Investing in 2018

For some people the turn of the new year is about resolutions.  I used to be one of those people.  Each year I would make a list of new year's resolutions. By mid- January,  I would admit defeat.  All of the resolutions had been broken and I would just go on aimlessly through the year.  Then, I discovered the idea of picking one word for a focus for the year  It is not perfect,  but 100% better for my personality than a list of resolutions.    It is a way to orient and re-orient myself to - (not a disappointing goal like exercising more) -  but to  a thought process that can carry me through the year.  I've been using this as a kind of spiritual discipline for several years.  Each new year is met with anticipation and a bit of anxiety about what the "word" might be. 

"So, what is your word this year, mom?" was the question posed by my daughter this weekend.  It pushed me toward that dreaded decision.  The first few years it was easy.  While I really like this discipline, for the last couple of years it has been harder.   What do I really want to focus on this year?  What will bring me back to my grounded center when I start to stray?  Where do I want to put my energy in  2018?

And so here it is -  INVEST - is my word for 2018.  I don't like it because it seems to have some kind of financial implications.  I don't mean it that way, but I haven't found a better word.   I considered some synonyms like "value" or "intentional" but they seemed more inclined toward simply thinking about something or someone.  Invest takes initiative.  It means action, not simply thinking about something or someone.  The question for 2018  is 'how will I invest my energy, my talents, my blessings this day?"  Everyday we are given 24 hours.  Each effort - each hour - each action is an investment, - but where, how, in whom?  Have I invested the minutes of my day in the most important people in my life?  Where could I invest more energy in order to do my part in building the kingdom of God?   These are the questions that I am excited to face in 2018.

On this new year's day, I pray that you will find a way to invest in the future and that God will guide you to a focus and a purpose for this year.

The Slow Work of God

Saunter is a word which has its origin in the Middle Ages.  When people were on pilgrimages to different holy places, and would pass through towns along the way, villagers would ask where they were going.  They would reply, "A la sainte terre,"  - to the Holy Land.  They became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers.  Thus,  a slower and more reflective pace has often been associated with a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Yesterday, we started our day at the top of Masada.  It is what remains of a vast palace fortress with an equally vast history.  Built by the slaves of King Herod, it is hard to fathom the amount of slow, back breaking work it took not only to build the walls but also to bring water to this high mountain plateau.  Historically, Masada was also the home to 960 Jewish Zealots who watched for over a year while the Roman legion slowly built a siege ramp, tower and battering ram in order to overtake them in 73 A.D.  Instead of being taken captive, this group of extremists chose to die by their own hand at Masada.  It is both an awe inspiring and somber place.  There was a lot to see and so some of our group went quickly from place to place and then hiked down the mountain side "snake path" to the bottom.  Others in our group took a slower more deliberate pace.

Our devotions for the day included this quote from Albert Palmer, "There are people who "hike" though life.  They measure life in terms of money and amusement, they rush along the trail of life feverishly seeking to make a dollar or gratify an appetite.  How much better to "saunter" along this trail of life to measure it in terms of beauty and love and friendship.  How much finer to take time to know and understand the men and women along the way, to stop a while and let the beauty of the sunset possess the soul, to listen to what the trees are saying and the songs of the birds, and to gather the fragrant little flowers that bloom all along the trail of life for those who have eyes to see!"

As I "sauntered" around Masada, I was struck by the idea that perhaps our God who "is a mighty fortress" is also more inclined to move slowly.  We expect instant results.  We want things to happen - now!  And yet our God is always at work, sometimes with quick results but more often in slow, inconceivable, invisible ways.  Whether we hike or saunter through life, there is also the slow work of God that is happening in us and around us.  I have often become impatient with the slow work of God.  I like quicker results.   Yet the older I get the more thankful I am that God also never stops working.   A trip like ours to the Holy Land can be an intense fast few days.  At the same time, the growth, the learning, the openness to new ideas are all part of the slow work of God that will continue for years to come.

When You Wish Upon A Star

“When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires 

Will come to you

If your heart is in your dream

No request is too extreme

When you wish upon a star

As dreamers do”

Dreaming for something to happen seems to be the activity of little girls or Tinker Bell’s Disney magic.   A trip to the Holy Land, however, is a wish that I made upon a star a long time ago.  My mother hoped to go and never made it.  She encouraged me to take a trip someday.  Ten years ago, I began to wonder if Trinity, the church I currently serve as pastor,  could make a trip happen.  In 2015, Kirk and I explored the possibility by attending Jerusalem University College for two weeks.  And this week, dreams are coming true.  Not just mine, hopefully, but also some of the dreams of my 34 traveling companions.  What an exciting time!

After leaving Iowa in the early morning hours on Tuesday,  a full day of travel,  another weary day of sightseeing on little sleep in a new time zone, and a third day of amazing experiences - I now take my rest in a kibbutz on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.  It is  reality.  It is a dream.  

It is also my hope and dream that this is more than a trip.  I pray that it will also be an unforgettable Lenten pilgrimage.  I prepared a devotional book to encourage reflections on this topic.   This quote from Henri Nouwen in some way summarizes my thoughts as we have begun our journey.

“When I trust deeply that today God is truly with me and holds me safe in a divine embrace, guiding every one of my steps I can let go of my anxious need to know how tomorrow will look, or what will happen next month or next year.  I can be fully where I am and pay attention to the many signs of God’s love within me and around me."

Tonight, after touring a kibbutz and eating a delicious fresh fish dinner served by the families who live here, several of us  gathered on the sandy shore of Galilee and looked into the dark night sky at the stars.  Where Jesus taught his disciples, we talked, laughed, told stories and shared about ourselves.  And under the stars, I understood.  Sometimes dreams become experiences.  Experiences became memories.  And memories become dreams again... And in it all, there are many signs of God's love within me and around me.

Rethinking Closure

For many years, I have been a proponent of closure.  To intentionally say good bye,  to cherish meaningful moments at the end of life. to create rituals marking transitions or new phases in life are important.   While I try to make closure on a regular basis, every few years I also set aside a larger amount of time to thoughtfully attend to some accumulated losses due to deaths or transitions in my life.  I want an opportunity to reflect on the people who have touched my life and gone on to be part of the saints in glory.  I need to learn from the successes and failures of the past few years so that I can grow and improve.  Even acknowledging that in positive changes there can be grief, helps me to process my feelings.  Each of those involve some measure of closure - a person, an event, a dream, a phase in life.    However, closure also seems to indicate that there is a clear end.  The dictionary says closure is the act or state of being closed, a conclusion, a feeling of finality or resolution.  The more I’ve thought about it,  the more I’ve wondered if that ever completely happens. 

University of Minnesota professor, Pauline Boss, says that a desire for closure comes from our “culture of mastery”, where we think that we need to be in charge of all our feelings and events that happen.  She has written a book about the many different ways that losses occur in life and was recently on NPR talking about ambiguous loss and the myth of closure.  She made some points that have stuck with me.  She said,  “I believe that “closure,” is a perfectly good word for real estate and business deals but ‘closure’ is a terrible word in human relationships. Once you've become attached to somebody, love them, care about them, when they're lost, you still care about them. It's different. It's a different dimension. But you can't just turn it off. Somehow in our society, we've decided, once someone is dead, you have to close the door. But we now know that people live with grief. They don't have to get over it. It's perfectly fine. I'm not talking about obsession, but just remembering... There is no such thing as closure. We have to live with loss, clear or ambiguous. And it's OK. It's OK to see people who are hurting and just to say something simple. “I'm so sorry.” You really don't have to say more than that.”
 
To recognize the degree to which all of us live every day with an element of grief seems essential for understanding the nature of relationships.  To grieve is not bad or wrong.  We don't somehow "get over it."  It just is.  And some days are better than others.   Relationships come and go in a variety of ways but there is also the remembering that goes with each one, no matter how they end up.  We honor our remembering by knowing that closure will never be complete.  We just keep growing, changing and living.  There is no end to the impact one life can make on another.  There is no end to the lessons learned from certain seasons in life.
 
As I’ve been rethinking closure, we “closed” on our Mason City home where we lived for 20 years and raised our 4 children.  Next week, I will “close” on the 80 acres of Minnesota land where my father spent his retirement years planting, pruning and harvest trees as well as gardening 14 acre by himself.  Even though these are real estate transactions, it has been helpful for me to recognize in these “closings” there is an element of remembering that will continue on.  Grief is a part of processing the life that we are given and I have been blessed by many wonderful people and memories.

Cleaning Up!

It’s sabbatical time again.  I have looked forward to this extended 8 week sabbath for quite a while. Since a sabbatical is intended for rest of the body, mind and spirit, I did just that my first week.  I read a little, rested a lot, and reflected on the beauty of God’s creation.  I’m fortunate to be in a place where the trees and water feed my soul and the evening sunsets are breathtaking.  

However, last week storms also came through northern Minnesota, uprooting trees, taking out power, and leaving debris everywhere. I have looked at all the fallen trees and hundreds of sticks and branches in my yard this week with resentment. How could my beautiful nature turn on me and leave such a mess!  I don’t want to have to do clean up while reconnecting with God.  

 But these trees have been teaching me a lesson about my spiritual life.  It is great to have more time in quiet for prayer, reading and reflection.  They are all important practices.  But spiritual renewal also comes with the harder work of clean-up - to be willing to take a tough look at the places where I am broken, splintered, and shallow - to  be honest about where I have dead branches or parts to be cut up and thrown on the burn pile - to accept the reality that the more I keep branching out the less energy is directed to my root system.  
Clean up was not in my sabbatical plan but it seems to have emerged as an important part of the process in order to reconnect with a sense of purpose, freedom and passion in Christ.

Psalm 51 is traditionally understood in the context of David’s confession to God after being convicted of his sins by the prophet Nathan. The prayer begins with a cry for forgiveness followed by a desire for a new beginning.  “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin” vs 2  Interestingly, the Hebrew word for iniquity means “to be bent out of shape,” perhaps like trees blown by the wind.  In being made right again with God, the psalmist acknowledges that the witness and sacrifice the Lord desires is not something we can bring as an offering but rather who we are in our human vulnerability.  "The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart."  vs 17 

Clean up is hard work - outside and inside.  Yet perhaps it is in self examination, confession and forgiveness that we find the greatest rest and renewal.

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.  Restore to me the joy of your salvation and sustain in me a willing spirit."  Psalm 51: 10,12

X Marks the Spot!

The maps from last month are now covered with many Xs.  In the last few weeks, I have been fortunate to stand in many treasured places.  I have walked along the streets of Jesus’ hometown of Capernaum.  I looked at layer upon layer of destroyed cities where Joshua once blew the horn and the walls came tumbling down.  I sat and listened to teachings on a hill side where Jesus may have taught his disciples.  I stood in the ruins of the prisons in Caesarea where the Apostle Paul was kept for two years. 

Barbara Brown Taylor in one of my favorite books says, “No one longs for what he or she already has, and yet the accumulated insight of those wise about the spiritual life suggests that the reason so many of us cannot see the red X that marks the spot is because we are standing on it. The treasure we seek requires no lengthy expedition, no expensive equipment, no superior aptitude or special company. All we lack is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need. The only thing missing is our consent to be where we are.”(from Altar on the World)

Today, I am in Iowa filled with many memories.  I have learned many things but perhaps one of the most important is that it is no coincidence that God chose the small narrow section of the world in Israel to birth a nation and a new people.  The geography, the agriculture, the never ending conflicts all teach a unique dependency on God.  The Holy Land is not a place for extravagance.  It was a place to learn to lift our eyes to the hills and know our help will come.  “My help comes from tom the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”  (Psalm 121) When Psalm 23 says, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”  It is not meant to deny our human tendency to seek more.  Rather as BBT suggests, all we lack is the willingness to imagine that we already have everything we need.  And so I stand on my own X, thankful for all the places I was fortunate to be but also realizing the most important part of any travel or life experience is how it shapes us in our daily lives.  I am so blessed to already have everything I need.   And so while I have had a few weeks of writing about the extraordinary, I hope to continue to find the extraordinary in the ordinary in this place where God has called me to be.

Overflowing Contradictions

Israel is a land of many inconsistencies.  There are high rugged mountains and fertile green valleys.  Dry barren wilderness intersects with the Jordan River.  Peaceful family communities live on the edge of violence and uncertainty.  A wide range of religious convictions are zealously followed while others complacently live in the culture shaped by the variances.

Today I am living my own set of conflicts.  I am filled to overflowing with information and drained of the ability to process.  I am excited by the experience and exhausted by all that it entails.  I am looking forward to being home and sad to leave.  The land of contradictions is within me as well as around me.  

After studying for 14 days, walking more than 60 miles, exploring 14 of Israel’s National Parks, visiting numerous sites, and experiencing a multitude of blessings, our time in the Holy Land is drawing to a close.  I had numerous questions when I came. What will it be like?  Will I be able to handle the physical changes and challenges?  How will we be making connections to the Bible and the maps? I have answers to those questions.  Now I have a whole new set.  How will I remember it all?  Where will I use it all?  What does this mean for the future? Regardless of the answers, I know that I have a multitude of memories to process. I also have a renewed appreciation for how the Bible and our faith is shaped by the land in which it happened.  It doesn’t make it any less miraculous and mysterious.  If anything, being here has given me more of a sense of just how amazing it is that in this small section of the universe God created a plan for redeeming the world.  The Bible is the same but I will read it differently.  I am the same and I am blessed to be changed by this experience.