Uncategorized — Page 21

Sunday at Knox

April 12, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Michelle at “Graceful” and LL at “Seedlings in Stone” today:

We sat in the back row yesterday. Something I never do, accustomed as I am to the front row for so many years. Visiting churches since my retirement has been such an interesting experience, and this one we’ve been to about three times now – it’s our favorite so far. Only problem? It’s about 115 miles from our home and that makes for a pretty rough commute.

This is the church our middle daughter’s family has found in their wanderings of late, the one they now call home and where she is serving as a newly elected elder. Four years ago, it was in the throes of imminent death, having shrunk to fewer than 30 people. Then, in a last gasp of Holy Spirit power, they called a new pastor. Matt is a young, calm, careful, intelligent, committed man who has built a small staff consisting mostly of interns from the nearby seminary. And he’s a man whose wife is as smart and dedicated as he is and who sings (and plays the penny whistle!) for the worship team.

Yesterday, there were forty children down front for the children’s sermon and about 170 adults leaning in to hear. The young woman who leads worship chose music with a Celtic bent and the service was marked by meaningful liturgy coupled with a relaxed and family-friendly atmosphere. After some opening announcements and the passing of the peace, the worship began with an a cappella quartet singing, “What Wondrous Love Is This?” and then we all joined in as the opening hymn began….“Come, O Spirit, dwell among us, come with resurrection power…” I was in tears by the second line.

The church is an A-frame, slightly 60’s in flavor, and this week they had a huge, shimmering purple satin drape on the cross. Every member of the up-front leadership (pastor/preacher/worship leader) wore a shade of purple to mark the season of Lent, even though they were casually dressed. Nothing was said, but those of us who appreciate such thoughtfulness were blessed by it, drawn by this careful, quiet attention to detail into a fuller and richer experience of worship.

In our previous visits, we have enjoyed Matt’s preaching very much indeed – but this week, the pastoral intern was given the pulpit. A former IVP editor, graduate of Regent and current student at Fuller, Kristie did a stunning job with a text I have seldom heard preached: Ezekiel’s vision in chapter 37.

I am grateful for and blessed by any good, thoughtful, careful preaching – anywhere, anytime. But I must admit, I am especially glad to hear such preaching in a female voice. Maybe because I don’t hear it very often, maybe because I know how hard it is to preach, maybe because I’m just plain grateful to God for raising up a generation of women who can proclaim the gospel with power and precision and love – love for the Word, both written and Living, and love for the church.

She noted Gerald Sittser’s magnificent book from 15 years ago – “A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows through Loss” (still one of the best things out there for helping people grapple with suffering and the sovereignty of God) at the beginning and end of her message – doing this former homiletics TA’s heart good – always appreciate good use of inclusio. In between, she exegeted and applied the text very well indeed. She preached it!

The offertory was a song newly created by the worship leader and sung so well by the team. And the time of community prayer was lovely, as it has been each time we’ve participated in worship here. Sharing of praise and petition is encouraged and skillfully guided by the leader – we’ve seen several different staff members do this well – everyone responds liturgically and then a closing prayer of ‘summation’ is offered on behalf of us all. Several of the churches we’ve visited this year have done sharing and prayer in this way and we have been moved by it each time.

When I offered thanks and praise to each member of the leadership team following the service, their response to me was almost identical: “We have such a good time here, we love working together and we love creating a service that flows together thematically.” This is a gift to the body that is breathtakingly precious – and rare. We were privileged to experience it, to see and hear and sing and say words of hope and promise and genuine worship in a part of Christ’s body that is healthy and growing, in every sense of the word.

The gift I brought to Monday from Sunday’s experience was a precious one for me right now – hope. Hope from the word as it was powerfully preached and hope from the entirety of the worship experience: a burst of joyful, grateful hope for the future of the church of Jesus Christ in this time, this culture. God is not finished building the body, Christ has not abandoned the Bride. So I gladly move into this new week, cradling hope in my heart, confident that the work of new creation continues and thrives….maybe even in me.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

5 Minute Friday: If you met me…

April 8, 2011 By Diana

If you met me…

you’d see that my hair is whiter than my teeth,

my face speaks volumes about my life,

my size is somewhat smaller than it has been for the past 40 or so years,

my personality can come across as either

a.) warm and welcoming or

b.) more than slightly intimidating.

What you would probably not see, at least at first glance is…

I battle insecurities up the yin-yang

I wish I were both more and less than I am – more centered in my identity in Jesus, more open to adventure, more certain about who I am at this stage of my life;

less guided and girded by oughts and shoulds, less critical of myself (and others sometimes), less bothered by what others think of me.

I hope you would see that I am happy beyond words to meet you and to hear your story and to share pieces of my own. I hope you would feel welcome, respected, valued.

And I think you’ll see even less of me six months from now.

STOP

As always, joining with the lovely Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama for her wonderful and thoughtful 5 minute assignments each and every Friday:

Take a deep breath. You made it. It’s Friday.
Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s write in shades of real and true and unscripted.
Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Go leave some comment props for the five minuter who linked up before you.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Pruning…

April 7, 2011 By Diana

Joining up with L.L. Barkat at seedlingsinstone today,

even though it’s Wednesday and NOT Monday.

It’s been that kind of week.

And also with Suzannah at somuchshoutingsomuchlaughter

We lost an old friend recently – a 60 year old oak tree toppled over into our driveway two weeks ago. Just like that, down on the ground.

So we hired our friendly neighborhood tree-trimming guy to come in and make it into firewood – and at the same time, open up our driveway again.

While he was at it, we thought… why not clean up a lot of stuff around this wonderful yard of ours, trees and shrubs that have long needed thinning, chopping, even removal here and there?

So…he and his crew and all their very large, very noisy equipment have been hanging around our house for the better part of this week – cleaning, sorting, hauling, pureeing, grinding out stumps. It’s been a busy, noisy place.

And all of it has caused me to think about the whole idea of pruning. Heard a sermon on it a couple of weeks ago – a good sermon, in which we were reminded that God is the one who prunes. It’s not up to us to prune one another – much as we might be tempted to do so. Ouch. My natural tendency is SO geared toward pointing those shears in someone else’s direction.

The idea of pruning comes from that whole crazy chapter in John where Jesus tells us (over and over again) that we’ve got to be connected to the vine. Abide. Remain. Stay deeply and securely connected to the source of life. Allow the full and free flow of the nourishing sap that can only come to us from the deeply-rooted love of our Savior.

And part of abiding means that we will be pruned. For way too many years I thought that meant suffering enormous loss of some kind, giving up the things or people we loved – in essence turning God-the vineyard-keeper into a mean-spirited monster.

But think for a minute about what happens when we prune a plant: we look for the suckers, the crooked branches, the non-productive stems and we cut them away. Why? Because we want to see beauty. We want to see fruitfulness, full blooms, lovely shapes, strong and supple limbs, impervious to the winds and the water.

That’s what God’s pruning is about. Yes, all of us will suffer in this life. But it won’t be at the direct hand of God, teaching us ‘a lesson’ of some sort. I no longer believe that pruning is about suffering for suffering’s sake. Try this idea and let it roll around in your heart for a while: pruning helps to reveal the beauty inside of us, the shape of Jesus in us, the fruit of the Spirit, the sturdiness of a planted faith. Pruning is a gift of grace, a preparation for what comes next, a shaping and forming kind of work.

It may initially feel somewhat painful – like the pain that comes from using our bodies to work hard, to exercise, to stretch. It may involve the dawning realization that there are things in our lives that have to go – appointments, commitments, busyness of different kinds. It will definitely mean setting priorities, learning what our ‘yeses’ truly are so that we can say ‘no’ when we need to say ‘no.’

And that is so hard to do, isn’t it? Listening to the Spirit’s nudge, carving out small oases of time to sit in God’s presence, asking for eyes to see the presence of the holy in the very ordinary details of our days – all of that means pruning away some good things to make room for the ‘better part.’

So, as the trimming crew moves into the final phase of their work tomorrow, I want to remember that this is good work. Pruning is a good thing, a helpful thing. A cleaning-up, clearing-out, shaping and beautifying thing. Do your work in me, Lord God. Prune what needs pruning and shape me more and more into the image of your son.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

The Sunday/Monday Thing – in which I do not go to church at all…

April 7, 2011 By Diana

Joining up with Michelle this time, over at “Graceful,” one of my favorite new discoveries as I sift through literally hundreds of blogs – who knew? There is an entire world out there, filled with interesting people, good writers and photographers, lovers of words and the Word. So…here’s what I did this weekend:

I am a number one daughter from a moderately conservative church-going, Bible-believing family. I am the wife of a number one son from a moderately conservative, church-going, Bible-believing family, the mother of three grown children, all of whom attend church at least semi-regularly and the grandmother to 8, all of whom have grown up (or are presently growing up!) in church-going families.

But this last Sunday, there was no church for me.

My husband had a birthday at the end of March and our children came up with a brilliant idea for a birthday gift: a kitchen garden. Something we have never really had and now – in our early retirement – seemed to us like a great idea. Thankfully, my husband remembers things like watering new plants and seems to enjoy getting his hands dirty. Me, on the other hand? Not so much. But…I’m willing to learn and I’m more than willing to harvest!

Plans were made for a weekend in mid-March to do this work, but the rains that soaked California for much of the month made that date completely unworkable. So we checked the weather forecast, found a window between storms and agreed that Sunday, April 3 was going to work the best for the most of us. We’re talking 15 people here, so scheduling anything is often a minor miracle.

And of course, it rained on Saturday. Not all bad, because the ground was damp enough to work with but not wet enough to consider planting rice. We have this long narrow lot because of all kinds of interesting easements and our house is fairly close to our neighbors to the south. The side yard there is narrow – and until about 3 years ago – was almost entirely composed of large squares of pebbled concrete. When we did a kitchen remodel, we yanked some of those squares out and planted some sea lavender and penstemon, added a small bird bath and garden art and gave ourselves a pleasant view from our new kitchen windows.

An ideal spot for veggies and herbs, right?

Yes!

So…here’s what it looked like before we started:

And here’s what it looked like about midway through: (Can you believe it? They even brought tomato cages, a bean teepee and all the equipment to install a drip irrigation system with a timer! I think maybe they know me too well!!)

And here’s what it looked like at the end of a long, fruitful (pun intended) day.

Everyone worked well together, I kept the food and cold drinks coming (and watched the one-year-old) and we had a great time together. We ate a simple supper, thanked God for the food and the family and the joy of good work and celebrated my husband’s birth with his favorite – lemon meringue pies, made by our middle daughter.

It wasn’t church – and it was. In the best sense of that term – community, thanksgiving, the work of our hands – all of it offered to the God who gave us each other.

“Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Colossians 3:14-17

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Comments on Courage

April 7, 2011 By Diana

This small story illustrates courage better than almost anything else I can think of today. I learned so much from my kids as they grew up (and continue to do so as they move through adulthood) and this lesson has stuck with me, even heartened me when I’ve had my own scary demons to conquer.

She stood there, shivering. At the end of a line of fidgety 4-year-olds, I watched her long slender body literally shake from fear. Arms pulled tightly against her body, hands clasped in front of her chest, she was dripping wet from the nearby shower. It was the height of summer in the east San Gabriel Valley, so the air was more than warm. But I knew she was cold as ice on the inside.

I sat in the bleachers of the high school swimming pool with my toddler boy while my girls took their swimming lessons. Elder daughter loved the water, jumped in heartily and was already swimming laps. Younger daughter lived another reality altogether. The water mystified and terrified her. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she faced down her fears. Slowly, she moved forward in the line and I could see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Silently, I prayed: “Lord, have mercy on this, your small daughter. Help her to move through her fear and find the joy that waits as she discovers that water can be her friend, even her refuge in this hot summer sun. Guard her fierce heart as she readies herself, Lord. Still her and steel her by your grace!”

As she neared the lip of the pool, the trembling slowly increased. Thankfully, the young teacher was sensitive and kind, offering encouragement with words and open arms. And off she went – jumping into the abyss of her deepest fears. Gasping as she surfaced, she turned to find my eyes in the stands. “See, Mom,” she seemed to say. “I am a brave girl.” Yes indeed, my darling daughter – you are a very brave girl indeed.

Joining with Elizabeth today at http://www.elizabethfoss.com/reallearning/2011/04/small-steps-together-encourage.html with some reflections on courage

Filed Under: Uncategorized

5 Minute Friday: A few of my favorite things…

April 1, 2011 By Diana

Linking up with the very tired by oh-so-blessed Gypsy Mama again this week. How I love this woman’s blog! As always, 5 minutes on the clock of unedited thoughts on the topic at hand – this week? A few of my favorite things…

GO:

With the opening disclaimer that my absolute favorite things in all the world aren’t things at all, but rather people and experiences – I will submit the following list, restricted – for the purposes of this exercise – to actual things:

My Macintosh laptop computer, graciously given to me at my retirement by the church I served for 14 years

My books – every last one of them – and there are way too many to count (though I am culling a bit as I move out of my office at the church s-l-o-w-l-y in this new year). Tops on that list are anything by Eugene Peterson/Frederick Buechner/Madeleine L’Engle (except that novel about David!)/Barbara Brown Taylor/Walter Brueggeman/Marilynne Robinson and too many others to count

Anything created for me by my grandchildren – from photographs to primitive drawings

The 100 year old oak tree in our front yard

The 60-70 year old ginko tree in our side yard

The view out my bedroom windows (all right, I’ll admit – that’s not a thing, either!)

Our home – love it, love it

My daughter’s wonderful artwork

Photographs of all those I love more than life – and there are a whole lotta those, too!

STOP

Pictures added later:

The oak tree – recently “laced” to prevent breakage and toppling after losing a wonderful old friend in another part of the yard.

A little bit of the gingko outside our bedroom

a peek at the house we’ve loved and welcomed so many to since 1997

All of us as of August of last year – such gifts these dear ones are!

Filed Under: Uncategorized

At Sixes and Sevens…

March 31, 2011 By Diana

I sit here tonight wondering. Where am I headed next?

The thing about moving from a highly structured life to a pretty unstructured one is this strange feeling of being unmoored.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy the feeling. In fact, I’m beginning to think I’m enjoying it just a little too much.

I like having fewer commitments/responsibilities/appointments.

I like having more discretionary time.

I like being around my husband all day – and all night.

I like being at home more – we’ve worked long and hard on this place and we love it.

I like having the freedom to help our kids with their kids.

I like this sense of shrugging off a heavy coat that had become more burdensome than I knew.

But….

I feel the need to find the ground again,

to be more centered in myself and in the Lord.

So, what am I going to do about that?

Lent seems like a good time to wonder – and to wander a bit. It is a wilderness time, after all. A time of intentional slowing, of purposeful giving, of paying attention.

And during this particular Lent, about 80% of that ‘paying attention’ has been happening online. Even though this blog has been open for a number of years, I am a rank beginner at it. So I’ve been checking out a whole lotta bloggin’ out there in cyberspace. Some of it is even providing me with helpful tips about how to be more technically savvy, how to write blog-style more effectively. And one of those blogs led me to a new book I’ll begin reading soon – @stickyJesus: how to live out your faith online.

I’m doing some Bible reading online, too. Trying to follow the historical guide provided by the good folks at Life Church, the largest church in our denomination, located in Oklahoma. It’s interesting reading the Word on my computer.

And my husband and I are following a Lenten devotional guide I discovered online. And reading it while using a beautiful candlelit Lenten labyrinth I purchased from another blogger’s son.

So, the internet is where I’m doing a lot of my wondering right now. Wondering if there is room in blog-land for an older woman’s voice, an older pastor’s voice. Some of my discoveries in the last few days have given me hope that maybe, just maybe, there may be a door for me.

In the meantime…I wait. I pay attention. I wonder:

is there more for me to do, Lord?

is there more for me to be?

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Red Writing Hood: Pink with Red Sprinkles

March 25, 2011 By Diana

The assignment this week is to respond to a picture, fiction or non-fiction, in 600 words. The picture? A scrumptious looking donut, one of many, slathered with pink frosting, dotted with red sprinkles:

“Well, of course,” she said sweetly. “Talk to you later.” The phone slammed into the cradle as Amy’s frustration broke through the facade. If only her boss had any kind of clue what real life looked like. If only he had the slightest inkling of what her life was like. If only she herself had the chutzpah to tell him what her own reality felt like at this moment.

One more assignment. One more level of responsibility. One more series of decisions to be made. Decisions that could mean the difference between pink slips or green lights for people she cared about. Decisions that had her literally tied up in knots just about 24/7. Decisions that felt impossible to make. Amy felt as if she was drowning.

She looked at the piles of paper spread across her desk and wondered to herself how she had gotten to this point. But she knew. She knew she was good at what she did. She knew that she was capable, competent and oh-so-anxious to please, to be seen in a favorable light, to be perceived as the go-to gal, the one who would pick up the pieces, the clean-up batter for the boss. But this?

She hadn’t really bargained for this when she took the job. Promotions? Yes, ma’am. That will do nicely. Approval? Of course, please – and lots of it. Acceptance? Uh-huh – Amy’s middle name. But…maybe…just maybe…you could be too good a worker. Is that possible? Could you make yourself so useful that you became indispensable? So malleable that you were perceived to be a different person than you really were?

Is this what she had worked so hard to become? The person who was given the task of firing people? Could all her hard work, role-playing and nice-girl stick-to-itiveness have come to this?

It was just too much. She could not deal. Swiveling her chair away from the mess on her desk, she stood up and strode purposefully out of the office. Tunneling her way down through the building via the high-speed elevator, she emerged on the street level and walked quickly to the corner.

The smell hit her as soon as she rounded the building. Ah, yes! That delicious, heart-warming reminder that everything and anything could be resolved with the ingestion of a soft, warm doughnut. What kind today? she wondered. What wonder-working circle of sugar and fat could she choose for today’s agony?

And there it was. Right smack dab in the middle of the case. A lovely, softly melting cake doughnut. Perfectly frosted, and flourished with bright sprinkles. And it was pink – just like she was. Because underneath all that competence, underneath all that hard-working, load-bearing, look-at-me-I’m-superwoman exterior was a soft and shy little girl who simply loved pink.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she bought that lovely thing, took it outside in the fresh air with a cup of hot tea and she savored. She savored every single bite. After all, when the feelings rise up and bite you – the best remedy in the world is to stuff them with something divinely good to eat. The quickest, surest way to relief from the bite was to bite back.

Tomorrow, she’d deal with the decisions. Today, she was eating that doughnut.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Remarkable Faith: Reflections on a Funeral…

March 25, 2011 By Diana

I met her the summer before I was married. I was 20 years old and she was a couple of years older, married to one of my soon-to-be husband’s best friends. She was, in many ways, everything I was not: a black-haired, vivacious, flashing-eyed fashion plate. She was also deeply kind and a lot of fun and we hit it off almost immediately. As she and her husband went through our wedding reception line six months later, we laughingly said to each other, “Well, I guess we’ll see you in Africa!”

And that’s exactly what we did. Both couples sailed across the Atlantic on a freighter (different ships) to live and teach in central Africa as short-term missionaries. We lived there for two years and were stationed 500 miles apart. Getting together was the highlight of our school holidays – and we got to ride a steam train overnight to do it. She and I shared a deep commitment to Jesus, a healthy pleasure in the joys of married life and a wacky sense of humor. She was a good cook and taught me a lot. I learned to sew and taught her a little.

When we were back in the states, we lived about 90 minutes apart for nearly 30 years. And we got together with some regularity. As our families grew, we spent New Year’s Eve and Day together for many years and even camped together a few times. It was a deep friendship, based on a shared story at a critical time in our lives, and I valued it more than almost any other relationship I had.

Then came the phone call. “Are you sitting down? I have stage 4 breast cancer and we don’t know what we’re going to do…” The four of us went away for the weekend, prayed together and she made the decision to try an alternative approach in lieu of the recommended medical treatment. She was gifted with about a 14 month remission in which she gave praise to God, speaking at women’s gatherings all around her hometown.

At this point in my own life, I graduated from seminary and began a part-time pastoral role in our home church. She and I celebrated together with notes and phone calls and occasional visits. Then she invited us to come to a college not far from our home to see her son in a play. She stood in the back the whole performance and when I asked her why, she said, “My back hurts.”

And I knew. And she knew that I knew. But. She wasn’t ready to move from the place of hope and healing she had enjoyed for a little over a year and she didn’t want anyone around her who had any doubts about the outcome. So…she pretty much cut me out of her life. I sent notes. I called her husband to see how she was doing. I followed from a distance. And it hurt. It hurt so much.

I received a call to serve a church over two hundred miles away from her and agonized about how we could maintain contact with her failing health. In early November, her husband called and said that she had come to realize that her life was coming to an end and she wanted to meet with a few people she had cut off – could I come and see her the following Saturday? Oh, yes. I most definitely could.

But. On that Thursday morning, her husband called to say simply, “She’s gone.” And I was more grief stricken than I had ever been in my life. Oh my, the pain of that loss! I was asked to give the eulogy at her funeral – something I felt honored to do. The service was filled with loving comments from so many people! The young women’s group at their church who came and gave her manicures and massages during those last few months. Friends of short and long term who spoke of her strong faith and her sweet spirit.

My words? I tried to share something of the woman I had known and loved all those years. In the turmoil at the beginning of this last journey, she had shared with me that one of her greatest fears about dying was that no one would remember her. Now that I could speak to – and I did, loudly and clearly. My sweet, brave friend will always be remembered by everyone who knew her. It’s been 14 years since she died, and occasionally, the tears still flow when I think about her. In those 14 years, I’ve been privileged to plan and lead many memorial and graveside services – each one a gift and a rich experience of worship and remembrance. But that one, that one stands out. The friend of my heart, the friend of my youth, my dear, deep friend in Jesus is gone – and she is still missed.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

5 Minute Friday: Waking Up…

March 25, 2011 By Diana

Joining the Gypsy Mama’s Friday group once again this week, with 5 minutes of unedited writing on this week’s topic: Waking Up…

I am most definitely NOT a morning person. Never have been, never will be. My clock runs so very differently from many – I like to be up late; I like to sleep in. But there was a stretch of time – during one of my several past lives (and yes, I’ve lived long enough to have several of those…) when early morning was one of my favorite times.

For seven years, (4 years of which I was a seminary student – but that’s from another life!) I ran a small (very small) floral business out of my garage. Started with daughter #1’s wedding and ended with daughter #2’s. At that time we lived in an eastern suburb of LA and to gather flowers for any given project, I needed to drive to the downtown area of that sprawling megalopolis and visit the Flower Mart.

There is no place on earth quite like the Los Angeles flower market. Stretching about 2 long city blocks in each direction, it is a bustling hub of activity from about 2:00 a.m. til noon. And it smells fantastic! If I had a wedding or a party to do, I’d set my alarm for 5:00 and head out as the sun first began to peek over the eastern hills, tooling down the Pasadena freeway and pulling into the multi-level lot.

There must be at least 200 different vendors – selling everything from the common (carnations/roses/greens) to the extraordinarily exotic (orchids/protea/wildflowers). I loved it! Picking out colors and textures, sizes and shapes, stocking up on supplies at the upstairs supermarket-of-all-things-floral. That was one time in my life that I didn’t mind waking up early, although I’ve got to be honest here….I don’t miss it one little bit.

STOP.

Wow – five minutes is not very long, is it? Would love to have told you that this vast array of beauty was a primary source of inspiration and God-breathing for me – but…no time. :>)

I have no digital pictures from that time of my life (let’s see it was TWENTY FOUR years ago that I began that life!), but here are a couple of recent shots of the kinds of flowers I loved to work with – top to bottom: red ginger; coral bouvardia; tuberose (white) and pink ginger; purple dendrobium orchids.