Transfiguration

Exodus 24:12-18 (Today’s New International Version ©2005)

12 The LORD said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain and stay here, and I will give you the tablets of stone with the law and commandments I have written for their instruction.”

 13 Then Moses set out with Joshua his aide, and Moses went up on the mountain of God. 14 He said to the elders, “Wait here for us until we come back to you. Aaron and Hur are with you, and anyone involved in a dispute can go to them.”

 15 When Moses went up on the mountain, the cloud covered it, 16 and the glory of the LORD settled on Mount Sinai. For six days the cloud covered the mountain, and on the seventh day the LORD called to Moses from within the cloud. 17 To the Israelites the glory of the LORD looked like a consuming fire on top of the mountain. 18 Then Moses entered the cloud as he went on up the mountain. And he stayed on the mountain forty days and forty nights.

First of all, who has 40 days and nights to go hang out on a mountain?  Its just not practical.  We have things to do. 

Even Moses had people to deal with.  In fact, he knew there would be disputes while he was gone.  It intrigues me.  He didn’t assign anyone to help prepare meals or do the laundry or teach the people.  He only needed to be sure that someone was around to settle the disputes as they came up.  Sounds to me like he spent a lot of his time settling disputes. 

Do you feel that way?  In the midst of a war?  In the middle of conflicts and interpersonal quarrels?  Are you in a space where the focus of the relationships around you is on nit-picking and arguing?  Instead of encouraging and helping and doing good?  So that, if you were called away from life-as-you-know it for a little while, you would have to be sure to set someone in charge of handling disputes?  No wonder he needed time away.

“The glory of the Lord settled on Mt. Sinai.”  A cloud that hovered.  A covering.  A presence.  It settled there on Moses.

No wonder he stayed for so long.  Who would want to leave?  Who would want to return to the disputing when you could be on a mountain top with the glory of the Lord?

The fact that it was a cloud gives us a clue to some of the realities of that trip, though.  It was cold, damp, wet.  He was alone and directionless.  He was likely frightened and surely uncomfortable.  He didn’t know for sure what he was waiting for or what he would experience.  He only knew that he had been invited by God to “come.”  

As we embark upon this lenten journey, I am keenly aware of my need to “come away” with God.  I need the space to separate from the “trouble down here.”  But I also want to acknowledge that the journey ahead, the time in the clouds, may have treachery of its own.  I ascend this mountain journey, not as an escape from trouble, but as a means of encountering God.

Woeful Saturday

Parenting is hard.  I don’t care who you are.  My particular brand of parenting (adoptive parenting) comes with some specific challenges.  And today, I am tired of them.  I am tired of paying for the bad choices of others.  I don’t want to hear about how someone wishes they had someone else as their mom.  I don’t want to look into the painful eyes of loss.   I don’t want to feel the endless ache of grief.  It’s taxing and I am tired.  


So I cry out, “Why, Lord?!  Why do I have to deal with this?  Why am I bearing the consequences of other people’s sins?”  Even as I cry the Holy Spirit is near, and it only takes a moment for me to recognize that the “sins of others” are sins out of the poverty of their situation.  That the pain inflicted on me is simply ricochetting off the many other people by whom it has been passed . . . all the way back to Adam.  Tragic pain upon tragic pain.  And my pain is the least in the long line.

Through my tears I hear the kind whispering of the Lord, “Why not you?”  It is, after all, Holy Saturday.  I am keenly aware of the suffering for our sake that Christ Jesus has endured.  On this day while he is dead and buried I am weeping about my own feelings and fatigue.  But this is not about me.  Parenting is never about the parents, and certainly these deep and enduring wounds are not about me either.  Didn’t I agree to stand in the gap?  Didn’t I sign up for enduring the difficulties?  Wasn’t that all part of the deal?  What is more, am I not one graced to endure the suffering?  I have a loving partner for the journey. I have the support of friends and family and my church.  I have the resources of a good education and the comforts of financial security.  I have received grace upon grace.  Why not me?  


In these moments I enter the ageless ache of all creation for full redemption and peace.  In the darkness of Holy Saturday I wait with hope for a full and final resurrection from death to life.  I long for the suffering to end--yes, mine, but even more the suffering of those connected to me:  those who are family close and extended, those who are neighbors near and far, those who share this sin-sick planet.  

. . . Your kingdom come 
Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven
Give us (all) today our daily bread and
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us . . . 
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever.


Come, Lord Jesus!  Come!

Strange Blessings

Today has been the most stressful day I have had in a very long time.  Battle after battle.  Frustration upon frustration.  Hurt upon hurt.  Today, I put up my fighting gloves and jumped in the ring with several opponents.  I have ricocheted between the ropes and my muscles ache.  Really ache.

Tension and frustration, however, have resolved to compromise and understanding.  I have met with allies to rally with me.  I have taken action and it has resulted in positive change.

I know today what Paul was talking about when he said, "We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed" (2 Cor 4:8-9 TNIV).

So at the close of this difficult day, I find myself strangely blessed.  God has entrusted me with three unique, amazing boys.  I am the mom for them.  Chosen.  Affirmed.  Right.  God has joined me with a life partner who is truly the other side of me.  We are perfectly (I am trying not to use this word, but it is absolutely right) fit for each other.  Needed.  Loved.  Offered.  Received.  One.

These two are enough.  And yet tonight I treasured a long, luxurious bath and moments of quiet.  And in these sacred spaces I find that I have everything.  My life is nothing like I ever imagined it would be.  It is so much more.  Complex.  Diverse.  Challenging.  Full.  Settled.  Free.

Indeed, I "have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Cor 4:7, TNIV).

It is all strangely welcome.  Blessings.

Thankfulness

In response to my dear friend Olivia's blogging, I will offer here my own attempt at 15 minutes of full thankfulness. Tis the season. Tis always the season for thankfulness.


I am thankful to be called. Invited. Chosen. Welcome. Included. Part of something bigger than myself.

. . . by my husband Chris. When I felt un-chosen and somewhat unwanted and left-behind, he chose me. And I am keenly aware that day after day he chooses me again and again. In fact, because he has loved me so completely this last decade-and-a-half, my first impulse to thankfulness is toward my deep sense of belonging and being wholly loved. What a tremendous gift he has given me.

. . . for my children. I think because I am an adoptive mother I have a heightened sense of the chosenness of my relationship with my children. Sure, I chose them at some point, but really, I believe I was chosen for them--and they for me. I am thankful for the ways they shape my life, my being, my identity, my interests. They have taught me about baseball and art and engineering and orthopedics. They are models for me of forgiveness and strength and flexibility. They provide me endless opportunities for pride and an equal chance at becoming patient, kind, and open-minded. They sharpen me with their questions and curiosity. I am thankful for their being--next to me, around me, within me, outside of me, other than me and completely part of me. What a gift!

. . . in my vocation. I am thankful for the diversity of my experiences that my-life-to-this-point has presented me. I have been welcomed as a colleague among educators and pastors and students and stay-at-home-moms and Mary Kay consultants. Even here, “across the pond,” I am welcomed by new-found-friends from around the globe. Accepted. Appreciated. Wanted. I am thankful.

. . . in Christ. Though listed here toward the end, I thought of this first, actually. Because from beginning to end I am thankful to be found IN Christ. To be chosen by the Lord God for communion and relationship and indwelling with and for the Triune God. I am thankful to be so minute in the vast sum of all created things, and yet SOMEONE, some part, some participation within the very Body of Christ Jesus. To be incorporated among all who are in Christ. I am thankful that my faith is not alone, that my hope and confidence is beyond myself, and that even when it wavers and falters, it is not alone. My faith is included in the faith of the Church, in the faith of Jesus of Nazareth. I am one of countless masses, and yet I am ONE.

And I have left out (though they have not left me out!) my inclusion with my parents, my extended family—the Chamberlands, my loving church family in the Church of the Nazarene and in my parish, Epworth Chapel. I am very thankful and feel very loved.

Thanks be to the one who has invited us to “Come!” Who has assured us that we did not choose him, but indeed, “I chose you!” Who enables our love because Christ “first loved us.” “Once, you were not a people, but now you are the people of God.” Thanks be to the great Choser, Welcomer, Lover, God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Journey of Life

Over the past several years I have had increasing internal struggles about my life. I worry about settling in and finding meaning and purpose. I have moments of intense awareness that this is my ONE LIFE and I want to be sure I am living it the best possible way. I worry about growing old, and even about hitting “mid-life” milestones. Just this morning I was evaluating my life situation. Am I here and now in the “right” place and time? How can I know for sure? My husband and I have made significant decisions about the direction of our lives recently, and I wonder if what we have done is “best.”


But this morning, I also reflected upon the well-worn phrase, “life is a journey.” And today, unlike other days, I had an epiphany about what that means for me. The journey of life is not (at least not for me) like a well-planned vacation with a moment-by-moment itinerary dictating my every move. I know some folks who plan their lives in this way, and, somehow, it seems to work out for them. I am not sure how! They make spontaneous choices like “what will we have for dinner” or “what color shirt will I put on,” but, on the whole, their life-plan is . . . well . . .PLANNED. My life journey, on the other hand, is more like an adventurous exploration. I have prepared in life for vocation and ministry, but mostly, I experience life as it comes. “Hey! I wonder where that road leads?” or “You know, we had planned to stay home and crash early tonight, but let’s have a party instead!” “Move to South Korea? Why not?” It is almost never the route of least resistance, but almost always a growing, learning, God-inspired faith journey.

So, today, I find myself in South Korea—in a great school with great people, and with my family with me at every step of the day. It is great! And while I am compelled to create an itinerary for the next . . . oh . . . 10-15 years of my life, I think I will live in this moment, today. I think I will keep trying to find contentment in the adventure and explore life. I will put to bed worries about “right” and “best” and instead, embrace this moment of my life as a gift from our most adventuresome Brother, Christ Jesus.

As it turns out, my journey so far has been rich with loving relationships and redemption experiences . . . isn’t that what The Journey is all about?

Worship: Seeking God

My family and I have just moved to South Korea from our home in the States.  In the States we have a beloved church family who worships in a liturgical style with Wesleyan theology.  We love our co-worshippers there and we connect well through the style of worship.  But that particular combination is challenging to find in the States--let alone in a foreign country, especially when we only speak English.

Our first Sunday here we joined a group attending an English-speaking international Catholic mass (the readers and servers were Korean; the preist was Irish).  It was meaningful to connect with the reading of the texts, the Creed, and the reverence of the service.  It seemed odd to find flatscreen monitors hanging from the aged pillars down the isles of the massive cathedral--practical, but odd.  We encounted several theological differences in the service, but were mostly surprised at its pace:  we were in and out of there in about 30 minutes.  The homily was based on the story of Jesus' healing of the deaf and mute man, who went and told everyone everything the Lord had done for him though he was strictly told by Jesus to NOT tell.  Point of the message:  we should do what we are told and not flap our lips whenever we feel like it (my own paraphrase).  Hmm.

Yesterday we joined a group of worshippers gathered at our school building, just across the street from our apartment.  The worship started later in the morning and lasted significantly longer.  The music was led by a full band and charismatic vocalists; it included both remixes of old hymns (with some puzzling lyrical adaptations) and repetitive choruses.  The pastor preached a topical sermon--part 2 of his "Why Church is Boring" series.  Hmmm.  He had some good ideas.  I connected most with the lyrics of a oft-sung hymn, "Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love; Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above.  Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away; Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!"  This familiar text (especially the lines italicized) enveloped me with the presence of Almighty God and enabled my heart to truly worship.

We have been 4 long Sundays from our beloved church family, and we long to connect meaningfully with a community of faith for worship of God and mutual encouragement.  In the meantime, I did indeed find in these last, diverse Sundays that as I entered worship with a desire to meet with God, the Spirit enabled my heart to seek and find the Living Christ Present.

Thanks be to God.

Harmony

Isn't it great that the Lord Jesus chose to be his disciples people from different walks of life, different perspectives, and different backgrounds? It is such an ideal to think of compiling a hodge-podge group and making a unified team . . . even family . . . of them. But living it is a challenge that seems to sometimes elude us.

When Jesus proclaimed the greatest commandments--to love the Lord God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and out neighbor as ourselves--his listeners wanted clarification: "Just exactly who is this neighbor that we are to love?" I think they might have been hoping (as I often do) that the neigbor they were prescribed to love was the friendly one across the street whose children got along well with theirs, or the well-off couple around the corner who invited them over for lavish, snooty dinner parties. Jesus lures their imagination with a tale of man who is tramatized by robbers and who is ignored and left for dead by all of the people who should have helped him. Jesus' listeners are hoping to jump into the story as the knights in shining armor to rescue the neglected victim. Instead, Jesus has the audacity to make the hero of the story a Samaritan--a character with whom his listeners felt they had nothing in common. Jesus' listeners did not understand their northern neighbors with their loosy-goosy religious practices and foreign traditions. They prefered to keep these odd Samaritan "neighbors" at arms length (at least!). But it is this Samaritan who is cast as the "good" hero in the story; he is the rightly-loving one.

Perhaps it is as hard to allow ourselves the vulerability to even receive love from those who are different from us--who are outside the tidy boxes of "good neigbor" that we draw for ourselves. Evenso, isn't it the most challenging of feats that are most worth our persistent effort?

It is not the unison of tune (or thought, or perspective) that creates the most meaningful music, but the harmonization of different notes and rhythms that completes the fullest score. It is the bringing together of the different, in creative tension with each other that brings tears to our eyes and joy to our hearts. I am convinced that this is the kind of harmonic relationships that the Lord God has invited in our journey with Christ. Not an invitation to befriend the neighbors who are just like us or who are exactly like the people we want to become, but an invitation to be joined in meaningful, though sometimes tense and difficult, relationship with those who look and sound different from ourselves.

That is what it means to be the Body of Christ. It is at the very heart of what it means to be Christian.