Photo by Enrique Hoyos on Pexels.com

With permission, I am sharing this beautiful piece, “The Feast You Spread Before Us.”  It struck me that, even now, when things (answers, masks, paper products…) seem scarce, we are called to be a people of extravagant grace.  We are called to be a a people who envision and share a feast — in and amidst — the seeming scarcity all around us.  It is, in fact, the practice of extravagant grace which might be the thing that binds us together through it all.  

The author is the Rev. Dr. Mark Richardson who serves as the Senior Minister of First United Methodist Church, Santa Barbara. The Rev. Richardson was my district mentor in my call to ministry process, and simply is … an overall wonderful human being.  🙂  I hope you will enjoy this piece as much as I have.

The Feast You Spread Before Us

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
~ Psalm 23:5 

This is the feast you spread before us, O God,
a sumptuous celebration of freedom in Christ,
sitting down at table not only with those we love,
and with all those who love us in return,
but with the very ones who trouble us.

This is the feast of Eucharist –
profound gratefulness for earth, bread, and breath,
as we dance with joy before the mystery of God,
the One who speaks hope into our troubled hearts,
the One who alone is able to soothe our weary souls.

This is the feast of holy love –
first tasted in a Gethsemane garden
then poured out on Calvary’s hill,
an inexhaustible love that knows no fear
and is undeterred by hate or malice.

This is the feast of surrender –
releasing the anxieties that plague us,
the resentments we nurse over time,
giving us hearts of gladness instead,
hallowing our lives in the sweetness of grace.

This is the gospel feast –
overflowing the small containers of our lives,
bathing us in the font of baptismal blessing,
anointing us with Holy Spirit wind and fire,
bidding us to live forgiven, loved and free.

This is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet –
where lion and lamb lie down together in peace,
where foes watch their bitterness melt away,
where there is neither weeping nor pain nor fear,
rather the sounds of love’s creation praising their God.

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson

Visit the Rev. Richardson’s blog for more:  https://dreamprayact.com

I’m going to just admit:  I may not know what day it is.  While I would like to say that it’s because of the sudden and significant change in my/our daily life rhythms: it isn’t.  I am seriously date challenged.  At any given moment, at any time of the year, I’m not confident that I know what day it is, or the date itself.  And?  If I send an invitation … I always tell my friends and colleagues to check it twice — because I just might have sent the incorrect date (even though I checked it twice before sending …).

I wish I could say otherwise.  It is why you might see me, at any given time, with three different calendars and a daily list.

I wish that I could tell you that I’m supremely organized by nature.  But, I’m not.  I only get to where I should be with a lot of effort, those three calendars and the daily list.

So, yeah, I may not know what day it is.

But?  I do know this … God is life-giving.  

That is not day, time, rhythm dependent.  God is life-giving even in the midst of the Coronavirus pandemic.  God is life-giving when the schools have closed; the freeways are eerily wide open; and when we are being asked to sew-at-home masks for medical workers.

God is life-giving.  

This deeply-theological-yet-everyday understanding of God has come up a number of times recently.  And it’s really helping me frame life right now.  To be honest?  This little phrase (my current mantra, if you will …) it’s giving me the hope of Christ.

Because even though it feels like everything is changing?  I keep coming back to this:

God is life-giving.  

People are scared.  People are anxious.  Some are angry.  Some are just numb – still processing and wondering how this all happened so fast.  And?  The one thing that I know how to do in times such as these is to bring people together just as Jesus did.  Jesus’ number one go-to method of healing and nurture; of teaching about God;  was to … GATHER PEOPLE TOGETHER … and we are banned from doing that very thing.  HA!

God is life-giving.  

Because? yeah, we may not be able to gather in the ways that we have been, but it’s not stopping the life-giving God in each of us from connecting or longing to connect.

My text feed is onfire!  I’ve FaceTimed more than I ever have; and I actually meant to (it wasn’t just a misdial on my phone!).  Social media platforms are being used in so many new ways by folks who prior to this? never even had a profile.  Families are eating meals together more than once a week.  Neighbors are chatting — at safe social distances.

God is life-giving.  

Our God-crafted, inborn need to commune with others; over a meal; in worship; in the classroom or at work; in the local park or playground or gym or class … may be stymied right now.  But everywhere, God’s life-giving longing is sprouting forth.

Take a look around you.  Seek to witness this fundamental, deeply-theological-yet-everyday understanding of God.

God is life-giving.  

And, may you be renewed by our life-giving God.

~ pastor melinda

This prayer is shared with permission from a wonderful resource ,“World in Prayer.”  

http://worldinprayer.org

 

From a distance the world looks blue and green 

And the snow capped mountains white

From a distance the ocean meets the stream 

And the eagle takes to flight* 

Holy One, during this time of social distancing and lockdowns due to the COVID-19 pandemic, remind us that we are still connected to one another. We pray for those impacted by travel bans, those unable to connect with loved ones, those who have insurance, those who do not, those who are getting treatment, and all those who cannot get a hospital bed. 

From a distance there is harmony 

And it echoes through the land It’s the voice of hope

It’s the voice of peace 

It’s the voice of every man 

Help us to be the Body of Christ that you call us to be in this moment. 

May we be your hands and feet right now, in neighborhoods, farms and small towns, hospitals and clinics, tribes and large cities as we work to safely feed each other, heal each other, look out for each other, and act as your instruments in this ailing world. 

Be with the very young, the school-age children as they watch this world around them. 

Guide the healers on each continent, in each country, in each city around the globe, and be with them and each of us as we struggle to navigate new things in new ways. Sustain the researchers, virologists, laboratories and medical transport teams. 

From a distance we all have enough

And no one is in need

And there are no guns, no bombs and no disease 

No hungry mouths to feed 

All economies around the world have been terribly affected over these past months. We pray for each of the ways it is impacting the small business owners, investors, our elderly, our homeless, the middle class, all of us in vastly varied ways. May we rebuild together without rank of who is worthiest, but, instead, guided by your light and filled with your love, stronger than we can imagine. 

From a distance we are instruments 

Marching in a common band Playing songs of hope

Playing songs of peace 

They are the songs of every man 

May we hear your songs of hope ringing from the balconies of Italy. May we hear your songs of a common band like the Lummi Nation in the US Pacific Northwest as they have planned for months to protect their members.  May we hear your songs of peace in the “caremongers” of Canada who out of kindness, not fear, have created online groups searching out need (#iso) and/or providing help (#offer). 

May we know that these are the songs of all of us, your beloved children. 

God is watching us

God is watching us

God is watching us from a distance

May God watch over us, and may we watch over one another, from a distance. 

Amen.

*Excerpts taken from the song, From a Distance (written by Julie Gold, sung by Bette Midler) 

What does the Lord require of you?  Is it different today than it was yesterday?

Or, the real question for me right now:  is it different during the COVID-19 pandemic?

Logistically, yes.  My clergy colleagues, church administrative staff all across the UMC connection … we are all trying to suss out:

• what do our churches and local communities need?
• how we do respond to this need?

There has not been one day, (hardly an hour tbh), when we haven’t been discussing the ubiquitous LIVESTREAM worship options or ZOOM or phone trees.  There hasn’t been one day when we haven’t had ideas about food and caring provisions.  There are number of needs, a ka-zillion options already and my head is spinning, I think.  So many options!

And as much as I appreciate all the options?  It’s a joy to see folks helping each other, offering ideas and plans!  I also just have to admit: I get overwhelmed by it all, too.  Because right now? my people-pleasing – my need to serve in my various roles and life – those instincts are on OVERDRIVE.  When that OVERDRIVE kicks in, it can be stymy me-us altogether.  It can stagnate the best of our abilities that would otherwise be helpful, nurturing, and just what is needed – this hour, this day.

So right now, I am turning to the prophet Micah’s ancient wisdom to answer the question, “what does the Lord require of you?”  which is:

“To do justice, and love kindness and walk humbly with your God.” 

For me this morning, that looked like:

• Sitting down at the table eating breakfast with my kiddos.  Lighting a candle.
• Reading a chapter in the book of Matthew.  Lighting another candle.  Getting to my yoga mat and practicing.
• Helping kiddos with schoolwork, including detestable things like working through word problems.
• Walking the dog and getting us all outside to get needed exercise and for me?  I just need to SEE and FEEL the outside world.

In the hours ahead, I will continue to work through how I can best serve the church and community and my family.  I will continue to sort through options.  But, for today, I am going to cut and paste these verses somewhere so I can return to them.

“To do justice, and love kindness and walk humbly with your God.” 

And I’m going to praise God with this yoga pose that helps me to get out of my head.

Urdjva Hastana (Upward Salute): a pose that teaches extension from the ground up, lengthens the side waist, strengthens arms and shoulders.

Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume that you know it all.  ~ Proverbs 3:5-6a (The Message)

These are difficult and delicate times that we are walking through together.  And? oddly enough, it’s not for the reasons that one would suspect, I think.  While the cancellations are disappointing; while the COVID-19 threat seems scary; while my patience is wearing thin of everyone AT HOME (and its ONLY DAY 3!); it’s really none of these that makes the hours tough.  It’s really none of these that are giving me trouble sleeping at night or some bouts of slight vertigo by day.

It’s the unknown.  

It’s the prevalent comments from our leaders … those supposedly IN the know (?) … that seem to always end with  “… from what we know thus far.”  Or start with “So far, from what we know about the virus …”

It’s the unknown.

And I just want to – we all just want to – know.  We are used to knowing.  We are so very, very capable of knowing.  If we don’t know an answer, one of us will seek it out, ask, work on it … until we have answer.  I mean, hello?  WIKIPEDIA.

In my daily practice of this thing called life, I work to turn to my trust over to my higher power, O God do you hear me?, and to take it step-by-ever-loving-step.  I work to follow Jesus (when I remember to stop losing my patience and just breathe), and be comfortable in all this unknown.  Make no mistake, though, it remains WORK for me.

In addition to the Proverbs verses above, I have verse three of the hymn “Just As I Am,” running through my head:

Just as I am, though tossed about
with many a conflict, many a doubt,
fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

This is real, friends.

And right now?  we are being called to two primary things, I trust:

1. Sitting in the unknown.  Working through our discomfort toward some form of peace in that space of the unknown.  Or let’s be honest?  Maybe we might not get to peace in the unknown … so, maybe we can just acknowledge that it’s hard.  And just allowing that to be where we are.
2. Helping others in safe, respectful ways to also just sit in the unknown space.  That might look like immediate help with food provisions, or sending a card, or calling someone on that awkward, outdated live phone line.  It might mean being a little more patient with yourself and your loved ones … today, tomorrow …

I am going to work on that first verse from Proverbs: “Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own.”  

I am going to work at the patience part.

I am going to work on being comfortable for this day, this hour … ok for just this moment – not knowing.

And I’ll get back to you on the next moment.

Because, yeah, this is real and this is work.

~ Pastor M.

Saint Patrick’s Breastplate, also known as The Deer’s Cry or The Lorica, is a traditional Celtic morning prayer of peace, protection, and power.  It is attributed to St. Patrick around the year 377, though exact authorship and date is unknown. It is “written as a hymn calling on Christ to surround the supplicant in all bodily directions and invokes God for protection against [all forms of evil.]”  A few verses of the longer, entire prayer are quite familiar to us today:

Christ be with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise, Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.  

There is something powerful to repetition, friends.  In some traditions, its power might be expressed in a mantra.  Or, its power could be felt in a sung repetitions such a Gregorian or Hindu chant.  The power in repeating the Lord’s name in this prayer helps me quite a lot.

Prayerful repetition is calming, soothing, reassuring. 

And right now?  We could all use a little calm, a little reassurance.

Do you have just ONE minute?  Try this:

• • Read the St. Patrick’s prayer excerpt.  Once, twice, three times.  Whatever you got.  Just do it:
    • Christ be with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise, Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me.  
  • Got one minute more?  Print it out, and put it by your bathroom mirror or sink, or bedside table.

 

Do you have FIVE minutes?  Try this:

• • Listen to a gorgeous, haunting sung version of the prayer.  It’s indescribably beautiful:   Click here for sung St. Patrick’s Prayer

 

Do you have 15 minutes?  Try this:

• • Do #2 above and then …  🙂
  • Try this simple, powerful asana: Tedasana: Mountain Pose. 
  • Remove your shoes.  Grab a mat or not.  Maybe light a candle.

Begin at the front of a mat/rug/whatever with feet together, or hip distant apart.  (Feet parallel to the sides of the mat)

Starting at the base of your body, think of yourself as a strong, steady mountain.  You are grounded into the earth through your feet and strong legs as you are ever lifting toward the sky through your sternum and rib cage.

Now, work to:

— Tuck your tail bone under and pelvic bone up

— Strengthen your thighs

— Place your shoulders down and wide, and your sternum up and out to the sky

— Bring your chin parallel to the earth and lower your ribs down.

As you ease into tadasana, continue to calmly check in with your pose, working from your base (grounded feet) up through your legs and thighs; your tail bone and pelvic bowl; your shoulders and ribs; your sternum and your chin.  Slowly and  gently continue check in with your tedasana — ever more, ever gently grounding yourself into the earth below and expanding yourself into the sky above.

Blessings.  I’m breathing, repeating and praying with you.

Peace –

Pastor M.

• I want to acknowledge my appreciation to Christians Practicing Yoga blogger:  Amy Dobson Secrist
• * “Saint Patrick’s Breastplate,” Philip Freeman; http://www.oxfordscholarship.com

Today is a day.  It is the first of many or a continuation for some of social distancing for the betterment of our entire community at large.  Schools are closed.  Corporate worship isn’t a thing.  Mid-week dinner church and small groups … not a thing.  Restaurant are closing.  Extra-curricular everything is cancelled.  I just learned that yoga studios are asked to close, too.  😦

Yep.  Today is a day!  Many of us now have our kiddos at home and we are finding ourselves (quite suddenly) in the role of homeschool lead teacher of a multi-grade classroom.

I am here to say:  YOU GOT THIS because WE GOT THIS.  🙂

Breathe and Scream as you need ! (not kidding) … and remember … you are not alone.  God is with us all – as parents and as children of God, ourselves.

Jesus is walking right next to me and you and our loved ones … and all in our communities. He never ever leaves our side.

Today IS a day!  So, here’s a super simple prayer to guide you through it.  Teach kiddos the response.  Use it today (OR any day that you might all be struggling a little … just.getting.along)

One:  Send your light and your truth.

All: Lead us, Jesus.

One: Help us to pray instead of fight.

All: Lead us, Jesus.

One: Make our home your home.

All: Lead us, Jesus.  Amen.

On our end?  We started our morning with a short devotion that closed in that prayer above.  Now before you think (well, yeah, you’re a PASTOR and your kids HAVE to do this  ….) Let me detail that a little for you.  We lit a candle, read the devotion and then?  had a fantastic bowl of 100% sugar cereal (because that was all that was left at Wal-Mart last night) and milk.  So, I will take the points for protein and not setting the little book aflame.  Those counts as wins, yes?

Peace be upon you and the sugar cereal, too,

Pastor M.

Loving and caring God,

we pray in hope—

hope that will sustain us in our trying times,

our lonely times, our doubting times.

Refresh us this morning and everyday with the living water

of your presence and love.

We lift our prayers of thanksgiving to you.

• We are grateful for the communication systems that connect our world with analyzed data to understand the nature of the COVID-19 pandemic. It is on our minds night and day.
• We are grateful for the common sense public health measures and proactive calls to action.

We lift our prayers of deep longing and heartache to you.

• We grieve for the families whose elders have been swept away by the virus. 
• Replace fear during increasing lockdowns with focus and quiet action.
• Help us in unforeseen ways to grow in our understanding of our connectedness. 
• Safeguard the emergency and health care teams and families exposed across the continents.
• We lift to you the many families and peoples affected by the world economy’s slow down, the closures, the freneticism, the anxiety that we feel everywhere we go.

We ask for your mercy and compassion in these times.

Sustain us, O God.

Sustain us this morning and everyday with the living water of your presence and love.

In Christ’s name, we pray,

Amen.

As a church leader, I spend my time spanning two worlds:  the church … and everywhere else.  And, just like everywhere else, in the church, we have our own special way of doing everything … trust me on this.  We have spoken and unspoken rules and lots of acronyms; we have judicial councils (AIYIYI) and legislative committees; we have church-specific teams, task forces, committees, and small groups.  We speak a particular language where “we prayerfully consider;” “we discern;” “we invite people to share their gifts in places of service.” We even have certain ways of eating together, often in large masses with lots of “covered dishes” and “jello surprises” — and lots of “understandings” about the church kitchen.  (by the way?  if anyone has seen the whereabouts of some 70+ forks?  please let me know.  ummm … that’s not a joke.)

We also have a church liturgical calendar by which we journey through the year (see what I mean?  In the church, we don’t just go day by day about our lives … we “journey” though the year together.)  Yes, we have a church calendar that we follow that has been set for us centuries ago.  Google it if you want to go down a very deeeeeepppppp rabbit hole.  For example?  While much of the “everywhere else” world I span is getting ready for May 4th (I’m seeking my “Rey” costume; she’s my alter-ego, for sure):

and Cinco de Mayo (margarita specials abound), according to the church calendar that I live in as well, we just completed Lent and we are firmly in the season of Easter.

During Lent, we spend our time pointedly focusing on the life and teaching of Jesus.  We read, listen and learn from our rabbi-Christ, Jesus, in earnest.  Our calendar, our work is set to focus on what little we have of him, so that we can we prepare for life without him.  We read a lot from the Gospels of the New Testament; we study and breathe the life and times and teachings and preachings of Jesus.  We spend time fasting and in deep prayer.  During Lent, we draw ourselves as closely as we can to Jesus; to reflect on his life and death and how it impacts ours.  And then?

TADA!  It’s Easter Sunday.  Christ is risen!  We celebrate the resurrection of Christ with a lot pomp, music (usually that means LOUD BRASS), butterflies, flowers, pretty dresses, bunnies, and eggs (yes, the latter two stem from a Christian coup of pagan symbolism, I know, and personally? I think that the Easter Bunny is BEYOND creepy, but that’s just me).

So now, here we are.  In Easter.  Living the hi-life with post-Jesus.

But this year, this season, this Easter?  The honest truth is that I’m having a hard time.  I’m struggling, and it took me awhile to see it.  It’s not like that much has changed.  I mean, this is what we do, year after year.  Lent – Holy Week – Easter!  And year after year, I have dutifully followed and journeyed in and through these seasons. Each Lent, I have spent time with Jesus and his disciples; I have given up or taken on something.  I have fasted and prayed; I have read; I have retreated in silence.  I have led retreats; ash’ed folks; re-staged the Last Supper and Good Friday; joined my Jewish brothers and sister at Passover Seder at temple.  I have reserved and welcomed a Donkey to campus on Palm Sunday.  I have waved palms; I have distributed palms; I have burnt palms.  Year after year.

But this year?  This Easter?  I find myself … a little lonely.

There, I said it. I’m lonely and I’m trying to figure out how to walk in this Easter season without Jesus. This Easter, I just can’t seem to get past Holy Saturday (the day after Jesus dies and before he is risen when no one knows WTF is going on).  It’s like I’m stuck in the “in-between.”  I can’t bear to walk to the tomb, and see it empty.  I’m not in the resurrection just yet.  I’m just here, waiting (stuck?) on Holy Saturday, because I can’t go on without Jesus.  I want to just go back and read the Gospels some more and then some more again.  I just want to sit at Jesus’ feet.  I want to walk with Jesus, learn and listen.

I don’t want to walk in the unknown, carve out the path, forge ahead.  I’m not ready to celebrate the resurrection.  In fact, maybe I don’t even know what that means.

I just want to be around Jesus. The One.

• Maybe it’s because the UMC is crashing in on itself?
• Maybe it’s because I miss my mom who died in between Easter services six years ago.
• Maybe it’s because I’m entering into an even deeper space on my spiritual journey just having completed my yoga teacher training and read the Yoga Sutra.
• Maybe it’s all of this and more.

To some extent, it doesn’t matter why I’m lonely and missing Jesus.  I just am.  When I’ve prayed in my loneliness, when I’ve lifted myself to God, when I’ve asked for God’s loving hold upon my heart … I have felt a release, a freedom and a clarity.

What has come to me in this release is two things.

• One: love thyself in thy loneliness.  It is natural, normal and understandable that Christians miss Jesus in Easter.  That just because the BIG church states that it’s time to celebrate in a post-Jesus, Spirit-infused world … doesn’t and shouldn’t dictate one’s journey.
• Two: i’ve been missing Jesus for a long, long time.  Those of us being the church and doing our messy best of living a life of discipleship together … have been missing Jesus for a long, long time.  We have been so focused on Easter and Pentecost … life without Jesus … the CHURCH as an institution (what ever will we do if we don’t have the UMC???) … that we have often totally and utterly left Jesus back there … in Lent.  Left him altogether.  And done our own thing.

I’ve been reading the a Book of Acts; the one that we are supposed to read in Easter; the post-Jesus book.  We read the Book of Acts so as to guide us all how to live and love without the Christ in our midst.  And, what I’m reading there portrays a community in deep transition as it forms anew; a people who are lost and yet, together, hungering and thirsting for life; a people who trust that God and Jesus will lead us … relying one another and a life lived in faith together.  It’s not a group of perfect people.  It’s not a unified, got-it-all-together community.  It’s a little messed up at times, confusing, lost … my guess is that the Apostles were a little lonely, too?

But then I read these chapters … and I am so deeply thankful for my brothers and sisters in the faith who have braved and endured this loneliness long before me.

³² Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. ³³ With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. ³⁴ There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. ³⁵ They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.  ~ Acts 4: 32-35

I’m thankful for the multitude of witness of the Holy in our midst — that we have inherited.   I am grateful to the church who saved these sacred writings and protected them from generation to generation so we could have them now to guide us along the path.

That being said, I also have to share that I don’t have a pithy answer or hashtag for this.  I don’t have wisdom to spout.  I don’t have a 3-point sermon, an organizational flowchart, or a calendar full of exciting programs to join.

I’ve got me. And I’m lonely.  The truth is, right now, in this time.  I just miss Jesus.

Jesus: where’d you go?