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.

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.

The Gift

Last Sunday morning I had the privilege of standing side by side with my husband to offer bread and wine to our church family. I watched as they made their way toward the altar. A solemn, slow, reverent procession. Some looked at me and smiled, but most bowed their heads, respecting the mystery of the moment.

And then the children came. There was no stopping them. They almost ran down the aisle, eager to receive. I laughed as one little girl grabbed her bread and plunged it deep into the cup of juice, her chubby little fingers disappearing under purple. The cup overflowed. But she held on tight to the bread. It emerged, dripping and sodden, and she devoured it like candy.

And then there were the brothers. They came trotting down the aisle, smiling, holding hands with their dad. They reached with outstretched hands as I bent down with the plate of bread. And they grinned and looked me straight in the eye. I smiled, intrigued by a glimpse of red and silver, sparkling on the younger brother's shirt. What was that? This little guy was proudly wearing two shiny bows...the kind we might use to denote a precious gift.

And I wonder how different my experience of communion would be if I were to approach it like a child-

With outstretched hands; eager to receive; expecting my cup to overflow; ready not just to be a taker, but a giver.

To offer myself, at the altar, as a gift. 

Practicing the Presence of God

I kneel beside my grandson as he stands mesmerized at the window in the early morning light. I have my arm around him as we watch snowflakes gently fall. Branches are bowed heavy. Sunshine glistens on the garden's white blanket and we see jewels sparkling here and there. We are peeking into winter's treasure chest - its lid opened wide outside our window. There is no sound except our voices.

Where's God? asks Xander.

God is in the trees. I say. God is in the stillness. God is in the snow. God is in the air. God is in the sunshine.

But where is God? he puzzles.

Well God is invisible, remember?

My grandson is still. He thinks. He watches snow fall. And then he turns to me and asks,

God is in the house?

I laugh as I scoop him into my arms and affirm, Yes, God is in the house. And God is in your heart too.

And the words of Jesus and Henri Nouwen and Sue Monk Kidd echo in my mind as they share the mystery and wonder we find when practicing the presence of God.

And I think about an autumn day when I raked leaves and my neighbor came to talk. And how the only thing I could think about as I leaned on my rake was that God was in my neighbor, and God was in the leaves, and God was in our conversation, and in our worries, and in our smiles, and in our time.

And I want every day to be like this snowy day. Or the day when I raked leaves in the autumn.


How do we cultivate practicing the presence of God with our children?

The Hand

The candle flickered as we stood in a circle at the close of our lesson last Sunday morning. Just a regular, small group of tweens-  ordinary kids, each involved in many other activities, each holding dreams, each eager to please, each with upturned hands, ready to draw a symbol on each other's palm ...a symbol that would hopefully remind us of our time together, and what we had talked about that morning as God had moved among us.

I took the permanent marker and drew a tear drop on a young girl's hand. Then I wrote God inside. We had talked that morning about suffering...not knowing why we suffer, not finding answers, but acknowledging simply that when we cry, God cries too.  

I traced the teardrop, and said quietly, God is with you when you suffer. She took up the pen, turned to her friend, drew the tear drop and repeated the words, until the little action had gone around the circle, and made its way back to me. I smiled as I looked at the little visual on my palm. Such a cute reminder of our time together. I blew the candle out.
And that was that.

But unbeknown to me, that little symbol was about to become much, much more...

The young girl was a greeter at church that morning. She left our class, and headed upstairs, her pony tail swinging behind her. She was ready to smile, and welcome, and shake hands, as she often does, with all who would step through the doors of our church. But this morning was different.

Little did those people know, as they took that young girl's hand in theirs, and their palms met,  that she was silently transferring that symbol, passing on the reassurance, even though they did not know it, that God is with them when they suffer.
For we all are one.

Hands meeting hands, eyes meeting eyes, God meeting us...through a young girl. And that little experience confirmed to me what I have really known all along as I serve in children's ministry...
it's not about me blessing the children, but about them blessing me.

Sharing a Hymn Book

I saw a beautiful little scene unfold before my eyes in church last Sunday. Two young boys, robed in red, after playing bells and singing in the kids choir, stood together, side by side, holding a hymnal between them, ready to join in with the first congregational hymn. Occasionally they smiled; just once or twice they nudged each other; but most of the time they sang in unison, heads bowed together, holding that hymnal for each other, repeating ancient words that have been sung by generations before them.
Just two ordinary boys. Just a hymnal. Just a song. Just a little scene unnoticed by most.

But a precious moment in time seen by me, and the pastor, and the boys' parents, and God. Because it seemed to me that those boys were doing much, much more than singing together. Even though they did not know it, those boys standing side by side were nurturing and watering seeds of faith, and love, and hope, and witness, planted in their own little hearts, by their parents, their grandparents, and the generations who have chorused those words before them.

And over time, seeds grow. And maybe, one day, those boys will be dads themselves. And maybe they will watch as their own sons robe, and play bells, and sing in the choir, and stand, side by side with their brothers and sisters in Christ, sharing a hymnal from which to sing. And the seeds keep on growing.

Generations come, and generations go, but as we raise our children in God's ways, we leave a rich legacy, a heritage of faith that stands the test of time. And from little seeds, mighty fruit trees grow.

Your faithfulness continues through all generations. Psalm 119:90

Sky Lanterns

At around 9.30 pm last Saturday evening, I was one of a crowd who gathered to release Sky Lanterns into the dark blue skies over Reed City, Michigan. More than a hundred of us, from babies to grandparents, craned our necks, amidst oohs and aahs, as these beautiful paper balloons filled with light and air, and lifted off to float high above the trees and out of sight. 
Sky lanterns make a magical display wherever they are released... but ours were special- because each one of these lanterns carried a prayer...prayers written from the heart, prayers that made their way to the heavens. And as they ascended, each prayer lantern followed the other, weaving and bobbing in a line, just as if they knew exactly where they were headed, carrying their petitions with purpose and grace. On one was written, 'family', penned carefully by a kindergartner. Another carried a picture of a pet fish that had died the year before, drawn by a little girl too young to write, but never too young to pray, and  never too little to understand that as our prayers go up, love itself comes down....

Galilean Sunrise

One early morning In the spring of 2013, I may just be standing on the shores of Lake Galilee with my husband, watching the sun as it rises over Israel. I am so looking forward to being able to stand in this holy place, and as I do, I know that I'm going to be remembering some wonderful scenes and stories from the Bible... Jesus calling His first followers from their nets; Jesus calming those stormy waters with just two small words; Jesus, the risen Christ, preparing breakfast on the beach for His disciples. 
Lake Galilee is the largest freshwater lake in Israel, and even though more than 2000 years have passed since James and John mended their nets on its shore, this lake is still a favorite fishing spot, full of life, sustained and fed by the Jordon River that flows through it from north to south. In complete contrast, the Dead Sea is a body of water in which no life can survive. Only bacteria can thrive in this salty place. The Dead Sea takes freshwater in from the Jordan River, but nothing flows out. 
You and I are meant to be vessels, through which God's Holy Spirit can flow. As we minister to children and families, we are to take Jesus in, and give Jesus out. 
Open yourself fully to the energy and flow of the Holy Spirit... let Him sustain and feed you, let Him fill you with life and love, so that you can feed others as you fulfill your call.
Dead Sea, or Sea of Galilee; dormant or dynamic; lifeless or lively...I know which one I want to be.
I have come that you might have life...and have it to the full. John 10:10

The Umbrella on the Roof

Several years ago, despite being advised that in the event of a tornado, the safest place for us to go would be the basement, my husband, our four young sons and I stood in sheer amazement, watching the storm outside our living room window. In the front yard, our thin little scarecrow hung on for dear life as the wind tried to wrench him from the ground. The tornado was over in seconds...but it took several months to clean up our town. We were surrounded by fallen trees, wrecked cars and debris. On the back deck of our home, our patio table lay on its side, the chairs were strewn around the yard, and our fancy red umbrella was on the roof. We all set to work and soon, our table, chairs and umbrella were put back, our little scarecrow had his hair combed and was set upright again...and everything was back to normal. It must be part of our human condition...to put everything back just as it was.
But it made me think...if the power of the Holy Spirit blew through our ministry, like that 'violent' wind at Pentecost- what sort of things would He want to move? What changes would He want to make? And if we truly invited that to happen, would we be ready to change, or would we want to put everything back to normal, just the way it was? There is power in the Holy Spirit, and if we truly want to feel His presence, we might find our umbrellas on the roof. The question is...are we brave enough to leave them there?

The Beauty of an Oscillating Fan

I sat in the hot, stuffy church and wished, for the umpteenth time during the service, that this beautiful old building had modern air conditioning. In a moment of silence during the prayer time I heard the soft whirring of an oscillating fan nearby. I knew that other people were feeling the benefit of its presence but I could not feel it. I yearned for it to turn and blow on me. And suddenly, there it was- a wonderful breeze blowing right on me- so refreshing, so cool, so welcome! It made all the difference.
That oscillating fan reminded me of the Holy Spirit. We know it is there. We know that other people are affected by its presence, but we might not always feel it ourselves. 
Friends...the Holy Spirit is always ready to turn and blow on you. When we yearn for its presence and feel it moving within us, our ministry will be refreshed. Seek out the Holy Spirit- its presence and power in our lives will make all the difference.
You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you. Acts 1: 8
Holy Spirit Rain Down: Hillsong United

All Over The World....



My sisters & I, outside
Goose Green Methodist Church in Northern England

At 10.30 am yesterday morning, my sisters and I worshiped together in a little brick built Methodist church in Wigan, Northern England. As we stood side by side to sing, I was reminded that 4000 miles away, our church family in Michigan would soon be singing together too. Even though my sisters and I might be separated by the Atlantic Ocean, I know that we are joined together in Christ. Space may divide, but Spirit unites.
Was it a coincidence that one of the hymns we sang said 'the Spirit is moving all over the world'? I think not. And what a wonderful lesson to teach our children...it matters not whether we worship in Michigan or Wigan. We worship One God, in One Church, a part of One Body and One Family.
From Northern England to Michigan, One Spirit is moving all over the world.
If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me. Psalm 139: 9