SEASONS

LENT 4A: Images of Light

shelliwilliams LENT, Light

Lectionary Text: Ephesians 5: 8-14
For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly; but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

I’m sure most of you are familiar with the art of Claude Monet, the French Impressionist painter who is probably best known for his incredible landscapes and works of nature as well as for his paintings of those things that were a normal part of his own life. Probably the most fascinating part of Monet’s work are those paintings that he did as part of several series representing similar or even the same subjects—his own incredible gardens, poppy fields, a woman with a parasol, and those unusual haystacks.

The paintings in this series of haystacks were painted under different light conditions at different times of day. Monet would rise before dawn, paint the first canvas for half an hour, by which time the light had changed. Then he would switch to the second canvas, and so on. The next day and for days and months afterward, he would repeat the process. In each painting, the color of the haystack is different because the amount and quality of the light shining on the haystack is different. The subject is the same but the perspective from which it is viewed changes with the light. 

Up until this time, color was thought to be an intrinsic property of an object, such as weight or density. In other words, oranges were orange and lemons were yellow, with no variation as to the lens through which they were viewed. But with Monet’s studies in light and how it affects our view of life, that all changed. As Monet once said, “the subject is of secondary importance to me; what I want to reproduce is that which is in between the subject and me.” (I guess you could say he was painting hay while the sun shines! (sorry, couldn’t resist!))  But, seriously, Monet wasn’t merely painting images of haystacks; he was painting images of light.

I don’t really think of this light of Christ as a bright, blinding spotlight.  It’s really much more nuanced and subtle than that.  Think illuminating, rather than blinding.  And it doesn’t dispel the darkness but rather enlightens it.  It casts a different light, a light that illuminates all.  God, with infinite wisdom, gave us the power and the desire to see through the darkness and glimpse the light shining through, to see the Light that is Christ.  It is a light that is always present regardless of our view, that exposes all that is visible and makes that on which it shines light itself. 

There is a Maori proverb that says “turn your face to the [light] and the shadows will fall behind you.”  They are not consumed; they are still there, light streaming into their midst.  Shadows do not exist without light.  Light is what makes them visible.  We are like that.  Exposed by the Light of Christ, we become visible; and by becoming visible, we become light, children of light, images of the Light that is Christ, the Light that is God.  As I said before, what Monet painted was light.  He captured the visibility of a blank canvas and created a set of masterpieces.  Become visible; become light; become a blank canvas on which God can paint a masterpiece of light.

So, in this Lenten season, be visible, be light!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

 

Dancing With the Disciples

shelliwilliams Calling, LENT

You know how you do those things that aren’t that terrible but that you would rather most people not know–like (a.) watching soap operas, (b.) eating a whole pint of ice cream, (c.) singing along to The Sound of Music, or (d.) all of the above?  Yes, my answer is, sadly, “(d.)” and that’s probably not all of the stupid things that I do!  So as long as we’re inviting true confessions, I have to admit that I love Dancing With the Stars.  I know it’s stupid.  But I love dancing and, perhaps even more than that, I like watching people that have never danced before, that are scared to death, that are sure that they are the next ones to be voted off by ten or so million of their closest friends, come completely out of themself and have the courage to feel a rhythm that they’ve never felt before.

I pray for all of us that we can do that this Lenten season.  No, not dance with one of the dance pros but, rather, to have the courage to feel a rhythm that we’ve never allowed ourselves to feel before. What would it take to allow ourselves to do that?  What would it take to put aside all of our preconceived ideas, needless inhibitions, and carefully laid plans and just dance?  What would it take for us to finally feel that rhythm of God that runs through us all and truly dance like no one is watching?  You know, I think that one reason my guilty pleasure “Dancing” show is so popular is not that people like to watch others fail (and sometimes even fall!), but that we admire someone who can get out of their element, who can step out of their role that they are “supposed” to live in their life.  Deep down, I am convinced, we all dream of that.  We all know that we’d be better for it.  We all know that there is a dance in our lives that we have yet to dance.  Part of what we’re called to do during this season is do just that–to let go of what we think we should be doing and listen for that rhythm that runs through each of our lives, the rhythm of God calling us to dance whether or not we think we’ve practiced enough.

When Jesus called the disciples, one by one, I’m pretty clear that none of them were practicing dancing in their room when everyone thought they were asleep.  The truth is, they were anything but prepared.  (Hence the continual competition to be the “favorite” and to make sure they understood!)  They had planned something else for their lives–something reasonable, something realistic, something sane.  But then the beat began and they couldn’t help themselves.  They could only dance.  I want to be like that.  I want to dance with the disciples.

I was watching Dancing With the Stars last night.  (Well, gee, I guess there’s no hiding that now so why bother anymore!)  In one of the pre-recorded “practices”, one of the “pros” told one of the “stars” that the reason he couldn’t do the Jive is because he was thinking too much.  She said that he needed to feel it and follow it.  Maybe that’s our problem:  We’re trying to think too much, trying to reason out what God is calling us to do, trying to figure out how to fit it into our carefully-planned life.  The music has already started.  We need to start dancing!

Do you remember the T-Mobile Dance in Liverpool Station, UK about two years ago?  Look at it at: T-Mobile Dance and THEN, go to how it was made: The Making of the T-Mobile Dance.  Enough said…I guess life really is for sharing!  Perhaps we disciples could take some lessons!

“You’ve gotta dance like there’s nobody watching, Love like you’ll never be hurt, Sing like there’s nobody listening, And live like it’s heaven on earth.”  (William W. Purkey)

So, in this Lenten season, dance to the music that’s been there all along and live like it’s heaven on earth.  Who’s stopping you?  What are you hiding?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 4A: You’re the One!

shelliwilliams Calling, Choices, Journey, LENT

Lectionary Text:  1 Samuel 16: 1-13
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.” Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.” And the Lord said, “Take a heifer with you, and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.” Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” He said, “Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.” And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice. When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, “The Lord has not chosen any of these.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And he said, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.

Once again, God has called the most unlikely, the most unexpected, and the most unprepared candidate to do God’s work.  There seems to be a pattern here.  This time, God’s choice is a young, but apparently good-looking, shepherd, an eighth son, from the village of Bethlehem, and from a family with no real pedigree or appropriate ancestry at all.  And with this person, God lays the road for the hope of the world.  No pressure there!  But the unlikeliness doesn’t stop there.  What about Samuel? God called him to go to Jesse the Bethlehemite and anoint a new king. Well, I’m pretty sure that Saul (i.e, the King!) would not have been impressed with that had he found out. What if Samuel had just said, “You know, God, I would really rather not. That just doesn’t work into my plan.”?

In this Lenten season, what would change about our journey if we knew where we would end up, if we thought that we might end up in a place that we didn’t plan? And what would change about our life if we knew how it was all going to turn out? I mean, think about it…the boy David is out in the field just minding his own business and doing what probably generations of family members before him had done. He sees his brothers go inside one by one, probably wandering what in the world is going on. Finally, he is called in. “You’re the one!” “What do you mean I’m the one?” he probably asked in his teen-age sarcasm. “What in the world are you talking about? Don’t I even get a choice?” “Not so much.” And so David was anointed. “You’re the one!”

What would have happened if David has just turned and walked away? Well, I’m pretty sure that God would have found someone else, but the road would have turned away from where it was. It would have been a good road, a life-filled road, a road that would have gotten us where we needed to be. But it wouldn’t have been the road that God envisioned it to be.  We know how it all turned out. David started out by playing the supposed evil out of Saul with his lyre. He ultimately became a great king and generations later, a child was brought forth into the world, descended from David. The child grew and became himself anointed—this time not for lyre-playing or earthly kingship but as Messiah, as Savior, as Emmanuel, God-Incarnate. And in turn, God then anoints the ones who are to fall in line and follow him. “You’re the one”.

Do we even get a choice, you ask? Sure, you get a choice. You can close yourself off and try your best to hold on to what is really not yours anyway or you can walk forward into life as the one anointed to build the specific part of God’s Kingdom that is yours. We are all called to different roads in different ways. But the calling is specifically yours. And in the midst of it, there is a choice between death and life. Is there a choice? Not so much! Seeing the way to walk is not necessarily about seeing where the road is going. So just keep walking and enjoy the scenery along the way!

So, on this Lenten journey, look for the unexpected and walk toward it!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Lenten Discipline: Meeting and Welcoming

shelliwilliams Civility Project, Hospitality, Immigration, LENT
“Come Unto Me” Window
 St. Paul’s United Methodist Church, Houston

At first glance, hospitality seems like an odd suggestion for a Lenten practice.  After all, meeting and welcoming others is a way of being or acting like a Christian, but what does it have to do with our own spiritual walk?  The truth is, hospitality is more than making cupcakes and hosting a great party (although if you do that, I’m always open for an invitation!).  It’s more than making a guest feel comfortable in your home (which is, after all, the mark of any good host).  In fact, it’s about more than welcoming anyone, friend or stranger, at all.  The spiritual practice of hospitality is about entering another’s life and, perhaps even more difficult, allowing an other to enter yours.  It is walking the way that Christ walked–welcoming all unto himself and then allowing them to see him in the deepest and most profound way.

We struggle with this.  Our society teaches us to protect ourselves, to stand up for our place, and to not let anyone in who we do not trust.  And so we put up fences around our borders and walls around our lives all in the name of protecting what we have and who we see ourselves to be.  OK, really, at the risk of sounding trite, is that what Jesus would do?  I doubt it. After all, while we’re arguing over how many additional persons to allow into this country of “respectable” immigrants (most of which are probably descended from illegal immigrants themselves!–I know my great-great-grandfather probably stowed away on a boat to get here from Germany!), Jesus is welcoming the Samaritan woman at the well and giving her life. So, let’s see–respectability vs. life.  Sounds like there’s a winner to me!

Maybe we’ve forgotten what hospitality is.  What is it to you?  For me, I think at the very least its civility.  Dr. Jim Bankston, our Senior Pastor, mentioned in today’s sermon Mark DeMoss, a conservative evangelical Republican that partnered with Lanny Davis, a liberal Jewish Democrat to work on what they called The Civility Project.  They came up with a 32-word Civility Pledge that says:
            (1) I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior.
            (2) I will be respectful of others whether or not I agree with them.
            (3) I will stand against incivility when I see it.
They sent the pledge and asked for signatures from the 585 sitting members of Congress and state governors.  Well, apparently, these 32 words are pretty divisive, because they got a whole 3 signatures.  Yes, 3 SIGNATURES!  First of all, I would encourage you to write and thank Sen. Joseph Lieberman (Conn.), Rep. Frank Wolf (Va.), and Rep. Sue Myrick (NC).  Secondly, I would encourage you to read the letter at http://www.demossnews.com/resources/civility_project.pdf.  And then, maybe we need to start talking a little more about civility.  This is amazing!

As I said, civility is the LEAST, the starting point.  I think good hosts go a step farther and welcome.  And maybe those among us who do care about others will develop a spirit of tolerance and respect toward one another’s lives.  But those who walk the way of Christ do more.  Those who walk the way of Christ accept one another not in spite of what they are but because of who they are–a child of God, a brother or sister in this big human family, a co-worker in bringing the vision of God to be.  You know, you don’t have to become friends.  You don’t have to agree.  In truth, you don’t even have to like each other.  Just be open to what you can offer each other.  Just be open to the way that you can encounter God in the face of another.  We are all children of God, immigrants to this earth, visitors for a time until we finally return home together.

So, as your Lenten disciple, go and welcome a stranger and be open to what he or she can bring to your life.     

“People do not enter our lives to be coerced or manipulated, but to enrich us by their differences, and the be graciously received in the name of Christ.”  (Elizabeth Canham)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

First Rest

shelliwilliams Journey, LENT, Rest
Quarter Rest

If you read music, you know that it is seldom composed of a never-ending stream of notes.  There are rests, spaces between.  The spaces are not places to stop.  They are places to rest, to breathe, to soak in and soak up what has happened, and to prepare oneself for the rest of the song.  The point is that they are part of the music.  Journeys are no different.  We need rest.  We need breathing room. We need to cease journeying and look back at where we’ve been.  That is part of the journey.

This journey that we call the Season of Lent has become more and more important to me over the past few years.  I have learned that I need to intentionally do something during or give up something.  I need to change what is usual and routine about my life.  I need to insert a rest and just take a breath.  Some of us give something up and some of us add something on.  I don’t think it matters which and I don’t think it matters what.  We just need to do something different.  I think that each of us has to do what is best for our life and our own way of living.  Maybe a good rule to use when figuring that out is to lose something that ensnares or contains you, that keeps you safe and comfortable and dependent, or gain something that gives you freedom, that pushes your boundaries and gives you life.  What is it that contains you?  What is it that gives you freedom?

This year I’ve chosen to write each day on this blog as my Lenten discipline.  About one-third of this season is behind us, so it is time for our “first rest”.  It is time to look back at our journey.  I love to write.  It truly does give me freedom; it truly does give me life.  This time of intentional, sometimes “ritualistic” writing (as in when I don’t have time–I’m sure you can recognize those!) has given me a new perspective.  It has made me look at things differently.  Ordinary things like missing exits and seeing funny little handmade signs on the backs of pianos have become new journeys through life.  Extraordinary occurrences like Supermoons have become glimpses of the unknown, glimpses of what God has in store.  And those difficult things that are going on in our world–tsunamis and bombings and wars–have somehow been made anew into life-giving phenomena.  This journey is somewhat planned and, yet, part of the plan is to be open to the way the Spirit moves.  That’s what it’s all about!  (But I do wish that the Spirit would not inspire Maynard quite so much.  I’m running out of Bibles!)

So, on this Lenten journey, take your first rest.  Look around.  What is it that contains you?  What is it that gives you freedom?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 3A: Perfect Peace

shelliwilliams Hope, LENT, Suffering

LECTIONARY TEXT:  Romans 5: 1-11
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.  For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

Thomas Merton said that “the Christian must not only accept suffering; the Christian must make it holy.”  That is very strange to us.  What exactly is holy suffering?  Suffering is bad; suffering is unbecoming; suffering is something that we all try to avoid.  So, how then, can we accept this claim that suffering produces hope?  Keep in mind that the early believers to whom Paul wrote were used to a Roman understanding of peace.  Augustus Caesar had established the Pax Romana, which sought to move in on the entire world.  It was an understanding of peace that would come from Roman prosperity and Roman power.  (I suppose they thought that peace would come if everyone else would just shut up and live the way they do!)  So, Paul is taking the “motto of the day” and turning it inside out.  This peace places its hope in glory; it is part of that larger hope of life in Christ.

Today’s news, for me, does not echo chords of peace–a bombing at a Jerusalem bus stop, the military action over Libya, and rumblings of discords from other countries in the area.  And so our discussions about peace become discussions about power.  We seem to be arguing more over who is going to be in charge of the military operations than talking about peace.  Our vision of peace has a lot to do with who’s in charge, with who has the power.  Our idea of power is an end in and of itself, rather than a way to peace.  Maybe we could stand a little reframing from Paul too.  For us, suffering is a failure; within the vision of God, suffering holds hope for newness.  Because in the midst of suffering, just like in the midst of everything else, we find God.  God walks with us through it, loving us and holding us, perhaps even revealing a way out of it, if we would only listen, and gives us a glimpse of what is to come.  The suffering of the world reveals the heart of God, reveals the holiness that is, if we will only look.

Truthfully, I don’t know what perfect peace looks like.  Chances are, I, like all of you, would be limited by a peace that makes my life easier and a lot less scary.  That’s not what it is, comfortable and lovely as that may sound.  Perfect peace is not lack of suffering; it is oneness with God.  And oneness with God enables us to see holiness in everything, to see beauty where there is none, and to see light even in the darkness.  In this season of Lent, we once again walk toward the Cross, with the drums of discord, still this moment far in the distance, growing louder with each step.  This season lasts for forty days.  But those forty days do not include the Sundays of Lent.  Known as “little Easters”, they are opportunities to glimpse and celebrate the Resurrection even in the midst of darkness.  They are reminders that even in this season of Christ’s Passion and Death, their is always a light on the horizon.  Resurrection always comes.  But it’s not a fix; it’s not a reward for the most powerful; it’s what happens when God’s love is poured into our hearts.

So, in this Lenten season, definitely pray for peace but, in the meantime, walk toward hope.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli    

LENT 3A: Thirst-Quenching

shelliwilliams Effectiveness, LENT, Thirst

Lectionary Text:  Exodus 17: 1-7
From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

The wilderness journey has begun.  It all sounded so simple:  Just lead them across the wilderness to the Promised Land.  But things are not going well.  There are rumblings of discontent.  The people are questioning the vision and direction of their leader.  And, to top everything off, they are thirsty.  Aaaaggghhh!  QUIT COMPLAINING!  (You know that’s what Moses wanted to say!)  But he didn’t.  He listened.  And then, the text says, he cried out to the Lord.  The truth was, they were thirsty.  People get downright beligerant when they are hungry or thirsty.  And the waters came–thirst-quenching waters.

You know, sometimes we hear responses that we don’t want to hear.  And all of us know that it would have been a whole lot easier for Moses to just go on by himself (and a whole lot quieter!).  Today, I’ve sat through several interviews by our conference’s Board of Ministry.  They are interviews for ordination candidates at which the board ascertains whether or not the candidate is doing effective ministry.  What exactly is effectiveness?  Like I said, sometimes it would be a whole lot easier to just go off by yourself, to just pray that the problems or the problem people go away.  But that’s not the way this faith journey works.  Sometimes the faith journey includes quarreling and testing.  Sometimes it includes a whole lot of complaining.  But always, always it includes more grace than any of us can handle.  And the waters came–thirst-quenching waters.

In one of the interview rooms, I saw a hand-printed sign (as in off of someone’s computer–no one knows what “handwritten” is anymore, I suppose!).  It was actually for a children’s choir, but I think it works beyond that.  The sign said “Listen louder than you sing.”  That’s what Moses did.  That’s what this journey is.  It’s about realizing that you’re part of a bigger picture, that you cannot just go off by yourself and leave everyone behind.  It’s about letting God lead you.  It’s about listening louder than you sing (or complain or quarrel or anything else).  It’s about knowing that the waters will come–thirst-quenching waters.

So on this Lenten journey, listen louder than you sing!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli