On Pumpkins and Memories

Her name is Mariama.  Yama we call her.  And she knew about life and smiles and play.  She taught me not to worry about getting my clothes dirty, to open my hands to one and all, and to smile with reckless abandon. 

She was just a toddler when I lived in her compound for two years.  Just beginning to talk and experience the awe of new words.  "Cry" was a word she shared when I left village for good.  She knew my name and could say it as we were both called Mariama.

As she sits with the pumpkins above, it's clear that she was always up for a picture. 

When Halloween came my first October in village it seemed fitting to introduce my family to the joy and creativity of pumpkin carving.  The Gambians did grow pumpkins after all - green ones!  They tasted good and were a treat in any rice or coos dish.  Part of serving in the Peace Corps is the cross-cultural exchange.  I learned the Wollof language.  I worshipped with my family.  I worked in the fields.  I celebrated holidays with them.  I cooked with them.  I shared pictures and books of my home and family.  We laughed a lot.  We sat and shared stories.  We sat in silence. 

And with Halloween came pumpkin carving.  With the challenges of language and my limited pumpkin carving skills, it was a feast for the eyes as we indulged in the fun of bringing our pumpkins to life.  We cut and drew pictures.  We picked out the seeds.  We scared one another with our faces.  It was Halloween. 

And when everyone carved and was content with their new creations we lit candles and placed them in the pumpkin.  The night was alive not only from the moon and the stars this night, but from our pumpkins. 

We looked proudly on what stared back at us.  For a few moments we stood in awe. 

Then Yama's mother asked me, "What do we do with them?"

"We just look at them," I say. 

"That's it?"  She looks back quizzically with a hint of concern. 

"We need to eat them.  We can't have them go to waste." 

And there in that moment, in my attempts at sharing across the cultures and bringing Halloween to The Gambia, I was face-to-face with my own culture's excessiveness.  The cultural lens in which I was raised celebrating Halloween and gorging on candy and carving pumpkins only to have them smashed days later came head to head with the people of The Gambia.  A people who never waste anything - from vegetables to animals, to pieces of scraps, to plastic bags.  A people whose children share one piece of candy between four or five friends.  A people who continually opened my eyes to see the abundance in my midst.  To be reminded to use that abundance for sustenance and not destruction. 

In the end, we did have the night lit with pumpkins we had carved.  I have great pictures from my cross-cultural sharing.  There was plenty of laughter.   

And the next night we feasted on pumpkin. 

 

A Psalm for Sedona

The gifts of this past October were numerous.  Blessings abounded through travel and time and sun and beauty with my mother visiting Sedona, Arizona.  I give thanks that my mother delights in travel and that her sense of adventure and curiosity remains strong.  Traveling and opening ourselves to other cultures and peoples and experiences is in our bones.  So in honor of my mother and our fabulous trip to Sedona, I share a few pictures and God's words over our experience.  

Lord, you have searched me out:

O Lord, you have known me.  

You know my sitting down and my rising up; 

you discern my thoughts from afar.  

You trace my journeys and my resting-places and are acquainted with all my ways.  

Indeed there is not a word on my lips, but you, O Lord, know it altogether.  

You encompass me, behind, and before, and lay your hand upon me.  

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain to it.  Where can I go then from your Spirit?  Where can I flee from your presence?  If I climb up to heaven, you are there: if I make the grave of my bed, you are there also.  If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there you hand will lead me and your right hand hold me fast.  

If I say, "Surely, the darkness will cover me, and the light around me turn to night," darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; darkness and light to you are both alike.

For you yourself created my inmost parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I will thank you because I am marvelously made; your works are wonderful, and I know it well.  

Amen.  

Hands Up!

"For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; that I know very well."

A new baby in the community brings joy and celebration.

So there we sat in the living room.  Mom, dad, big sister and little sister.  Only two weeks old this new life is full of potential and possibility.  Hope.  This grace, and this reassurance that God doesn't give up on the world.  It's days like these that I'm in awe of being a pastor.

It's days like these that I fall down humbly before God.

After holding this new life and hearing about transitioning from a three person family to four, it was time for a prayer and blessing.  Time to give thanks to God for health and life and grace.  Time to pray for growth and laughter and smiles for years to come.  Time to stand in awe of God's creation.

Three-year-old big sister was present and after some time inviting her to place her hand on her new baby sister for a blessing and getting no where, I asked her to put her hands in the air.  "Lift your hands up to give thanks to God."

She smiled.  And the hands went up.  Prayers ascending.  Hope in the air.

"For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; that I know very well."

Cole Camp Musings

Cole Camp, Missouri.

People ask, how do you like living in a town of 1,000?
So, what do you think of your new home?
Are you settling in?
Do you like small town life?

My answer keeps coming back to sounds.  For a simple yes doesn't carry with it the beauty of what it is to live among these people and in this town and immersed in this history.

You see, it's the sounds that remind me where I am.  It's in the sounds that I experience a history deeper than I can imagine and richer beyond understanding.

It's in the sounds that I can join my voice and amen to a life worth living.

So let me tell you about Cole Camp, Missouri.  Let me tell you about what I hear.

I hear the sounds of children playing across the street at the Water Tower park (only the water tower is no longer standing and I have never seen the water tower, yet even I refer to it as the water tower park).

I hear the sounds of cicadas and bugs and critters and howls in the night.  And I realize that I am just a small part of God's creation living amidst such diversity in the country.  

I hear the sounds of church hymns that play from the neighboring church each morning at 8, again at 12, and then to bring the night to a close at 6 and 8.

I hear the church bells that toll at the death of a community member.  Each bell for a year of life lived and loved.

I hear the shrills and joy of children at the Cole Camp World's Fair as they ride late into the night and try their hand at winning a large toy.

I hear cheers for floats in the parade - filled with flowers and hours of care.

I hear the sounds of German songs as the choir sings throughout the streets.

I hear tractors and golf carts and hellos to friends and strangers alike.

I hear and I listen.

This is but a glimpse into the orchestra of life in Cole Camp, Missouri.

Listen.

I also hear the silence.

And the still small voice of the One who speaks our names in the wind and calls us into community.

Jumping into Community

Confirmation.

For some the word brings nightmares or fits of sleeplessness.  Others are put to sleep by confirmation.  Some think fondly of their time learning the Bible, the Christian faith, and getting to know all the crevices and hiding places of the church.  And, for many, confirmation is a rite of passage.  Sundays and Wednesdays, lock-ins, sermon notes, service projects, and Martin Luther make up the ELCA student's confirmation program.

I was the only student in confirmation.  Only me.  For two years I remember spending Saturday mornings with the pastor - and going through a workbook.  It's not that we didn't have a youth group, we did.  A small and mighty group.  But I happened to be the only one of confirmation age during those two years.  I don't remember much of what I learned (although something must of stuck as I'm now a pastor in the ELCA).  Or rather, God continued working on me long after confirmation class.  I do remember memorizing a few things.  I remember the youth group trips and lock-ins and sledding at the state park.  I do remember that I was excited once confirmed to officially be a part of the church.

Now, here I am years later serving as a pastor and engaging the youth in confirmation classes.  We don't do too much memorizing.  They have no workbooks.  But they do have each other, and the church community.  And God's word.  And prayer.  And lots of laughter.

My hope for the youth is that they don't see confirmation as something to get through, but as a gift for building relationships with God and with one another.  As just one part of their journey of faith, as a reminder that they are already a part of the church.  That they are claimed by God in the waters of baptism and their identity as a child of God can never be taken away from them.  

We had three students, and just this past week the confirmation class was joined by two more students who recently moved to the area.  So we spent Sunday morning getting to know one another.

We ate skittles, stuffed marshmallows in our mouths and said, "Chubby bunny." We shared our highs and lows, created a human knot, maneuvered through a hula hoop, and then did a trust fall.

A few high school students joined us as well as a parent.  One of the new students, Joey, jumped right in when a volunteer was needed to fall.  We have a concrete church sign that added some height for the fall and up Joey went.

The parent present, also a boy scout leader, taught us about the trust fall.  How to hold our hands.  How we'd be there to catch Joey.  To trust.  To know we'd be there when he fell.

He said to Joey, "When you fall backwards, it will feel like nothing you've ever felt before."

When you fall, we'll be there to catch you.

Joey turned a bit and looked down - at the faces and hands of friends he'd just met.  He may have questioned what he had gotten himself into.  He may have doubted.

But he trusted.
He fell backwards.

And he was caught.
In the hands of the community.

"It will feel like nothing you've ever felt before."

  

Isn't that how many of us find ourselves in community?  We fall.  Sometimes we stumble upon it as a gift to be opened slowly and other times we come crashing into it.  

But nevertheless, we find ourselves in community.  

For some, we fall into community because it's what our parents and grandparents did Sunday after Sunday.

Others are forced to attend because it's what is expected.

Some are invited by friends to attend Vacation Bible school.

For another, an accident happens or a medical diagnosis.

Or we want to support our friend who needs someone to sit with her.

We fall into community and find ourselves surrounded by God's people.  A clumsy, loving, forgetful, and joyous group.  A community where we learn to love and to be loved.  I thank God that I get to spend so much time with youth and adults who are willing to trust so fully and play and pray so hard.

Falling backwards into the hands of friends does feel like nothing you've ever felt before, and so does trusting in the God whose hands reach out for us when we fall.

For when we fall into community we see the hands of others poised to catch us, and we fall and know that it is God's hands that are reaching out.

God's Work. Our Hands.

How would you describe the church you attend?  What would you tell someone who didn't understand or know about this God in Jesus Christ that has claimed your life?  If you were in an elevator with someone and wanted to share the gifts of the church, what would you say?  

Those questions were posed to the confirmation students one Wednesday evening, a group of middle school students who are learning together about God and church, life and faith, doubt and belief.  We gather as students together to learn, play, pray, serve, love, and worship.  We gather to understand our calls and who God has shaped us to be for the world.  So as this particular question was posed, one of the parents was near by and so the daughter asked her father, "Dad, in an elevator, how would you tell someone about God."  

This father thoughtfully considered the question.  How would you tell someone about God?  When he answered, he had each of the students' attention, and he said, "I don't know, if you're in an elevator you have very little time, maybe a minute or two.  I think, yes, I would offer just a touch.  I would reach out my hand."

Yes, a hand.  Reaching out to another.  Connecting with another.  That's what God is about.  That's what this life of faith is about.  Reaching out to our neighbors - both friends and enemies.  Reaching out to love and serve God by loving and serving our neighbor.  The larger church that Christ and Trinity Lutheran Church is a part of is the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA).  Over 10,000 congregations make up the ELCA across the US, a diversity of people and congregations, a diversity of expressions and contexts.  Together we as the church reach out.  Just this past weekend the ELCA encouraged members to take part in a day of service known as God's Work, Our Hands Sunday.  A day of service to do what we do every day as people of faith - love, serve, roll up our sleeves, make our communities better places - but to do those things together on one Sunday.  So at Christ and Trinity we happily and excitedly took part.  We sorted for Open Door, we created health and wellness bags for the women at the CASA shelter (Citizens Against Spousal Abuse) and we spent the afternoon playing Bingo with the residents of Rest Haven.  We reached out.  We touched another's hand.  We felt God's hand guiding us.

In the end we served God by serving our neighbors.  We used very few words.  We rarely spoke the words of the church that are misunderstood and complicated, but rather we reached out.  We laughed.  We prayed.  We gathered.  We sorted.  We colored.  We collected.  

Yes, God's Work, Our Hands.  Reaching out.

Always Being Made New

"So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation:

everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" 

There's much to be written regarding the gifts of the ELCA Churchwide Assembly which met in Pittsburgh last week.  As a voting member of the Central States Synod (Kansas and Missouri) I spent the week awe-struck by the energy, faithfulness, peacefulness, and hope witnessed at the assembly.  Hope for what God is doing in the world right now.  Hope for what will be that continues to be unknown and yet unnamed.

If I could sit down with you, I'd share with you about the almost 1,000 people from all walks of life and all across the country gathering for worship daily, lifting voices in song and prayer, sitting in the silence, seeing and hearing the diversity of all God's people called to preach and preside.  

I'd also share with you the beauty of celebrating in song.  Four-part harmony among Lutherans is as close as you get to the heavenly choirs of angels.  

And the dancing - a congo line with bishops, pastors, youth, the young and old, moving and shaking and singing, "Come, Come, Come Holy Spirit, Come!"  

And of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell you about the cookies!  Oh, the cookies!  440 dozen a day to be precise.  The Pennsylvania women of the ELCA know a thing or two about hospitality, and the need for sugar after a long day of working. 

I'd also share passionately my pride in the ELCA for making a statement about criminal justice, in hearing the cries of the oppressed and offering our voices into the conversation and inviting our congregations into places of learning and engagement with those in the criminal justice system.  

I'd invite you to join the ELCA in moving forward with conversations on ministering to same-gender couples and families.  

I'd tell you of the wonderful resource the ELCA published this year, "The Prayerbook for the Armed Services" and encourage you to share the book with military men and women and their families.  And then to join in prayer for those who serve our country.  

I'd invite you to give - give to World Hunger, Lutheran Disaster Response, Global Missions, and the Malaria Campaign, just to name a few of the amazing demonstrations of the church at work in the world.  We listened to a man from Malaysia who learned of the love of Jesus from an ELCA missionary.  

I'd tell you about the young adults who shared their voice and who raised their voices in support of youth and young adult ministries.  

One cannot forget the election of Bishop Elizabeth Eaton and the gratitude and graciousness displayed between Bishop Hanson and Bishop Eaton; two very fine leaders whose commitment to the Gospel of Jesus Christ leads this church into the heart of a world in need.    

I'd also share that this assembly was the first to have a representative of a non-Abrahamic faith invited to share a welcome.  A Sikh man eloquently spoke of the hope he felt after the shooting in Oak Creek, Wisconsin and that the first group to reach out to the Sikh community was the ELCA with a letter from Bishop Hanson.  

I'd tell you that God is indeed doing a new thing among us and that YOU are a part of that new thing.

  

Perhaps most importantly, I'd tell you about a line.  Walking in line to receive the gifts of God in bread and wine.  One morning as I walked towards the front to receive communion during the daily worship, I stood behind a father with his 7 month-old daughter and a family with their toddler son.  I'd tell you that in those two children and in their families, I saw the reason why we gathered this week.  I saw in that young baby girl and that toddler boy that the church will be here for them.  The church is here for them now to receive God's free gifts and to know that they are loved.  And the church will be there for them to share their God-given gifts and to provide them with a community that rolls up their sleeves, stands on the side of justice and peace, hears the cries of the oppressed, and believes that God is making all things new.  

Come, Come, Come Holy Spirit, Come.