Awakening

It happened ever so gently.
I closed my eyes in prayer.
The tall bearded monk prayed,
"Fill us with your Holy Spirit."
When I opened my eyes again
I entered a different world.
Nothing has been the same ever since.

Obsessed
Driven
Captured by the love of God
I stuff the gnawing hunger.

God says to me,
"Let it out!"
But how?
My eternal dilemma

Inspiration

I sat in the darkness
alone
and longing
for the presence of God
to come into the quiet.
God touched me gently
and whispered words I needed to hear.

The memory lingers
as I begin this day
waiting
for His touch once again.

Inspiration is an elusive thing.
It enters swiftly
silently
unannounced
then leaves again.

I've learned to keep a notebook handy
to capture those gentle moments of bliss
when I am my beloved's
and He is mine.

Surprising Grace

The pink polish chipped and looked gross.
So I took a long lunch break
and headed for Silver Nails.
A Vietnamese girl
with too many teeth in her friendly smile
began to work in earnest.

Ancient chants floated in the background
above the swirling bath waters.
The music touched my heart
carried me to a different place.

When was it that my heart had turned to stone?
Again?
How did this happen?
and why?

Walking in the Spirit is a gentle process
easily snuffed out
in this world of rigid concrete
and endless words.

But I am grateful for those moments of grace
that sweetly touch my heart
when I least expect it
and beckon me to a higher path.

Coming Home

Deep fried dill pickles on the menu
Corn breaded catfish with hushpuppies
Pickled okra on the buffet
Country music blaring in the knotty pine dining room
HOT outside
It's good to be back in Texas.

The Milwaukee Metaphor

It takes a while to travel with children.
One endures stops and starts
snacks and potty breaks.
By the time we reached Milwaukee coming home from Minneapolis
it was midnight.

We narrowed ourselves to one lane of traffic
snaking our way through road construction.
Suddenly a police car swooped in behind us and stopped
cutting us off from Forrest
and everyone else who was behind us.

We inched our way toward Milwaukee for a while
then sped on
frantically looking for signs
none of which pointed the way to Chicago.
Somewhere around the Milwaukee port
we exited
with Sadie wailing in the back of the van.

no gas station
no restroom in sight
in this neighborhood of small frame houses
asleep until morning.
Sadie tee-teed on someone's front lawn,
then climbed in the car
and fell fast asleep.

We finally found the detour
and with great vigilance
followed the signs
until they led us safely through the maze
and ultimately to home.

Through all the twirling around that dark night
we kept talking to Forrest on the cell phone
until he too finally landed beside us in the garage.

Forrest says this particular adventure
is a metaphor for Emi's life right now.
She's in the throes of a divorce
seeking divine guidance
and signs pointing the way
through the chaos
as we did that balmy night in Milwaukee.

Her life has taken an unexpected detour.
She's in the driver's seat
caring for her crying children
with aging parents in tow.

i think it's a metaphor for me as well
in guiding my church
and preparing for my year as moderator of the Presbytery.
There will be roadblocks
and unexpected detours.
God provides the signs to guide us
and calls us to be vigilant and mindful.
God will also lead us safely home.

In the end,
it's all about faith,
trusting God
enduring the discomfort
and knowing
deeply
that all is well
and all will be well.

Eugene Peterson

It was a first for me
hearing a man talk about his pregnancy.
But this man was no kook.
This was Eugene Peterson,
scholar par excellence
and gentle pastor.

The pregnancy lasted several years he told us
while he was in New York.
He planned to be a professor of Hebrew and Greek,
never thought he would be a pastor.
But he needed the money
and took a job
as an assistant pastor in White Plains, New York.

"While teaching the Revelation of John
I became pregnant," he told us.
"I imagined myself as John, exiled."
Before then pastor had been a flat word.
But John's pastoral identity worked itself into him
because John is the patron saint of pastors.
He began to see that the classroom
was too much excluded
and too tidy.

Weaving in and out of Revelation
he found his call.
"Write what you see," the angel said.
Writer and pastor were the same for John
like right foot and left foot.

Writing became a conversation
with Scripture and his congregation
listening
looking around
edging into his story.

He spoke of paying attention
and prayer
and metaphorically of sitting in the dark
with a flashlight in his teeth.

I was humbled to listen to this man of God
thrilled to learn of his love for John
who has always been my guy.
Now I eagerly await this memoir he writes
as he undergoes yet another pregnancy.

Farewell to the Exhibit Hall

He seemed wistful and a little sad
this Palestininan man
who had traveled to the General Assemblly to set up his wares in the exhibit hall.
Most of his things had been wrapped and carefully packed away when I walked by.
Business was slow in the exhibit hall on wednesday afternoon
everywhere but Cokesbury
where Presbyterians were looking to buy books.
Presbyterians are always looking to buy more books.

The Palestinian was selling gold crosses.
Embedded in them was ancient glass taken from archeological digs in Israel.
They were quite lovely
and at $230 each, a little pricey for my budget.

Presbyterians,
especially the ones who come to General Assembly,
are a frugal lot.
He might have had better luck
with the Episcopalians.

I'm sad to see the exhibit hall close.
Forrest and I would plop ourselves on a park style bench with hot coffee,
and sooner or later,
most everyone we knew here would pass by.

There was great people watching in the exhibit hall
and fresh exposure to interesting organizations.
It was a lovely diversion.

Beside Lake Harriet

The freedom to do something else
It's the best part if being an observer at General Assembly.
Since this is the land of 10,000 lakes
we decided to find one this morning
Lake Harriet
Smack dab near the middle of Minneapolis.
Forrest, Emilie and I sat on benches to read and write.
Emi, Kim, Collin and Sadie took a walk.

My soul needed the green
the water
the quiet
after the slam dunk committee meetings

A chalk scrawled message on the sidewalk told me what I needed to know.
In blue, child like letters beside my wooden bench
it said simply, "God is love."

God is indeed love.
God will help us find our way through the storm.

Kim's observation

Mostly lily white Presbyterians
thousands of us
were curdoned off to watch the fireworks along the Mississippi

On the other side of the ropes
stood and sat people of every creed, color and age
separated
uninvited
not welcomed to join our private party.

We enjoyed the evening
oblivious to all but ourselves.
It was unintentional
but a live metaphor of the American Protestant Church.

God is changing things
stirring us up.
The mountains are trembling.
I'm sticking close to Jesus.

The Mall of America

Huge!
An amusement park four stories tall in its belly
Dora and Jommy Neutron dispensing hugs
Noisy!
My grandchildren's delight.

Voices of Sophia and the Rev. Dr. Christine Smith

It changed her life
shattered her
this trip to Guatemala
that became the root of her call.

Re-imagine what it means to be human
from the eyes of those who are underprivileged.
It is hard and painful work
even for a lesbian feminist like her,
committed to bridge the great human divides.

Now she leads groups to Guatemala and Chiapas, Mexico.
"A mission trip?' they ask her.
Not exactly.
"We receive and receive and receive
until we're so uncomfortable we can't stand it."

Dr.Smith told us to clean up our vocabulary:
"Anytime we describe anyone as "other" or "stranger" we will remain just that to them....Who has the right to do that kind of naming?"

She thinks using the words "margin" and "center" continues a violent paradigm.
"To suggest that someone's identity is in those places is not true, and it is dangerous."

Dr. Smith stretched me, even inspired me
in a room full of people who wore multi-colored stoles
and sang the Sophia blssing.

It was nice.
They didn't seem so wild to me.
Either I am growing more mellow
or they are.

Water, Water Everywhere

It is after all the theme of this General Assembly.
John 7:38 says,
"Out of the believers heart shall flow rivers of living water."
We are bombarded with images of water at the convention center -
big screen projections of waterfalls,
lakes
sea shores.

Water pours from earthen pitchers in worship.
A well marks the entry of the prayer room.
A small fountain trickles inside.

Lovely blue/green "water" banners adorn the worship space
and the area where people walk the labyrinth.
Long banners of flowing water laced through the congregation from four directions during opening worship.

Soon after that we became a cloud of witnesses to General Assembly's first ever baptism.
Commissioners brought water samples from their home state to pour into the baptismal font.

Today we renewed our baptismal vows in worship.
Each of us took a translucent pebble from a plastic cup to remember it,
then told our neighbor, "Believe in your baptism!"
The children's choir sang, "Shall we gather at the river."

I get it.

These images that fill our senses come with a prayer and a responsibility -
to become life giving, living water to the world.

Gradye Parsons Devotional

It was the first time I had ever heard our stated clerk speak. He was succinct and to the point as he dealt with Luke 9:22-25, the Scripture about Jesus being asleeep in the boat. He said, "We're not what we used to be. We don't know who we will be. We are shook up in the storm. Where is your faith?"

His mantra for troubled times is this:
Get in the boat.
Go across the lake.
There will be a storm.
You will not die.

The Prayer Room

The volunteers I asked had no idea where it was.
the information desk sent us one place.
Turned out it had moved to anither.
Inside there are pine trees planted in pots
water trickling in a fountain
art displayed on easels and lining the walls
soft cushions on the floor and a rocking chair.

A quiet space
an easy place to allow God to hold us
and fill our longing souls.

What is it I must see in this experience?
How is God speaking?

Be still.
It is enough for now.

Washing the Feet - Dorothy Clark Brooks

The legs are a little chubby.
There's a wound by the left knee
and a scar on the left calf.
the toes are short,
open,
pointing to the one who serves her.

The outstretched strong hands hold a cloth
an invitation.

Will you allow me to serve you
in this deepkly personal way?

I ponder the question.
It is so much easier for me to serve than to receive.

Yes.

Yes.

Those scarred and wounded, vulnerable places within me
welcome your embrace.

The Stoles

Brightly colored rainbow stoles grab your attention whenever you enter the convention center in Minneapolis. They've been lovingly crocheted and knitted by men and women all over America and sent here. Now they adorn the necks and shoulders of More Light Presbyterians and their allies, a silent witness to the struggle for full inclusion of GLBT and all other persons in this denomination.

The More Light group asked for a thousand stoles for this General Assembly. Instead they received 1500. Now they're available free of charge in the exhibit hall to anyone whio is willing to wear one and show their solidarity.

Breakfast with Phyllis Tickle

The gray haired grandmiother with a kind face pointed us to our new future this morning over cheese souffles and roasted potatoes.
"It's already here," she says.
"The sun rises in the morning whether we care or not."
"By 9-11 it was already fully in place."

"What does it look like?" we wondered.
community instead of membership
radical, Trinitarian obedience
small groups loyal to one another for a season
no institution!
more interested in narrative than dogma.

The faith will grow and expand
but we must drop back and re-configure.
Then we shall find ancient treasures,
like realizing the frame surrounding the portrait of an uncle
is worth a fortune on eBay.

She quoted Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Cabnterbury
and left us with a vision of hope:
"We are here to serve the kingdom of God
and behold!
God is doing a new thing among us.

opening worship at the general assembly

It wasn't too hard to find the worship space.
Bagpipes heralded the location
here in Minneapolis at the sprawling, sparkling convention center.
Inside, a giant, feathery eagle danced and moved among us
gracefully blessing the crowd
and joining the praise to
"All Creatures of our God and King."
Dancing girls, paper mache animals and streamers threaded their way
down the aisles, and our our voices thundered the great hymn.

We sang and heard all manner of music this morning
a little something for everyone.
Our outgoing moderator challenged us
to come up with different ways of being community
besides one size fits all,and
besides the American political democracy system when it comes to discerning the voice of God.
We are old, he told us.
no surprise there.
but we have a responsibility to the people who are not in church.

Military chaplains got a standing ovation.
A massive choir of more than 300 voices in multi-colored robes
brought us to stillness with a tender anthem before the sermon.
Communion included salted rice crackers
for those who abstain from wheat.

A baby girl in a lovely silken dress was baptized,
a first ever event at General Assembly.

big screens, varied colored spotlights,ethnic touches,thousands of Presbyterians
alternated between moments of exhilaration and tediousness
it is our way after all.

One speaker prayed that a stream would flow out of here to nourish the church and the world.
May it be so, Lord. May it be so.