses God, but he comes very close to it. He asks some unpleasant questions:

If God is all he’s cracked up to be, how come houses blow down on innocent people? Why does a good woman die of cancer in her prime while an old man who can’t remember his name or hold his water goes on in a nursing home forever? Why are there so many crooks riding around in Cadillacs and so many children going to bed hungry at night? Job’s friends offer an assortment of theological explanations, but God doesn’t offer one.

God doesn’t explain. He explodes. He asks Job who he thinks he is anyway. He says that to try to explain the kinds of things Job wants explained would be like trying to explain Einstein to a little-neck clam. He also, incidentally, gets off some of the greatest poetry in the Old Testament. “Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades? Hast thou given the horse strength and clothed his neck with thunder?” (Job 38:31).

Maybe the reason God doesn’t explain to Job why terrible things happen is that he knows what Job needs isn’t an explanation. Suppose that God did explain. Suppose that God were to say to Job that the reason the cattle were stolen, the crops ruined, and the children killed was thus and so, spelling everything out right down to and including the case of boils. Job would have his explanation.

And then what?

Understanding in terms of the divine economy why his children had to die, Job would still have to face their empty chairs at breakfast every morning. Carrying in his pocket straight from the horse’s mouth a complete theological justification of his boils, he would still have to scratch and burn.

God doesn’t reveal his grand design. He reveals himself. He doesn’t show why things are as they are. He shows his face. And Job says, “I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes see thee” (Job 42:5). Even covered with sores and ashes, he looks oddly like a man who has asked for a crust and been given the whole loaf.

At least for the moment.” – originally published in Beyond Words

Good right??

 

 

A FRIDAY MEDITATION -Yes! That!

 

 We have it in us to be Christs to each other and maybe in some unimaginable way to God too – that’s what we have to tell finally. We have it in us to work miracles of love and healing as well as to have them worked upon us. We have it in us to bless with him and forgive with him and heal with him and once in a while maybe even to grieve with some measure of his grief at another’s pain and to rejoice with some measure of his rejoicing at another’s joy almost as if it were our own.” ~ Frederick Buechner

I’ve been reading quotes by Frederick Buechner today. They have been soothing to my soul, because I woke this morning with a sense of doom. I wondered why all of this was present in me today, and after some time, I realized that what I was feeling was almost overwhelming grief.  Tears are very close to the surface, overflowing from time to time as the day wears on. Overwhelming, may not be the right word, but I don’t know what is.  I remember a Rumi quote that I saw, recently. I went inside my heart to see how it was. Something there makes me hear the whole world weeping.” Yes. That’s the feeling. Grief!

I’ve had many things to grieve the last two years. Deaths – My mother, a son-in-law, an ex-son in law whom I loved (both in tragic ways), and the loss of friends. I grieve for loved ones that have been affected by these deaths. The pain of the world. There are other losses, too. I’m good at ignoring these until they pile up. Add to this a cold that I finally got over, a big case of hives that I can’t explain and wham!!  Also, coming up in a few weeks is the anniversary of our son’s tragic death. Of course, seasonal affective disorder has something to do with my mood here at the end of winter.  But I have this every year and that is sadness, not grief. Was there a trigger somewhere?

This quote was on Facebook. I have heard something like it before. It speaks to me. “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.” ~ unknown. Yes. That.

The place that I am in is my reality for the moment, but there are things that I can do – practice gratitude for one.  I am grateful for many things and it helps to make notes because then I remember. Today, I see a bit of iris blade taking a peek above ground.  I really need to get out in the dirt, do some cleaning up and pruning – always a good thing.  I planned to take a walk before the wind picked up.  It was 75 degrees outside.  I’m grateful for the warmth, not needing my coat for a few days, even knowing that it won’t last. The moon was wondrous last night.

 Every day, I try to post something on my Facebook page, and our church’s, that is inspiring, sending a bit of light into the darkness.  I continue looking for the light of God in what is around me. There it is in the faces of friends, in a man picking up a food box and pouring a cup of coffee because it was very cold outside, in the face of a child talking to me while waiting for church to begin. The light of God is everywhere even in the midst of grief.   

Frederick Buechner says, “It is as impossible for man to demonstrate the existence of God as it would be for even Sherlock Holmes to demonstrate the existence of Arthur Conan Doyle. All wise. All-powerful. All-loving. All knowing. We bore to death both God and ourselves with our chatter. God cannot be expressed but only experienced.

In the last analysis, you cannot pontificate only point. A Christian is one who points at Christ and says, “I can’t prove a thing, but there was something about his eyes and his voice. There’s something about the way he carries his head, his hands, the way he carries his cross – the way he carries me.”  One of my favorites.

Grace and Peace, Donna