Sunday morning Mother Amanda offered me the chance to feed her spirit. It was just the two of us at the Rite 1 service and after she offered me the bread of life, she asked me to serve her.
A moment earlier she had reminded me of the amazing acceptance of living water by the Samaritan woman. It was offered she accepted. Mother Amanda pondered how many times we miss opportunities of God offering us living water.
I almost missed the message to offer her the bread of life and the cup of salvation. I thought she wanted me to eat more of the bread, but my ears caught the message and I took the plate not the bread. I offered the bread to her.
Monday morning, I headed to work with Gregory Porter voice guiding me out of Lansdale. The title song was a reminder to keep my senses alert for some liquid spirit and to clap my hands.
I posted this mandala inspired by the God is still speaking campaign of the UCC on my etsy shop.
I read a passage from the Bible at my church.
So as I read a passage accredited to Paul, I wished the lectionary did not stop at the end of the Bible. How cool would it be to read a passage by St. Ignatius or Buechner or St. Catherine or Lamott. God is still speaking, let us read the inspired words to the masses.
Margaret spotted this when we were in the midst of this and knew it had my name all over it, even though I do not own a piece of red clothing.
I am a man of hope and uncertainty. I don't know how it will turn out, but I believe it will, some how some way. I see this as a perfect shirt for a few occasions. The red and the message make it perfect for the first two.
Pentecost Sunday ~ my very first thought when I read it. I believe God has transformed my life but doubt God's existence on a regular basis. Being 100% certain either way is likely a state m mind will avoid.
A Philadelphia Phillies game ~ even in the best years I do believe they can win, but I doubt if they will win all their games. Only sane approach to being fan.
And maybe I will break it out when I celebrate my birthday. I believe I will have many more to celebrate but doubt they will go on for ever and can only hope to make it to the next one.
Mirror Image of the beginning of our Fruits of the Spirit Project
I am humbled by the faith that occurs when a client contacts us to create a piece of art. If it is their one word message, they have asked us to create something intimate. What about nine one word messages? What if they were inspired to celebrate the fruits of the spirit. No matter the size of a project, before we can begin, colors must be chosen. When our friends commissioned the fruits of the spirit, we had them over for pizza. Then we headed into our studios. Orange was good. Green was less favored. Then they left, but trusting us to take their hope for beautiful words, the colors they dig, and the faith that humbles us ~
The Fruits of the Spirit words by Wayne Stratz Backgrounds by Maragret Almon Borders by Suzanne Halstead
This morning I had breakfast under this Blue Dolphin with a flickr friend, who I had never seen or talked to before, but two people who watch each others lives unfold in photos, do get to know each other. Check out her photos.
I had featured some of the projects I had made from left-overs of spelling out Faithfulness on flickr. My friend asked about my use of "scraps" of faithfulness. I agreed with her that scraps is a strange word that brings up positive and negative images. What exactly are the scraps of faithfulness? So I was thinking about it and a Bible passage came to mind.
Matthew 15 from The Message:
21-22From there Jesus took a trip to Tyre and Sidon. They had hardly arrived when a Canaanite woman came down from the hills and pleaded, "Mercy, Master, Son of David! My daughter is cruelly afflicted by an evil spirit."
23Jesus ignored her. The disciples came and complained, "Now she's bothering us. Would you please take care of her? She's driving us crazy."
24Jesus refused, telling them, "I've got my hands full dealing with the lost sheep of Israel."
25Then the woman came back to Jesus, went to her knees, and begged. "Master, help me."
26He said, "It's not right to take bread out of children's mouths and throw it to dogs."
27She was quick: "You're right, Master, but beggar dogs do get scraps from the master's table."
28Jesus gave in. "Oh, woman, your faith is something else. What you want is what you get!" Right then her daughter became well.
So maybe my scrap projects are for those of us who will put God to the test. To stretch the limits of God's love to even us, who don't really deserve it, but if we ask and id we refuse to accept anything but love, we can see the healing power of God.
I have three ideas of what to do with the scraps I have from the faithfulness project. This is the second that I started, and the first to be finished (hint: Mosaic Woman will be completing the first one). Can't say this is a totally jazzed up stratozpheric endeavor since some Bruce Springsteen was playing at one point. What I can say is this, I love this piece and holding it up to the light was a splendid moment in time. At this point it is in the suncatcher section of our etsy shop.
By the way, this was done in an entirely new way. I took 14 pieces of scrap glass, drew my favored shape on it, cut them out, and then did the doodling. Normally when I do a stratozpheric doodle of glass, I cut out pattern pieces which I glue to glass, then doodle. And if you are interested in how it emerged, I started with the big piece, and swirled around with smaller and smaller pieces.
The two e-mails that greeted me at work were not unexpected, pancreatic cancer will finally take the last breath of those we care for, and services follow...
My friend lasted three times as long as he was given, but in the end he was placed in a comfortable chair and as his family read psalms and encouraged him to let go... he took that last breath. I am in awe of this journey, this end.
Without Ipod to provide jazz, I grab the one CD that is in the car. Finally the last track arrives and the music reaches into my heart... Regina Carter, thank you.
I'll be seeing you, my friend, as I stand by the red and the yellow day lilies you loved so much. The ones I divided to thin out of your wife's garden soon after I heard the news. I transported them from your garden to the school and then students, who cared, placed them into the ground. I will let everyone know to stop by next summer when they bloom. I will remember you.
Last night I read about flowers at graves. The author wondered why.
I say this... they remind us of the beauty in those who have left us.
Enjoyable reading came home one day with M. She brought A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. Now I have seen three movies based on his writing but have not touched one of his books, so I went for it. The premise is this--- that on New Year's Eve four people head to a favorite spot in England for suicidal leapers. They unexpectedly meet each other on the roof top and leave the roof together. Hope that they will survive to the end of the book comes from the fact that all four take turns narrating the story.
I used to have a fantasy and once wrote a short story about getting a fatal disease and just hiking into wilderness to die. Times have changed and the internal angst that led to such thoughts have faded. I am glad that I was not a leaper out of life.
But am I a leaper into life? into faith?
I go slowly and how I entered a swimming pool for the first time in years this past summer is a good example. It took some hot days before I got there. Then I showed up not prepared to swim, but did immerse my feet. Eventually steps were used to enter the pool, but by the last day at the retreat center I did leap into the deep end with the desire to touch bottom.
This week when talking about following Christ with my spiritual director, I said how if I chose to stay back something inside of me would die. Imagining this I sense a void of hope and faith that would leave me empty. But I also said that if I followed Christ something inside of me would die. Writing that now I think of what I just wrote above. A desire to be dead has died.
I want to know why things come together like this when I am blogging.
I see choosing a life with Christ as a leap into a mystery. Like I said, I am not good at leaping. Even so, in the past ten years I have gotten wet.
Ok, so one benefit of living half of a block from your church is that with 12 minutes to go before service, I can say, "I need a mystic, and Julian of Norwich will guide me."
I trust Julian because I recently wrote a paper in which I reflected on Jesus meeting up with the Samaritan woman at the well. I chose Julian from the four mystics we studied in the class and every time I needed some insight Julian was there for me. I found her writings and started looking. Ok, yes this wasn't fair to the woman growing anxious at the church wondering if I was going to show up to sermonize, but by the time the service was over she was thanking me for preaching.
At one point my hands were shaking a bit, and I needed two hands to steady my notes, but the practice at home in the kitchen paid off. It flowed and I truly felt appreciated by my friends at Holy Trinity.
so how did it end? This is what Julian suggested and I went with it:
"And so our good Lord answered to all the questions and doubts which I could raise, saying most comfortingly: I may make all things well, and I can make all things well, and I shall make all things well, and I will make all things well; and you will see yourself that every kind of thing will be well."
and so with hope we can take on our doubts because they may be made well with faith in a God who can make the invisible become visible.
And, yes, my conditional friend showed up and tonight she stopped by for tomatoes, basil, and chives. I made no conditions but accepted the offer to try the tomato pie she plans to make with our bounty. When I went outside to garden, I could not have imagined watching her young children running laps on M's stepping stones as I cut fresh herbs. Life is good for I feel blessed.
Jesus, self-described as a thief in the night, will come a second time. This weeks gospel (Luke 12:32-40) tells me so. The message is clear. Be awake. Be in the present moment. Be aware. Be mindful. Be in relationship with God.
One wonders why. Surely one would not miss this event. Prophesies of this great event have the dead being raised, last judgments being passed out, new ages beginning, and a new Jerusalem with come down out of heaven.
Maybe Jesus doesn't want us to be shocked. If we are ready, then it will be smooth sailing?
And whether or not it will happen while I am alive is a huge uncertainty in my mind. Odds seem to say it would not be a safe bet.
Maybe Jesus was a trickster and knowing the benefits of being mindful and being in relationship with God he came up with this thief in the night story. If it was a trick, it does great things even if it is hard work. The thoughts, that come into my mind, guide me into more intimate relationships or onto healing paths. The other night I turned back to my basic teaching desire: create a place of joy for my students. It came while doing what Saint Ignatius called a daily examen. I faced an interaction I regretted with a student and asked for the strength to move into better relationship with all of my students. The next day, when a student said, "You are in a great mood today." I felt blessed.
This morning I had a thought... get away from the computer and visit your garden. I took my pruner and camera with me. While dead heading our coreopsis a flower spoke to me. Well it caught my attention and as M just said it made for "one funky picture."
These are the comings that arrive when we are mindful of our faith. Our hope is to be ready to catch them like a thief in the night.
A friend called twice the other night. First time I answered and got the condition. You can come for dinner if you bring refried beans.
Later the phone rang and M answered and heard the condition. This time my friend was checking on a rumor she heard that I was giving my first ever sermon this Sunday. If true she was changing plans and coming to church. I guess I'll see her there since I plan to meet her condition, again.
Hope and faith have been firing spiritual neurons in my brain this week. God creates from the invisible I am told. I love this.
Things I can't see or even imagine are possible. So lets stick with what I can imagine for now.
When I flip through seed catalogs with my students, we are filled with hope. I hand them a seed and say there is an embryo in there waiting to come forth. Faith. We plant out the annuals and veggies and hope that the garden we imagined in December will become a reality. God desires it. It may come forth to fruition.
I grow Anaheim or New Mexican green chilies every year. And every year I have hope that I will be roasting them in August. Those posted above these words made it into my friend's refried beans. My conditional friend from Texas has faith in my ability to make refried beans and she smiled upon me on Friday. Have faith and hope and blessings may occur. Or maybe they won't, but one can hope again.
"Hope has left town, years ago," she says to me. It's all about low morale at work, monthly meetings to improve it, and being a building rep. So I send out e-mails asking for concerns, suggestions, and whatnots, which I sign peace, hope and joy. She e-mails back, mocks peace and joy, but forgets hope. I see her in the hallway, and say, "what about hope?" That is when I find out hope has left town.
"Only faith can guarantee the blessings that we hope for, or prove the existence of realities that are unseen." (Hebrews 11:1) Hmm, guarantee, I connect that to theologians who speak of Christian hope as a hope for eternal life. I see hope as larger than that, but don't see guarantees. I live in the realms of uncertainty. Back to my friend.
She lives with despair and anguish, but seems comfortable there. She enjoys ranting. She thinks I am a tree hugging new-age guy. I say, "What?"
She says, "You know, you garden, listen to jazz, and go on retreats." I say, "Duke Ellington, smelling fresh peppers, and Jesuits do not make me new age." But I seem to be off the beaten path. Add this to it; I believe in hope.
I hope for those unseen realities, both here on earth and after death. I can imagine those unseen realities on earth with more ease, for that is the kingdom I am immersed in at the moment.
Can we hope for a world with a loving God that heals people from their diseases, traumas, chemical imbalances, childhoods, attitudes, hatreds, and demons? Set them free to play in this beautiful world. To experience joy, and then be grateful and hope for more.
"It is by faith that we understand that the ages were created by a word from God, so that from the invisible the visible word came to be." (Hebrews 11:3) See the reality of suffering, hope for healing, imagine that it is possible to become visible, have faith, be grateful for what transpires, feel joy.
Ok, Stefon has shown up. As I sermonize, African Tarentella plays on my stereo. I drove to Harrisburg to listen to Stefon Harris play vibes, for as you know I listen to jazz. Stefon said, "It is true what they say, we are playingup here. Thanks for coming to see us have fun."
I like Cyrus Chestnut , but not just because he can play piano. Maybe it's his name that appeals to me. I know that can happen. But after reading the liner notes to "You Are My Sunshine," I think it may also be this:
Cyrus Chestnut says, "I have been told by many about my influences: jazz, gospel, classical, rhythm and blues, etc... and have been encouraged to make recordings addressing these idioms individually. I have never been interested in making repertory driven or stereotypical recordings- it has been my choice to take a different route."
Faith is important to Cyrus Chestnut. He doesn't hide it. The CD's I own reflect this. He is not an artist who occasionally does a gospel album. He can't separate love of God from love of jazz.
I have many interests and thought about having more than one blog. But I am one person who will try to blend them into one blog. Can I separate my stained glass designs from the fact that I have chosen a spot in church where I have a wonderful view of my favorite piece of glass? Is gardening just a pleasure or a constant reminder of blessings? And yes, gardening is also a constant reminder to persevere. But that is what living with faith seems like these days. Celebrate the blessings and keep going through the hard times.
Ten years ago when I was in my early mid thirties, I couldn't imagine writing any of this. I may have likely mocked the above. I was a fine humanist after all. But now it seems dishonest to come to blogging with several blogs and keep faith segregated to only one. Maybe that will happen, I'm not quite certain of the future these days.
