Sabbatical Blessing

There is something perched in our garage that my three year old grandson describes as 'amazing'. It is a wooden houseboat, almost finished, in the process of being built by my husband. Eighteen feet long and six feet wide, complete with windows, decks, sleeping area, 'bathroom' and kitchen, she sits, waiting patiently for July, when she will float down the Erie Canal and take us away from the world until September.

This little life adventure will take place as part of my husband's sabbatical...a three month rest from pastoral duties, from which we hope to return physically refreshed and spiritually renewed.

And so last Sunday morning, at the close of the service, my husband and I were called forward in order to receive a blessing from the congregation as we begin our sabbatical journey. I knew that this had been planned. I thought it was a beautiful idea. But what I didn't know is that the hands that were laid upon us would belong, not to adults, but to children.

They came hesitantly, a little shy, unsure about placing their hands on us as we knelt. But as we encouraged them, they surrounded us with grins, and chubby fingers, and an air of innocence and spirituality that I have seldom felt before. To my left, a little boy lightly placed his hand on my shoulder, smiled shyly, and whispered our names as the pastor started to pray.

And as I knelt at that altar, listening to the pastor's words, surrounded by these little ones, I thought about Jesus, and how he wanted to be surrounded by little ones too. And I thought about his words, and wondered if, when Jesus said let the little children come to me, was it really so that he could bless them, or was it so that they could bless him?



David and Glenys,

May God, who is present in sunrise and nightfall,
and in the crossing of the sea,
guide your feet as you go.

May God, who is with you when you sit
and when you stand,
encompass you with love
and lead you by the hand.

May God, who knows your path
and the places where you rest,
be with you in your waiting,
be your good news for sharing,
and lead you in the way that is everlasting,
with fair winds and following seas.

Amen.

The Power of One

It is Sunday morning, 9.30 am. I walk into my classroom, armed with my lesson, which I have spent quite a lot of time preparing. And I am met by one solitary child sitting on the couch. I can't help it. I am disappointed. Not by her, but by the empty chairs that surround us.

 

Has this been your experience too?

And yet as I take my place beside this faithful young girl, and her mom who teaches alongside me, I remember that some of Jesus' most powerful lessons were taught, not to the crowd, but to the individual.

I remember Nicodemus, who after his night time encounter with Jesus, would undoubtedly use his position to quietly, yet powerfully, witness to the Sanhedrin.

 

I remember the woman at the well, who after her conversation with Jesus is so excited that she has the attention of the entire town.

 

I remember Zacchaeus, who after his meal with Jesus, would astonish so many with his utterly transformed life.

 

Jesus knew the power of one.

And so next time I walk into my classroom and I am met by one solitary child, I will not be disappointed. Instead, I will thank God for the opportunity to teach...because today, I might just be teaching a Nicodemus, or a woman at the well, or a Zacchaeus.

And I will remember the power of one.

What's the Purpose?

So this is what I see outside my window this morning. My front deck is all newly painted. My purple pansies sit proudly in their pot. My perennials are making their appearance. The sun is shining and the birds are feeding.

But all this spring beauty is out shadowed by a million, annoying, little shriveled buds that are strewn absolutely everywhere I look. They insist on appearing every day, blown incessantly from the maple tree above and covering both front and back decks. There is no end to them.They are the sole reason why my broom perches permanently beside my front door.

But no matter how often I venture out to sweep these annoying buds away, they still manage to find their way into my home, where they are trodden underfoot, squashed into the rug, and scattered on the hardwood floors.

And yet without those annoying buds, I know that my maple tree would never blossom. If I found some way to remove this temporary annoyance I would never get to see those fantastic leaves that will turn a brilliant orange and red in the fall. And so I reluctantly have to admit that what is a problem now, does actually have a purpose.

And I know there's a life lesson in there somewhere, for me and my children. I just hope that I will remember it.

What is Your Explanation for the Resurrection?

Holy Land Visit, 2013

If Jesus' enemies had stolen his body, all they had to do to disprove the resurrection was to produce it.

If Jesus' friends had stolen his body, they would have been hunted down, arrested, and charged for the crime.

I am sitting in my last lecture at Bible Study Fellowship as my leader says these words. They make so much sense to me that I struggle to understand how anyone could disagree with them. No intelligent person with any knowledge of historical data could argue with the fact that Jesus Christ was a real, breathing, human being, who lived and walked the streets of Jerusalem 2,000 years ago.

And once we acknowledge that fact, how do we explain his resurrection? If this was a story made up by his disciples, why would they risk their lives to spread such an incredible, unbelievable, unimaginable lie? Why would Paul suffer beatings, and shipwreck, and imprisonment? Why would Peter ask to be crucified upside down? Why would Stephen choose to be stoned to death?

If I am one of the millions of Christians duped by an enormous lie, then so be it. But I am convinced, along with Paul, that the only plausible explanation of what happened on that Sunday morning so long ago was the impossible truth that Jesus Christ rose from the dead. No cave could contain him.

And if I believe this astonishing fact, then I must also believe that God has the power to do immeasurably more than all I could ask or imagine.

Imagination is a wonderful thing. What do you imagine for your children? When you close your eyes, what do you dream for them and their future? 

Be encouraged. God can do more.