A Daily Review of Life

Looking for something prayerful to do during Lent this year? Try this: a daily review of life. This is a way to examine our thoughts, feelings, and experiences in terms of how God is present and how we are responding. It fosters an awareness of God’s presence and call in our daily lives. There are many different forms of this examination of the self; the one presented here reads as a conversation with God. You might start a daily personal journal using this model. Start today, keep at it, and over time you will see a deepening of your relationship with the Lord. God is waiting for you to recognize that he is everywhere in your life. Seek him now in this simple review of your daily life.

Start with a prayer like this: God, my Creator and Redeemer, I am totally dependent on you. Everything is a gift from you. I give you thanks and praise for the gifts of this day. Give me also an increased awareness of how you are guiding and shaping my life, and of the obstacles I put in your way. Be near me now and open my eyes as I reflect on these questions. Amen.

* Your presence in the events of today:

__________________________________________________________________

* Your presence in the feelings I experienced today:

__________________________________________________________________

* Your call to me:

__________________________________________________________________

*My response to you:

__________________________________________________________________

God, I ask for your loving forgiveness and healing. The particular event of this day that I most want healed is:

__________________________________________________________________

The particular gift or grace that I most need is:

__________________________________________________________________

I entrust myself to your care and place my life in your strong and faithful hands. AMEN.

LOVE IS

The month of February always brings to my mind the images associated with love; romantic love, friendship love, community love, family love, and the love of God. If you’re like me, you have strong associations and vivid pictures in your mind concerning love: red roses, couples embracing,  walks on a winter beach holding hands, and relaxing together by a crackling fire. That’s the romantic love, the Valentine’s Day love, the human love we enjoy with our spouse or special someone. Friendship love, which is that special glue that binds two friends close in sharing joys and woes, celebrations and memorials, giddy fun and everyday hum-drum, is a love I hope we all share with several close friends.

But the love that comes from God is completely different. So completely Other that we really have no word in our languages that can even come close to describing the Love that holds everything in existence, without which all things in creation would fly apart into chaos. In fact, the word love and the practice of human love is flat in comparison.  Love by God for human beings (philanthropia) is lauded in Psalm 52:1: "The steadfast love of God endures all the day"; Psalm 52:8: "I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever"; Romans 8:39: "Nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God"; 2 Corinthians 13:14: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all"; 1 John 4:9: "In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.” And so on. There are many instances of God’s love in Scripture. All of them are astounding and amazing when looked at through the lens of our human sinfulness and fallen nature. The question then arises within us:  “How could I still be loved so much, even after I __________?” (Fill in the blank with your current sin.)

Just the fact that we ask that question shows us how much we don’t know about God’s nature. In fact, I venture that we don’t know God because we don’t know how to think that big; our human consciousness simply isn’t capable of holding the meaning of that much love. But as much as we try to fit God into a box of our own making, thereby controlling God so she/he doesn’t get too big, too scary, too unmanageable, we simply cannot squeeze God into whatever shape we want God to be. God always escapes and eludes our grasping fingertips, blazing away into the starry sky to shine down upon our upturned faces like the Nativity star, leading us and the wise men ever onward into unfamiliar territory. And we, like those wise men (“wisdom people”) who left the safe borders of their own countries and traveled into parts unknown, have to find the courage to make the first, faltering steps toward the great Other that we have come to call “God.”

Remember our fill-the-blank question? Maybe we’re asking the wrong question. Maybe - instead of asking how God can still love us after all the awful things we do and say to each other every day, the questions we should be asking are these:

How am I called to be in the world, knowing that God loves me 

unconditionally?

What is the most loving and caring way I can live, knowing that God 

loves me this much?

Where can I give back to someone or something, knowing of God’s

great Love for me?

I invite you to recognize and celebrate God’s amazing Love for you by living one of these questions this month. And - I’d love it if you would share with me what happens when you do.

The Prayer of Adoration

Something wonderful and holy happened to me while I was in Hawaii for the annual synod assembly gathering that our synod, Pacifica, holds each year to allow pastors and other rostered leaders of the church to some together for conversation, collegiality, fellowship, and the business of the Lutheran church, which includes decision-making and resolutions, and many other church-wide concerns. Yes, the gathering of church leaders and delegates from the two states that comprise our synod and the business that we were about was certainly conducted with prayer before, during and after - there was holiness in that. And yes, the people chosen to attend took their task very seriously, and gave the business at hand their full attention, trusting in God to guide their hearts and decisions. This, too, was holiness in action, and it was wondrous to witness. But something unexpected happened, too. Something that took me by surprise, took my breath away, took me into a unexpected and very holy experience of God.

 
As you know, I love prayer. I love to pray, to read about prayer, teach prayer forms, practice and experiment with prayer. Prayer is holy! Talking to God is holy. Listening to God is holy. And experiencing God in nature is holy, too.

 
During the synod assembly on Oahu, all the attendees were offered different excursions for Thursday afternoon. Some people went to visit the plantation villages, others to Hanauma Bay to learn about the local marine life, some went to the Arizona Memorial or a Buddhist temple. My group went to climb a muddy, rocky, sometimes steep trail up to Manoa Falls, which is about a one mile hike each way through lush rainforest. Jurassic Park IV was busy filming on location, so we almost didn’t get to hike, but finally got through. Our group consisted of people of different shapes and sizes and degrees of fitness, so we hiked separately or in twos, depending upon one’s ability and speed. I ended up alone on the trail much of the time, which suited me well. A fine mist rained down the entire time, and the local bird life was talkative and exotic. There are wild pigs in the area (which are hunted with dogs on Wednesdays and Saturdays), but I saw none on my hike, luckily. To the right of the trail was the river, whose source was the waterfall, and this chuckled and coursed busily over boulders, shaded by giant ferns and vines twisting crazily up tree trunks, huge leaves four feet across billowing in the humidity. Fallen trees covered with moss and ferns lay across the trail - but above my head - supported that way by a mound of boulders on the farther side.

 
As I walked and climbed the shady trail, my senses drank in the beauty of that wild place: the cries of tropical birds, the greeny shine of geckos on tree trunks, the song of the river and rocks. Attaining the goal of the waterfall, I sat breathless on a rock by the pool and let the mist from the falls wash my face, arms, and legs. Others sat as I did, their hair wearing a halo of water droplets, their eyes fixed on the downward sweep of water, 100 ft. high. Alone on the way down the mountainside, the glorious mystery of God in creation worked its way into my heart, and tears mixed with rain on my face. Pausing by the river’s edge in a clump of bamboo while I gazed into a deep pool, I prayed the prayer of adoration.  
The prayer of adoration is not a special form of prayer, for all true prayer is saturated with adoration. It is the air in which the prayer breathes, the sea in which the prayer swims. In another sense, however, it is distinct from other kinds of prayer, for in adoration we enter the rarefied air of selfless devotion. We ask for nothing but to cherish God. We seek nothing but God’s exaltation. We see clearly God’s goodness. In the prayer of adoration, we love God for Godself, for God’s very being, for God’s radiant joy. When we are filled with absolute unselfish love for God and commune with God in those moments, our response is the most direct of all; this is the prayer of adoration. Adoration is the spontaneous yearning of the heart to worship, honor, magnify, and bless God.

How long I stood there adoring God, I cannot say. But something, maybe a mosquito buzzing in my ear, shook me alert to my surroundings again, and I bowed solemnly to the river, thanking God for the gift of this prayer. This is the finest, most holy time I experienced while on Hawaii at our synod assembly. It’s not something I will forget soon, if ever. Thank you, Risen Lord, for the reminder that you are at the center of all that exists, and that in your creation, I find your fingerprints everywhere and feel your breath upon my face. Amen.

Advent Labyrinth Walk

If you've never walked a labyrinth before, it's an amazing experience and one that you might look into if you are committed to your spiritual journey. For directions on how to walk a labyrinth, look under the tab on the home page and find "Labyrinth Walks." I'll try to keep upcoming labyrinth walk dates posted for you. In the meantime, enjoy these pictures of the labyrinth walk and prayer stations that I hosted during Advent 2013 at Our Redeemer Lutheran Church, Garden Grove, California.

 Prayer station: hand prayers

 Prayer station: Pondering (light candles for what you desire)

Prayer station: Wishing (writing to God)

The holy family at the labyrinth entrance.

Prayer station: Paper chain prayers

 A diffused halo around the center of the labyrinth.

Prayer station: Listing & releasing what takes our focus off Christ.

Lent Labyrinth Walks

The labyrinth center with a crucifix as focus point.

I just hosted a labyrinth walk with six new prayers stations during Holy Week in April 2014. 

Here are a few photos from some Lent labyrinth walks that have taken place at Our Redeemer Lutheran Church in Garden Grove, California. 

Prayer station: What Binds You?

Prayer station with nails.

Prayer station: Carry Your Cross

Prayer station: The Holiness of God

Prayer station: Christ's Crown of Thorns

Reflections for Lent

Experiencing the 13th Psalm in a New Way 

I was affected rather strongly by something I read recently. I've been reading through the Bible with a group of about twenty-five friends, and a particular psalm, Psalm 13, verses 5 and 6, have stayed with me, especially. Here they are:

"But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me."

Steadfast love. These two words jumped out at me in the verses, and I’ll explain why. First of all, my Lutheran (ELCA)Study Bible has a sideline of notes for the reader, and I always read them because there’s much to learn there. This is what I found: “The concept that most briefly and clearly sums up God’s character is ‘steadfast love,’ based on the Hebrew term chesed. This term describes the character of one who keeps promises, proves faithful, establishes justice, and defends the vulnerable” (pg. 860). Chesed is also commonly translated as “lovingkindness.” Chesed is central to Jewish ethics and theology, and it is considered to be a primary virtue in Jewish thinking. In fact, chesed as a virtue is so foundational that it is believed to contribute to the “repairing of the world” (Wikipedia). Steadfast love and lovingkindness; this is God’s promise for all of Creation, and we need to keep pinching ourselves as a reminder that this promise is for us – that we are the recipients of this Great Love, and that we can “repair the world” when we show chesed to one another and to those outside of our church family, too. I like that thought: that we can contribute to the ”repairing of the world.” In what ways does that phrase resonate within you? Repairing the world. Definitely not something we do by ourselves, is it? With the Holy Spirit's power and guiding force within us and fueled by God’s steadfast love, we can reach out with care and kindness to all those we encounter in our workplaces, neighborhoods, and church community, making a difference by being the loving hands and face of Christ in the world. Keep this close to your heart as a Lenten practice, perhaps. And I'll join you.

In Lenten reflection with you,
Lynne

Thoughts after reading Barbara Brown Taylor      

      I've been reading quite a bit of author Barbara Brown Taylor lately, and just finished Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith. After being a Episcopal priest for twenty years, Taylor leaves her position as rector of a rural church in Georgia to accept a chair in the religion department at Piedmont College. Her book details the journey she undertakes from seminary to the present using language that stirs the heart and enables one to feel within oneself her painful, personal self-discoveries. As she finds herself drowning in "compassionate fatigue" as a priest, she realizes that to leave the position she loves is the only way to save her life. Taylor allows us to see into her soul as she pours out upon the page all of her anguish, uncertainty, and struggle as she begins the transition from the congregational setting to the university campus.
      As a person in ministry, this book resonated with me deeply, for I can see all too clearly how we ministers can slip into feeling needed and indispensable in the church setting. We find ourselves as being the one who's in charge, tossing life preservers to sinners with authority, and standing in front of people each week who listen to our every word. It can be heady stuff. What's troublesome is when we believe that we are in control and no one else can measure up, that everything depends on us, that our way is the only way to "do church."
      I remember in seminary during my Pastoral Theology course that we read Greg Ogden's Unfinished Business: Returning the Ministry to the People of God (Zondervan, 2003), and how I was struck by how we function in church with an institutional mindset, which is an extremely counterproductive ministry model. Ministry should be about equipping the people; after all, this was the vision Jesus had for his disciples when he sent them out in small groups to preach, teach and heal. Servant leadership is the model that Ogden proposes, and we would do well to explore this model if it isn't in place in our churches today. It's certainly a healthier model than the traditional pyramid; the top-down style.
     It's all well and good to say that one model is better than another, but I remind myself that receiving a call from God to enter into formal ministry can wreck all kinds of havoc in one's heart and life, and all kinds of feelings of superiority can easily arise within during the training, seminary education, interviews, and candidacy processes; so much so that by the end of our preparations for ministry, we somehow have puffed ourselves up to such an extent that we feel entitled to be the one giving orders and in charge of saving sinners. How vain we are! Hopefully, new ministers are placed into loving (and forgiving!) congregations that gently knock these feelings of superiority out of them with the everyday trials of a minister's life: visits to the homebound, budget meetings about the leaking sanctuary roof, homeless people asking for rent money, and parishoners who don't like your sermon delivery style or the new banner behind the altar. But sometimes it just takes years of parish life, while God whittles and pares away at you all the while, and you find yourself somewhat lighter and leaner in soul, your egotist presumptions left somewhere behind you along the path. There comes a time when you no longer feel strong reactions kick you in the gut when someone is less than polite, when the battles you thought worthwhile ten years ago are now not worth a moment's consideration, when more often than not the first thought in your head is not, "How dare they," but "What would Jesus do in this situation?"
      So this is the journey, the spiritual journey that we all share, whether we are aware that we are on it or not. Life whittles away at us, paring us down to what matters most, and if you're a Christian, then it's Jesus Christ, and how to live your life as closely aligned to his as you can possibly get it. Hopefully, the more the ego gets rubbed away, the better to see the light of Christ shining from within. That's the hope and the prayer, anyway. May Christ walk with you on your journey of faith, now and always!

      I'll be picking up another of Barbara Brown Taylor's books soon, I know. I've already read When God Is Silent, and An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, and I highly recommend them both to you. To find out more about Taylor, visit her website at www.barbarabrowntaylor.com. You can find her books on Amazon.com and at many book stores.

Recently, a small group that I'm a part of took some time to practice lectio divina (sacred reading) using devotional materials instead of scripture. The following poem by John Masefield was my contribution to the gathering. It has stirred me deeply for years, and each time I ruminate on it, fresh revelations bubble up. I share it with you here. Take time after reading it at least three times through to find what images or words attract you. Stay with the words and images. Ask God what He's trying to tell you through them. Allow yourself to sink into your heart while you ponder if there is an invitation or challenge for you here. Whatever emotion or feelings arise, honor them. Don't rush the process; step into kairos time with the Holy One. Take time to thank God for whatever happened for you during the practice, then silently rest in His presence without thinking. Just soak in the message God gave you. Try it now.

O Christ who holds the open gate,

O Christ who drives the furrow straight,

O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter

Of holy white birds flying after,

Lo, all my heart’s field red and torn,

And Thou wilt bring the young green corn,

The young green corn divinely springing,

The young green corn forever singing;

And when the field is fresh and fair

Thy blessed feet shall glitter there,

And we will walk the weeded field,

And tell the golden harvest’s yield,

The corn that makes the holy bread

By which the soul of man is fed,

The holy bread, the food unpriced,

Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.

   

John Masefield (1878-1967)

A native of Herefordshire, England, he published three collections of ballads in 1902, 1903, and 1910; and The Everlasting Mercy, a conversion epic, from which the following lines are taken, in 1911. Masefield was appointed Poet Laureate in 1930.

If you're not familiar with lectio divina, refer to the blog post beneath this one where you'll find more information on the Christian practice including step-by-step instructions. Blessings on your journey!