The fifteen contestants showed up at ABC studios at 6:30 a.m. We were escorted to the Green Room where we each waited for our turn to try to win $1,000,000. In the Green Room, we were left with our thoughts and each other. Small talk ensued, and strangers became friends. One by one, the contestants left the Green Room and headed to the studio. We'd all shout, "Good luck!", (and we meant it). My turn came around 2:30 p.m. The remaining contestants said, "You've got this!", "Go out there and win!", "Good luck!" As I was being escorted to the studio, the ABC page said, "Just know the audience is cheering you on." Before the recording started, Meredith Viera said, "Okay, Scottie, all of these people want you to win! So, relax and have fun." These wonderful nuggets of encouragement were more valuable to me than the money I won on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” Life is certainly not a game show. However, we are presented with stressors every day that may cause a wobble in our confidence or make us question our decisions. The challenges we face can sometimes be overwhelming. In 1 Thessalonians 5:11, Paul’s call to action (not a simple suggestion) is “to encourage one another and build each other up.” Encouragement is more than just offering kind words. It’s about fostering hope, inspiring faith, and building up others on their journey. It’s a deliberate act of kindness and support that strengthens the heart and soul. Encouragement can come in many forms: words, deeds, or a simple presence. It plays a crucial role in the lives of those around us. In Hebrews 10:24-25, we read, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another – and all the more as you see the day approaching.” Community is vital to our faith journey. In a world where we can easily become isolated, regular communion with others provides support and a sense of belonging. Encouragement has a ripple effect. When we encourage someone, it often inspires them to pass that encouragement on to others. This chain reaction creates a community of support and love, where everyone is built up and strengthened. Spreading positivity and support are small acts of encouragement that can lead to significant transformations. How often have you heard someone say, “I will keep you in my prayers”? That’s a form of encouragement. When someone says, “I’m so happy to see you,” or “How kind of you,” or any number of other affirming words. Encouragement. Christ Church is wonderful at reaching out to each other and to the larger community through acts of service. Encouragement. Offering to listen to someone without judgement. Yes, encouragement. As you progress through the day, imagine all the people who are pulling for you. Let someone know you're pulling for them too. You’ve got this!
Each week, a member of the Christ Church staff begins our weekly staff meeting with a devotion. This week's contribution by Administrative Assistant for Worship & Liturgy Emily Skinner had us all smiling: Change is a funny thing. You can deliberately ask for it, make it happen yourself, even prepare for it, but it can also come completely out of your control, without warning, in unimaginable ways. As many of you know, the main thing that has recently changed in my life is becoming a mom. I am the ultimate overthinker, and just about a year ago, I was searching for signs from God to help in my indecision to pick a name for my baby girl. I began to doubt myself anytime I got close to choosing one. I was overwhelmed by the pressure of the decision and became comfortable in my indecision and continued to stretch it out as long as I could. It became a game-time decision when we were filling out the birth certificate form two hours after she was born. I looked at her and felt a pull towards the name Shiloh. I had always loved the beauty and uniqueness of the name, but I still hoped it was the “correct” choice, waiting for a sign from the universe, God, anyone, that I was making the right decision. Thankfully, it didn’t take much time for me to fully embrace the name as I got to know my baby Shiloh. And I convinced myself I never needed a tangible or obvious sign from God to choose my daughter’s name. If Cole and I were happy with it and our baby was healthy, nothing else really mattered. But I believe God has a funny way of telling us things. The day we came home from the hospital, my mom was changing Shiloh’s diaper and said, “It says her name!” I was so confused – was there something on her skin? Something funky in her diaper? What was she talking about? Mom looked up and pointed at the diaper and said it again. Sure enough, printed on the diaper was the name Shiloh. I was stunned! You may already know this, but it was major news to me that day – Pampers have little characters on them, an elephant and a duckling named Shiloh and Freddie, and their pictures and names are printed on most of their diapers. I know this has nothing directly to do with my Shiloh. Pampers did not name their character after her, but I have never met another Shiloh, and of all the names in the world these two animal characters could have, this discovery felt special to me. To this day, when I pull out a diaper with Shiloh’s name, I pause and smile. This little moment takes me back to the first day we came home from the hospital. I look back at who I was then and who I am now, how much has changed, and how truly thankful I am for this life and this growing chunk of a baby. I don’t feel wrong in saying that this coincidence was a sign from God. I am not saying that He put the name Shiloh in the brain of the Pampers animal creator and me for this reason, but I do think that God has helped me create this sentimental reminder between the name printed on the diaper and the small human I am raising. I will always be reminded of where we started and where we are headed. It aids in my confidence that I chose the perfect name for my baby and reminds me of the privilege I feel in being her mom, which is so much of what I longed for leading up to her birth. God really does work in mysterious ways! One of the reasons I fell in love with the name Shiloh was for the meaning attached to it. In Hebrew it translates as “gift from God” or “peaceful one.” About a month after Shiloh was born, my husband, Cole, showed me his daily devotional reading, which that day was focused on scripture about Shiloh. Seeing this unexpected reminder again felt more like a sign than a coincidence, like one of those “God winks” reminding me that He is watching, He knows what He’s doing, has my best interest at heart, and trusts me to believe in Him and His plans. If you’ve had a child, you know that it takes more than a few days to recover and figure out your new normal. A month in, Cole and I still felt like we were in the trenches with a combination of no sleep and cluelessness. But no matter how lost, confused, or emotional I felt, I knew God was watching over us and our Shiloh and would help us see this phase through. I still feel like I am learning something new about being a mom every day, but I can look back at those early weeks and how fast they flew by. I blinked and my tiny 6-pound baby is now a rolling, babbling, giggly 20 pounder. Indecision, unknowing change, wonder, and growth all seem to sum up this last year for me. I am proud of the way I can reflect now and feel the growth and newfound confidence I have in myself and my new normal. I begged for clarity on a name and confidence in being a mom in a time that felt so scary and unknowing. I can see so clearly now how God has led and shaped me into the person and mom that I am today.
Like many of you, I’ve had a stick in my hand for a long time. Indeed, some of my earliest memories of both golf and God come from walking around in God‘s original cathedral — nature — or if you really pressed my grandfather, the golf course. Some of my earliest memories of connecting to God come from prayers that my grandmother and I would pray on her tee box, where my grandfather insisted that I tee off in order to help with pace of play or, as he would say, “to try to keep things down the middle.” Indeed, until I was probably 11, my grandfather always insisted that if I couldn’t hit a fairway with a five iron, I need not take any other club out of the bag. My friends, I don’t know about you, but the older I get, the more challenging it is to keep things down the middle. The game of life (and golf) seems to get strangely more complicated with each passing year. We have bigger goals or lower scores, expectations, distractions, or hardships that come our way. Indeed, over time, even our bodies, these flesh and bone temples of God’s spirit, begin to make it a little more challenging for us to trust and see that the abundant life Jesus so often preached is still within our reach. I’m here to tell you that Jesus didn’t want life with God to be this complicated. JESUS had one simple suggestion for his disciples, one “swing thought,” and it was an invitation to abide. In John’s gospel, having washed the disciples’ feet and served them a last supper, Jesus prayed for his friends and reminded them that, like a vine attached to its source, the way of following him in the world was the way of abiding. Jesus said, “Abide in me… And I will abide in you…and through God, you will bear much fruit.” Friends, Jesus knew the challenges of abiding his disciples would face, and they were not that different from ours. His prayer and his hope was that they might remember: When things are going well, or we are on a roll, the invitation is to abide. When questions overwhelm and grief, loss, and tragedy come close, the invitation is to abide. When the bounces of life (golf) don’t go our way or we lose confidence in our ability to can get up and face it all over again, the invitation is to abide. Growing up in Alabama, my mom hosted a charity golf event for the Alabama Institute for the Deaf & Blind. One of my favorite people to watch was a pro by the name of Charlie Boswell. While Charlie had 28 titles to his name, there was one thing that distinguished him from most of his peers. Charlie, having been injured serving in the armed forces, was legally blind. Yet Charlie played golf quite successfully for many years with the help of a sighted caddy. I can remember following Charlie‘s group and I can see his caddy standing next to him, getting his body oriented in the right direction, telling him the distance, and the wind and the break and the hazards that were in front of them. Charlie’s caddy would give him all the data he needed and Charlie would choose a club, slowly make his turn and send the ball through the air. As the ball landed – often pretty near where they’d planned – they would grab each other arm-in-arm and walk down the fairway to play the ball wherever it lay. Y’all, if we are honest, we are all walking a little bit blind through this life with one another and with God. The good news of the gospel is that, like Charlie’s caddy who was there every step of the way, Jesus promised we would never be on this journey alone — that arm-in-arm we would be able to play the course of life in front of us with God at our side. Ok, I can hear you asking, well tell us then, how do we abide? Well, it’s as simple as G.O.L.F: G: Get grounded – Abiding means creating places in your life to hear the spirit speaking to you. Read scripture, pray, be still, as the psalmist suggested, and remember that God is God and you are not. O: Open your heart/eyes – We may be a little blind, but the signs of grace and God’s presence are all around us. Remember that we see now, as Paul said, through a glass dimly, but we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. L: Listen – God never said hardship would not come, only that God would be with us. We have to create moments in our lives where we can drown out the noise and hear what the Spirit is saying. F: Find fellowship – Find your cathedral, church, or small group. Don’t walk this journey of life alone. Find a group of people who can encourage you in your faith and know that prayer matters. Check in on those you love and remember, it’s OK to not be OK, but it is not OK to believe you have to do life alone. Yes friends, the wisdom of abiding is really as simple as GOLF. God’s will for us is that we might experience the abundance of what can be by walking with Jesus to bear the fruit of God‘s kingdom on this earth. Abide in Christ my friends, and Christ will abide in you, and you will never walk alone. AMEN.
Where will you go this summer? The Fourth of July has me thinking about trips and travel and vacation - time away built into our national calendar. Whether we are going to grandma’s house for homemade ice cream or traveling across the world - summer has us thinking about different ways to spend our days and what we might find when we get to our destination. I happen to love a long trip! Sure, getting away for a long TIME is great, but a long DISTANCE means seeing new things, tasting new foods, and getting a different perspective on life. Whether it’s a vacation or a pilgrimage, there’s plenty of planning that goes into the destination: where we’ll go, what we’ll experience, and even marking restaurants that I hope to enjoy on Google Maps. It all changes in the final week or so before a trip, when I find myself focused on the journey itself, on the travel required to get to my destination. What do I need to stay comfortable? Is my airplane pillow still up to the task? What clothes will I wear on the plane that feel like pajamas but don’t look like I just rolled out of bed!? We recently had our first gathering for the pilgrims who will go to Italy this fall, journeying in the way of peace that St. Francis calls us to through his life and witness. Over dinner, I talked to the group a little bit about the transformative power of the three types of journeys we can take: travel, vacation, and pilgrimage. We can travel for work. My dad did it 4-6 days a week for my whole childhood. Travel is the logistics of getting from one place to another. Travel is the boring part, the hard part, the monotonous part: security lines and the long white-line of the highway, interrupted only by fast-food and “are we there yet?”. We learn about ourselves in the crucible of travel, and we learn A LOT about those we travel with! Vacation is the bucket-list, the seeking after a new experience, hoping to learn something about the world. We all need a vacation sometimes. And we find ourselves transformed - by time away, by new sights and foods, by the restoration of our souls when we participate in God’s Sabbath. Any parent of young children will tell you that when you go to the beach with a three year old, you really aren’t on vacation, you’re just traveling - taking your routine on the road for a change of scenery. And still it’s worthwhile, even when it’s hard. There are transformative moments even for the young families carting 80 pounds of stuff in a beach wagon across the sand. Pilgrimage is different still. We can take a pilgrimage in All Saints’ Hall when we walk the labyrinth. Pilgrimage is when we take a journey, not to learn about another place, but to learn about ourselves. Where will you go this summer? My hope is that you will be on the lookout for the unexpected pilgrimage you are being called to take. It might be walking a circuit, gate to gate, during a frustrating airport delay; it could be the moment you put down your book or your phone to simply watch the waves crash as they have done and will do with no help from us; or perhaps in your own back yard, dragging the hose around and pondering the mystery of plants that were dormant for months, now greedy for the same water that refreshes us. Where will you go this summer? Far or near, wherever you go, God is with you.
With creativity and vision, the Christ Church Children’s Ministry Team crafted this summer’s Vacation Bible School (VBS) “Builders Edition.” This week, 200 “builders” of every age are gathering to strengthen the foundation of their faith with songs, stories, games, and service projects. Inspired by VBS and by campus construction, Christ Church Director of Music Ben Outen shared this reflection on tools for constructing faith. Ben writes: Christ Church’s new building will be a container for the growth of our offerings in the parish and to the city. During the recent capital and ministries campaign, I heard someone say, “We build buildings and buildings build us.” More specifically, I would say, we create space where we can be with God to realize our potential as individuals and community. We can respond to the goodness of God by being the hands of God in a never-ending building project whose purpose is, not completion, but the continuous love of our unique selves and each other. We have tools – metaphorical hammers, saws, screwdrivers, and bulldozers – to help us craft, renew, and strengthen our spiritual selves and increase our capacity to love: We have scripture to help guide us and the discernment to understand its truths. We have prayer, a direct line to the God, whose Holy Spirit lives within our “temples.” We also have The Book of Common Prayer which puts into words things we may not even be able to say. We have community. People all around us inspire us, nurture us, mentor us, challenge us, show us the way, and walk with us. We belong, and in belonging, we find strength for ourselves and the opportunity to welcome others. We have faith. Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as “confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” We serve and we receive. By serving others, we show gratitude for what God has done for us. We become God’s love in action. The theme song for VBS is “Strong Within.” I invite you to listen to it. (It's in the Just for Kids section of the app). Perhaps we can learn again from the children around and within us. Let us pray: Great God, thank you for the inspiration we find all around us. Thank you for the tools with which we move through the mysteries of life. Thank you for the practical purpose of being a part of the interconnectedness of your vast imagination. AMEN.
Spoiler alert: I will be issuing you a challenge by the end of this e-devotion. For some of you, the challenge may be just to finish reading this once you discover the topic: Juneteenth. Hopefully you are reading this on June 19th, or Juneteenth as it has become known. This year, we are hearing more about our newest national holiday than ever before. I hope it is because more people are embracing the thinking and sentiment behind it. More people are acknowledging the inequities and disparities that have long characterized our common life together. There are https://files.constantcontact.com/4999ff67001/f8b8695d-f9b1-4f3b-a13c-4189bcfb0c41.pdf for you to learn more about the origins and observance of Juneteenth, so this e-devotion isn’t about that. Instead, it’s some thoughts on how I find this opportunity so expansive and life-giving. The older I get, the more I realize how much more there is to our rich history as a country (and really, well, the whole world). I’ve done some quilting over the years. Most of the quilts I have sewn utilize long-established, traditional patterns: bear’s paw, double wedding ring, flying geese, etc. And they’ve been made with fairly traditional materials – pieces of old clothing, scraps from other projects, or contemporary colors and patterns on traditional cotton. That’s how I think about the history I was taught: traditional, defined stories and facts deemed by a relative and powerful few to be what is noteworthy, memorable or important. My very favorite kind of quilt, though, is a crazy quilt, so named because it is a wonderfully helter-skelter, no-consistent-rhyme-or-reason medley (or mash-up, depending upon your perspective) of colors, textures, shapes, and embellishments. Velvets next to tie silks; granny smith apple green next to Royal Stewart tartan; chicken track stitches meld into vines with buds. Each element brings its own history, beauty and gifts to the whole without being subsumed or degraded. In crazy quilts, there is a richness, a depth and texture, a beauty, that is more than the sum of the parts. It’s messy, but I believe that’s who and how we are as the people of God. I believe that’s who and how we are as the people who share the history of this country. Merriam Webster defines “expansive” as “characterized by richness, abundance, or magnificence.” Why do we need this national observance? To remind ourselves that our mutual flourishing, our communal wellbeing, is not yet a reality, and that it depends on recognizing the richness, abundance, and magnificence of every person, every child of God. One of my seminary professors was part of a group that met each morning for a week or so with the Archbishop of Canterbury. Each day, the archbishop asked them a question to consider. One of those questions was, "If anyone is in hell, can any of us be in heaven?" I would expand that to ask, "If anyone is not truly free because of poverty, public policies, or prejudices, can any of us be truly free?" My challenge for you: While some of the activities for Juneteenth happened this past weekend, there are still https://files.constantcontact.com/4999ff67001/1730e17c-2840-4c3f-bae2-f5364bdc1a9e.pdf. Step a little (or a lot) outside of your comfort zone. Step in with (as we say in our baptismal covenant) an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love God, and the gift of joy and wonder in all God’s works. And mark your calendar for next year. +
Have you ever had one of those days that is impossibly full? Have you ever looked at your calendar for the next day and felt that pit in your stomach as you see each time block filled with a commitment? Those days when your feet hit the ground and you accelerate to meet the pace of your calendar until you are back in bed at night. Maybe this happens to you every day. We can survive such days now and then. We can even string a few together when it is called for. Think exam week in college or residency in medical school or those first weeks with a newborn baby. This is not how we are meant to live. And yet, our current zeitgeist is marked by this frantic, frenetic fullness for almost everyone. (How are you doing? Busy!) Jesus said that to live this way is to be heavy laden. He compared it to walking around with a weighted vest and two dumbbells in your hands and wondering why you feel weighed down. He said that many people are trapped laboring and carrying heavy burdens. Does that sound like anyone you know? Jesus diagnosed the problem: people are weighed down by the expectations that have been put on them. We are all struggling to be enough. We all feel the pressure to be the best we can be in every aspect of our lives. Our culture (or family or self-judgement) tells us that we should give 100% to everything we do. The trouble, of course, is that we can’t give our all to more than one thing. No one has more than 100% to give. We are finite creatures with finite time and finite focus. That doesn’t stop us from trying until our days are impossibly full and we can’t stand to check our calendar to see the script for tomorrow’s striving. Like a good physician, Jesus diagnoses the problem and offers a prescription. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30) The solution is Jesus. Start your day with Him before the train of anxiety leaves the station. Read the Gospels before you read the news and hear Jesus's deep desire to free people (that includes you) from their burdens. Schedule prayer and rest like your life depends on it because it does. Pray to know the grace, mercy, and tenderness of Jesus whose heart is impossibly full of love for workaholics, people-pleasers, and over-committers like you and me.
I’ve officially reached the stage in my parenting journey where my kids are making music recommendations to me. While I have done my best to curate a broad range of musical listen-tos, they are now enjoying the discovery of new genres and artists all by themselves. One assistant in this journey has been Alexa, who is able to play songs of any particular type as my kids explore. Recently, my son called me into his room, saying, “Dad you’ve got to hear this! You are going to love it!” Then he said, “Alexa, play ‘Where I find God’ by Larry Fleet." As I laid on the floor in Gav‘s bedroom listening to a song I had not heard in some time, I found myself deeply moved. There were times when he was already singing the chorus. The heart of this very country song is to be reminded of God’s nearness when we are looking, when we are living, and when we are not. The summer months often bring travel or new rhythms to our experience of God’s nearness, and at Christ Church, they also bring a change in our worship schedule. Our regular services in the Church are at 8:30 am, 10:30 am, and 5 pm. In All Saints' Hall, we are blending our contemporary and Discovery worship styles on the second and fourth Sundays at 10:30 am. While you may have a regular service that you attend, I encourage you this summer to give yourself the grace of looking for and experiencing God not only in all the ordinary places and spaces you go, but also in new forms of worship, either on site or via our online streaming options (visit our website). On July 14 I invite you to a special outdoor summer worship experience: Church at the Farm. Here we will get out and away from the hum and buzz of the city and find a time of community and prayer with one another while enjoying activities in God’s creation. It will be special, and you certainly don’t want to miss it. Visit our website to register. As I thought the song was ending, Gav reached over, touched my arm and excitedly said, “Listen, listen.” Fleet sang: “Sometimes late at night, I lie there and listen To the sound of her heart beatin' And the song the crickets are singin' And I don't know what they're sayin' But it sounds like a hymn to me Naw, I ain't too good at prayin' But thanks for everything.” As the verse ended, he looked at me wide-eyed, and simply said…"CHILLS!” Friends, I look forward to seeing you again sometime soon, and hearing about the places on your journey where you have felt the resonant “chills” of God in your life. May the eyes and ears of your heart and life be opened and may God appear near anew. Plotting goodness- Joshua+
When I was growing up, there was always something to do at my grandparent’s house. Grass to cut, weeds to trim, vegetables to tend, and always some project to make the place a little easier for two aging grandparents. But no matter how much there was to do, we never did any of it on Sunday. I couldn’t understand why: after all, the whole family was already there, we all had the day off, and so why shouldn’t we get a little done? Because my grandma said so. Sunday was the Lord’s Day, a day for church, and dinner, and naps. Us boys could play as much football as we wanted; the adults could play as much Rook as the day would allow; but we were not allowed to do any work of any kind. Period. The older I got, the more frustrating this became. There were things I wanted to help my grandmother with. There were things that needed doing, and I didn’t always have time to come back during the week to help out: I had classes to attend, or tennis matches on Saturday morning. It didn’t matter – none of it. If helping her was important to me, then I would find time for it one of the other six days, but we had to take a Sabbath and we had to keep it holy. That part wasn’t up for discussion. For so many of us, taking some time for rest seems holy because it’s such a luxury, not because we have made it a priority. For most of us, the idea that rest is holy because we organize everything else around it, well that’s a foreign concept. But even the most casual reader of the Bible, the one who picks it up and reads for ten minutes during a boring sermon, will see that rest was not an afterthought. Rest is right there in Chapter 1. Sabbath is non-negotiable – whatever else is important to us, we’re supposed to make time for rest. It’s just after Memorial Day, and you likely have a vacation planned. I certainly do. Enjoy your vacation! Taking a little time away seems like it should be the most natural thing in the world, but there’s always something grabbing at you, something that just has to get done yesterday. As your priest, I’m here to tell you, “That is the voice of temptation; don’t listen!” Instead, take a deep breath sometime while you’re gone. Take a deep breath and wonder for a minute at all you have seen happen in your life, the petty and the redemptive, the ridiculous and the sublime, the emptiness and the holiness. Take just a minute and thank God for where you’ve been and ask God where you might be headed. Take a deep breath and ask yourself how you can make time for rest every week, every day, not just on vacation. What keeps us from resting? What keeps us from taking our Sabbath? Probably the same thing that made me argue with my grandmother all those years ago: “If you don’t let us fix it on Sunday, there won’t be any time to fix it later!” In other words, “I’m afraid there’s not enough!” Maybe the hardest part of resting is believing that there is enough – that God has provided enough, and that we don’t have to be productive every minute of our lives. Grandma never would let us work on Sunday. And yet somehow, we always found time for what really needed doing. We cut the grass and weeded the garden and I got to have a glass of sweet tea with her on a random Thursday after class. Looking back, I’m proud of the faucets we replaced and the ceiling fans we hung in her house. But what I remember more than anything was that time I scored the winning touchdown, just as it was getting too dark to see. I remember the first time my grandma and I beat my cousin and my brother playing Rook. I’m proud of the work we did, but more, I’m glad she commanded us to rest.
In 2013, Robin Wall Kimmerer published a book called Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. This book is part science, part sharing of her life story, and is mostly captivating, poetic prose. It is a book that I’m savoring – not rushing through – but trying to absorb each word and each image. In the chapter called “The Three Sisters,” she writes, “Plants tell their stories not by what they say, but by what they do.” She tells the story of the Three Sisters which are three seeds: corn, beans, and squash. For millennia in Indigenous agriculture, these three seeds would be planted together in the same square foot or patch of soil. Once established, corn comes out of the ground first, searching for light to grow up tall. Then, beans emerge to join the corn. She calls squash “the slow sister,” as she is the last to join and complete the trio. Kimmerer writes, “…each plant has its own pace and the sequence of their germination, their birth order, is important to their relationship and to the success of the crop.” Once together above ground, each of the sisters does her own thing for her own propagation, and that thing also beautifully serves the others. The Three Sisters abide together. Corn grows tall with a strong stalk being top priority. Beans start out growing low to the ground and when the corn stalk is ready, the bean vine redirects its growth upwards, supported by the stalk. Meanwhile, slow sister squash grows out over the ground away from the other two sisters. Sister squash’s wide leaves shelter the soil at the base of the corn and beans, keeping moisture in and other plants out. Kimmerer writes, “The organic symmetry of forms belongs together; the placement of every leaf, the harmony of shapes speak their message. Respect one another, support one another, bring your gifts to the world and receive the gifts of others, and there will be enough for all.” This sentiment about The Three Sisters rings true of Christ Church, Galilee Ministries of East Charlotte, and many other communities around the city that build bridges for the common good: respecting one another, supporting one another, bringing their gifts to the world, receiving the gifts of others, so there will be enough for all. Almighty God, we thank you for making the earth fruitful, so that it might produce what is needed for life: Bless those who work in the fields; give us seasonable weather; and grant that we may all share the fruits of the earth, rejoicing in your goodness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. – Prayer for Agriculture, Book of Common Prayer, page 824 In service, Emily+
We’re planning a birthday party this weekend at Christ Church. It’s at 10 am in All Saints’ Hall and everyone is invited. Come on time, or a little early! wear red! No need to bring a wrapped gift – you are the gift. This Sunday is Pentecost, which can be called the birthday of the Church. Pentecost marks the pivotal moment when the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples, as recorded in the book of Acts. It was a divine outpouring, igniting flames of passion and purpose within each believer, transcending language barriers and cultural divides. This event symbolizes the birthing of a community united by faith and mission, a community united in love. Red is the color for the day. I know an Episcopal priest who marks liturgical time by the color of his Chuck Taylor sneakers. Through the seasons of the year, he changes to reflect the color of the season, matching the altar frontal, the clergy stoles, and sometimes the flowers. He uses his attire to stay grounded in the season. Colors, and a focus on the rhythm of the seasons, are markers of our Anglican tradition. Red is one of those colors used on exactly one, special day. I have a favorite skirt I save for Pentecost every year, and I am excited to see your red birthday party attire. The book of Acts describes the action of Pentecost like this: “Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.” (Acts 2:3) This is such a powerful image because we can’t get away from it. Each of us is created as a wick for the light of Christ. Lit by the Holy Spirit, we carry God in us and from us, shining light into the world. Pentecost is a day to remember that each of us is a member of the body of Christ, which is truly something to celebrate. See you Sunday, on Pentecost, on Parish Day! Wear red! There is no need to bring a wrapped gift; you are the gift!
This week’s staff meeting devotional was offered by Elizabeth Ignasher, our Communications Director. I asked her to share it with you. Recently I ran across this video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bid8cdtd0jkhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bid8cdtd0jk) from Dr. Bertice Berry and it really spoke to me. I’ve never thought of myself as particularly creative. Thankfully Jane, Hunter, and Lexie have that base covered for the communications team. I am more inclined toward grammar and spelling, brand standards, html code and systems, because they’re either right or they’re not. When I start a new project, my left-brain just takes charge. Some of that is just how I’m wired – analytical, logical, organized – but also, honestly, it feels safer to me. There’s a vulnerability to being creative. There is no getting it “right.” It is totally subjective and it reveals something about the creator (with a little c). Sharing something we’ve made requires a level of confidence that it is beautiful, or useful, or it makes the world better somehow. For someone who “isn’t creative” that’s a bit intimidating, and when things aren’t going perfectly (are they ever?), it’s hard to open myself up to that extra vulnerability. But one of the great things about the work we do at Christ Church is that we are not doing it alone, and hopefully we are more likely than, say, someone working in a plastic widget factory to remember that “spark of the divine” that we all possess. What we’re making is sometimes harder to see than a plastic widget, but it’s inspired by our role as co-creators with each other and more importantly, with the capital-C Creator. Creativity is not just about making art or music or poetry (though these are beautiful and useful creations that make the world better). It’s also about ideas and imagination, or even taking someone else’s idea and building a plan to make it happen. We are all created to create. I am grateful for the affirmation we give each other and the wonderful creative work we inspire in each other that helps us remember why we’re here. So when someone asks us what we are so happy about, we can say “We’re happy because we made something!”
When I was in seminary, I stumbled on poetry. I had read poetry in school, of course, when I was forced to dissect poems in my English classes like an embalmed frog, certain that there was a meaning hidden somewhere between the words. I really met poetry, or fell into poetry, when my life fell apart. I was following the call of God to ordained ministry in seminary when the pilings that kept me afloat started to wobble. In quick succession, I recognized my powerlessness over alcohol, got sober in a twelve-step group, and my father was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer that killed him within a year. Suddenly I had no place in my life (or soul) for prose – for long-winded theories of theology or well-meaning but empty platitudes stitched onto greeting cards or pillows. In the rubble, I met Christian Wiman. I didn’t start with his poetry, but his poetic memoir called My Bright Abyss. In beautiful prose he recounts growing up in a fundamentalist Christian family in West Texas, becoming an “ambivalent atheist” at Washington and Lee University, and deciding to become a poet. His story turned when he met his wife (great love) and was diagnosed with an incurable form of blood cancer (great suffering). Suddenly, the waves of his life thrust him upon the rocks of his Christian faith. A different faith than he was raised with, to be sure, but a durable faith that held him while his world fell apart. Wiman has survived his incurable cancer for almost twenty-years. He has found himself in his death bed three times and yet now is in remission. He has written many books of poetry that I have come to love, and a new book about hope in the face of despair called Zero at the Bone: Fifty Entries Against Despair. His is not a platitude-filled faith. He lives with gritty hope and faith amid despair and the shadow of death. He writes this, “Faith steals upon you like dew: some days you wake and it is there. And like dew, it gets burned off in the rising sun of anxieties, ambitions, distractions.”
Throughout the year, each member of the Christ Church staff begins our weekly staff meeting with a devotion. It is my honor to share this recent devotion written by Financial Assistant Sandy Dyer. May your knowing guide you in faith, strengthen you in hope, and fill you with boundless love for God and neighbor. Have you ever been haunted by a Bible verse? I thought a lot about using a different word. Maybe “pursued.” It did not seem right to use the word “haunted,” but a few months ago The Reverend Connor Gwin used it in reference to someone’s commentary on the Bible, so I thought, “oh I’m good.” Many of us are familiar with the first half of 1 Corinthians 13 that explains what love is. It’s long been associated with marriage ceremonies: “Love is patient, love is kind, it is not easily angered…” When I read it, I tend to associate it with how Jesus loves me. Mainly because my love fails all the time. The love mentioned here never fails. Jesus’ love is complete. As I’ve meditated on these verses over the years to encourage myself, I’ve tended to gloss over the second half of 1 Corinthians 13. Here’s where the haunting comes in. The second half of 1 Corinthians 13 has come to mind many times over the past nine months. (I’m a slow learner.) I know what it says. I remember the words, but I’ve only sat down and read them twice because when I do, they seem to overwhelm my spirit to the point where tears start streaming from my eyes. It’s weird – I’m not crying. It’s not emotional, but it’s doing something to my heart, mind, and soul. When it started, I would resist it. But I’ve learned to let the waterworks flow and rest in them letting the Word do its work. Even thinking about taking the time to think about these verses overwhelms me. It’s healing and painful in a unique way that I cannot understand or explain. So, if you’ve seen me with red eyes looking distraught the past few months, I’ve probably been thinking about these words (or trying not to think about them): “For we know in part, and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears… For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” What is hitting hard is the idea that when completeness comes, I will be fully known. I will see fully and know fully. Currently I see myself as in a mirror. It’s a reflection. Not a true representation of myself. It’s close, but not all there is. I’m not sure if the completeness it speaks of is Jesus returning and then we can fully know all the mysteries of love, or if this is an invitation to be open to being fully known by God. I do know the process isn’t enjoyable. It’s uncomfortable. It’s painful love, not warm fuzzy love. Recently, I traveled to Michigan to be with and help my mom recover from spine surgery. She had an overgrowth of bone removed and two screws put in her spine to alleviate constant nerve pain. After the surgery, the doctor reported the surgery could not have gone better and told us something strange. “Your mom has had a spinal birthmark all her life.” Nobody knew. She had no idea; we had no idea. The doctor had no idea until he performed the surgery. But God knew. God knows us fully. Healing can be scary and painful because sometimes it requires surgery. I’m not 100% sure what surgery the Holy Spirit is performing on me through 1 Corinthians 13, but He knows. As far as I can tell I’m working through a longing to fully see God and be seen by him, to fully know God and to be fully known by him. To know his full love for me and to fully love him right back. I think what draws people to Christ Church is that here they feel fully seen, fully known, and fully loved. Whether it’s our neighbors visiting during Room in the Inn, the kids in CCK, people making a purchase in the GoodNews Shop, attending one of the many services, listening to the amazing music, or even visiting while attending a funeral: people feel fully loved here. I am grateful to be part of a church that is transforming hearts.
“This mornin’ a miracle happened as promised: the rising of the world’s closest star.” - Willi Carlisle We always have a choice: embrace life as a gift, a miracle, a wondrous cacophony of things that could have gone differently but instead brought us to this moment – OR – start checking emails in the middle of an eclipse. I went home Monday afternoon just in time to pass a pair of eclipse glasses back and forth with my wife. We didn’t make the trek a few hundred miles north and west to see the totality. Perhaps that will come in 20 years or maybe we’ll make our way to Australia in 2028. People tell me that being in the path of totality is a spiritual experience, but I’ve got to say that 82% was pretty remarkable. It’s a strange thing to realize just how far the light of the sun reaches and the warmth it provides from such a distance. Looking up through those black shades, nothing is visible, only darkness, until your gaze turns to the sun. It’s then that I began to understand how light from our nearest star appears in shady glens, even when the sunset has taken it just below the horizon. That the underside of every leaf is visible sometime during the day because of a burning ball of gas some 93 million miles away. Miraculous. We always have a choice: take all of that warmth and light for granted or soak it in and give thanks. Now is a particularly good time to give thanks for the light and the warmth. Not only has winter passed and the heat of summer not yet come, but we are also in the midst of the Easter season. It’s just a little more than a week since we proclaimed a man rising from the dead! How many times have I thought about that miracle since standing up in church and saying, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!”??? Christ is risen, whether I think about it or not. Christ is risen and God goes on creating whether we celebrate it or not, whether we acknowledge it or not. We have new life because of who God is, not because of how keenly we keep watch. I don’t have to contemplate the miracle of new life to make it happen. The underside of every leaf is lit by our star whether I look at them or not, but I’m likely to miss it all unless I open my eyes. Which brings me back to checking my emails during an eclipse. After passing the glasses to my wife, I reflexively pulled my phone out of my pocket. After all, it was 3:03 on a Monday afternoon – work needed doing. As I looked down to swipe open the Outlook app, I noticed the shadows from my favorite tree. I put my phone back in my pocket and I watched the dappled light dance across the grass I try to keep alive, and the oakleaf hydrangeas that we planted so the place would feel more like home and the chartreuse anise plants we put alongside them to keep the deer away. I saw a dozen familiar things, but I saw them all in a new light – literally a unique light – a light that will never come across that back yard again. I eventually got to those emails. A few were timely, most were junk. Our work demands our attention, and I am grateful for meaningful work in a good place. What a shame it would have been if I’d spent even a few minutes of that particular afternoon miracle entranced by my email instead of entranced by the dappled light. We always have a choice. Practice looking for the miracle. Now, if I can just start to remember that sending an instantaneous message across any distance and reading it on my phone is also a wonder, then my eyes will be open to every miracle! I’ll let you know if I get there.
