Devotion Panic

Here is a blog entry written by Sharon Falk—one of our current church leaders. Sharon gave the following as her opening reflection at the Session meeting on October 23.

Note: For those of you not familiar with Presbyterian church organization, the ‘session’ is the primary leadership group for a local congregation.

Matthew 11:28: Come to me, you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. … learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls…

Last summer a sign up sheet went around and I innocently signed up to present a devotion for this night. Recently it began to dawn on me that I would be offering the devotion at THE NEW PASTOR’S FIRST SESSION MEETING! At that point my concern about this task grew a little. For a while this week, I thought I had won a repreive because the Agenda listed Karla’s name for the devotion. But, I knew she had done it last month and that was probably false hope. Sure enough when I checked with her she said I’d better be prepared to do it. So for the last two days I’ve been tense as I thought about what I would share. I figured that for the occasion it should be something profound, very smart and very spiritual. Or maybe funny with some kind of Kevinesque spin to it - maybe a restaurant review. I got myself into a complete state of unrest - after all, my image was on the line. This would not only be my first “performance of the devotion” before the session it would be my new pastor’s first impression of me.

MY heavy burden is that I feel unacceptable alot. I have had much healing in my life in this area, but at times of extreme stress (like presenting a devotion at your new pastors first session meeting!) it rears it’s ugly head. And last night, as I stared at a blank sheet of paper, that ugly old thing was staring back at me. Then I remembered something that used to help me. When I was younger I really struggled with this problem. I was terrified of making a bad impression. But I seemed to constantly put myself into situations where there was a chance that I might slip up and someone would get a glimpse of the real and unacceptable me. Like having dinner parties. Before the event, I would agonize over the menu, the table, cleaning the house, washing the dogs, coaching my husband. Afterwards, no matter how well it went, I would beat myself up over any imperfection – the chicken was dry, the dog threw up under the table during dinner (that actually happened to me once – when I had a pastor to dinner - so that might help you understand somewhat my concern about tonight!). Anyway, it all took a lot of energy. Then I started to do this: I would imagine that Jesus was sitting in one of the chairs at my dinner table. This wasn’t a “what would jesus do” kind of thing to encourage me to behave properly. I had enough pressure there It was to relax me. I thought about how HE would treat me, what he would say to my fears, how restful it would be to have him there.

This really worked for me because the Jesus I’d encountered was about loving me, not judging me. The stories I heard as a child were of him touching untouchables, showing compassion to the weak. He called dispicable people out of trees and went to dinner at THEIR houses. He was radically accepting. And because of who I am and who I think most of us are… that is such a comfort. When I decided to become a follower of Jesus it was because I needed someone like that in my life. I deperately needed his rest.

I think real transformation comes by focusing on grace. This is certainly true in my life. I’ve learned about grace by studying the life of Jesus, but sometimes even more profoundly from interactions with his followers. When I was about five I had an elderly babysitter, Mrs. Hansen, who first told me about Jesus. She took me to church, but mainly she modeled grace. My home life was challenging and as a result I was often pretty angry. One summer afternoon I came into the house fuming. I slammed the door as hard as I could and stood there panting. I don’t remember if I’d had a fight with a friend, but I was mad. I looked up and Mrs. Hansen was standing there. She could have said “We don’t slam doors in this house, young lady” or “ Why don’t you just march off to your room and think about why you’re so angry today”. But she didn’t, she looked at me for a moment and then with extreme compassion said kindly, “Oh, Sharon.”. I remember that moment to this day because it was one of my first revelations of the nature of God. Something relaxed in me. In her voice was love, and only a desire for something better for me. That was all. That is the Jesus I invited into my life and to sit at dinner party tables with me.

So, this morning, imagining that Jesus with me at my computer, I went back to preparing for tonight. I realized that all I really want to say is I don’t WANT to come here worried about what people will think of what I say or trying to impress a new pastor or fitting in. I want to come to church to rest – to be reminded that Jesus invites us to rest in his grace. I think we all want that. There are lots of places in this world where we can go to be judged and rejected. Where we have to wear our masks to be acceptable. I think if church were a place where radically accepting grace was truly modeled we’d have people breaking down the doors to get in.

I hope for a church where we can take off our masks, our striving for approval and worth. Where we can put down our heavy burdens in front of one another, bring our most vulnerable selves, our strongest and truest opinions and throw off our image building behavior. I want to come to a church where I don’t have to spend a lot of time figuring out what is acceptable. I want a place where I can rest.

I read this definition recently: “A gracious church is a place where people can come with questions, doubts, and struggles without fear of being condemned. Where the focus is not on supplying quick and easy answers to difficult problems, but creating the space to think and explore. In the midst of our struggles, a gracious church reminds us of what really matters – how we treat those around us.”

The best times I have had are with gracious people who LAUGH when the dinner music the sound of a dog throwing up under the table. The best times are with people who don’t hide their imperfections, whose lives are messy, who don’t hesitate to argue with me and who don’t hesitate to make up with me. I really think that’s how Jesus is. My hope is that that’s how we can be for each other. That we can listen, speak the truth with love and always desire something better for each other. I think that would very restful.

Welcome John!

R&R Lists

On the Sunday morning of October 14^th I raised the issue of reconciliation or the lack thereof in our lives. I did so from the pulpit in wrestling with II Corinthians 5.17-21. This particular New Testament passage suggests that claiming to follow Jesus is a joke... unless reconciliation shows up as the main sign of transformation in our lives.

I went so far as to challenge those who managed to stay awake until the end of the sermon to pick one broken relationship in their lives and pray for glimpse of a simple step that could lead to reconciliation there. They didn’t even need to DO IT at first… simply imagine what a step toward restoration would look like.

Monday morning brought another idea: in my own life I realized it might be important to do more than pick one tense relationship. More telling for me would be a list of ALL the broken or strained relationships in my life… noting each person’s name and then ranking the level of brokenness on a scale of 1 – 5.

This numeric ranking would mean something like…

5 - absolute abhorrence, fear, or active hatred

4 – inability to be in the same room

3 – active avoidance

2 – strain that both of you are aware of

1 – superficial friendliness on my part masking underlying dislike or struggle

I consider myself to be decent in the area of relationships and generally easy to get along with, yet the more I thought, the more I realized there were too many names on my R&R list. As the old maxim goes: "Physician, heal thyself." Apparently I've got some work to do.

Water Bottle Righteousness

At some point along the way I apparently took a nap and woke up to find everyone I know packing… not a firearm but a water bottle. Picnics, board meetings, hotel rooms, gyms almost overnight seem incomplete without water bottles. Ever increasing amounts of precious shelf space at grocery stores and supermarkets are filled with H₂o in bottles that increasing look like fashion accessories.

Brands like Fiji, Poland Springs, Evian, Aquafina, and Dasani are household names, and we now pay two, three, even four times the price of a gallon of gas for something we used to get (and still can) basically for free at taps in our homes and drinking fountains everywhere else.

For many bottled water has come to represent a curious sort of righteousness in the midst of a culture fearful of contaminates and obesity. But at what cost? Creative marketing that has turned something free into a 15 billion a year market in America. That was last year. This year projections suggest we collectively will spend 16 billion.

But it is just water right? Yes… until you start to think of the huge costs of moving 1 billion water bottles we drink in a week. Charles Fishman in an article in Fast Company magazine unpacks the real costs of the water industry along with an intriguing and disturbing history of this ballooning industry that reminds me a bit of the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes. He notes that our billion-bottles-of-water-a-week represent a weekly convoy equivalent of 37,800 18-wheelers delivering water (which is so heavy that trucks can’t be fully loaded and still drive).

In a world where 1 in 6 people still don’t have safe and reliable drinking water, we big bottled water drinkers support an industry of “packaging and presentation” (Fishman’s words). One example is Fiji Water—the current celebrity water. Fiji ships 1 million bottles a day out of a country where half of the people don’t have a reliable drinking water for themselves.

Ironically, 25% of the water we purchase bottled is literally just tap water repackaged by Coke and Pepsi.

Read Fishman’s article for yourself. He drills deep enough to note positives as well as negatives, but my personal commitment after a swig and swallow is to attempt to cut my bottled water consumption to just a fraction… situations where bottled is the only option. By myself I probably can’t solve the situation, but then again, I bet every drop not bottled helps.