Tag Archives: St. Luke’s UMC OKC

Waking Up to ‘Yes’

15 Sunday Nov 2009

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It’s good to have another installment of Everyday God delivered.  As the old coffee commercial use to boast, it was good to the last drop.

I received.  I created.  Then I gave it all away.  The scariest part is the beginning, when I wait for ideas to come.  Then there’s the hard but satisfying labor of pulling and shaping what comes into an opening meditation (crumbs from my daily bread that set the table for the rest of the evening) and our main course, a contemplative prayer practice.  It’s interesting to note that what I once feared —  the delivery role of facilitator — is no longer scary.

But even (especially?) in a church setting, there is always some fly in the ointment.  The lovely women who attended Thursday evening’s practice session were wary of  this ‘contemplative’ label, fearful that it may have kept others from attending; yet, every one of them enjoyed the contemplative prayer experience.  After a little discussion, they asked if we could remove the ‘contemplative’ word from all future promotions.

“Sure.”  Sometimes saying ‘yes’ is easy.  So next month, I’ll just call it a women’s prayer circle.  Is this truth-in-advertising?  Who knows?  But the right answer seems to eliminate all scary words; “perfect love casts out fear.”

I received a scary but inviting word myself at the conclusion of  Thursday night’s prayer practice.   Linda, the Adult Education Coordinator at St. Luke’s, invited me to be a guest speaker at a Sunday morning Advent class.  The topic —  “Icons of Faith“.

Icon?  Now there’ an scary unusual word for my mixed-Protestant ears.  But I like the topic.  Why?  Maybe it’s all those Greek Orthodox and Catholic ancestors on my father’s side coming home to roost.  Or perhaps it was hearing the thought that laid behind the “Icons of Faith” label:  Each of the lessons (mine would fall second in the series) will allow attendants to receive four personal accounts; stories that tell how a speaker’s faith journey has been influenced by one modern ‘icon’ of faith — a saint, a monk, a priest, a mystic, a whatever.

Each speaker can choose to talk about whomever they wish, with the hope it will open other’s eyes on how the Advent story continues to play out in our own lifetime, in the lives of others whose cup of time we share.  The first speaker will focus on Mother Teresa.  I’m still pondering, but already I’ve a pretty good idea of who I will talk about.

My initial reaction was to play it safe.  I left Thursday night, without offering Linda much hope of an acceptance.  But I woke up Friday morning with ‘yes’.  And before I could change my mind, I dashed off an acceptance note to Linda.

The scariest word of all is ‘yes’.  Especially when it doesn’t become ‘no’ after that eye-opening morning cup of coffee.  And who but God knows what lays in front of that ‘yes…

Faith versus Words

05 Thursday Nov 2009

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I’ve been working on next week’s session of Everyday God, the monthly contemplative prayer class I facilitate at St. Luke’s.  The work is still mostly in my head, though some has made it to paper.  But with a week to go, it’s time to pour it all out and to distill what’s there.

 This Month - Scriptural Prayer with Mother Mary

Yet, in the memory of Mother Mary, I ponder at the fragility of words, what to say and leave unsaid.  Following the advice of a trusted friend, I try to rely less on my words and more on creating space for wonder and holy encounter.

Words don’t always write easily.  Yet, even when words come they are easily misunderstood.  And with misunderstanding, comes the temptation to pile on more words in an attempt to smudge the lines of perceived difference.

Part of the splendor and difficulty in writing is not being able to anticipate how others might interpret the thoughts laying underneath the written word.  That particular line of words may send you, the reader, to something or someone or somewhere from your past or present.  The words may open up pain.  They may bring joy.

That italicized line of words simply took me the old adage that actions speak louder than words.  Actions speak louder than words?  Maybe.  But even in action and inaction, there’s room for interpretation.  There’s opportunity for deception, even for the actor.

I cannot control how others perceive my actions or my inactions.  In the end, I simply do my best, and trust that all will be well.   I do my best and let it go.  I live in the mystery of difference and appreciate it for what it is, a opportnity to celebrate, a opporunity to learn, as long as I remain open to the mystery.

In the end, especially in my labor and delivery of  any work of words, I rely on faith rather than words, the Word rather than words.

I hope.

Flying Pants

18 Thursday Jun 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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“The waiting is the hardest part. ”  -Tom Petty

My weeks are full, with trips to see Dad, and the care and feed of my spiritual direction related activities, and just normal everyday life.   It’s mostly door number two that’s a time hog.  It leaves me no time to write… except for the spiritual formation class I’m developing for door number two.

Our small group of eight meets on Wednesday evenings.  It’s hard to explain the genesis of this group, except to say that the initial push came out of a need to recruit directees for my spiritual direction practicum.  The writing of lessons has been okay, more or less.  The hardest part has been the development side –the waiting for ideas to magically appear and come together.  I go to bed on Wednesday night, nearly clueless on what next week’s focus will be.  By Friday morning, I have a few ideas.  By Monday, I’m drafting which leaves Tuesday and Wednesday for editing and printing.  

I hate to write toward a deadline.    Yes.  I’m whining.  If I had my way, I would be ahead of the game, with several  lessons in ‘inventory’, a cushion to fall back on in case the creativity craters.   But no.  Instead, the ideas have come just-in-time.  This class, which I’ve called “Everyday God” runs off of  just-in-time inventory — I print the lesson and lead it on the same day.  Yikes.  I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

I feel like a kid again…flying by the seat of my pants…rather than a big kid who has all her ducks in a row.  I’m pretty sure that this was not what I signed up for.   But last week, driving home after the end of our second class, I experienced this moment of pure joy.   And out of nowhere, came this expression I’ve never said or heard anyone else say:   “Look Ma.  Look Pa.  I’m writing the bicycle of faith!”

Do you remember how hard it was to learn how to ride a bike once the training wheels came off?  You want to be a big kid, but you fear you’re not ready to fly solo.  Then somehow, your parents convince you to give it a go.  And at first you’re excited.  But then you realize you have no idea what this is going to feel like.  But you muscle up some courage to climb up on the seat and start pumping your feet as your dad cheers you on.

It’s not a pretty sight–at best, you look a little drunk, and at  worst, you find youself a crash victim on the sidewalk with a few scrapes and bruises.   But with some experience, something clicks and you begin to get your sense of balance.  And you are so excited because you are flying by the seat of your pants.  And the wind is blowing through your hair and caressing your face, and you are so proud of yourself, and you look back to make sure your daddy is still watching and… ker-plunk.  Darn for that pride and wanting to see someone cheer you on. 

Developing this class has been just like learning to ride a bicycle.  I’m in the wobbly stage right now, but so far no falls.  But each week offers a new test of faith… a different patch of road to explore.  And I don’t know the lay of the land, so a fall may be just around the corner.  And just three weeks into this, I’m sort of ready to park the bicycle.   But don’t misunderstood.  I’m giving it all I have — but I won’t be at all disappointed if the group decides to fold by the middle of July.  In fact, I’m sorta counting on their summer doldrums to kick in.  

Meanwhile, it’s one day at a time and one ride at a time.   I’m trying hard to keep my eyes on the road, trying hard not to look back.  But its Thursday.  Which means I’m waiting for manna from heaven.   

Still waiting.  Hey, anyone up there listenting?