Contemplating Contemplation

Instead of fasting in some way during the Lenten season, I added a discipline. That discipline was attending liturgical services. I chose a local charismatic liturgical church that is part of the Anglican Mission in America. Over and over again, I was struck by the centeredness and closeness to God that I experienced, in large part due to the sensuousness of the services. The smell of the incense, the taste of real wine served as communion, the feel of oil on my head as I was being anointed and prayed for...

Having grown up in Evangelical traditions that largely focus on Scripture and less on history, tradition, and experience (to the point of being relatively suspicious of those aspects of faith), I was deeply impacted by the meaning in the rituals of liturgical worship. There is something about reciting creeds that were written and agreed upon by the Church centuries (and sometimes millenia) ago. I noticed that I had to draw more upon my theology training more often than I do in most other churches, engaging my mind to actually consider what it means to be part of "one holy, catholic Church." I had to think about God, "from whom no thing is hid." I thought more often about how I had sinned by "what we have done and what we have left undone."

I was moved by the focus on the Eucharist. This, a sacred ritual given to us by our Saviour, was savored and focused upon. It was especially moving to be served communion by one of my best friends. Recieving "the blood of Christ, the cup of salvation" from someone from whom I have experienced love, grace, and friendship the past 5 years often brought me to tears. I loved the slow and steady pace, the cadence of the liturgy, and frequent silences allowed me space to breathe, pray, and listen to God.

Then there was the experience of Palm Sunday, with an actual processional and palm leaves. Everything seemed so tangible and real, the feel of the palm as I waved it, the cold of the March air in my lungs as we stood outside, hearing the music as the cross passed us by. As we recited the liturgy and as a memeber of the congregation, I had to also say, "Crucify him," it gave me chills.

The 40 days culminated with a 4 hour (yes, 4 hour) Easter Vigil. A somber service led into a joyous celebration. Banners unfurled, reading Alleluia. Lilies, tulips, and other spring flowers were brought out on stage. The congregation rang bells, the pastor danced on stage in his robes, the people danced in the aisles with ribbons, as we all shook our bells in jingling unison, singing hymns of celebration. One of my favorites...

Open up the doors and let the music play
Let the streets resound with singing
Songs that bring Your hope
Songs that bring Your joy
Dancers who dance upon injustice

I sang until I was hoarse, hundreds of people gathered in the name of Jesus Christ, celebrating until past 11pm on a Saturday night, keeping vigil. Celebrating that while we are sinful, while we continue to hurt and exploit others, while we all act out of selfishness, while we all hurt and are blind to the hurt around us, Christ has conquered death to bring us hope and to deliever us from our failings and bring us to God. Alleleuia. May we live out our hope and peace more and more every day.

Glimmers of hope...

It has been a bleak and difficult time lately. I have more to do than humanly possible. There are classes that frustrate and leave me unfulfilled. Difficult and hurtful crappy situations permeate the lives of others whom I love. There are work relationships that make even simple tasks difficult. Clients have crises, push boundaries, or are doing good work that is still hard. My Granny is very very ill (she was in ICU on Monday until Tuesday morning) and in the hospital, while my parents, aunts, and uncles rally around her to combat her illness, unkind and neglectful hospital staff members, and their own struggles with the same brutal stomach flu. I am far away and feel helpless to support all of them.

My mother's church has the rumblings of discontent, some of it directed at her. In 10 days, my husband and I find out the fate of where we will be living next year, and then will have to face the losses associated with wherever we live. Marriage is rewarding but hard, and requires more work than not right now. I struggle with feelings of anxiety and depression amidst and seemingly endless winter that is more brutal and snow filled than I care to deal with.

But today, today was good. I am encouraged by how my family comes together during a time of crisis. How sacrificial and loving they all can be for the sake of a single member or the overall family. That my husband surprised me not only with a dozen roses, but with a card listing 100 reasons why he loves me, real reasons that one could only know after nearly 8 years together. Reasons that are idiosyncratic, intimate, and truthful. For friends who support and listen and laugh and love me, and let me do the same for them. Mentors and supervisors who invest in me and make time for supporting me amidst hard and difficult times. For making progress on dissertation and coming closer to closing a big chapter of my life in a way that feels rewarding and complete.

I am thankful for God, whose grace permeates even the darkest of places and the driest of deserts, and who knows of all types of suffering and sits well with me in it. A God who repeatedly welcomes me back, despite my continual betrayals and affairs. In this season of Lent, I am called to repentance and long long long for the joy of redemption and resurrection.

Curmudgeonly

This is how I'm feeling. When one feels this way the only proper response is to talk about for what I am thankful. These days I feel so negative, jilted, and focused on the negative.

I am thankful:

•For the beautiful roses that I bought for myself sitting on the sideboard. Every time I pass them, I literally stop to see/smell/feel/experience the roses. It’s a fleeting moment of centering that I so need right now.

•The closet in our office is organized and neat.

•The exercise of climbing a hill over and over and over only for the joy of zooming down it on a sled with my husband this evening. The cold body, wet pants, snow in the face, tingling skin feeling of winter fun.

•Having so many good choices about internship that I can say no to some sites, and still feel like next year is a gift, with or without an internship.

•Two cats named Zuzu and Pippin who snuggle in my lap.

•For the opportunity to feed, change, burp, and put a baby to bed this week.

•That I have the luxury of having someone else clean my home during this crazy time in my life.

•For having so many friends whom I love and who love me.

•For a husband who does the taxes. And laundry. And the dishes.

•For new people, old people, happy people, sad people, and all types of people who are in our lives.

•For clients who are discovering themselves and who let me weep, cry, laugh, pray, and walk on this journey with them.

•For rain.

•That I get to study something I absolutely am passionate about.

•I have plenty of food, a warm home, clothing, and books.

•I am beloved.

•Travel.

•A moment’s peace, a family who loves me incompletely but adequately, and an existence that feels purposeful.

•For the words of God, that I have accessible to me, and that can speak regardless of my lack of understanding of theology.

•For my body.

•For faith in the midst of doubt.

•For rest, sleep, and surrender.