"Ash Wednesday"

Today is “Ash Wednesday”, and we will once again hear the call to repentance and reflection as the Lenten season begins.  It is a day like no other for it asks us to find a place of “aloneness” even though there are fellow worshipers surrounding us.  We place our broken and contrite hearts before God, hoping in a way that no one else will witness this.  We confess our sins in intentional and specific ways, from deep within, perhaps praying as well that no one will sense these things pouring from our hearts.  We admit that there is absolutely nothing that we can do on our own to “create” a pure heart or to “renew” a steadfast spirit within us.  Only the Creator can create and only the One who holds mercy in the palms of holy hands can renew a right spirit within us.  And so we bow down. We open up our broken and contrite heart and place it before God.  We speak those words of repentance that God asks of us (yet knew all along).  We humbly (and joyfully) receive a newly-created heart and renewed right spirit.   We become fit for the journey to Jerusalem with Jesus as we pray in earnest for a new sense of faithfulness and obedience and for the Holy Spirit to be ever-present in our lives.  We must become fit and recreated and renewed for we will next hear words of “follow me” and “take up my cross daily.”

In our worship services on this Ash Wednesday, we will be plunged into this “aloneness” and then asked to stand with others and come forward to receive the ashes.  We will feel the sensation of a cross being drawn on our forehead (and secretly pray that we will never lose that feeling).  And we will walk away in silence, wearing the symbol of the cross for all to see.

Dusty, dirty, and sooty….broken and contrite…our hearts were just that. Mercies showered upon each of us.  Forgiveness given.  Hearts being renewed and recreated.  God is preparing us to resolutely set our sights on Jerusalem with Jesus ... preparing us to stand firm and be ready to say “yes, I will follow you.”

"On This Day Before Ash Wednesday"

Neglected,

it rests on the corner,

visible to all,

yet ignored by most …

it has been empty

far too long.

This morning,

this day before 

Ash Wednesday,

the front of the building

has been painted 

a brilliant white

and the windows

on each side 

of the entrance door

are now adorned 

with new, royal blue awnings.

Yet the “For Sale” sign

is still posted,

weather-worn

from the years 

of begging 

and pleading

for someone to look…

just look and consider

the property’s value.

If one dares 

to look closer,

beyond the brilliant white paint

and the royal blue awnings,

the other sides 

of the building can be seen.

Three other sides …

a dingy beige

with peeling paint 

and windows broken

by those who think nothing

of doing damage 

to something that is not theirs.

The flat roof

can no longer withstand

the weight of

years of debris

or torrential rains

that only accumulate 

and puddle 

in its flatness.

The property is

overgrown with weeds

and littered by those things

that others have so carelessly

and thoughtlessly

thrown its way.

What are we to think

of an appealing façade

of fresh paint 

and new awnings?

What are we to think 

of neglect 

and damage … 

of brokenness 

and litter …

of weeds 

and debris

and puddles?

Perhaps this is exactly

what we will bring with us

tomorrow … 

on this day we call

Ash Wednesday.

We bring with us

freshly painted facades 

and new awnings,

hoping beyond hope 

that those around us

will not see the 

neglect and damage,

the brokenness and litter,

the weeds and shattered hearts.

The black soot 

marks our façade

with a cross …

and the ash 

falls onto our awnings.

The difficult admission 

that there are

other sides to be seen

are whispered in prayer

and are heard by the One 

who has clearly seen 

all four sides

of each of us.

This is our tomorrow.

Holy God,

we come to you 

in need of repair …

not in part,

but throughout 

our whole being.

Create in us

a newness in our days,

a wholeness and healing through you,

a purpose in your kingdom,

hope in your love

and a pure heart before you.

Amen.

"Sunday, I Realized"

Sunday, I realized that

the old hymns are more important

than some think.

I understood this

by looking at others as they sang

and by opening my own ears 

and heart and memories

as I joined them in the

recessional hymn.

I looked to my left and saw

a little girl across the aisle,

head bobbing and eyes twinkling

as she looked adoringly at her mother

and sang without 

the need of a hymnal,

“Oh victory in Jesus, 

my Saviour forever …”

She had heard the hymn before;

she had sung the refrain at other times,

perhaps in other churches,

no doubt with family.

Her face had

"My Saviour forever"

written all over it.

As the old hymn was sung

by the congregation,

I found myself opening my ears

and listening to my mother,

standing beside of me …

singing beside of me.

Her voice isn’t perfect

(well, neither is mine) 

but she brought sweet music 

to my ears. 

In a way, it was celebratory 

for she had been absence

from church for four weeks

with a winter’s illness

and now she was back!

I continued to sing

along with my mother beside of me,

the little girl across the aisle,

and the congregation that surrounded me.

I then "heard" 

my grandmother’s voice, 

sliding up and down the notes

as she so often did

with the old hymns.

As a child, I would giggle

when I would hear her sing,

running the familiar notes together.

It was a gift on Sunday

for me to hear her voice 

once again in my memories.

I miss her.

I will now admit

to sliding up and down 

a few notes during the singing

of the hymn,

in memory of her.

Sunday, when I sang, 

“I heard an old, old story

how a Saviour came from glory,

how he gave his life on Calvary,

to save someone like me”

I realized that it was because

of my mother and grandmother

and a childhood of the

teaching, preaching, singing and worship 

in this church,  

as well as the old hymns

sung by countless people

who have surrounded me

over the years

that I have heard the

“old, old story.”

Sunday, as I sang 

the final refrain

I was brought to tears

by the words,

“He loved me ere I knew him”

for I know, without a doubt,

that this is a truth 

in my life.

When I want assurance the most,

when I struggle to find

prayerful words or scriptures 

at the moment

when I so desperately need them,

old hymns find their way

into the urgency

of my searching

and I sing

“It is well with my soul.”

"A Blustery Winter's Day in the South"

On a winter’s day

in the place where

 I find myself living,

it is a rare day

when there is snow or ice …

but there can be, however,

a wind that drives the cold

through sweaters and

layers of clothing.

While most put on coats

and wrap scarves around

necks and mouths

and ears and noses…

while they tugged at their gloves

and plop hats on their heads

and dive into the blustery day

with heads down and eyes

looking only at the cement

and grumbling at the

wickedness of the wind,

I walk outside with

my head up, no coat,

car in sight,

and maybe an allowance

of a whispered “brrrrr”.

You see, I don’t want to

miss anything that a

blustery winter’s day

in the South

might offer to me.

With earmuffs on,

I would have missed

the soft, fluttering sounds

that curly bark on a tree

make in the wind.

With head down,

I would never have seen

an acorn

dance joyfully

across the walk …

bouncing this way

and that way.

If too concerned with

my hair or the “brrrrr”

of the moment,

I would not have

raised my head to see

the hawk soaring

in strong winds …

soaring in a way

that was much different

from his day before.

I would have missed it all

if my ears were covered

and my head was down

and my heart was

wrapped too tightly

to want to hear and see

what a blustery winter’s day

might gift to me.

In a windy winter’s day

I don’t want to miss

the rustling and dancing

and soaring of creation.

There is coffee waiting

and I will be warm soon enough!

"Us and Them ... TOGETHER!"

There are churches where both congregation and clergy feel a weariness where there should be excitement and worship and purpose ... churches who sense partitions, distancing one from another ... churches who speak and hear the words "Us" (clergy) and "Them" (parishioners) and "goats and sheep" (who both seem to stinketh at times but all are beloved by God?!).  This morning, my words are not only a "View From the Pew" as one of "Them" but a "Prayer From the Pew" for all who are "Us" and all who are "Them" and for all who truly desire to seek the Lord and live out God's will.  I pray for partitions to come down and praise, prayer and purpose to rise up together instead.

I am one of “them”
but not one of “those”
(you know, those stinky goats
and bleating sheep)
so I’m not sure
if there is a word
for the likes of me
other than
“beloved”
or “disciple”
or yes, at times
“wandering lamb.”

Neither am I one some call “us”
although I have been convinced
that we are all “us” in some way.

So, I’m looking for words
other than “them” or “us”
and looking for ways that
encourage “together” instead …
moving “them” and “us”
always forward,
ever yearning,
and forever God-ward.

O God, hear my (our) prayer.

"Baptized and Renamed"

He came from Nazareth in Galilee to the river Jordan.  The hem of his robe was dusty  and dirty from the journey.  He came to stand among them, not apart from them.  It is written that “the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem” had come to hear the words spoken by his cousin, John. The baptizing began.  He shuffled along with the pressing crowds.  Nothing set this man apart from those who were waiting to step into the murky waters of the river Jordan on that day.  He was one among the multitude of people.

He entered the cool, muddy waters, wading out to where his cousin stood.  Their eyes met.  John hesitated in quiet protest.  Perhaps Jesus leaned closer to him and whispered “Baptize me.  Let it be so now.”   He was baptized as were the others.  There was a peace and quietness under the water that would last for only a few moments … a quietness that was interrupted only by the water-muffled sounds of the throngs of people standing along the river’s edge.  Jesus came to the surface of the water and saw the heavens rip apart.  The Spirit of God descended like a dove and rested upon him and a voice from the heaven proclaimed, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

This moment of affirmation for Jesus at his baptism brought to light this belovedness and the holy delight in him that parted the heavens with breathtaking power yet settled upon him with the same gentleness of a dove.  This moment branded the name “Beloved” on his heart just as he would soon find himself walking among those who would shout other names at him and about him.  And this very moment placed the name “beloved child” on his lips as he shared ‘a new name’ with those
and for those he had come to walk among.

They shall call him “Immanuel”, which means “God with us.”  We have heard these very words during Advent.  THIS is the moment of clarity for us when the birth announcement of the Christ-child and the affirmation of Jesus’ baptism merge into one great Truth.  God IS with us.

And so, this morning I say to you … REMEMBER.  Remember your baptism on this day.  Hear these words and hold them as the dear treasures that they are.  You, too, have been renamed.  You are called “beloved child” by our God who loves us with a love that is beyond our greatest hopes.  Know this as a precious truth that flows over you like the waters of baptism and makes you gasp for air just a little at the thoughts of such unimaginable Love.   Remember, beloved child, remember!

(Prayer):

GOD of the torn heavens and of gentlenesses, of communal waters and of new names … through Jesus, you have washed us with the waters of your Love and said, “It is good.”  You have renamed each of us “beloved child.”  With the assurance of this name that we carry and in your soaking Love, give us hearts that want to share your Love with others. Give us opportunities this day and every day to walk alongside others and offer hope, saying, “And you shall be called beloved.”

Amen.

"A Prayer in the Newness of 2015 for a Clumsy Tuesday's Child"

There is always that moment when I must put the first word into my journal.  It is rarely on January 1st (that would be a bit of a forced word for me).  I recognize the word when it refuses to leave my thoughts and heart.  The first word, scribbled in my 2015 journal is GRACE.  Hours after the word "Grace" found a home in my journal, a prayer followed.

“Tuesday’s child is full of grace …
(sigh) God of Grace, you know
that this Tuesday’s child of yours
is not a very graceful one.
I am clumsy ... lacking grace,
clumsy in the giving of grace,
and even clumsy in recognizing
your moments of grace for me.
My family laughs at the thoughts of
‘full of grace’ and ‘anna’ woven
into the same sing-song saying.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace …
it is a family joke (sigh again).

Why, oh why, have you burned
this word GRACE
into my clumsy heart
in this new year?
Why is this small word the first
to be scribbled into a fresh journal?
Did you notice that my hand shook
as the letters formed the word?

God of Grace,
you who offer Grace
to me and for me,
help me bring closure
to the past year
in a grace-filled way,
giving to you
what I need not carry
into the new year.

God of Grace,
you who offer Grace
to me and for me,
help me to live into
this new year
not only as ‘Tuesday’s child’
but as your beloved child …
full of Grace …
no longer clumsy of heart.

God of Grace,
you who offer Grace
to me and for me,
teach me to live,
fully and completely, as
Tuesday's child, full of YOUR Grace.

Amen.