Monday Manna
Every Monday Pastor Loren starts the week with a brief devotion entitled Monday Manna. You can read them here or email us to be on our mailing list!
Hide it under a bushel?No!
In yesterday’s sermon I shared some of the story of Corrie ten Boom, a watchmaker living in Holland during the German Occupation of WWII. Corrie and her family were an instrumental part of the Dutch Underground which successfully spirited thousands of Jewish people to safety. Eventually, she and her family were arrested. Her father and sister died while they were imprisoned. I used Corrie’s story as an example of our identity as Christians to be salt of the earth and light of the world. After worship several folks said, “You didn’t finish the story! What happened to Corrie ten Boom?”
After being held at a political camp called Scheveningen, she and her sister, Betsie, were relocated with many others to Ravensbrück. It was there that Betsie died from illness. Before her death, Betsie and Corrie had ministered to many of the women in their barracks. Betsie had a vision that after the war she and Corrie would open a home for those deeply wounded from the war—for Betsie this included the soldiers and camp staff who had committed all the terrible atrocities of the Holocaust. She envisioned a mansion with large windows, a grand staircase, and sprawling grounds where those living there could tend the gardens. Just twelve days after Betsie’s death, just before Christmas in 1944, Corrie was released from Ravensbrück. As it turns out, ten Boom’s release was a clerical error; all the other prisoners of her age group were sent to the gas chambers the following week.
Corrie made her way back home and began telling people what she and Betsie had learned, particularly about God during their imprisonment. She described Betsie’s vision for a home in Holland where people could recuperate. After one such talk, Corrie was approached by Mrs. Bierens de Haan who lived in a wealthy neighborhood in Corrie’s hometown of Haarlem. She was invited to visit the woman’s large estate, with a 56-room mansion that was just as Betsie had described. This became a place of refuge for those who returned to Holland and needed a safe place to heal from their trauma. A few years later, Corrie returned to Germany. One day a relief organization worker came up to her to ask her for help with a rehabilitation home in Germany. The gentleman told her that they already had a place where it could begin, a former concentration camp at Darmstadt. As Corrie walked through the camp, she no longer saw misery or fear but a place that, once again, Betsie had described—a place with window boxes and lots of brightly colored paint and a garden with flowers coming up in the spring. The camp opened in the spring of 1946.
Corrie ten Boom died on April 15, 1983—her 91st birthday, after dedicating her entire life to spreading the truth of God’s love.
Corrie’s story is an incredible testament to God’s continued movement in the world. Corrie and her family were guided by God’s will and did not lose sight of their faith even in the darkest of times. After her release, she could have returned to her little home and reopened her family watch shop…but God had other plans for her. Corrie continued to minister to humanities most traumatized and broken individuals. She modeled forgiveness and witnessed to God’s grace for all people.
You can read Corrie’s story in her book, A Hiding Place (we have a copy in the church library).
Salt & Sunlight
Salt & Sunlight
Salty tears-
laughter ringing in ears.
Sunlight fades to twilight-
first twinkles wink.
It’s her, I think.
LTM
11/18/24
Matt 5:13-16 Salt and Light
‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
What Time is It?
What Time Is It?
“Mom, what time is it,” my son asks from his nest on the couch. A valid question since its pitch dark out at 6pm. I’ve noticed over the last few weeks it’s been harder for him to leap out of bed at the crack of dawn, sleeping much longer into the morning on the weekends. It’s funny that I prayed for this day to come, but now that it’s here I was caught by surprise…is it normal for a ten-year-old to do this? I’m assured by friends that it is. But his question brought deeper answers to the surface than just what time is shown on the clock.
What time is it?
Time to sow the seeds of reconciliation rather than animosity.
What time is it?
Time to sow peace instead of discord.
What time is it?
Time to modify swords into plough shares, spears into pruning hooks.
What time is it?
Time to study shalom instead of combat.
What time is it?
Time to stop throwing sticks and stones.
What time is it?
Time to see our neighbors as ourselves, human beings with the same blood in their veins.
What time is it?
To trek up the mountain, stop talking, and listen to God.
What time is it?
Time to witness to the intrinsic goodness of people, because God’s Spirit is indwelling.
What time is it?
Time to laugh, time to heal, time to love.
Ephesians 3:1-8, Isaiah 2: 1-4, Matthew 22:34-40, Romans 8:1-9
Come Spirit, Hover
Come into our presence, Holy God.
Let your Spirit,
that which hovered over the deep
hover over our ballot boxes
to bring a breath of peace.
Keep our people safe, Almighty,
as we exercise our freedoms.
Turn swords into ploughshares,
spears into pruning hooks,
let us not study war, anymore.
You, O Lord
Our Alpha and Omega,
may your grace be at the forefront
of our hearts and minds.
That our rights would align
With your call to do justice,
love kindness and walk humbly with you.
Amen.
LTM 11/4/24
Story of my life
I spoke briefly in my sermon Sunday morning about musician Liam Payne, who recently lost his life due to substance abuse. When my son was little he loved the group, One Direction, in which Liam was a member. After his Grams introduced the music to him, I became familiar with the pop group and many of their songs as we played them in the car and had dance parties in the living room. My favorite song has always been, “Story Of My Life” a hauntingly beautiful song, all the more poignant now after Liam’s passing. A few years ago I found a cover rendition by The Piano Guys. I am going to link that here, along with a link for the original and lyrics if you have interest.
“Story Of My Life” The Piano Guys https://youtu.be/yET4p-r2TI8?si=alMIpj2g-AhgE2d8
“Story Of My Life” One Direction https://youtu.be/PJYpZ4hkXJE?si=Bfu_ypJixcaSpn4o
Pastor Appreciation Month Part II
I have been fortunate to work with and learn from amazing colleagues in ministry. I attended seminary with some of my generation’s best and brightest pastors and educators. They are passionate and creative individuals who are steeped in Theology and Biblical studies. They work hard to fuse tradition and innovation. They value intergenerational ministry. It is a daunting time to be in the pastorate. We came out of seminary being told there were more pastors seeking calls than there were churches available. I wonder if that narrative has flipped…seems to me I hear of a lot of churches (mostly small) that are seeking a pastor. We were also sent out into a world in which the influence of the church on society was waning and that has only intensified over time. For those of us who entered the ministry in our twenties, there was/is a lot of pressure to attract young people and families to the church. What many folks don’t understand is that by nature of our passion and commitment to the church, we often speak the language of the generations that have preceded us far better than we connect with our generational peers. Since covid, more than ever, we’ve had to adapt to digital ministry. In some ways this is a blessing and way to have a broader reach. In other ways, it is challenging as we navigate serving with one foot in the tangible, face-to-face, pew & steeple world; and another foot in the world of video editing, online worship, and social media ministry where the temptation to be an influencer comes at the detriment of authenticity. I believe pastors experience burnout at far greater rates than a few decades ago as we feel a great pressure to keep the church relevant and keep the doors open. Pastors are often expected to visit parishioners frequently, write sermons that are engaging and deliver them with gusto every Sunday, teach a class or bible study, serve on multiple denominational or community boards and committees, maintain connections with other pastors, seek continuing education, and be at the church every time the doors open. Occasionally, ministers are also the sexton, the plumber, the party planner, the idea generator, and the face of the church. But we only work on Sundays! 😉
Many of my friends are overworked and underpaid…and they rarely complain. Many of my peers work 50 or 60 hours a week and will go for months or even a year at a time without taking a vacation. I know of female peers who have more credentials and experience than her male counterparts and yet been passed over for raises and Head of Staff positions. I know single male ministers who are expected to be available at all hours because they don’t have “the excuse” of a family to go home to. And if we are blessed to be married and perhaps have children, our families live in fishbowls. It is not the same as it once was where the pastor’s wife was expected to also play piano or host dinners frequently...but there is still often an expectation that spouses and children will be very involved in the life of the church (which as you know is not the case for my spouse). So, in this moment, I want to say thank you. I want to say thank you to the congregations that have loved me so well in my 14 years since ordination. My family has been embraced, loved, and cared for by so many wonderful people in the church. I’ve been honored to officiate weddings, preside over tables, baptize children, and witness to the resurrection of amazing individuals. Not many people can say they are invited into the most vulnerable of life’s moments to celebrate joys but also to sit in sorrow. I’ve also been hugged and high-fived by many a child and teen. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I believe God called me to New Providence so that I might have the space to breathe again. To slow down and see the beauty of God’s creation in both nature and community. I believe God knew our family needed the kind of peace and love that is nurtured here. It is not lost on me that my family and I are well cared for financially by the church and given a lovely home in which to dwell. And we are surrounded by the best neighbors we could ask for. I feel that I am appreciated as a person with her own interests and needs and encouraged to spend time, not only doing what I enjoy, but putting my family and my health first. You’ve also been wonderful to our son and given him a home where he feels safe and loved. It is sad to say that not every pastor or pastor’s family has felt that way. I am filled with gratitude for the countless ways you have opened your hearts to us over the last four years. It has been a great blessing; you have been and continue to be a great blessing to me. I am only the pastor that I am because of the congregation and community that you are.
With Love,
Loren
Pastor Appreciation Month
Since October is Pastor Appreciation Month, I thought I would spend just a few moments in gratitude, reflecting on a few of the ministers who have greatly influenced my life. God could not have given me better ministers to shepherd me through adolescence than the ones I grew up with at Bedford Presbyterian Church.
Joseph Gaston was our Pastor/Head of Staff. Joseph calls himself the “farm boy pastor” and that fits him just about perfectly. With his South Carolina drawl he taught me from an early age the importance of humor and laughter from the pulpit and in ministry. He also taught me the vital role of presence in difficult moments. He and his wife Karen woke up and drove to Roanoke in the middle of the night to sit with my family after my parents’ car accident. A lot of that night is a blur, but their solid strength remains crystal clear.
Bill Buchanan was our Associate Pastor, and he oversaw our youth ministry program. Bill taught me that you’re never too young to use your gifts to serve the Lord. He had an incredible way of recognizing each person’s gifts and finding a way for them to use it at church. He baptized me, introduced me to Montreat, and trusted me with his children. He taught me that the way you walk in your daily life is your witness to Jesus. And ministry is just about loving people and meeting them where they are.
Bill’s wife Aimee was…well…incredible. That word doesn’t even do her justice. She invited me to a girl’s teen bible study in her home (which they opened often to us) and the personal note is what made me feel welcome. Aimee sought justice for all people, and she wasn’t afraid to be in the trenches with them. In church, she and Bill encouraged creativity and gave us space to lead worship. Even when she wasn’t on staff at our church, she was often in various leadership roles. And she wasn’t afraid to be in the pulpit with a Bible in one hand, and one of her children on her hip. Illuminating that it is in fact possible to be both pastor and mother.
Kevin Brunk came to BPC after Bill and Aimee moved to Asheville, he was the Associate Pastor while I was in college. Kevin had a very unique youth group which at its core was all boys with maybe one or two girls (who held their own with the best of them). I remember a lock-in where I served as a chaperone, and he stayed up half the night playing video games with them. Kevin was humble and loving in every encounter. He could be silly and turn serious on a dime, which is what those boys needed. This served me well when I was involved in youth ministry in Richmond. I never understood when I was young and Kevin told me after Sunday worship he went home and crashed, he was just so drained after Sunday worship. Now, I get it. Sorry, I doubted you, Kevin!
And I must tell you about Brenda Halbrooks. Brenda was the pastor at Three Chopt Presbyterian in Richmond where I served during seminary. Brenda was the first pastor I had watched preaching in a church setting without a manuscript. What on earth!? She would write little sermon points on her fingers. Brenda also led with humor, and once called my office in Appomattox shortly after I arrived pretending to be asking for outrageous financial assistance. Unfortunately for her, I knew the number on the caller ID. Brenda was a steady voice of guidance to the church in those years. I don’t remember ever seeing her feathers ruffled. She was always calm and not afraid to say, ‘let’s revisit this later.’ Brenda was the same pastor whether she was participating in the Women’s Bible Study, moderating a session meeting, or chaperoning teenagers on a retreat. She loved us well.
I would be remiss not to mention my father-in-law Bass Mitchell in this list. Michael likes to remind me how thankful he is that his dad now has someone with whom he can share his craft. The most important thing I’ve learned from “Papa Bass” is the power of simple, authentic delivery—whether that be in sermons or pastoral interactions. People don’t need flowery words, and they don’t need perfection, they just need to see your honesty and your integrity. The Bass that might hold your hand as you take your last breath is the same Bass that gives kids high fives as he walks down the aisle before church. The same Bass who now teaches inmates classes to get their GED in his “retirement.”
Without these individuals (and many others) I would not be where I am today. I wouldn’t have this same appreciation for intergenerational or rural ministry. I wouldn’t know the power of self-deprecating humor to the same extent. I might not have witnessed pastors striving to create healthy patterns and sabbath. It might not have occurred to me to let kids be kids in the pews or allow teenagers to have a voice in all aspects of church life. I may not have recognized that the church isn’t the walls, it’s the people. I wouldn’t have believed “church” can look like serving popsicles to the homeless on hot days and playing board games with veterans. And I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to write skits for Youth Sunday sermons or read my poetry on the Montreat auditorium stage in front of a thousand peers. It is quite possible that I would never have considered ministry at all. God is, indeed, good.
Let Love Be Genuine
“Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.”
—Romans 12:9-13
We had a bit of a wild day at NP yesterday, did we not? As I look back over our time together as a congregation on Sunday what stands out to me is our deep commitment to one another and the gospel message. I was so excited to have my friends visiting from London. They wanted to come worship with us, and I was delighted because I knew that you all would be so warm and welcoming of them. So many folks were able to chat with them after the service and show them around the church. You extended hospitality to strangers, and I know that was not just because they were my friends, but because you genuinely strive to be a people of love. Thank you for simply being you.
I can’t tell you how special it is to have our youngest disciples feel safe enough to run to me (or any of us) when they first arrive at church for conversations and hugs. Over the last few weeks I have recognized your patience and encouragement of our children as they help us begin worship by setting the table, bible, and baptismal font. It is in no way a perfect, polished moment in the service, but that’s what makes it special, because it is genuine—and imperfect—just like us.
As I sit “up front” I often glimpse little moments among the congregation that other folks can’t see. The choir members understand this best I am sure, as they get a great view of the pews. I witnessed a great moment yesterday that reminded me of the “it takes a village” saying. A few kids were being a little bit mischievous in the pews and I witnessed Linda Jean’s principal face in action telling them to behave. Those kids got “the look” and straightened right up! It gave me quite the chuckle.
And at the end of service, when one of our littles had been injured upstairs, all the parents rushed into action, calling the paramedics immediately (just in case) and lending quiet support to each other, and comforting all the children who were shaken up by the incident. Meanwhile, other folks stuck around waiting to find out what happened and be a loving and reassuring presence. I am pleased to say all is well and our little gal is just fine! But it is in these times that we remember well just how genuinely and deeply we are bound together by the Spirit. For all the ways NP shows compassion, generosity, humility, and mutual affection, I am so grateful. I know you are too.
Forged In Fire
Little did they know
When in desert pillar blazed
They’d be forged in fire.
Little did they know
When flames danced overhead
They’d be forged in fire.
Little did they know
As brick foundations baked
They’d be forged in fire.
Little did we know
The landscape would change.
And we’d be forged in fire.
Little did we know
Churches would be on the pyre
And we’d be forged in fire.
Stir the embers
Fan the flame
We remain.
LTM 9/22/24
The Lord went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and by night. -Exodus 13:21
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.—Acts 2:1-3
In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.-1 Peter 1:6-9
The Bench
The front porch is my spot. From April through October if the weather is fair that is where you will find me. While I enjoy watching the seasons changing, I am saddened when the weather turns cold, and I must pack away my cushions until Spring.
My bench on the porch is particularly special to me. I asked my dad to fashion it for me out of the head and foot boards of my grandparent’s bedframe. For the seat he used old pews that were being discarded from my home church. The shelf beneath the seat holds all manner of sticks and stones. I often sit and pray our child who is often climbing the dogwoods or flying down the hill on his bike won’t break any bones. I have to wonder how many prayers my grandmother lift did when she laid her head down at night. And how many prayers were spoken and liturgy recited from the very pew where I sit.
I love to lounge there like a cat soaking in the sun. Often, Sirius Black joins me in the late afternoon, and we nap together lulled by the breeze. We often have hummingbirds buzzing by and butterflies landing at our feet. We watch the flowers bloom and leaves change while the deer pick their way across the yard. Books get read, poems get written, homework gets done, all on my sweet little bench.
Do you have a spot like mine? Why is it special to you? What kinds of memories do you make there?
Helping people
When our son Kemper was three or four years old, we went to the beach with Michael’s parents and got to spend time with the extended family living in the area. One day we went out on a boat with a whole passel of cousins spanning several generations. The young cousins were talking about what they wanted to be when they grow up with typical answers such as, “a popstar, an actress, and a billionaire with lots of big trucks.” Then they posed the question to Kemper, who said, “I want to help people.” As you can imagine, my momma’s heart was full to bursting to hear my baby respond with something so innocent and kind. Clearly the episodes of Paw Patrol & Daniel Tiger were doing their jobs!As he has aged, Kemper’s response to the question has changed several times to include a scientist, and even a pastor (because, according to him, it looks easy). But I believe that thread of doing something that helps other people is still in his heart. Sometimes we believe to ‘help people’ we have to do something extravagant or widescale. This type of thinking limits us as we become overwhelmed by the thought of meeting the dire needs of our world.As we move into fall and then roll into the holiday season, we will have multiple opportunities at NP to be God’s instruments in helping people in meaningful ways. We’ll collect items for Kingsway & Valley Mission. We’ll fill shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child. We’ll deliver gifts to our shut-ins and have our kids mail cards to the troops. I want to remind us that these small gestures can make a big impact in our community. So can mailing a card or making a phone call to let folks know you are praying for them. Dropping off a meal for someone who’s going through a tough time when you have leftovers counts as well. So does picking up trash on your morning walk. So, this is just a small reminder that you are in fact helping each other in a hundred little ways already, and these efforts are what strengthens the community and reflects the light of Christ. Let’s all consider it our jobs to ‘help people.’
Untitled
She was the best of us
Pure as a freshwater pearl.
She was the clasp
That held our strand together.
I hear her laugh echo
On the beat of a butterfly’s wings.
Sometimes I come up here
To be alone.
Hay bales hang like a necklace
On the hillside.
Silent graves remind me
Not to waste away while I’m alive.
LTM
8/18/24
Change
I’ve been thinking a lot the last few weeks about change. Change is hard. We are creatures of habit and comfort. Change, while inevitable, is daunting. The unknown is like walking into a cloud of mist seeking the horizon. As an adult I’ve had to train myself to ‘go with the flow’ more, it is not my first instinct.
My son’s best friend is moving. On his first day of fifth grade, they will pull out of town with a U-Haul headed for Texas. As you can imagine, this has been incredibly difficult for him to accept and lots of tears have been shed. As a pastor we are taught to anticipate that we will move several times throughout our ministry. This was one of the hardest things for me to accept when I felt called because I didn’t ever want to put my family through the hardship of moving. I’ve been the family that had to move away and leave all my friends behind and start over…and I’ve been the heartbroken congregant when a beloved pastor was called elsewhere. I have considered how hard it may be for my child to be the one to move. However, it’s a new sensation to watch my child be the one who feels left behind, abandoned, and alone. Add this to the list of things that no one writes about in pregnancy and parenting books!
It took years for me to admit to my parents that moving from the town where my mother grew up to Bedford when I began middle school was the best thing they could have done for me. They knew it was the right thing to do, but I resented it. Now, I can’t imagine my life any other way. The opportunities I had and the people I met guided me to where I am today. But it’s hard to hold the hands of a ten-year-old and make them believe that it will all be OK. That the broken heart will mend, that life will still be full. I can point to the picture of my best friend and me at 7 years old next to the one of us at 35 years old and say, “See. We are still close.” But that doesn’t make him feel any better about walking into fifth grade without his best friend on the first day of school. Just as I desired for myself at that age, I wish I could enclose him in a bubble and stop time so that everything remained the same and nothing was hard, and nothing hurt.
Isn’t that why the disciples shut themselves away behind locked doors and windows after Jesus’ death? It wasn’t just because they feared for their lives (surely, they did). But also, they were grieving this life-altering change. They had left homes, jobs, families…to follow someone who was now gone. No amount of explanation or assurance from Jesus before his death could truly prepare them for what was ahead of them. Everything they thought they knew was shattered. What were they supposed to do without their mentor to guide them? How were they supposed to go on without their friend? At least, if they were all in one place together, with the shape-shifting world outside the locked windows, they could maintain their bubble of comfort with one another. And if they couldn’t do that, well they could just go back to the familiar ways of life—like when they went fishing and Jesus met them on the shore. To see the resurrected Jesus would have brought joy to their hearts, but short-lived jubilation, because he couldn’t stay. Things still had to change. They still had to walk a different path without him physically beside them. They were required to split up and go their separate ways to spread the gospel message. Exciting, yes…but also intimidating and heartbreaking.
All of this is to say, we know that things are always changing, whether we like it or not. Whatever seismic or miniscule shifts you are experiencing, I will pray for the peace of Christ to mend your broken heart. I will hope that the grief, fear, or anger you might be feeling will dissipate over time, so that you can be open to the hope that comes with the dawn each morning. That you will be able to look back and reflect on the Holy Spirit’s movement in these moments and trust that God’s hand is at work, even now, because God is good and always working for our good, too. I will pray these things for you, and ask that you pray these things for us, too.
The Waters
On our way home from Bedford last Friday, Kemper and I parked the car and hiked down to a little water fall off the Blue Ridge Parkway. We sat on some rocks at the top of the falls, where the water was just starting to cascade from the plateau above us. Kemper enjoyed finding brightly colored leaves to drop in the stream and watch them travel down past us and over the falls. Each time a leaf would dance and spin down the currents only to be pressed beneath the water and under a rock ledge. After a few seconds of this however, the leaf would pop back up and spin back into the current and on its way.
Today, I am thinking that is a pretty good metaphor for life. How often do we find ourselves skipping happily along only to find ourselves suddenly overwhelmed by something that seems to crush us, force us into darkness in a blinding rush. An illness, a profound loss, an unexpected obstacle or cost. Like that bright red leaf, we fear we might be lost under the weight forever.
But the beauty of God’s promise to us is that we will always be carried on a current that floats us back to the top. God controls the stream and its flow. God wants us to dance, to spin, to thrive, carried by his love.
Isaiah 43:1-3, 4
But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
Because you are precious in my sight,
and honored, and I love you…
Ricochet
Ricochet of bullets
Reverberations far and wide
Resentments overtakes us
Reason seems to hide
Recoil makes rivulets
Reversing as the tide
Revisiting humanity curates
Reconciliation over pride
LTM 7/14/24
Romans 5:9-11
Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.
What are the odds?
Have you ever seen the television show, Young Sheldon? It is a spin-off from the widely popular show The Big Bang Theory. Young Sheldon follows the childhood of the character Sheldon Cooper, a theoretical physicist. Sheldon lives with his family in a middle-class Texan neighborhood in the 80s. He has an older brother and a twin sister. His father is the local football coach, and his mother is a devoted Christian woman. Sheldon’s Mee-maw (played by the amazing Annie Potts) lives across the street. Sheldon is a genius, extremely smart but socially awkward with any number of phobias to choose from, particularly germs, dirt, and dogs. At the beginning of the series, he is only 9 years old and entering high school where it is hoped that he will be more intellectually challenged. Hilarity often ensures. I’m watching the show with my son who is of the same age as Sheldon, and I am delighted to be watching a family friendly sitcom we can both enjoy…they don’t make those much anymore. We are only in season two (so no spoilers) but I hope it remains appropriate so we can enjoy it together.
In one episode the family receives word that a young teenager in the community has been killed in a car accident. This shakes the faith of his devout southern Baptist mother to the core. She confesses to her mother that she cannot wrap her mind around the patent, pithy saying that “its all in God’s plan.” Furthermore, she says, “how could it be that their daughter is ‘in a better place,’ what could be better than living her life at home with her family?” I’ve felt those same feelings a lot since last summer and the loss of my dear friend. How could any place be better than at home raising her two daughters?
At the end of the episode, Sheldon approaches his mom on the porch; expressing that he is scared because his mother isn’t acting like herself. He looks up at the sky and the following conversation ensues:
Sheldon: Did you know that if gravity were slightly more powerful the universe would collapse into a ball?
Mom: I did not.
Sheldon: Also, if gravity were slightly less powerful, the universe would fly apart and there would be no stars or planets?
Mom: Where are you going with this, Sheldon?
Sheldon: It’s just that gravity is precisely as strong as it needs to be. And if the ratio of the electromagnetic force to the strong force wasn’t one percent, life wouldn’t exist. What are the odds that would happen all by itself?
Mom: Why are you trying to convince me to believe in God? You don’t believe in God.
Sheldon: I don’t. But the precision of the universe at least makes it logical to conclude there is a Creator.
Mom: Baby, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but logic is here (points to her mind) and my problem is in here (points to her heart).
Sheldon: Well, there are five billion people on this planet and you’re the perfect mom for me. What are the odds of that?
At that she hugs Sheldon and says, “Thank you Lord for this little boy.” To which Sheldon replies, “I knew I could fix it.”
I don’t know how the universe was created for certain. And I don’t know a lick about the science behind most things. We often say that we need only look to creation to believe that God exists, and Sheldon points that out to his mom too. But the real sign of the Creator’s existence for Mary is in the people around her. I wonder if we shouldn’t be taking more time to pay attention and seek God in each other. For there to be billions of people on the planet and our lives intersect with certain people in specific places and times, molding and shaping our lives and faith. What are the odds of that?
“The Holiness of No”
“As my grandmother would say, ‘put some greens on that plate.’ Move your body. Drink some water. Learn the holiness of ‘no.’”-Dr. Thelma Bryant
The above directives from Dr. Thelma Bryant are extremely valuable as we navigate life. When exploring the narrative of Jesus calming the storm, we considered in our worship all the things that weigh heavily on us. We talked about how Jesus didn’t say, “there is nothing to be afraid of,” but rather that we cannot escape the wind and waves of life and so we must trust in the God who is present to us and powerful in the face of life’s storms.
I was thinking about how even though we must rely on God, we are not expected to be entirely passive. And taking care of these vessels that God has given us to carry our Spirit is vital. So, in the days and weeks to come I challenge us to be mindful of what we put into our bodies. I’m a sucker for sweets but I do also strive to put something green on my plate these days! Move your body, which is quickly followed by stay hydrated! In these extremely hot days pay attention to what your body is telling you. You don’t have to be a knot on a log, but don’t drive yourself to heat stroke either!
And finally, learn the holiness of ‘no.’ The biggest lesson of surviving this life, and perhaps the hardest achievement unlocked is that of setting boundaries. To learn when to say no when you mean it, because a no here is a yes somewhere else. Determine what you can live with so that you can live well. These determinations can build our strength physically, mentally, and emotionally so that when the wind and waves do come—while we are trusting the Lord to calm the storm around us, we can be better prepared to center ourselves.
Sharing “Shadows”
Another moment of Zen, this one brought to you from our Thursday June 20 concert by David LaMotte. Enjoy!