Author: shelliwilliams

LENT 1B: Driven

shelliwilliams Baptism, LENT, Vulnerability, Wilderness
Judean Wilderness, near Jerusalem, Israel, 2010

Lectionary Passage: Mark 1: 9-12 (13-15)
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.

Jesus was driven out into the wilderness.  First he gets baptized and the Spirit descends upon him.  He is claimed by the Spirit.  And then the same Spirit that claims him somehow compels him to go out into the wilderness alone–no supplies, no map, no compass, no cell phone with that neat little GPS app.  Driven out into the wilderness…You know, I used to think that I understood this wilderness thing.  I used to picture Jesus going out into the wilderness, into the trees, into nature, to pray and commune with God.  Perhaps my idea of a wilderness was somewhat skewed by visions of thick East Texas pine trees or perhaps the clammy sensation of the Costa Rican rainforest.  After all, nature is always a great place to become closer to God.

And then I saw the Judean wilderness, the same wilderness into which Jesus was driven by the Spirit.  I stood there on that mountain with a view of winds and sands and nothingness, the true depiction of forsakenness and despair.  And, standing there, I thought about this image of Jesus going out into the wilderness.  On purpose?  He went on purpose?  This is not a wilderness for the faint of heart and certainly not for one with such a faulty sense of direction as I seem to have.  This wilderness has no trees, no real markings of any kind.  The faint pathways change as the winds blow the sands wherever they want.  Even if one began this wilderness journey with some faint sense of where he or she was headed, the pathway would move in an instant and the traveler would be stranded, vulnerable, with no real sense of direction at all.

So into this vulnerable state, Jesus was driven.  If you read the passage, the Spirit claimed him at his baptism and then drove him into a journey that had no obvious pathway at all.  The mere thought of it terrifies us.  After all, don’t we do everything we can do to avoid the wilderness, to avoid a loss of control, a loss of our sense of direction, a loss of the knowledge of where we are and where we are going. But last I checked, the same Spirit supposedly descended on me as descended on Jesus.  So am I to assume that that Spirit is now driving me into the wilderness?  As one who was also baptized, who also had this same Spirit, am I being compelled to go beyond what I know?  But, I will tell you, I did not plan for the wilderness.  I do not have everything I need.  I need to pack.  I need to prepare.  (I probably need new shoes!)  And so I wait.  But that baptism thing keeps tugging at us.  You know, it’s not really meant to be a membership ritual.  It is meant, rather, to be the driving force in our lives.  It is the thing that drives us into the wilderness–if only we will go.

Contrary to the way most of us live our lives, faith is not certainty or knowledge.  It is not, I’m afraid, a sure and unquestioning sense of where one is going, even, for us seemingly progressive theologians (because we are ALL theologians!), in a “big picture” way.  It is not about being saved from something.  Faith is not about learning or being shown the way.  We are not given a map.  It’s just not that clear.  In fact, it’s downright murky, almost like sandy in the air.  No, I think that faith is about entering The Way, being driven into the wilderness, where one is vulnerable, unprepared, and usually scared to death.  And in that death, in that yielding, in that realization that we’re not really sure where it is we’re supposed to go, we encounter God.  And then in the next instant, the winds will blow the path away and, once again, we are in darkness until we realize that God is still there, not pointing to show us, but walking with us.

Every Lenten season we read of the wilderness into which Jesus was driven.  It is the affirmation that Jesus was not a superhero or a star of Survivor.  Rather, Jesus was driven into the deepest depths of human frailty and vulnerability and, unsure of where to go, found God.  Wandering the wilderness is not about finding your way but rather being open and vulnerable enough that The Way will find you.

So, continuing with our act of giving up so that we can take on, on this fourth day of Lent, think of those things that you work to control–time, space, people.  Let go of something that you control and be vulnerable, if only for a day.

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

The promised land lies on the other side of a wilderness.{Havelock Ellis}

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

LENT 1B: The Harrowing of Hell

shelliwilliams Baptism, Calling, CREATION, Faith, Hell
The Harrowing of Hell, depicted in the Petites Heures
de Jean de Berry, 14th c.  illuminated
manuscript commissioned by
John, Duke of Berry.

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  1 Peter 3: 18-22
For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water.  And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him.

The faith communities to which this was written did not have it easy.  They were the outsiders–shunned, unaccepted, separated from the only society that they knew.  To put it bluntly, they were living in hell.  So this comes as a reminder that what they are experiencing now is not permanent.  It is not the final word.  New life is just over the horizon.  For the writer of this epistle, this is a sure promise, made real through our baptism.  Baptism here is depicted a recreation, as resurrection.  The whole point is that believers do not need to fear the difficulties and sufferings that are present now.  God has indeed promised something new.  In all honesty, I don’t think this writer necessarily saw baptism as merely a cleansing.  Rather, baptism is a claiming.  We are claimed by God.  We are empowered by the Spirit of Christ.  We are made new.  So no matter what hell we might find ourselves in, there is more up ahead.  God has claimed us.  Each of us is a beloved child of God.  Our baptism acknowledges that and, like the waters that flooded the earth, sweeps us into new life.

In fact, even the powers of hell cannot impede the recreation that is happening all around us.  Now our church chooses to recite the more sanitized version of the Apostles’ Creed but there is an older version that dates back to the 5th century that goes like this:  “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell.”  That last sentence is believed to have been loosely taken from this passage.  We read that Jesus proclaimed even to the “spirits in prison”.  In other words, Jesus descended into hell, into the bowels and depths of life.  And, there, he blew the gates open and the eternally forsaken escaped, crossing the threshold to new life.  In the Middles Ages, it was referred to as the “Harrowing of Hell”.  Now, admittedly, there is little basis for this theology but if death hath no sting, why would hell win?  (And to be honest, there’s really little basis for the notion of “hell” as we 21st century folks think of it.  I think Dante did us no favors. ) If God’s promise extends to all of Creation, then perhaps hell really hath no fury.    

Now this is in no way a lessening of the impact or importance of sin.  We all know that.  We sin.  We try not to.  But we sin.  In fact, most of us are pretty good at creating our own hell.  We plunge ourselves into darkness, into separation from God, through fear, or guilt, or shame, and we struggle to claw our way out.  But even the powers of sin are no match for the promise before us.  That is the whole point of our faith.  So, if we believe that, why is it such a stretch to believe that the God of all, the God who loves us, and who has claimed us, could vanquish all the powers that afflict us, that God has vanquished all the powers of hell?

Perhaps this Lenten season of penitence is not so much a call to grovel at the feet of a forgiving God but rather to faithfully follow this God who beckons us home again to begin again.  Maybe it truly is the harrowing of whatever hell we find ourselves in.  But in order to do that, we have to name our sin and release its power.  It’s part of our story.  It’s part of what we must tell.  And with that, the waters subside and the green earth rises again.  Now, I don’t profess to know the whole truth about this hell thing.  It’s not an issue for me.  But I struggle to reconcile the notion of a place called hell with this God who offers eternal mercy and grace and forgiveness, with this God that wants the Creation to return so badly to where they belong, to enter into a relationship with the Godself–so badly, in fact, that this God would come and walk this earth just to show us the way home.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.  Hell definitely exists.  But perhaps it is our creation, rather than God’s.  Perhaps our faith will show us that the gates of hell have already been removed and that all we have to do is walk the way toward life.  Let this Lenten Journey be your Journey toward Life.

So, continuing with our act of giving up so that we can take on, on this third day of Lent, think about those things that create your hell.  Is it fear?  or shame?  or guilt?  Is it the need for everyone to approve of you and like you?  Whatever it is, let it go.  Make room for that which gives you Life.

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

At the center of the Christian faith is the history of Christ’s passion.  At the center of this passion is the experience of God endured by the godforsaken, God-cursed Christ.  Is this the end of all human and religious hope?  Or is it the beginning of the true hope, which has been born again and can no longer be shaken?  For me it is the beginning of true hope, because it is the beginning of a life which has death behind it and for which hell is no longer to be feared…Beneath the cross of Christ hope is born again out of the depths.  (Jurgen Moltmann)

Grace and Peace on Your Lenten Journey,

Shelli    

 

LENT 1B: Reordering Chaos

shelliwilliams CREATION, Returning, Sin, Transformation

Lectionary Passage:  Genesis 9: 8-13 (14-17)
Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him,“As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you,and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.”  God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations:  I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.

OK, so I’ve dusted off my little greenish translucent marble thing and it’s sitting here beside me.  According to what I told the world in yesterday’s blog, this is supposed to remind me how much I’m cherished by God.  So why do I feel like I’m drowning?  Why do I feel mired in chaos?  Why do I sometimes wish, just for a moment, the world would stop?  Enter…the ark.  I wonder how I would fare on an ark.  I used to like sailing–the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, the coolness of Galveston Bay when the sun on my face got to be too much, and the smell of fried shrimp and hushpuppies as we sailed back into Kemah.  But, somehow, I’m thinking it looked different.  Personally, it sounds pretty chaotic to me–howling elephants, uncontrollable zebras (I hear they’re not that well-behaved), and a vast array of odd amphibious creatures that I don’t even know.  Good grief, I can barely handle one 85-lb. black lab that eats Bibles, puts the throw pillows underneath the cushions on the loveseat, and turns down the covers on the bed and burrows underneath them before I can get in.  Chaos seems to abound whether or not you own an ark…

This passage is actually the end of a really long story that most of us know.  You know…Noah gets wind (pun intended!) of one of those severe weather warnings and is told to pack up the ark with all the earth’s animals and then he and this holy menagerie sail around until the rain stops and the water subsides.  And then they begin to load off the ark.  Who knows what they would find?  And, finally, God speaks.  God makes a promise.  This will not happen again.  In fact, the earth will be made anew.  All of creation will be made anew, recreated.  Chaos has not been wiped out.  It has been reordered.  It has been recreated into life.  It’s not a new Creation as in a DIFFERENT one .  God doesn’t erase the chalkboard and begin rewriting history.  Rather, God takes what is there and makes it new, gives it life.

So why does chaos abound?  Why is life still sometimes filled with darkness and despair that almost chokes it away?  Why does my greenish translucent marble thing even get dusty at all?  Maybe it’s because if life were easy, we’d never look at the rainbow.  You see, this story is not about the ark. It’s not about the flood.  I don’t even think it’s about human sinfulness or chaos.  It’s about the promise.  God stretched a bow across the darkness to remind us that it is hope and life, rather than sin and darkness, that are the permanent reality.

In this Lenten season, we will often find ourselves surrounded by darkness.  We may find ourselves mired in despair.  We might somehow turn up on a road that we never intended to travel.  In fact, sometimes we find ourselves in hell.  But these are never the final word.  Even when tales of a place called Golgotha begin to swirl around us, there is always something more.  When we come to the end, God will be there to beckon us into the arms of grace that we might begin again.  God has promised recreation.  But, you see, we have to let go of the chaos.  And maybe THAT’S the point of this Lenten journey.

So, continuing with our act of giving up so that we can take on, on this second day of Lent, let go of chaos.  Spend 15 minutes (just 15 minutes!) and sit down and listen to the sounds of Creation being recreated.

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli
Not only is another world possible, she is on her way.  On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing. (Arundhati Roy)

Grace and Peace on Your Lenten Journey,

Shelli    

Mixed Messages

shelliwilliams Ash Wednesday, LENT

Lectionary Gospel for Ash Wednesday:  Matthew 6: 1-6
Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

On the way home last night, I heard some pieces of an interview with a political figure questioning another well-known political figure’s religion.  The claim was that it was difficult to discern whether or not this person practiced “legitimate Christianity”.  Really?  And what in the world, pray tell, is “legitimate Christianity”?  And how do you know?  I mean, especially since we’re apparently suppose to be in our rooms with the door shut praying in secret!  But then, aren’t we supposed to be out in the world showing the love of Christ?  Whew!  Well, regardless of the fact that it must have been a slow news day, sometimes it’s just a whole lot of mixed messages, isn’t it?

Today we begin this season of mixed messages.  First of all, Lent itself, literally “springtime”, means that we begin clearing all of the winter debris that has grown and gathered in the flowerbeds and leaving room for new life.  This season is about both pruning and fertilizing, cutting and nurturing.  It’s about cleaning out and freshening up.  Theologically, this season brings images of walking through darkness toward the light, of giving up and taking on, of death and new life.  We are told to let go and to take up, to lay down and to rise up.  We are told to breathe in and to breathe out.  And now, to pray in secret and go out and serve the world.  So, is your head spinning?  Maybe that’s why this season is so difficult.  There’s no baby; there’s no star; there’s not even, when you think about, anybody around to tell us not to be afraid.  No one comes to tell us what is going to happen.  There is no appropriately convenient Lenten anunciation.  We just have to start walking that pathway toward Jerusalem with both assurance and humility.  But this time, in many ways we walk alone.  This God who has walked with us every step of the way has seemed to have gone on at least a few steps ahead of us.  Where Advent kept pushing us back, telling us to wait, in many ways, this season of Lent is pulling us kicking and screaming into something we do not understand, something that, given the choice, we might choose not to do, choose to go back into our room and shut the door.  Mixed messages…

I’ve shared this story before, but it is one of my favorites:  A rabbi once told his disciples, “Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that he or she can reach into the one or the other, depending on their needs.  When feeling high and mighty one should reach into the left pocket, and find the words: “Ani eifer v’afar; I am dust and ashes.  But when feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or without hope, one should reach into the right pocket, and, there, find the words: “Bishvili nivra ha’olam…For my sake was the world created.”

Talk about mixed messages!  We are dust and ashes, resembling that cast-off debris.  And we are loved more than we can even fathom.  We are so very human, struggling with greed and hubris, with some inflated sense of our own worth that makes us think we are better than others or deserve more than others, makes us think that there is some sort of “legitimate Christianity” in which we are called to participate to prove our very worth.  And, yet, somewhere in the midst of our humanity, in the midst of all those things that we do not do or those things we do not do well, there is a piece of the Divine.  Bishvili nivra ha’olam.  Do you even know how much you are loved?  Do you even know how to imagine a God that has given you the world?

Perhaps the mixed messages are because we cannot let go, cannot see what God is offering, cannot fathom how much we are loved.  Today is the day when we proclaim we are dust, when we confess our sins and lay prostrate before the ruins of our lives.  Today is the day when we take burned palm branches and allow them to be smeared across our forehead in the faint shape of a cross.  Today is the day that we remember we are dust, remember that we are particles of waste that are left from what was.  Today is the day when we go in our room and shut the door.  But the only reason we do this is so that we will stop what we are doing, look at our lives, and know how very much we are loved.  Bishvili nivra ha’olam.  For your sake, the world was created. 

Faith is about mixed messages–letting go and taking on, human and Divine, death and life, sending and return.  Perhaps this Season of Lent is about realizing that there is a Holy and Sacred “And” connecting it all.   Lent is not about giving things up; it is about emptying your life that you may be filled.  Lent is not about going without; it is about making room for what God has to offer.  And today is not about clothing yourself in the morbidness of your humanity; it is about embracing who you are before God.

There was once a question posed to a group of children:  “If all the good people in the world were red, and all the bad people in the world were green, what color would you be?”  A little girl thought for a moment.  Then her face brightened, and she replied:  “I’d be streaky!”  We would all be streaky.  To be human is to be a mixture of the unmixable, to be streaky.  It is to live incomplete, yet yearn for completion; to be imperfect, yet long for perfection; to be broken, yet crave wholeness.  It is to live with mixed messages.  And as we begin what is essentially our own journey to the cross, we note that it is one that not only recognizes but embraces the fact that there are many conflicting and disjointed ideals that God, in God’s infinite mystery and wisdom, allows to exist together—arrogance and humility, good and bad, faith and doubt, human and divine, cross and resurrection, death and life—none can exist without its counterpart.  It is about living a life of breathing out and breathing in.  Neither can exist alone.

So…remember…you are dust and ashes…breathe out…..

For you the world was created…breathe in….

In this Season of Lent, I invite you to join me in my own Lenten practice of trying to post something to this blog each day.  I would also invite you to let me know that you are reading it and join in the conversation!  And if this is not enough for you, I’m also “re-posting” my blog from a few years ago based on the book, Bread and Wine.  The blog is located at http://breadandwine-lentenstudy.blogspot.com/ or you can get there through the Dancing to God blog.

And in this Season of Lent, this season of giving up so that we can take on, I invite you to find those things in your life that you need to put down, need to let go, and also those things that you need to cherish.  So on this first day of Lent, find something that is dusty.  (This may be easier for some of us than others!)  Pick it up, clean it off, and put it in a place of honor.  Let it be your reminder for this entire season that the world was created for you.  But that sometimes you have to get dusted off!

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

A Must See!

shelliwilliams EPIPHANY, Presence of God, Seeing

Lectionary Passage:  John 1: 43-46 (47-51)
The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.”Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter.Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”

At the risk of overusing movie metaphors, I saw an advertisement for a movie that touted that the critics had dubbed it “a must see.”  We all know what that means.  It means that someone is telling us that we need to try to find time to go see this movie, that perhaps our lives will be more enriched by the very act of taking the time to watch a movie.  It doesn’t mean that it’s inviting us to rewrite it or recast it or, for that matter, even critique it.  It doesn’t mean that there’s going to be a quiz at the end of it to make sure that we understood it in the way that the writer intended.  And it’s not even maintaining that we have to commit every line and every scene to permanent memory.  It’s inviting us to simply come, to put down what we’re doing and quit worrying about what we’re not doing, if only for a couple of hours, and come experience it.  It’s inviting us to come and see.  And the claim is that in some small way, our lives might be enriched by the act.

The Scripture that is used here is only part of our lectionary Gospel passage for this week.  But in this short segment, we meet Nathanael.  Most of us don’t know much about him.  After all, he was never part of the “Big 12” as far as we can tell.  But that usually didn’t matter much to the Gospel writer that we know as John.  In this version of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the notion of “disciple” is broader than Jesus’ inner crowd.  You see, Nathanael is a whole lot like us.  He wanted to understand who this Christ was and, yet, it didn’t make sense to him.  Shouldn’t there be something more?  Shouldn’t this be obvious?  How can anything this incredible come out of this little nothing town?  After all, in the first century, Nazareth wasn’t much.  There was no Roman settlement there which means, more than likely, that there was little work.  In fact, you wonder how a carpenter family even eeked out a living there.  It was probably just a couple of houses, a blip on a map.  It was nothing anyone would ever really want to see.  Yes, Nathanael was trying to make sense of this, to put it into a perspecive that made sense to him.  He was trying to take this Presence of God that was beyond anything that he could imagine fit into his notion of who God was.  But Philip’s response was simply, “Nathanael, just come and see.”  In other words, put down all of your preconceived ideas of who you think God should be and what you think God should look like and from where you think God should come, and just come and experience the Presence of God.

I don’t think that Philip was promising that Nathanael would see something tangible that would prove the existence of God.  After all, “seeing” is not limited to what we do with our eyes.  Philip is instead offering Nathanael the experience of God.  But in order to experience God, to “come and see”, one has to put everything else aside.  We cannot see God by listening to something else; we cannot see God when our hands are holding too tightly to what we think we need; and we cannot see God when our minds are so full of who we think God should be.  We’re not being called to figure God out or know everything there is about God.  You know what?  We’re not even called to be perfect renditions of what God envisions we should be.  I think God’s a lot more filled with grace than we give God credit for being.  And I don’t think we’re called to be “godly” people.  I hate that word.  Being “like God” is really God’s area!  Shhhhh!  Just come and see. 

Last week’s lectionary passages included the first few lines of Genesis.  We read of God’s spirit “sweeping over the face of the waters.”  In other words, God’s Presence was not just standing beside or standing over Creation.  God’s Presence washed over Creation, consumed it, made it part of the Divine.  We are no different.  Seeing God is about letting God’s Spirit sweep over you.  It is about experiencing God in every fabric of your being.  Joseph Wood Krutch said that “the rare moment is not the moment when there is something worth looking at, but the moment when we are capable of seeing.”  So, for all of us who are waiting for that one incredible moment when we finally see God, stop.  Just come and see.  It’s a “must see”!

What is right now so important, to what are you holding so tightly, and what are you doing now that means you cannot come and see?

The Days That Come After

shelliwilliams Baptism, Calling, CREATION, EPIPHANY, Faith

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.  Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (Genesis 1: 1-5)

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased. (Mark 1: 9-11)

I saw a movie trailer for a new movie called “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close,” which is apparently a story of a young boy’s life after his father is killed in the 9/11 terrorist attacks.  The trailer ends with these words written on the screen:  “This is not a story about 9/11; it is a story about the days that come after.”  I thought that was a very profound statement.  After all, do we sometimes focus so much on specific times and specific days that we lose what it means to live the rest of them?  In some way, living a life of faith means getting beyond endings.  Maybe it even means getting beyond beginnings.  It means doing something with all of them as part of the totality of life.

Yesterday we remembered the Baptism of Jesus and through that also remembered our own.  And our lectionary readings for the day included the first five verses of Genesis.  We all know that it is the beginning of the story of Creation, the beginning of life, the beginning of our own beginnings.  But, truth be told, it wasn’t the beginning of EVERYTHING.  After all, it says that before it all, the earth did exist.  It’s just that it was a formless, shapeless void.  Perhaps it was a chaotic mass of swirling, meaningless matter.  And then God Said.  Those are the most powerful words imaginable.  With one simple statement, God creates order, shape, life.   As God’s Spirit sweeps over the waters, meaningless matter becomes earth.  It is not perfect; it is not the way it will be; it is the way it should be.  It is good.

But we know it doesn’t stop there.  The days go one and God creates sky, and land, and seas.  Then, rather than directly creating (we sometimes gloss over this), God appoints the earth to start creating, to bring forth vegetation.  God calls Creation to create.  Then God creates suns, and moons, and animals, and us.  And then, as the pinnacle of Creation, God creates Sabbath rest, completion, a taste of eternity.  You see, it doesn’t stop at “in the beginning”. The days that come after are what makes Creation the way it was intended to be.

And in those days that Creation continued,  once again God’s Spirit moved over the waters.  And this time, the heavens were torn apart (not opened, but violently ripped apart in a way that they could never go back together in the same way), and God’s Spirit decended.  And once again, God spoke:  “You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Once again, God Said. It is good.

The days that come after are the days.  Beginnings and endings are only markers, turning points, crosswalks.  We are told to “remember our baptism and be thankful.”  Truth be told, I don’t remember mine.  I was just a baby.  But remembering is not about the beginning; it is about the days afterward.  So, as people of faith, what will we do with those days afterward?  Faith is not about baptism; it is about the days that come after.

What will you do with your days that come after?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

P.S.  As a programming note, I’m going to try to post a blog entry twice a week or so during this Season of Epiphany and then return to daily posts during our Lenten journey.  Thanks for staying with me!  Shelli

Beginning the Journey

shelliwilliams Calling, EPIPHANY, Journey

Whew! It’s over–this season of running and shopping and baking and wrapping and giving and getting and dressing and partying and, oh yeah, worshipping the Christ who has come!  Now we can go back to normal.  Whew!  It’s over!  But what is the deal with all this light around?  Really?  So what was the point?  Truth be told,  as Christmas is the celebration of God’s coming, Epiphany is the manifestation of our going.  Epiphany is the beginning of the journey.  So, in other words, don’t get too comfortable!  There is work to do!

This season of Epiphany probably gets sort of glossed over.  I don’t know, maybe we’re tired.  Maybe we’ve eaten too much or run too much or just too much-ed.  Or maybe we just don’t understand what it’s about.  Epiphany is about making Jesus real, making the Christ child part of your life.  It is about doing beginning to travel down a road that you’ve never traveled before.

We know the story of the Wisemen, those learned ones who came to pay homage to the new king.  I suppose it was just a politically correct fulfillment of accepted etiquette.  There was a new king in town and they would greet him and give him the proper gifts and perhaps he would remember them in the future. (And in the meantime, perhaps the press would treat them kindly in this politically volatile season!) It was, after all, the proper and the smart thing to do. But instead, something happened.  Perhaps it was the star; perhaps it was the king; perhaps it was some sort of divine inspiration.  But, whatever it was, these wandering souls got it.  They saw a pathway that was different than the one that they were on, they saw where God was calling them to go.  And so they went home by another way.

Many of you have heard the Henry Van Dyke story of “The Other Wise Man”.  It is the story of a magi named Artaban, who waited impatiently for the star to shine so that he could travel with the other magi to see the new king. In fact, he had sold all of his possessions and bought three jewels—a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl—to give to the new baby king.  And, then, he finally saw what he had been waiting for as the dark eastern sky was filled with light.  He hurried to join his friends so that he could meet the king.  But on the way, he came upon the form of a man lying on the side of the road, motionless and dying.  He knew that if he stayed to help the dying stranger, he would miss meeting the Messiah.  So, with a heavy heart, he stayed and cared for the man until his strength returned.  And in return, the man, a Jew, blessed his travel to Bethlehem, where he told him the king had actually been born.  So, left behind by the others, Artaban was forced to sell the sapphire, buy a train of camels, and provisions for the journey. 

But he arrived there three days after the others had departed.  He entered a cottage and found a young mother singing her baby to sleep.  And quietly, the woman told him that the new king and his family had fled secretly in the night.  Suddenly there was a noise outside as Herod’s soldiers came for the child.  Artaban went to the doorway and met the soldiers, telling them that he was alone in the house.  When the soldier did not believe him, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his ruby and gave it to him.  The soldiers went away.  The woman blessed him.

Artaban spent his life searching for the king.  In all this world of anguish, he found many to help, but no one to worship.  He fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and comforted those in despair.  Thirty-three years later, he came for the last time to Jerusalem and was met with a flurry of activity as the city prepared to crucify Jesus of Nazareth.  On hearing this, Artaban knew that this was what he was called to do.  The pearl, the last of his riches, could be offered as ransom for the king’s life.  It was then that a young slave girl was dragged through the streets and threw herself at Artaban’s feet.  Save me, she begged, they are going to kill me.  He sadly took the pearl from his pocket.  It gleamed with radiance as he handed it to the girl so that she could buy her life.  The earth began to shake around him; the sky darkened; and it was then that a heavy tile hit Artaban on the head.  As he lay there, the slave girl bent over him to try to hear what he was saying.  It was then that she heard a faint voice from above—“verily I say unto thee,  Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.”  A calm radiance came over Artaban’s face and he breathed one last breath.  His journey had ended.  His treasures were accepted.  He had met the King many, many times.

Well, obviously, this is fiction.  There’s no basis to it.  It’s not Scriptural.  But the point is that we are the other wisemen.  We are the ones called to the work.  We are the ones that will meet the King.  Maybe we will see it to fruition; more than likely, we will not.  The point is that it’s not about the end-result.  It’s about the journey.  It’s about making the Christ-child real in your lives.  It’s about meeting the King. But more than that, it’s about getting it! It’s about making it real. It’s about letting the Light illumine your life.


God came and the Light shined into our midst.

We are called to follow, to walk in the way illumined by the Light.
Let us follow the Light as it guides us on our journey.
Let us follow the Light as it leads us to Life.
So, in this season of Epiphany, make the newborn Christ real in your life!  There is work to be done!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli