Schedule, finally

Nov 19-20: Pack
Nov 19-20: Smiling Daughter's early birthday.
Nov 23-29: Thanksgiving in Little Rock
Nov 29: TN House closes (with God's grace); 2/3 of family goes home
Nov 29-Dec 3: Smiling Daughter in day care, Daddy in charge; Mama doing house-y things, like having heat installed.
Dec 3-5: Pack
Dec 6: Movers
Dec 7-11: Drive with Wonderful Husband, Smiling Daughter, Dog and Cat in Honda Accord to Little Rock.
Dec 12-23: Movers arrive, sometime. God willing.
Dec 24-27: Asheville!

We'll see how this actually goes, but that's the plan. Today. Of course, we've had plans before...

God snickers a little.

Reconviction

Watched Francis Chan's goodbye sermon today for ideas about what to say in mine.  Francis Chan is one of my go-to guys: wonderful preacher, serious man of God. What God remembers, that I never do, is that I don't get ideas from Chan. I get convicted. Every single time, because he is a serious man of God who is also a wonderful preacher, rather than the other way around.

Chan's sermon was really about wholeheartedly surrendering your life to God, trusting that the Bible is both true and the source of real life. He believes that, and lives it. So I didn't come away with a sermon idea -- I can't be Chan -- but I did remember how little I have been steeping and surrendering, and how little Wonderful Husband (WH) and I have engaged in all-out, knee-scraping prayer about this thing we're doing. While I have trusted in the strength of my marriage, his and my ability to sustain our family financially, and God's general care for us, I have not trusted that God has a purpose in this, a mission that WH and I have to fulfill.

As long as I do not trust that God has a purpose in this, a mission for our family, God will not entrust us with it. Until I am truly ready to join with my family in this -- not just in the practical pieces, but in God's purpose -- I am as faithless as any agnostic, any pagan, any of those whom Christ condemns.

Father, please forgive me for taking all of this into my own hands. Forgive me for spending more time online than on my knees. Forgive me for worrying so much about the form and details of my leaving and so little on your Kingdom plan. Forgive me for hanging my guts on the demon in your church instead of the angels of fire you have provided. You have that in hand. You have released me from leading to focus on following.

May I be a serious woman of God. Convict me over and over until I no longer depend upon my own strength and only on yours. May I trust my husband when he sees something greater, and help him trust that you will provide.

Don't give me words, Lord. Give me your heart.

Rose, cross, Trinity

Ink by Santa Barbara artist Pat Fish

Morphine

The internet is a pain-numbing drug.

"Sanctuary of the Soul" Release Party

Sanctuary of the Soul book release party

Saturday, September 10, 6:30-9 pm

“At the very heart of God is the passionate disposition to be in loving fellowship with you. . . . From the human side of this equation it is meditative prayer that ushers us into this divine-human fellowship.” Richard Foster, Sanctuary of the Soul

Richard Foster, bestselling author and founder of Renovaré, writes these words as one who has experienced what they describe. In his new book, Sanctuary of the Soul, he will beautifully guide you on this transformational Way toward deeper fellowship with God.

VIDEO: Richard Foster on his new book 

Weaving together quotes and stories from the lives of mothers and fathers of the faith as well as powerful encounters with God from his own life, Foster describes the riches of quieting your mind and heart in order to listen to and obey God more closely. The journey into meditative prayer is not easy, but it is essential. And, as Foster shows, it's possible, even in the midst of the noisy, often chaotic world we live in.

At perhaps his clearest, most practical best, Foster also provides the biblical teaching and step-by-step help you need to begin this prayer practice for yourself. Your soul can become a sanctuary where you fellowship with the very God of the universe, who knows you and loves you deeply.

Learn more about Sanctuary of the Soul at Campbell UCC's book release party, Sept. 10 at 6:30 pm in the Fireside Room.  You will participate in a conference call with Richard Foster, enjoy fellowship with others on Jesus’ Way, and practice this life-changing form of prayer together.

Campbell UCC (United Church of Christ) is located at 400 W. Campbell Ave., Campbell CA, and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/campbellucc.

Google map

Street preaching, sort of

Fast talking preacher at San Jose Gay Pride Festival worship, 22 August 2011.

See the video here.

Mourning Amy

Didn't know her. Had heard maybe 3 songs, ever. But I am mourning Amy Winehouse. The strange part is I cannot figure out why. I could cite the loss of a great talent or a boundary-breaker, but that's just what I've been reading in the reports. Apparently her vocal style and persistence opened up some pretty locked doors in latter-day British music. I learned that today reading only a few of the reports.

Personalities' public train wrecks bore me as a rule. So often they are the result of an egoistic life dogpaddling in its own narcissism: though the loss of a human soul is always tragic, the newsworthy details rarely are, in fact, newsworthy. We make it worse, having lost any sense of decorum, and follow such sad cases around like curs sniffing after cheap leather pants in the rain. We stay on the scent long enough to revel in our superiority, then look for someone else to sneer at. The inevitable outcome is predictable, the details rarely enlighten, and after awhile the simple fact of expensive brokenness is tedious.

So don't ask me why Amy's death draws me to pray for her, "may she find healing, Lord, in your presence."

Unless it's that I've known too many Amys.

Tomorrow, I'll pray for the ones I don't know -- the daughters and sons of friends who grieve and hope daily. But tonight, it's just about a girl with a broken soul, and the parents who have finally and truly lost her.

Prayer for the class

Lord, open the eyes and ears of my heart to take in what is holy and right from all that is said and done. Anoint Dr. Borden with your Holy Spirit, that Her word and life may proceed from his very being.  May we all participate in whatever you are doing here in and among us. Through the name of Jesus I pray.

Grace-full hospitality

Back in CO, this time for school.  One of my Renovare Institute cohort sisters, Josi, invited me to stay at a guest house/retreat center her family operates. She and her mother were there to meet me. They showed me the house and the grounds, and the stocked breakfast pantry, and the coffee machine. Others are staying here too, a bunch of them I've heard, but I wouldn't have known it but for sleeping bags in rooms and cake in the kitchen.

Then Josi invited me to her family's house for dinner. Both Downing House (where I'm staying) and Josi's home are full of the warmth of love shared with strangers.  Their college-age kids were affectionate and helpful, even with friends there with them. Her husband was welcoming, putting me immediately at my ease.

But more than that, every person in both houses knows Jesus and loves the Lord.  God's grace and mystery are simply part of the atmosphere and the conversation. Hospitality is a given, because Christ gives us open and welcoming hearts.

When we move, and have more space to share, I want to share it with others. I want to God to create that kind of welcoming place in our hearts that cannot help but extend to our home. I want our child(ren) to grow up loving Him and us and feeling absolutely connected and welcome in their home. I want guests to come and stay, to be part of the family, and for me not to feel peevish for privacy. I want Jesus to so inhabit our thoughts and actions and practices and schedule that He pours out through us, and that we become a safe and inspiring place for others.

It's going to be a good week.

Take your part in the Big Story

"SAM:  I know. It's all wrong. By rights, we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really matter. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was because so much bad happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing. This shadow, even darkness, must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something.

FRODO: What are we holding on to, Sam? [Sam takes Frodo, helps him to his feet, looks into his eyes and speaks with quiet conviction.] 

SAM: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."

Sam tells the Great Story, what we who are followers of Christ would call the "kingdom story." He gives Frodo hope. He points the way forward. He invites Frodo to understand his part in the story of the triumph of goodness over evil and life over death.

Evangelism is telling the story of God's ultimate victory over the darkness, in our world and in our own soul. Evangelism is inviting people to take their part in that big story.


Rick Richardson. Reimagining Evangelism: Inviting Friends on a Spiritual Journey (pp. 24-26). Kindle Edition.

Fill in the blanks

As we prepare to move out of town, out of state, and away from friends, my hardest challenge is discovering my next identity.  Now I'm disciple-pastor-wife-mother-friend-student-leader. But when I'm no longer the visionary leader of this congregation (which may have already happened without my noticing), "I" will be more like disciple-_______-wife-mother-friend-student-__________.  

I know what I'm being led to do in my next incarnation, so I have been trying descriptors on. Writer. Researcher. Fulltime student. Spiritual coach. Gardener. They all fit like a stiff new suit that needs tailoring, and a couple of them (writer, coach) are way too big.

I did take a step toward filling in the blanks: I registered a number of domain names, and wrote a note to the guy who bought my old one asking to buy it back.

Here's what I'm trying on; all are .org or .net: inthedust, dustoftherabbi, speedofthespirit, xncoach, xncoaching. And, simply elaneorourke.

That last one may be the only filled-in blank I have for awhile.

Redefining 'me'

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.  (John 15:13)

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that."  (James 4:13-15)

A fruitfly in the 23rd hour of life has a longer attention span than I do.

Writing 10 mins later, having read and responded to email and hopped links on the web.

Part of the problem is discipline, or lack thereof. Nothing new about that.  What is new is the expansive changes occurring around me, and the deep changes within me these must incur. Examples: I'm trying on "writer" in place of "pastor". "Tennessee" instead of "Bay Area". "Student" rather than "wage-earner". When we move, I will no longer have anywhere I have to be at any particular time.

There is so much to do to prepare, and so little that can be done. Looking at houses is concrete and future-directed; writing sermons feels like pouring energy into the past. I can't even think about never serving Eucharist again. Moving. Prepping the house for rental. Tying up loose ends in church. Getting in every last teaching opportunity I have. Not saying goodbye.

Just hope I'm laying down my life rather than getting all misty. Though mist would explain more.

 

Through the vestibule into the first circle

Today my church approved a budget without me in it.  Waiting for Virgil to arrive to provide some guidance.

A cilice for the conscience

A 23-inch cilice.
See also the crazy monk in DaVinci Code.

Bad blogger! Bad!

That's done. I wear the cilice today because I have once again come face to face with my own lack of discipline.Over the last year, I have been required to write a number of plans for daily living: a rule of life for the Renovare Institute, a mentoring plan for my DMin program, an exercise plan for my middle-aged body.  I've also been advised by DW, my second greatest advisor (next to Wonderful Husband), to write daily.  While there is overlap in each of these written promises, none is being accomplished full- or half-heartedly.  One of them even suggests I blog regularly; hence the public self-recrimination.

Bad blogger!  Okay, not quite done.

Now I've volunteered to take on a daily task of preparing devotionals. Don't know if I'll be accepted for the task, but if I do, I'll  need your prayers. And perhaps your cat o'nine tails.

In but not of

The annual gathering of local (NoCal & NV) UCC churches.
Six others of our church here.
Acquaintances of a decade or more all around.
A beautiful lagoon outside the hotel window.

Part of me is waving and greeting, talking plans and challenges and hopes, giving comfort, shooting the breeze. Some I'm really grateful to see. These are people I love whom I barely know, but have some connection through the Holy Spirit. Some are simply familiar faces from a dozen of annual encounters.

You ever seen one of those movies where the lead character walks through events unseen? He's returned to the past, or he's a ghost, and people walk right through him or around him: he is in that world but not of it.  That's the even bigger part of me: disinterested and uninterested in much of it. Or soaking in as much as I can of small bits of it, as it moves around me and through me. I'm the immaterial one, because I'm leaving.

Jesus isn't here with me, and I'm not sure whose fault that is.  He's here, of course, especially in my "in but not of"-ness, but I'm not sensing him in the material part.

Maybe my spirit is just preparing to leave the lagoon and the ocean and the acquaintances and my people. So the Lord and I are just going to keep moving about while my spirit gazes off into the distance.

Leaving church

The snowball is growing, and I'm leaving. Today I officially announced my resignation, with Wonderful Husband and Delightful Daughter at my side. Our leadership had called every active member, so it wasn't a surprise for anyone, but it was still weird.

My last preaching weekend is at the end of October. I have no idea yet what will happen Nov. 1st. I just know I won't be going into the office.

More on this later; just reflecting on the strangeness of it all.

Love being odd.

Celebrating Our Oddness

A Meditation by AW Tozer

 

A real Christian is an odd number anyway.

He feels supreme love for one whom he has never seen.

He talks familiarly everyday to someone he cannot see,

Expects to go to heaven on the virtue of another,

Empties himself in order that he might be full,

Admits he is wrong so he can be declared right,

Goes down in order to get up.

He is strongest when he is weakest,

Richest when he is poorest,

And happiest when he feels worst.

He dies so he can live,

Forsakes in order to have,

Gives away so he can keep,

See the invisible,

Hears the inaudible,

And knows that which passeth knowledge.

Japan

Though prayerfully sympathetic, I've had a hard time imagining the tsunami.  Not anymore.  Imagine watching every part of your life destroyed over an excruciatingly slow six minutes.

As thousands of bodies wash onto the shores of Japan, let us pray. Resolve to help.

Perhaps we can even let go of petty concerns, just for today.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/hottopics/detail?entry_id=84938&tsp=1

Shock and awe

Lord, I am awed and horrified by the events in Japan and Libya: the power of your creation and the power of Evil. While relief and resistance are ours to do, please, please care for the families of the dead, and the sick, and the dying, and soften the hearts of the Khaddafi family.

We are always at your mercy; we pray to always be in it.

She descended into vente

In my funk, I have resorted to candy coffee.  "Candy coffee," as a now-notorious ex termed it, is coffee with a large swaggle of cream and a coma-inducing measure of sugar.  Even when funky I cannot put cream and sugar in my coffee so I'm having faux candy coffee, the caffeinated equivalent of the sorbitol-carob version of your favorite chocolate truffle: whole milk and splenda.  I realize dozens, maybe even hundreds (dare I write "millions"?) of people drink it this way every day, but here in my usual place (Peets WG) I should be wearing dark glasses and a wig.  No doubt I will lose my membership in the Real Coffee Drinkers Club (membership by addiction only), and have to start frequenting poseur palaces where, after a short descent into Pike's Place purgatory, you will find me in line, muttering 8-word descriptions of a flaccid fluid poison masquerading as coffee. 

 

Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps one can tart up the respectable without stooping to being a disrespectable tart. And if you say I wasn't respectable to begin with, that only means the long tumble downward is picking up speed.