I noticed Little Blue dangling on the bottom branch of our Japanese maple tree and by the bottom branch I mean the one three feet off the ground. It seemed odd to see a bird loitering so close to the ground and odder still when rather than flying away as I got close to him he held his ground and gave me a royal stink eye at which point I assumed he wasn’t flying away because he couldn’t fly away because he was wounded and as I do in any emergency; I ran into the house and got my wife who flipped into Nurse Nightingale before my eyes. Leaping into action she dialed up the nearby wildlife emergency number, rounded up a shoebox, padded the box with a towel, poked the box with air holes, and with the shoebox under her arm and gloves on her hands (this woman of mine thinks of everything!) she went out to the bird, assessed the situation, and downgraded it to a non-emergency, level 1. Little Blue had simply fallen from the nest and was fine howbeit temporarily grounded. He was just learning to fly the hard way as baby birds often do.

While we were watching Little Blue from a close distance we couldn’t help but notice two adult blue jays swooping back and forth overhead from the high tree branches just above Little Blue to the highest point of our roof line and then back again. Back and forth they fluttered and dived and the whole time they were cawing and screaming and hurling, what I took as bluejayese profanities, in our direction. Whatever it was they were saying it was clear they were upset and if their screaming and darting back and forth wasn’t an indication of their emotional state the pointed peaks on the top of their heads told us all we needed to know. Apparently high anxiety runs in the family.

After a minute or two we walked across the yard away from Little Blue to see if that would calm everyone down, and by everyone I mean everyone with wings and a beak and a snarly attitude, but not one to leave well enough alone, I just had to take one more look and so back I went and this is when I saw the most awesome thing of all. There standing on the grass with Little Blue was one of the adult bluejays who had come down from the tree and positioned itself side by side, wing by wing next to Little Blue, and even when I took a step forward toward both the birds, the adult bird didn’t take flight for its own safety but hunkered down even closer to Little Blue and stood its ground. The adult bird couldn’t physically remove Little Blue from danger but neither was it going to leave him to face whatever danger came along. The tenderness of it all took my breath away.

The next day I spotted Little Blue again as I was walking to my car and again, there were two adult birds watching and loudly protesting my approach. The day after that there was no Little Blue to be found anywhere but the distinctive sound of blue jays could be heard echoing around our tree-filled courtyard and so I suspect Little Blue was flying high with Mom and Dad, or as we like to imagine in our household with his two mommies.

I also imagine that following his fall and in the subsequent time until he learned to fly on his own Little Blue wanted nothing more than for those two adult bluejays to to swoop down, grab his wings in theirs and carry him back up to the comfort and safety of that old familiar nest. “Rescue me! Save me!” might well have been the translation to all his little bird chirps and calls but we know that birds can’t carry their fledgings back to the nest. Instead when a baby falls the parents stay with him, watch over him, and provide for him until he’s able to spread his wings and fly. And the answer to your question is yes. I know this because of Wikipedia.

At least once in our lives we’ve all taken a fall from our nest. We tumbled from a place that was familiar to us, a nest where we felt comfortable and secure. We were living a life that was all we’d ever known and then something came along that sent us flailing into the unknown and it doesn’t really matter if we fell or we jumped or we were pushed. However it happened we became separated from the place, the friends, the family, the church, the job, or the life that once held us and we found ourselves in a strange land where everything was unknown and uncertain and more than scary enough at times to send the hairs on our heads upward into a razor sharp pointy peak.

For some of us, coming out as lesbians jettisoned us into free fall and when we landed it felt as though we were all alone to find our way, but if a mother and father blue jay will remain ever watchful over their weak-winged child even putting themselves in harm’s way to comfort and protect him, will God not do at least that much for you? So look up because you aren’t alone. You never have been. Someone is watching over you. The same Someone whose wings once sheltered you in the warmth of the nest is with you still. Though it may feel at times like God has flown to the highest branch of the furthest tree from where you are, there will be other times when, as I recently heard a child describe it to me, God seems closer to you than your own skin. But whether it feels that God is far away or God is near, the truth is you have not been abandoned. You have not been forgotten. God may not be able to keep us from falling or save us from every trouble anymore than the birds can for their young but what God can and will do is remain with us wherever we land and through whatever life brings our way.

And the answer to your question is no. I don’t know this from Wikipedia. I know this because I’ve fallen from more than a few nests and every time God was there.

And God is here.

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” – Luke 10:38:42

Yesterday during the children’s sermon I brought a picnic basket to the circle and opened it up to show the children each item I had packed for D and I to enjoy for lunch after church. I pulled out the blanket we would sit on, plates, utensils, napkins, cups, a cheese board and knife, storage bags to put any leftovers in, a tube of sun block, a bottle of insect repellent, paper towels, disposable wet towelettes, and stain removal for the food I always seemed to spill on my clothes. It was only after everything had been removed from the basket and piled in front of the children that I came to the “shocked” realization that in the distraction to pack everything I thought we might need for the picnic I had forgotten the most important thing of all….the food.

Jesus didn’t call Martha out because she was doing anything wrong. She was just doing what she believed was essential to extend hospitality to a special guest. Jesus was coming and she wanted him to know his presence in their home was honored. She wanted to be sure their humble home was clean and that when he arrived everything would be in place to meet his needs and make him comfortable. Fresh water and clean towels needed to be prepared to wash and dry the road dust from his feet. The table needed to be set with a warm home-cooked meal and the best of wine to nourish him and his traveling companions. And then were all the people who would pass through their home during Jesus’ stay that would need to be welcomed and fed a little something before they went on their way.

While there was nothing wrong in any of the things Martha was doing, the problem was that in doing them she had become distracted from the one most important and essential thing of all and that was simply being….being with Jesus, being quiet and still in his presence, being available to hear God speak. Martha was living a distracted life and much of the time so are we. Not only are we distracted by life’s demands and all the duties that come with being a responsible grown-up in the world but we’re all too often driven to distraction with the idea that doing more, making more, and giving more will make our lives more meaningful and our worth more valuable in this world and to God. All these distractions make us forget where our real value lies and what really matters.

Then we come back to this story and see Jesus lifting up the sister who’s doing nothing more than being in his presence and in doing so is receiving what she will never lose and can never be taken away. Looking at Jesus Mary knows she is loved. In welcoming her in his presence she knows Jesus considers her and the relationship they share as being of great worth. As she listens to his words she knows who she really is; that she is a beloved child of God, the apple of God’s eye, and precious in God’s sight.

Creating space and time for God each morning isn’t for the purpose of making our requests that God do something for us or through us in the hours that follow, but for the purpose of connecting our spirit with the Spirit of God so we can then go through our day remembering who we really are in God. There’s no one living in this world who doesn’t need reminding but as GLBTQ people we need to be reminded more than most of who we really are in God’s eyes since hearing who others have concluded we are is only the morning newspaper or a click of the TV remote away. Every day we’re hit with words that diminish our worth as human beings, the value of our relationships, and our identity as those equally loved and cherished by God and so we need to fix our minds and hearts on what we know in Christ so we can move through the day in the truth of our lives rather than in the lies of others.

So who are you really?

Hey, don’t ask me.

There’s only One who can tell you so tomorrow morning, be still, be quiet, and listen.

The WWDC is the annual conference (i.e. pep rally, cult gathering) when Steve Jobs announces the latest and greatest “You Must Own This If You Ever Hope to Have a Fulfilling Life” Apple product and this year’s star of the show, the iPhone4, didn’t fail to impress. Front and back camera with flash. HD video recording. iMovie installed. Video chat. App folders. Multi-tasking. Gyroscope. Faster speed, longer battery life, higher resolution.

Wait. I need a minute.

Sorry. It’s just so hard for me to see the computer screen with misty-eyes.

Oh, I can hear you now. No seriously I can. I can hear you, and what I hear you saying with an ever-so slightly edgy tone in your voice (don’t even try to deny it!) is this… “So what does your pathetic obsession with all things iGadgety have to do with God or faith or being a Christian Lesbian?”

Fine. Mock me now but in a minute you’re going to regret prematurely jumping all over my little pony and doubting me. But I, being gracious and good, will forgive you. In fact, consider it already done. Absolution is yours my Sister.

So here’s where I was heading if you would have just given me the benefit of the doubt…

A traditional happening and mega-highlight of Steve’s keynote speech is the moment when he whips out the soon to be released device of the hour and gives a live demo of it’s new features. Usually, the demo comes off without a hitch. Until this year. It was the most perfectly awkward technological glitchy moment I’ve ever seen at a WWDC.

It went something like this. In preparing to live demo the new bust-an-eyeball resolution of the new iPhone4 Steve went to open up the same web page on both an iPhone 3G and iPhone 4 so a side by side comparison could be projected up onto the massive stage screen, but instead what he got were two side by side images of web browsers unable to make a connection due to the number of attendees in the audience who were overloading the auditorium WiFi with all their real-time blogging, facebooking and tweeting. The only way Steve was eventually able to get access to the internet and continue the demo was to plead with the audience to turn off their WiFi-run equipment so he could get a solid connection. Essentially he told them to all shut up and shut down.

How often have we experienced something similar in our own lives when all we want is to make a clear connection with God so that we can know, really know, what God is saying to us but it seems we can’t get through. I don’t know what God wants me to do. I keep waiting for God to say something but I’m not hearing God say anything. I feel like I’m not able to connect with God anymore. Others have no problem speaking for God about my life but everyone is saying something different and besides, I don’t want others to tell me what God is saying; *I want to hear God speak.

It seems the biggest hindrance at one time or another for many of us in hearing from God was due to the interference coming from everyone else. How could we ever hope to connect directly with God when everyone else was blogging, facebooking, tweeting, preaching, counseling, advising and blathering on and on about what they knew God was really saying to us. Voices of condemnation. Voices of consolation. Voices calling us to repentance. Voices calling us to acceptance. Voices telling us God disapproved of who we were and what we were doing. Voices telling us God loved us just as we were. So many voices coming from so many directions that even when we heard a faint intimate whisper of God breaking through to our soul we doubted it because of the sheer number and volume of other the voices coming at us. Our connection seemed weaker than everyone else’s because while we questioned and wondered and struggled, they all seemed so certain. So absolute.

Steve pleaded with the crowd to shut things down on their end so he could get a solid connection and sometimes we need to do the same thing but rather than leaving the action to others we take action to limit how much we’ll take in from outside ourselves so we can listen to what’s being said within. That’s what it took for me in reconciling my faith and sexuality. I put aside all the gay-affirming books and all the ex-gay books. I put aside the theological arguments and biblical interpretations. I stopped looking to others to tell me what was right and what path God would have me walk. I gathered all the information. I did the legwork and the research. I studied and observed and explored. Then I put it aside to be alone with God, to hear from God, to be led by God.

Here’s the thing we need to realize. Our connection with God is never broken. God is always in dialogue with us, Spirit speaking to spirit. God is only silent when we need to be in silence with God. Can you trust that? If you sign off from all the others voices, including mine, that might presume in anyway to know what’s true for you in your personal relationship with God can you trust that God will be faithful to speak to you and that you will be faithful to listen and respond to God’s calling?

I know I’ve said this all before but when I was reminded it of again in such a perfect little moment at the WWDC, I couldn’t help but circle the wagons around it one more time. Trust God. Trust yourself. And for the time being and for as long as you need, tell the rest of us to shut down and sign off.

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*I’m going to assume we’re all on the same page that when we talk about God speaking to us we’re not referring to an audible voice but rather an inner knowing, a feeling, a sense, a nudge. We hear God speaking to us within the words of Scripture. We hear God speak to us in an encounter with someone else or in an experience that plays out in an ordinary day. However it is that you hear God speak to you, that’s what I’m talking about.

But then again, it wasn’t the worst of years either. While the passing of Prop 8 in 2008 overturned gay marriage in California, in the Spring of 2009 the existing 14,000 same-sex marriages were upheld as legally valid by the California Supreme Court. This was the year that Vermont and Iowa joined Massachusetts and Connecticut in granting marriage equality to gay couples, and as late as yesterday, a gay male couple were legally married in Argentina. In November of this year California Governor  Schwarzenegger signed AB 2567 making May 22, Harvey Milk Day, a state day of recognition, and in December Rev. Mary D. Glasspool became the second openly gay bishop in the Anglican fellowship of the Episcopal Church. And throughout this year while the debate on homosexuality in religious and political circles continues, more and more congregations across the nation added their voices in taking an affirming stance toward the lives, relationships, and ministries of their GLBTQ brothers and sisters.

All across our world there were big and small victories and big and small defeats in the area of gay rights. Three steps forward, two steps back but slowly, ever so slowly we move ahead toward equality and justice for all people.

Speaking personally, 2009 was a hard year for me. It was always be the year I remember first as the year my mom died. It was also the year I said goodbye to Marianne, a friend who lived with, and then died from cancer with more grace than I could ever hope to muster on my best day on earth. I spent nearly a quarter of this year recovery from surgeries, had a few personal disappointments, and in recent weeks have grieved the diagnosis of ALS given to a loved one of mine.

But there were good moments too. In 2009 I watched, howbeit from a distance, my godson sprout like a green bean. I reconnected with old friends. My mom and I had a few tender mother-daughter conversations I’ll hold in my heart forever. My marriage to my beloved was declared valid by the California Supreme Court and we enjoyed the ninth year of the honeymoon phase of our relationship. This was also the year I reached the lifelong goal of reaching a healthy normal-range weight and okay, in keeping with that it was also the year I was able to slip on a pair of size eight jeans without holding my breath.

How about you? While some of us have navigated through this past year with relative ease fueled on by occasions of great joy and celebration, for others it was a brutal year; the personal losses too many to add up and the suffering too great to measure. 2009 has been as gentle as a lamb for some of us and as tough as a lion for others.

But whether you’re sadly waving farewell to 2009 or welcoming 2010 in with a sigh of relief and a swipe across your forehead, here we are. Still standing. Standing together with one another and surrounded in the mercy, compassion, and consolation of God, the One who knows us best and loves us most. However hard this year was for you, you made it. You have arrived at the end of a really rough year in your life and because you’re still here, that in and of itself is a monumental victory; a joyous celebration of your courage and resilience, and of God’s faithfulness to hold you through the darkest nights and the most torrential storms. God was faithful and so were you.

I pray that if 2009 was a year of loss and sorrow for you that 2010 would be a year of restoration and joy. I pray good things for you. I pray moments of delight and laughter for you. I pray truly good people surround you. I pray peace. I pray love. I pray that you find healing, wholeness, comfort, companionship, or whatever it is that is your deepest longing and need. I pray all this believing that God is not only able to perform a good work within you but that God desires and will settle for nothing less for you. These will be the prayers spoken on my lips and carried in my heart as 2009 turns into our yesterday and 2010 becomes our today. I look forward to the coming year, to see what God will do in us and through us, and that we would be open to saying yes to God’s call, wherever it might lead.

You are loved and beloved.
By God who gave you life.
By Christ who redeemed your life.
By the Spirit that wooed you in the beginning and that will carry you through to the end.

Know this one thing, treasure it in your heart, and it will keep you through whatever lies ahead.

I’d like us to take communion together. Really.

Whatever corner of this world we inhabit, I want to provide an opportunity for any who desire to do so to join us for communion across the miles so  we might know that as we each drink of the cup and eat of the bread in our own homes, we will be spiritually joining our hearts at the table of Christ.  We will be reminded that however lonely or isolated we might feel, how our truest selves are unknown by so many, at the table we aren’t alone. We stand with others at the table as much in our wholeness as in our brokenness and we come to a table where Christ’s arms are outstretched and God’s love is fully present to receive us.

I know from some of the things you’ve told me that it’s been years since you last received communion. A few of you have said it’s been so long you don’t even remember when the last time was that you went to the table. You haven’t gone because there was a time when you were held back from the table because someone dared to say that as long as you were gay you weren’t welcome. Or you have been so wounded by God’s people and Christ’s church that you don’t dare risk joining hands with the other guests at the table for fear you’ll be wounded by them again. Or some of you have stayed away because you’re not even sure that God has set a place for you at the table.

Whether you go to the table every Sunday or if you haven’t been there in years, I invite you to join us for this one celebration of Christ’s table; that through this act we’ll be remembering not only the gift of God through Christ but we’ll be assured that we’re meeting each other at a table where all are fully welcome and where everyone belongs. It is never up to a human or institution to decide who is or is not welcome or worthy at the table. The table belongs to Christ. It has been set by Him. The meal has been provided by Him. The guest list has been prepared by Him, and on that list is your name. In big, bold, capital letters.

And Jesus is saying, “Please come.”

If you still wonder if you’re worthy enough to come to the table, maybe something I said to Wendy will help you.

On Sunday morning, September 20, Pacific Standard Time, I will be posting “Gathering at the Table.”  The post will be an outline of communion service. There will be an opening call to worship, prayers, and scripture readings for us to reflect on. There will be embedded videos of worship music and audio segments I’ll be recording to lead us to our time at the table. For those who follow this blog in email, you will need to come to the blog itself to participate since the audio/video files and layout can’t be included in the email format.

Whatever your time zone if you would like to participate I would encourage you to do so sometime between Sunday late afternoon and Tuesday morning (PST). It’s not important that we all partake of communion at the exact same moment but if a number of us participate we can almost be sure that at any time between Sunday and Tuesday at least two or three of us will be crossing paths at Christ’s table.

Over the next several days, my single highest priority is to create an online event that graced by God’s Spirit will extend beyond the limitations of this medium and create a meaningful spiritual experience for each one of us who participate.  In the meantime until Sunday, there are some things you can do to prepare for joining us at the table.

1. Begin now to pray, preparing not only your heart and mind for meeting Christ at the table, but praying for any others who have hesitated to receive communion because they’ve been too wounded or feel unwelcome, unworthy, or undeserving of the meal that awaits them there.
2. Whatever day you choose to receive communion between Sunday and Tuesday, allow yourself approximately 30 minutes.  That’s more time than the actual “service” will take but provides you with additional time for prayer, meditation, or simply relishing a few minutes of intentional silence before God. Make arrangements with other family members to give you this time free of distractions. Turn down your phone. If you have a laptop take it to an end of the house or a corner of your apartment free from as many visual and auditory distractions as possible.
3. Try to create a quiet place near your computer. Remove all the stacks of papers and clutter that surround your computer space and replace whatever is normally there with a candle or any objects that help you feel at peace.
4. Purchase an especially yummy roll or loaf of bread you love and fill a nice glass with wine or grape juice. Make it beautiful. The table of Christ doesn’t need to be fancy but sometimes making it more beautiful reminds us of how special all that it represents is to us.
5. Have your Bible nearby. While I’ll cut and paste the Scripture passages into the thread, you still might prefer opening your Bible to the passage.

There’s no practice or ritual within Christianity that’s more sacred and beautiful to me than coming to the table of Christ, whether we call it the Lord’s Supper, Holy Eucharist, Communion, or the Great Feast. It’s the place that always anchors me, holds me, and keeps me centered in the greatest gift I’ve ever received and the one for which I will continue to give thanks without ceasing.

There a chair reserved at the table for you. Please come.

I’m not telling you this to elicit around round of “Aw, poor Anita” comments or even to worm a few more prayers out of you, though I’ll take them gratefully if you’re dispensing them. The reason I’m writing about it is because in the middle of it all I can’t help but think how fortunate I am and how good I have it. The pain I’m experiencing right now was expected pain. In choosing elective surgery I choose to go through this period of pain and this period of pain is only temporary. Next week at this time D won’t have to shadow my every step to keep me standing if I should begin to fall. I’ll be able to walk up the steps without groaning each time I lift a foot. I’ll be able to rise from the chair without it being a grand dramatic production. Every cough won’t cause me to gulp back the tears. Whenever I go through a time of temporary pain like this, I can’t help but think of those who live with chronic pain. Every night when they go to bed they do so with the understanding that the next morning they will awaken to pain, sometimes more, sometimes less, but always there. There are so many physical illnesses and diseases that include chronic pain; back pain, migraines, lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, cancer treatments, and on and on. Passing moments of pain in my own life remind me of those who live with chronic pain and I don’t know how they do it and I’m so amazed again and again by their courage, strength, and determination in learning with cope with what is so they can enjoy the best quality of life possible. And while I still have a propensity to whine over every little ache and pain and boo-boo that comes my way, remembering others who live through their physical suffering at least keeps my whining to a tolerable level for those anywhere within the sound of my voice.

I would imagine you’ve all had that same awareness; that experiencing physical pain deepens our awareness and empathy for others who are living with pain in far greater intensity and with much longer duration. Our momentary discomfort is a door and if not a door a tiny peekhole into knowing what life might be like in someone else’s world where living with pain is a constant reality. That’s the silver lining behind every cloud of suffering that comes our way because every time we suffer we connect to the pain of others and our hearts open to them. If you’ve gone through a long illness then you are better able to understand the difficulties someone suffering from illness or disease is enduring.  If you’ve walked through a brief season of depression in your life then you can immediately feel for those who live with depression. If you’ve had your heart broken even once in your life then chances are you will always be moved with tender compassion for the brokenhearted.

Over in our SisterFriends Community Forum new members often speak about the incredible support and encouragement they found there. In one way or another, to a greater or lesser degree, we have all been where each other is and in that connection of similar life experience our hearts are open to one another in a way that comes easier than if we hadn’t walked a similar path. I love being queer for this reason among so many others. I take incredible joy in knowing that God is able to turn all the pain I’ve experienced through rejection and judgment, condemnation and ridicule into pathways that open my heart to someone else and give me wisdom and understanding that I might never have found through any easier, less personal way. I’m not saying God caused the pain to occur and I never will. I’m saying that when I allow it to be so, God can take the most painful moments of my life and turn them into something that can be life-giving to another and in giving hope, support, and encouragement to another one of God’s creation, I find myself at a deeper place of healing within me to any of the ravages and remnants of pain that have held on so tightly.

All humans suffer. None are immune. No matter how good a persons life looks from the outside, there’s a world of hurt inside that skin. GLBTQ Christians share a particular brand of suffering known by others who have been rejected by the church, by their family, by their friends. We know the pain of being stereotyped and marginalized. We know the frustration of being misunderstood and unheard. We know all this and ultimately it becomes our decision whether these encounters with pain and suffering will be the thing that tears us apart, causing us to live our lives as victims or if  it will be the grist for what empowers us to become agents of healing and peace in the lives of others. What we do with the pain that has come to us is where our power lies and with God’s help the blessing of that pain can be far greater than it’s suffering.

Suffering and joy teach us, if we allow them, how to make the leap of empathy, which transports us into the soul and heart of another person. ln those transparent moments we know other people’s joys and sorrows, and we care about their concerns as if they were our own.  – Fritz Williams

But despite Paul’s intention regarding the duality of flesh (human nature) and spirit, there’s been a literal rendering through Church history that the human body and its desires are bad, while the things of the spirit are righteous and good. Deny the one, exalt the other. As GLBTQ Christians we’ve often been treated to a double-dose of the churches inappropriated admonishment to “deny the flesh and pursue the spirit” as though the battle between flesh and spirit is engaged in a World Wrestling Federation level free-for-all in queer folk.

But as I think about my body, this fleshy capsule that serves as my earthly container, I’m finding something holy about it. Touch your skin. Right now. Touch the skin on your arm. What you feel through your fingertips; the warm of the skin, the hair, the muscles underneath, were the very same sensations Jesus felt when he touched the skin on his arm. God had flesh, blood, muscle and bone. God lived in skin. God lived in a body. Christ’s body. God’s body. It was just a standard issue human body but the Spirit of God inhabited that one flesh and blood body and it was holy. It takes no stretch in my mind to jump from there to the conclusion that my body is holy and your body is holy. The Holy Spirit of God is joined with our spirits and in that union held together in our bodies, it is holy holy holy. The temple of God with skinned knees and pimples.

Wrinkles, extra folds of fat and skin, protruding bones, weak limbs, ears that hear and ears that don’t, eyes that see and eyes that don’t, each strand of hair, our arms, our legs, our feet and yes, I’m going to say it, even our genitals are holy. Does any of that make you uncomfortable? Why? Could it be because of shame you carry that part or all of your body holds for you? Has shame that never rightfully belonged to you from sexual abuse rendered your body used and defiled in your eyes? Has being heavier or thinner than society has deemed the ideal made your body loathsome to you? Do you carry scars from an injury? Is there any residue reminders of an illness that ravaged your body? Are you physically challenged somewhere in your limbs? Do you see your body as spoiled and ruined because of places you once took it and things you once did? What is it that keeps us from accepting that the body you see in the mirror is anything less than holy?

God loves you and that includes your body. Every flake of skin and curve of your silhouette is loved by God. God traces the lines of those scars you carry and looks at them in love. God sees you naked from top to bottom and delights in the vessel that He designed and if time and life have caused some wear and tear; God loves all that too because God was there when they happened. He knows the stories each rough edge and crack holds and His heart is moved with compassion and tenderness for it all. A holy God created your body and spirit and soul and all of it, without exception is holy and all is for God’s glory and all this body does is a song and dance of worship to its Creator.

So tomorrow a little extra skin that served me well for many years but no longer is needed will be cut away and what will remain will be a line of stitches that will become a scar that will fade but never fully go away, and that’s okay. My body need not be perfect. There will always be other bodies that are more muscular than mine, more curvaceous than mine, more slender than mine. There will be prettier faces and straigher teeth and more cooperative hair. But there will never be another body that is more holy.

If you aren’t able to love the body you have, if you aren’t able to envision it as the holy vessel it is, then just remember until the day when you can that God is loving it and calling it holy and delighting in it and in you.

My summer reading has included two books; one by Barbara Brown Taylor and the other by Frederick Buechner and their writing and God’s own poking around at my heart, have been shaping my ideas and wonderings around body and holiness and embodying our faith. Below is a relevant excerpt from each but please, do yourself a favor, and get both books. They’ll feed your soul like a ten course meal.

An Altar In the World: A Geography of Faith, by Barbara Brown Taylor. This excerpt is from her chapter on “The Practice of Wearing Skin: Incarnation”

“Duke ethicist Stanley Hauerwas finds most Christians far too spiritual in the practice of their faith. Christianity ‘is not a set of beliefs or doctrines one believes in order to be a Christian,’ he says, ‘but rather Christianity is to have one’s body shaped, one’s habits determined, in such a way that the worship of God is unavoidable.’ In our embodied life together, the words of our doctrines take on flesh. If one of our orthodox beliefs has no corporeal value, if we cannot come up with a single consequence it has for our embodied life together, then there is good reason to ask why we should bother with it at all. The issue Hauerwas raises is not whether there is any such thing as purely spiritual holiness, but ‘whether there is anything beside the body that can be sanctified.’

In far more pungent language, Daniel Berrigan once said, ‘It all comes down to this: Whose flesh are you touching and why? Whose flesh are you recoiling from and why? Whose flesh are you burning and why?’

Such questions strike below the radar screen of the intellect, where far too many quesions of faith are both argued and answered. When I hear people talk about what is wrong with organized religion, or why their mainline churches are failing, I hear about bad music, inept clergy, mean congregations, and preoccupation with institutional maintenance. I almost never hear about the intellectualization of faith, which strikes me as a far greater danger than anything else on the list. In an age of information overload, when a vast variety of media delivers news faster than most of us can digest – when many of us have at least two e-mail addresses, two telephone numbers, and one fax number – the last thing any of us needs is more information about God. We need the practice of incarnation, by which God saves the lives of those whose intellectual assent has turned as dry as dust, who have run frighteningly low on the bread of life, who are dying to know more God in their bodies. Not more about God. More God.”

Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith, by Frederick Buechner. The  excerpt below is from his mini-chapter on “Incarnation.”

“‘The Word became flesh,’ wrote John, ‘and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth’ (John 1:14). This is what incarnation means. It is untheological. It is unsophisticated. It is undignified. But according to Christianity, it is the way things are.

All religions and philosphies that deny the reality or the signficance of the material, the fleshly, the earthbound, are themselves denied.  Moses at the burning bush was told to take off his shoes because the ground on which he stood was holy ground (Excodus 3:5), and incarnation means that all ground is holy ground because God not only made it but walked on it, ate and slept and worked and died on it. If we are saved anywhere, we are saved here. And what is saved is not some diaphanous distillation of our bodies and our earth, but our bodies and our earth themselves. Jerusalem becomes the New Jerusalem coming down out of heaven like a brdie adorned for her husband (Revelation 21:2). Our bodies are sown perishable and raised imperishable (I Corinthians 15:42).

One of the blunders religious people are particularly fond of making is the attempt to be more spiritual than God.”

While Jesus was still speaking, suddenly a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him; but Jesus said to him, ‘Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?’ When those who were around him saw what was coming, they asked, ‘Lord, should we strike with the sword?’ Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, ‘No more of this!’ And he touched his ear and healed him. Then Jesus said to the chief priests, the officers of the temple police, and the elders who had come for him, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs as if I were a bandit? When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not lay hands on me. But this is your hour, and the power of darkness!’
The Betrayal and Arrest of Jesus from Luke 22:47-52

I was reeling and unsteady. There had been too many painful words spoken at me. Too many losses had begun to pile up. Doors closed. Friendships ended. Confusion, misunderstandings, and misdirected hostility seemed to rule the day. All because I had gone to a few of the people I loved the most and said, “Because I love you I need you to know something about me. I’m gay.” In an instant it seemed everything and everyone around me changed. People I adored and loved reacted in ways I could never have anticipated. I was blindsided by the anger. I was devastated by the looks of disappointment and disgust. I was chilled to the bone by the coldness that swept threw the closest of relationships.

And then through happenstance or the most loving gesture of a most loving God (I vote for the later), I stumbled over this familiar passage on the arrest and betrayal of Jesus that showed me everything I needed to find my way back to steady, solid ground.

In the crowd that approached Jesus was the high priest’s slave. While the others in the crowd were there of their own accord, and no doubt relishing being so close to silencing this crazy prophet once and for all, the slave was there for one reason. He was a slave. He was there because he had been ordered to be there. This one man in the crowd was innocent. He had no power. He meant no harm. He was merely following the command of his master.

And to the edge of the crowd were Jesus’ followers. They probably didn’t even notice the slave standing at the side of his master. Instead they recognized among the approaching crowd religious leaders who had repeatedly taken an adversarial position to Jesus’ teachings and miracles throughout his ministry. They saw the soldiers with swords at the ready. They remembered Jesus’ words from only hours earlier that he would soon be betrayed, suffer and die. When all that had been said by Jesus echoing in their minds and with the imminent confrontation with numbers larger than they possessed, their basic instinct to protect the One they loved kicked in. Driven by fear of the uncertainty of the situation and by love for Jesus, one of his followers grabbed a sword and in a defensive move swung it wildly in the direction of the crowd where it connected with perhaps the most least threatening and innocent of all those gathered, a slave.

Jesus responds by saying “Enough of this!” and then reaching to the edge of the crowd where the slave stands screaming in pain, Jesus places his hand on the bloody remnants that had once been his right ear and heals him. Jesus didn’t reach down and pick up the severed ear from the dust and attach it back in place. That would have been impressive enough but no, Jesus touched the place where there was nothing more than a gaping wound and from that nothingness he brought forth wholeness. An old ear wasn’t repaired. A new ear was formed.

Only Luke includes this last healing touch of Jesus which isn’t all that surprising really since Luke’s vision of Jesus was as the Great Physician, the One who heals those who have been wounded, even by the well-intended mistakes of his own followers. And that’s really what it was. The unnamed disciple had meant well. It was love for his Master and a passion to protect him at all cost that had caused him to swing the sword and whack an ear. He wasn’t motivated by hate but by love for Jesus. And yet, even though his motives were well-meaning and his action meant to do a good thing rather than to cause harm, it resulted in a devastating injury to an innocent man; a wound that had Jesus not healed would have negatively impacted every day of the slave’s life from that moment on. As a slave with one ear he would have been viewed of less value and perhaps would have been relegated to even more menial, degrading tasks than when he was once a slave deemed good enough to accompany his master in public.  While pain must have held the loudest voice in his head immediately following the blow of the sword, it’s not hard to imagine that in those first seconds the slave saw his uncertain future and feared for his life.

I realized in my closer reading of this passage that in my life I’ve been both the innocent slave and the unnamed disciple.

I am the innocent slave. I came out and swords starting swinging in my direction by people I loved and respected. Good people. Loving people. People of faith who loved God, followed Christ, and were genuinely committed to the church and to other believers. People who at every other time in my life and in every other occasion had displayed nothing but love, loyalty, and kindness toward me. I’d never seen them do a hateful thing or speak a harmful word and so when they picked up swords and started swinging, it made no sense until I came back to this passage and saw each of them as the unnamed disciple; a disciple who loving Jesus beyond measure and fearing that everything he had come to know in his life since following Jesus was about to be taken from him, swung out at the perceived threat and in doing so wounded the slave who was no threat to the One he loved or to his way of life. Recognizing that swords are often swung in our direction from well-intended people does nothing to justify the aggressive action of the sword-swinger nor does it require that we stand still while our ears are hacked off, but compassion and understanding go along away in dulling the edge of the sword and softening our hearts to seeing the unnamed follower behind the sword as our brother and not our enemy.

I am the unnamed disciple, and the words Jesus speaks to me are “Enough of this!” Even knowing the personal violence that lay ahead for him, Jesus continues to advocate the way of peace. The way of peace is the way of the kingdom of God. Jesus will be taken. Heavy chains will be secured on his arms and legs. A crown of thorns will be placed on his head. A leather whip with multiple cords will dig deep in his flesh, and in the end he’ll be nailed and hung to a cross to suffer and die. “But remember my words, no violence!” These same followers of Jesus will suffer their own violence in the days that follow Jesus’ ascension. They will be mocked and ridiculed. Some will be persecuted. Others will be imprisoned. And a few will be killed for living true to their faith and calling. “But remember my words, no violence!” Though my intentions might be well-meaning, my indignation righteous, my anger at injustice justified, if anything I might do or anything I say holds potential to harm to another human life in body or in spirit, then Jesus speaks to me, “Drop the sword. The way of God’s kingdom is peace.” At times the sword seems to make more sense than the way of peace but the Kingdom of God has never been all that concerned with making sense to human understanding yet to those who seek spiritual understanding it makes all the sense in the world…and in the kingdom.

Today I’m trying to do the best I can to not pick up the sword and follow the way of peace but even when I fail, as I have and as I will, there remains the comfort and assurance that because Grace has no limit, there’s no mistake I will ever make that’s beyond the reach of Jesus to redeem and restore to wholeness.

You have lost nothing and will lose nothing that is beyond God’s ability to restore to you. You have lost no voice in ministry, no loved ones, no dignity, no human worth, no assurance of your faith, that God can’t redeem. The power of the sword for destruction is nothing compared to the healing power of the One who reaches out to you. God makes all things new. God brings life from death. God brings healing from injury. God restores, redeems, and makes whole.

And from everything I’ve experienced in my life and witnessed in others, the new ear God has for you is even better than the old one laying mangled in the dust.

And he touched his ear and healed him.

Whatever needs healing in you, may God’s healing touch come to you today. This is my prayer for you.

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Easter morning. Church.

There’s so much to do.

I need to finish setting up the tables and putting out the refreshments for the hospitality time that follows the worship hour. I have the purple table cloths and lavender napkins but I’m wondering if I should have bought matching dessert plates too. I have so many folks bringing refreshments this morning. Will napkins be enough? A floral centerpiece would have been nice. If I leave early enough I could run by the store to pick up some fresh flowers. I need to remember to put the cut glass crystal vase in the car in the morning. Get the vase. Don’t forget.

Oh! and my white stole. The white quilted one with the hand-stitched shimmery gold thread. It’s in the garage on the folding table where I’ve been storing the supplies for the children’s Easter egg hunt. I need to remember it too. The church colors turn to white between now and Pentecost and I only have my green stole at church.

Cut glass vase. White stole with gold thread. Leave early to get flowers. And remember this Sunday of all Sundays to turn the coffee pot on early enough. The congregation is happier with their caffeine than without it. And a quart of Half & Half. Soy milk for the lactose-intolerant. Vase. Stole. Flowers. Half & Half. Soy milk. Coffee.

I’m serving at the communion table. I could barely see the words to read the Eucharistic Prayer the last time I assisted at the table. Why do I keep forgetting to take my glasses when I should be wearing them all the time anyway? Add eye glasses to the list. I think I still have a few loose breath mints and tissues in my robe pockets from last week. Better check just in case.

Children’s sermon. I took all the visuals for the story to church last night. White felt story cloth. Brown felt road. Empty tomb with stone. Wooden story figures of the angel, Jesus, Mary, and her two friends. Empty gold metallic eggs and “He is Alive!” bracelets for every child. It would be nice to get through the story this year without my voice breaking from emotion. What a refreshing change of pace to not have to explain to the children yet again that “these are happy tears.” Don’t hold your breath Anita.

I hope the weather holds long enough for the Easter egg hunt after church. I only pray for the weather once a year but for the record I never pray for parking though I don’t hesitate to give thanks when a space opens up. This is the Bay area after all. Parking is a rare commodity which makes finding an empty parking space seem a sacred moment of divine intervention. Seriously, what am I going to do if it rains? Push the congregation out of the sanctuary at the end of service and get my teen helpers to stop eating the candy long enough to spread the filled plastic eggs and chocolates out on the church floor underneath the pews? I can just hear it. “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Now go! Get out quick!” Better than having the kids slosh through the wet grass I suppose, little egg hunt vacuum cleaners that they are. I bought too many chocolate eggs. Again. I always get carried away. There’s enough chocolate to feed a small country. I’ve got to get a grip on being so excessive with the candy at Easter. Next year. Less candy. Make note.

What do I need to remember again? Vase. Eye glasses. White stole. Flowers. Half & Half. Soy milk. Turn on coffee. Check for breath mints and tissues. Don’t cry. Less candy next year. I’m going to forget in the morning. Get up and write a note. Tape it to the garage door, and as long as I’m up, blog.

That’s the busy brain that got me downstairs in my pajamas in the middle of the night before Easter Sunday. It’s now 5:00 a.m. and with 90 minutes before the alarm goes off there’s no point in going back to bed. And besides, I don’t want to. It’s Easter morning if you haven’t heard.  A time to pause and with intention remember what we can never forget. The stone was rolled away. The tomb was empty. Death did not hold him. The grave could not keep him. The promise of new and everlasting life for all was fulfilled in Christ. The story will never grow old or thread-bare because it’s born anew and kept vibrant and alive in the hearts of those who treasure it every time they remember it. He is risen. He is risen indeed. I can’t believe such a thing! Yes I can. I do!

Resurrection. Redemption. Salvation. Liberation. New life. Everlasting life. He is not here. He is alive. The living Christ risen in glory. The awesome wonder and beauty of Easter language. Let it’s poetry play across your lips. Breathe it in deep. Take it into your bones.

Today is what it’s all about and because of today we know that like Jesus we have been called into freedom from whatever binds us. Our sin. The sin of others toward us. Oppression. Despair. Fear. Uncertainty. Injustice. Whatever holds us, whatever binds us, whatever buries us in isolation and keeps us living as less than all that we fully are in God. Every stone will be rolled away. My stones. Your stones. We have been freed. It is done and now all that remains is for us to live into that costly freedom, entering into the new life to which we have been called. The price has been paid. The path has been paved. The victory has been won.

Easter morning. How can anyone be sleeping with such glory ahead?

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

I hadn’t planned to post again today but there was a reading tonight that made me think of you so much that I turned to D mid-way through and whispered, “I have to get these words from the pastor tonight. I have to share it on the blog right away.” I couldn’t wait to post it on another day because, and I know this is going to sound quite pentecostal of me, I felt in my spirit or possibly my gut that you needed to hear it sooner rather than later. I don’t even know who you are or if you is just you or two or three of you. I just know I want to put this out there and while I’m at it, encourage you to read it through and then read it through again. Read it out loud to give it voice and then in your voice, if it’s true for you, offer these words to God.

The poem/song is “Evensong” by Patricia Van Ness.

We have never been abandoned by you
The Creator of our jewel-like humanity
You are the source of all that is beautiful
The source of our desire to live.

We have never been abandoned by you
You aid us in the uncloaking of ourselves
You give us the gift of courage
Gifts of patience and compassion are ours.

We have never been abandoned by you
Our hearts seek
and find a gentle God
You are the source of all this is beautiful
The source of our desire to live.

My heart is divided and
houses unlovely things
I am filled with anger and confusion

I call to you
Your grace touches my tears
like the evening breeze
The gathering dusk kisses my brow.

All that I am is embraced by you
All that I am is embraced by you
Both lovely and not.
Your loving-kindness is not blind
Yet you, seeing all, love and respect me.

If I could be granted one wish, one desire
It would be to accept more and more
of this mystery
For often, thinking otherwise
I lessen the joy of life.
Your grace touches my tears
like the evening breeze
The glimmering stars
kiss my brow.

Bless the friends
who teach us your kindness
The stars and moon in the sapphire sky
Bless our sorrows
and our broken hearts
Bless us in the twilight.

Bless the night that brings solace to us
Scented with the growth of flowers and trees
Bless the moon’s rays
falling on quiet paths
Bless us in the twilight.

Bless the ponds that reflect
the great diamonds
The hidden gardens
of multiple greens
Bless the wolves who stand within us
Bless us in the twilight.