Thanksgiving in the Shadow of Heartbreak

I was three years old on Thanksgiving Day of 1963. I was too young to understand the assassination of President Kennedy six days earlier, but I registered the grief of the adults around me. I was in the living room with my mom and dad as they watched a million people line the route of the funeral procession in Washington, from the Capitol back to the White House, then to St. Matthew's Cathedral, and finally to Arlington National Cemetery. 

Three days after JFK’s funeral we watched again as people lined the streets of New York City for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Mom says I turned my 3-year-old face from the TV and asked, “Who died?” I now associated parades and crowds with death.

In 1963 our nation observed Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

My own family felt that shadow 36 years later, as we gathered around our Thanksgiving table eight days after the funeral of my father. As was our custom, before the mealtime blessing, with tears in our eyes each of us shared something for which we were grateful.

Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

Now today, there’s a heaviness in the air as we prepare to sit down at the Thanksgiving table. Within the last ten days:

• four college students stabbed to death in Idaho

• three college athletes shot to death on a bus in Charlottesville

• five people shot to death and 25 others wounded in a queer bar in Colorado Springs.

• And only minutes before sitting down to write this column, six people were gunned down in a Walmart in Chesapeake, Virginia. 

Thanksgiving in the shadow of heartbreak.

How do we find within ourselves an “attitude of gratitude” when what we mostly feel is grief, anger, disbelief, and loss?

It’s my conviction that gratitude and prayer are inextricably joined. Richard Rohr says it beautifully: “Prayer is sitting in the silence until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful…”

Brian McLaren echoes this notion in his book, Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in 12 Simple Words: “Perhaps at some point, all of us are reduced to despair, but my hunch is…having lost everything, one may still be able to hold on to one’s attitude, one’s practiced habit of gratitude, of turning to God in Job-like agony and saying, ‘For this breath, thanks. For this tear, thanks. For this memory of something I used to enjoy but now have lost, thanks. For this ability not simply to rage over what has been taken, but to celebrate what was once given, thanks.’”

I leave you with a Thanksgiving gift: a brief, gorgeous meditation on gratitude by Bro. David Steindl-Rast, the Austrian American Catholic Benedictine monk and author. I invite you to settle into a comfy chair, take some deep breaths, paying attention to your breathing and your heartbeat, and let yourself be immersed in gratitude, beauty, and joy. 

Thanksgiving peace to you…

The light has gone inside things.

I love the autumn light. There is less of it this time of year, but oh what an exquisite light it is. As the slanted rays filter through gold and red and caramel-colored leaves, it feels a little like walking around inside an Edward Hopper painting. Maybe John Donne was musing about this exceptional light when he wrote, “In Heaven it is always Autumn.”

This weekend we will “fall back” as Daylight Saving Time comes to an end. I remember from my childhood the twice-yearly ritual of resetting every clock in the house, with Mom gently nudging the hands on the face of the big clock in the den forward or backward, depending on the season, while my brother and I reset our bedside digital alarm clocks. Today, of course, our smartphones do all the work for us while we sleep.

Either way, this Sunday afternoon we'll be struck by how little light there is.

Some of us will welcome the fading of the light as we reach for a blanket and cup of tea. For others, the encroaching darkness will bring a sense of melancholy and loss. We will miss the sun.

Years ago during autumn, Robert Farrar Capon, the Episcopal priest, author, gardener and chef, was looking at all the fruits, vegetables and spices he had frozen, canned or dried for winter consumption. He also looked at the woodpile, ready for use against the cold. He remembered how all these things had grown because of the sun, and that all the energy now stored in them was, in fact, stored light. The sun had gotten inside the wood and inside the tomatoes and beans and squash and, through them, would continue to give life. Capon wrote: The days may be getting shorter, but the light has gone inside things. We'll have it all winter, no matter how the sun may hide.

Capon’s observation is warm encouragement for any of us who long for more light—whether the light of the sun or the light of God’s presence. Both have a way of getting inside things. When there seems to be a lack of either light on the outside, where you can see, try looking within.

Friends, as we prepare to “fall back” may the light within sustain us in the days ahead.

Peace and grace,

Feeling Grateful

This past week has been chock-full of reasons for gratitude at FBC:

1. Our dear Treasurer, Mike Henson, informed me that FBC’s giving is strong and is ahead of last year’s giving at this point. I’m grateful for the ongoing generosity of this congregation.

2. We hosted the wedding of Megan Smith and Marlan Golden last weekend, and FBC’s newly renovated facilities were a joy to share with several hundred guests. I’m grateful for the Facilities Improvement Team (FIT) whose faithfulness, creativity and diligence since that first meeting early in 2018 have moved this massive project forward.

3. Dr. Sarah Willie-LeBreton’s presence with us at FBC’s Fall Forum was pure gift. Her presentation during Faith Formation Hour, A Contemplative Approach to Conflict, had all of us taking notes for application in our own lives. And her rich, scholarly sermon in worship, My People Shall Never Be Ashamed: Abundance, Loneliness, the Finished Race and the Good Fight, left me wanting to sit with her words and absorb them into my heart and mind.

Dr. Sarah Willie-LeBreton

I asked Sarah if she would share her manuscript with us and she generously agreed. You can read her sermon here. For now, I leave you with nine questions Sarah posed on Sunday, based on the three lectionary texts, Luke 18:9-14, Joel 2:23-32 and 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18:

• What if the “lion’s mouth” is a metaphor for the worst of all conflicts, and the work that we do to find a new reaction is the deliverance we’ve been seeking?

• What if learning how to love each other, learning to listen to each other is actually what is meant by the good fight?

• What would righteousness look like if it were truly humble?

• How would we engage each other if our vats were full of wine and oil? Would we share them?

• If our refrigerators were full—if they are full now—how would God know that we are generous and compassionate?

• What do we do when our refrigerators are full but the air is full of locusts or Covid?

• If the streets are full of Proud Boys and Oath-keepers who are terribly ashamed and for whom promises have been relentlessly broken…What do our interventions look like then?

• Or when some loved ones are in the throes of addiction, or when others have died alone?

• How might we each imagine a heavenly kingdom—an afterlife with less pain and more joy? The continuation of this human life for those who come after us with less pain and more joy? The life we are currently living on Earth with less pain and more joy?

Thanks be to God for the chance to hold these questions close today and to see what rises. And thanks be to God for a congregation that welcomes the deep conversations about life and faith. This pastor’s heart is full to overflowing today.

In the Storm

At last Wednesday’s pastoral staff meeting I began our time together with some silence and a reading of one my favorite Mary Oliver poems, In the Storm, in which Oliver takes a tender scene from nature—acts of kindness between birds in a storm—and uses her keen observational powers and poetic brilliance to bring it home to the lives we are living.

Ron Pennington (Julie’s brother), Barbara Pennington (mother) and Julie.

Perhaps it’s a case of poetic timing that, one week later, I’m sitting at the dining room table in my mother’s snug little home on the outskirts of Orlando, watching rain pelt the windows as we await the eye wall of Hurricane Ian to pass over this area.

While it’s been years since I’ve experienced a major storm, my Floridian mom, at 83, is a veteran “hurricaner.”

We made a quick trip to Trader Joe’s for bottled water on the way home from the airport on Monday, which was fortunate since store shelves are empty today (along with Orlando International Airport, Disneyworld and all major theme parks). 

Yesterday, after we brought all of Mom’s potted plants and garden doodads indoors, she said, “Well, we’re as ready as we’re going to be. Let’s watch The Waltons.”  

Several FBCDC folk have loved ones and/or property in Florida. My brother lives in St. Petersburg, in the Tampa Bay Area. His home is situated less than a mile from the ocean and is vulnerable to storm surge. Let us hold them in prayer today, along with our siblings in Christ at William Carey Baptist Church in Havana and all the people of Cuba as the government tries to reactivate the power grid. 

Circling back to dear Mary Oliver and her ode to kindness in the poem, In the Storm, I have witnessed multiple acts of kindness in Florida just over the past few days. The Orange County Homeless Coalition is operating around the clock; neighbors are checking on neighbors; store clerks have been offering a “Y’all stay safe!” to every customer; loved ones from around the country have reached out to check on my mother and me.

In these days of natural, political, and personal storms, surely kindness is one of the most needed fruit of the Spirit and a tangible expression of Christ’s two-fold commandment to love God and all the neighbors in our path.

I do plan to be with you for World Communion Sunday and the Mid-Atlantic CBF gathering in the afternoon. Thank you for your prayers, church family. I’m holding all of you in mine.

In peace,

Image created using Ai tool Midjourney, edited in photoshop.

On the Overturning of Roe vs. Wade

Dear Ones:

Oh my, so much can happen when one is away on vacation. Last Friday, when Tim and I first learned of the Supreme Court's decision on Roe, we were in Massachusetts, having lunch in the coastal village of Padanaram with my friend, Emily Kellar, pastor of the Congregational Church of South Dartmouth, UCC. (Emily and I co-lead the Shalem Institute’s Clergy Spiritual Life and Leadership program.)

“God, where are you in this situation?

What is the most loving thing I can say or do next?

What does a Christ-shaped response look like?

What is the Spirit doing here?”

The three of us simply stared at each other.

I needed to sit with the news for several days before I could talk about it, even with Tim, not just because of what I see as the predetermined, politicized nature of the SCOTUS decision, but also because the essential questions I rely on for grounding and discernment—God, where are you in this situation? What is the most loving thing I can say or do next? What does a Christ-shaped response look like? What is the Spirit doing here?—were yielding no fruit that I could see or feel in the moment. Sometimes faith is like that.

So much has been said and screamed and cheered and chanted this past week. More words and actions will rise, and must rise, in response not only to Dobbs but also to Justice Clarence Thomas’ claim that the court’s reasoning also should be applied to earlier decisions about contraception, sexual relationships and marriage equality. Today I’m adding a few more teaspoons to this sea of words…

God is for life in all its fulness. Navigating divergent religious claims about when life begins and what “fulness” of life means for every person is typically the point at which the train goes off the rails. It’s important to note that there is no one “religious view” on abortion, or “ensoulment,” the moment during pregnancy when the soul is believed to enter the body—that is, when a fetus becomes human.

• Catholic theologians, Evangelical Christians and others contend that ensoulment happens at the moment of conception.

• The Talmud, the main source of Jewish law, refers to the fetus as part of the mother’s body. Jewish law protects a fetus as a “potential person,” but does not view it as holding the same full personhood as its mother. American Jews have generally supported legal abortion as a religious freedom issue and a question of life versus potential life.

• Muslims have a range of positions on abortion. Some Muslim scholars and clerics believe abortion is never permitted, while many allow it until ensoulment, which is often placed at 120 days (just short of 18 weeks).

• While Buddhists also have varied views on abortion, generally the Buddhist approach emphasizes that abortion is a complex moral decision that should be made with an eye toward compassion.

The pursuit of reproductive justice requires discernment at a deeper level than most Americans are equipped for. Our nation, especially in the halls of power and in many Christian pulpits and pews, seems incapable of dealing with ambiguity and complexity. People on both sides of the abortion argument protect and defend our dualistic, binary assessments: good/evil, saint/sinner, right/wrong, pro-life/pro-choice.

Liberal people are accused, not without cause, of exhibiting a cavalier appreciation for the mystery of life before birth. Conservative people are accused, not without cause, of exhibiting little to no acknowledgment that this life exists within the bodies of women who must be free to make medical choices for themselves.

Such dualism is a trap of our own making. I appreciate Richard Rohr’s invitation to a deeper way: “The broad rediscovery of nondual, contemplative consciousness gives me hope for the maturing of religion and is probably the only way we can move beyond partisan politics. Many are now realizing that we have been trying to solve so many of our religious, social, political, and relational issues inside of the very mind that falsely framed the problem in the first place.”

“Christians from all sides…should be able to come together to work on a common goal of reducing the need for abortion…[addressing] both the concern on the Right that fewer abortions occur and the concern on the Left that women are able to make medical choices for themselves.”

— Susan Shaw

There are actual ways of honoring convictions from both sides of the conversation, as my friend Susan Shaw, professor of women, gender and sexuality studies at Oregon State University, pointed out in an op-ed piece for Baptist News Global: “Whether Christians support or oppose abortion access,” says Shaw, “Christians from all sides of the complicated debate should be able to come together to work on a common goal of reducing the need for abortion. That common goal could address both the concern on the Right that fewer abortions occur and the concern on the Left that women are able to make medical choices for themselves.”

No pregnancy story is the same.  I gave birth twice and suffered a miscarriage between pregnancies. During all three experiences I benefitted from:

• the privilege of being a white, cisgender woman

• a stable, loving partnership with my husband

• access to excellent healthcare

• access to contraception until Tim and I were ready to begin having children

• adequate financial resources to raise our children

• the love and support of our extended families

• and a spiritual community that pledged to love and nurture Taylor and Lucy and to walk with Tim and me in our experience of parenthood.

That’s my story. It’s not everyone’s story. Hundreds of millions of pregnancy stories exist, each one unique, transformative, and intensely personal. Some are joyful. Some are heartbreaking. Every story matters.
  

The decision overturning Roe cannot be separated from the rise of Christian Nationalism in the U.S.  I cringed when I heard someone say this week: “Christians are ruining America.” The rise of Christian Nationalism has been well-documented, perhaps most thoroughly by the BJC and First Baptist DC’s own Amanda Tyler.

“Beware those who claim to know the mind of God and who are prepared to use force, if necessary, to make others conform. Beware those who cannot tell God’s will from their own.
”

— Barbara Brown Taylor

During a recent interview with the Center for American Progress, Amanda named Christian nationalism as the single biggest threat to religious freedom in the United States and “a contributing ideology in the religious right’s misuse of religious liberty as a rationale for circumventing laws and regulations aimed at protecting a pluralistic democracy, such as nondiscrimination protections for LGBTQI+ people, women, and religious minorities.”

Christian nationalism is bad for the country (any country) and bad for the cause of Christ. As Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, “Jesus was not killed by atheism and anarchy. He was brought down by law and order allied with religion, which is always a deadly mix. Beware those who claim to know the mind of God and who are prepared to use force, if necessary, to make others conform. Beware those who cannot tell God’s will from their own.”

RESPONDING TO THE TIME GIVEN US

The turbulence of this moment reminds me of an exchange between J.R.R Tolkien’s beloved characters, Frodo Baggins and Gandalf the Grey: “I wish it need not have happened in my time,” says Frodo. “So do I,” says Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

As you ponder what is yours to do, I invite you to turn again to our unshakeable Source, joining the ancient ones who, amidst cataclysm and uncertainty, raised their voices to sing:

God is our refuge and strength...
And though the whole earth should change,
   we will not fear. 
Though the mountains themselves should tremble
   and fall into the seas…
   we will not be afraid.
For God, our God, is with us,
   a refuge and strength.
~ Psalm 46 

Friends, God is our refuge and strength.
Take heart.
Do not fear.
Do what is yours to do.
Follow Christ.
Lean into love.

Peace and every good…

Thanks to Youth | Welcoming Strangers | Domestic Worker's Rights

Many Thanks to FBC’s Youth

“Our hope is the song that makes faith possible. Our hope is the dance between the Persons of the Trinity: our God, our Christ, and the Holy Spirit. That hope is the breath, the ‘ruach’—which is a feminine term, by the way—that gives life to these dry bones. Hope is the one seed rooted deeply beneath the frozen ground.”

         ~ Kara Suggs

“Hope is the fuel of our faith. There would be no faith without hope. Hope gives us the strength to persevere when the suffering arises…[strength] to not fall into cynical thinking, believing nothing can be done.”

         ~ Wells Thomason

I can’t stop thinking of FBC’s youth and young adults and of how they led us in worship on Sunday. What a blessing it was to experience worship from the vantage point of middle schoolers, high schoolers and college students and grads. FBC’s youth are vital members of this body of Christ, each with a unique role to play.

Thank you, Grace, Jackson, Jance, Rosemary, Kara, Wells, and Kevin! And many thanks to Jennifer and Eric for planning Sunday’s worship service and for encouraging these amazing young ones on their path of faith.

Welcoming Strangers…Loving Neighbors

After months of anticipation, the seven members of the Qasimi family will arrive soon from Afghanistan and settle into an apartment in Alexandria furnished from top to bottom by First Baptist Church. If you can help with moving furniture and/or setting up the apartment on Saturday, June 25, Susan Lucas susan.lucas10@gmail.com and Linda Salmon lfsalmon@verizon.net will be thrilled to include you.

At the heart of FBCDC’s mission are the values of hospitality, compassion, justice, and generosity. Why? Because God cares about these expressions of love and calls us to embody them in the world. The sacred texts from many faith traditions—Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Bahai, Native American and others—hold in common the shared value of demonstrating compassion and care for those whom Jesus called the “least” of these, or the most vulnerable of these.

Today, over 100 million human beings throughout the world are “displaced.” This is more than double the number from 10 years ago. While not many of us know the anguish of having to flee our homeland, leaving family, familiar culture, “heart language” and sense of belonging behind, we can exercise the God-given muscles of empathy and compassion to say, “Welcome, friends. How may we serve you?”

Finally…

Vulnerable people live and work all around us, often unseen or unnoticed. This morning I am joining other faith leaders in testifying before the District of Columbia’s Committee on Labor and Workforce Development on behalf of more than 9,000 Domestic Workers—nannies, house cleaners, in-home care workers and others—who are the only group of workers still excluded from DC’s Human Rights Act, which protects workers from discrimination on the job.

It’s not a stretch to make the claim that domestic workers, who are mostly women of color, immigrants, and older workers, are among the most vulnerable in our society. Because their work is isolated in private homes, they are susceptible to many kinds of discrimination, including sexual harassment and unsafe work environments. Under DC’s current law, domestic workers have no legal recourse if they experience any of these.

Together we will urge the Committee to pass the Domestic Worker Employment Rights Amendment Act of 2022.  

In the Great Love,

Naming Loss and Grief

FBC Family, I want to let you know of two medical issues on my plate these days. First, I’m scheduled for outpatient hand surgery on Monday, May 23, to shore up an arthritic thumb (I blame 50 years of hoisting coffee mugs). I’ll be in a hand cast for a month, followed by two months of physical therapy, and will be hoisting coffee mugs with my other hand for a while.  
 
The second medical issue has come as a bit of a jolt, and I ask for your prayers as I adjust to this "new normal.”

Six weeks ago, over a 24-hour period, I experienced a rapid decline in the auditory function of my right ear. Appointments with an audiologist and ENT confirmed a diagnosis of Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss. An initial three-week course of oral steroids was ineffective, so last week I received the first of three steroid injections through my eardrum in hopes of restoring at least some of my hearing in my right ear.

Tim and I welcome your prayers. I am feeling a real sense of loss and grief. I need to name that with you. And… I feel deep gratitude for all the support systems—relational, spiritual, medical, economical, technological, etc.—available to me. I do feel the presence and encouragement of God, closer than my last breath and heartbeat. St. Julian’s words echo in my mind and heart: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

I heartily thank you for your prayers while I was on a recent 10-day pilgrimage in Assisi with twenty other pilgrims from around the world. Our time spent walking in the footsteps of St. Francis and St. Clare was rich and meaningful. Grazie mille! I look forward to sharing stories from Assisi with you in the weeks ahead.

In the Great Love,

Saying Goodbye and Saying Hello: Nov. 7 Prayer Walks Through FBC Buildings

Extensive renovation of the 1955 Sanctuary building is nearing completion which means it’s time to turn our attention to Phase Two of the facilities improvement project, guided by FBC’s commitment to spaces that are accessible to all, hospitable for our community, and beautiful in ways that point to God. Two weeks from now, Keener-Squire construction crews will begin the demolition process on FBC’s Education Building.

If you swing by 16th and O this week you’ll find that the FBC staff offices are a hodgepodge of half-packed boxes, stacks of paper to be shredded, books separated into piles for keeping and giving away, and a growing number of trash bags filled with “stuff.”

“Reminiscing is a hindrance when trying to meet packing deadlines. But it’s so, so good for the soul.”

Packing for a move can be mind-numbingly tedious. At the same time, it can yield beautiful gifts in the form of memories—which is why packing always takes more time than we allow. We march into the room with empty boxes and focused determination and wind up thumbing through old letters and photos and mementos that remind us of experiences we’ve all but forgotten and people whose names and faces we haven’t thought about in a very long time.

Reminiscing is a hindrance when trying to meet packing deadlines. But it’s so, so good for the soul.

On Sunday, November 7, the FBC family is invited to reminisce and to dream forward by taking a prayer walk through both buildings,* guided by an Ignatian prayer practice known as the “examen”. Here is an abbreviated form of the prayer still prayed daily by many Christ followers around the world:

On Sunday, Nov. 7, the FBC family is invited to reminisce and to dream forward by taking a prayer walk through both buildings…

1.  Become aware of God’s presence.  Give thanks for God’s great love for you. Pray for the grace to understand how God is acting in your life.

2. Remember with gratitude. This step is the heart of the examen. In the company of Holy Spirit, ask:

   • What are some of the experiences I’ve known in these spaces?

   • Where did I find God in those experiences?

   • Who are some of the people who’ve worn Christ’s face to me in these experiences and spaces?

3. Pay attention to your emotions. Reflect on the feelings you experience as you remember people and events and moments. What is God saying through these feelings? 

4.  As you enter the “new” Sanctuary building, look toward tomorrow. Ask:

   •  How may these new facilities serve the purposes of God in the lives of this congregation and in our community?

   • How may I/we give ourselves away for the sake of love?

   • What will it look like for me/us to wear Christ’s face and to be Christ’s hands and feet in the months and years ahead?

   • What gifts from God do I/we need (faith, hope, hospitality, strength, etc.) to fulfill my/our holy calling? 

Pay attention to the feelings that surface as you anticipate the future. 

May we see and know God’s loving presence as we say goodbye and hello.

Peace and grace,

*Only the Education Building and main floor of the Sanctuary Building (which includes a new ADA-compliant restroom) will be fully accessible on November 7th as we await final permitting on the new elevators.

This Wind-Scarred Year

From Pastor Julie

A few days before Christmas we received at our door a box of Harry & David “Royal Riviera” pears, a thoughtful gift from my mother. This special type of Comice pear, grown in the Rogue Valley of southern Oregon, is an annual family favorite.

But this year, when I opened the decorative box I found, resting in the tissue paper, six ugly pears, mottled with dark-brown stains and looking as if they belonged in the discard pile at Safeway. “Maybe these are last year’s pears that got lost in the mail,” I said to Tim.

Then I noticed the little white slip of paper tucked inside the box—a message to Harry & David customers. The note explained that the dark blemishes on the pears are called “wind scars” and are the result of high winds whipping tree branches and causing abrasions to the skin of the delicate pears. The message went on to say that these same winds contributed to the spread of devastating fires in Harry & David’s Southern Oregon community this past summer, destroying homes and displacing countless people.

“We often pride ourselves in the beauty of our Royal Rivera Pears,” the note said, “and this harvest is no exception—if only in a different way. These scars are a reminder of what our community has been through and how we’ve rallied to support one another.” Then this final assurance: “The untouched, juicy, delicious interior of the pear demonstrates: it’s what’s inside that counts.” Sure enough, the pears tasted as sweet and creamy as always.

A wind-scarred year behind us.
I have come to think of 2020 as a wind-scarred year. During the past twelve months, the human community has experienced:

• deadly winds of the covid-19 pandemic;

• bitter winds of unemployment, dreams deferred, life interrupted;

• violent winds of racism;

• divisive winds of social, political and religious polarization;

• scorching winds of dehumanizing discourse.

Artist Jan Richardson says that part of the work of being human is “to name the darkness for what it is and to find what it asks of us.” FBC family, as we limp from this painful year as a community of Christ, what scars need to be named? (And let’s be sure to name not only our own wounds, but our neighbors’ as well—friends and strangers alike.)

What are the scars asking of us and how will we allow the bruising winds of 2020 to inform our priorities as a congregation in 2021?

A wind-fueled year before us.
There is another wind, you know. A wind that fires our courage and fills our sails. A transforming, liberating wind that is the very breath of God. A wind that loves to blow us into life-giving assignments:

Do justice.
Love kindness.
Walk humbly with the Eternal.
Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.
Love your neighbor as yourself.

The Wind is blowing, FBC family. Let's hoist our sails. A new year awaits.

Peace and grace,

Three Steps Toward Contemplation in Social Justice Action

“He who attempts to act and do things for others or for the world without deepening his own self-understanding, freedom, integrity and capacity to love, will not have anything to give others.” ~ Thomas Merton

It’s an understandable declaration: “Praying about injustice isn’t enough. God is calling me to do something.” This is a fair claim on the part of Christ-followers as the tidal wave of racial, social, economic and environmental injustices continue to engulf our nation and world. Ours is an active faith: “I was hungry and you fed me …, I was a stranger and you took me in,” said Jesus. “Faith, if not accompanied by action, is dead,” said James.

And yet, just as faith without action is useless, so peace and justice work, if not connected to the life-affirming presence of the Holy One, must find its energy elsewhere and often winds up operating from the realm of the ego, with its need to win, convince and/or differentiate itself from the “other.”

As the U.S. reckons in this moment with disproportionate deaths of African Americans from COVID-19, police brutality against Black lives on display, daunting unemployment numbers and bitter divisions along political and religious lines, our nation and world are in desperate need of prophetic people who transcend the categories of “liberal” and “conservative” as they integrate activism with contemplative minds and hearts.

One common misconception about contemplative Christianity is that it avoids real engagement with the pain of the world while remaining cloistered in the prayer closet. But contemplation is not the absence of action. Contemplation is a reflective way of acting upon God’s call. Contemplative prayer inevitably leads to action grounded in the love and way of God, who is anything but passive about suffering.

Contemplation. From the Latin contemplari. It means to gaze; behold; observe; pay attention. A “contemplative” is simply one who is learning to pay attention to Divine Presence in each moment. Someone who’s learning to see beneath the surface and listen beneath the noise.  Contemplatives are those who are discovering what it means to be present to Presence, whether praying in a secluded hermitage or marching in a protest.

If we want to live as people who lead, serve and advocate from a grounded place with God at the center, I invite us toward three particular areas of heightened awareness:

First, notice when the speed at which we are moving and thinking exceeds our ability to be fully present in each moment. While we live in a rocket-speed society, we have wagon-train souls. If we want to be present to the tasks and issues and people around us, we must tap into what the 20th century contemplative Gerald May called “the power of the slowing.”

The Holy One invites us to ease back the throttle, not just with our bodies but also with our minds, which are constantly in motion as we plan, anticipate, strategize, compensate. Becoming still seems counterintuitive when there is so much around us that needs doing. And yet, as we allow ourselves to be led beside still waters, we are best able to discern what is ours to do, trusting that we can make a difference in our own gifted ways.

Second, notice when we are operating primarily from our ego self. The ego is not our enemy. Our sense of self is a gift from God that helps us function in the world. And yet, when we identify with our ego self as our ultimate identity, more than our grounded-in-God identity, then we filter what we see, hear, say and do through that narrow self-centeredness: How is this going to affect me? What opinion will people form of me if I do this, say this, post this? 

When we see and listen and live from our deepest, truest identity, beneath the ego, then the work we do, the leadership we give, the conversations we have and the prophetic actions we undertake will be grounded in the animating presence of the Beloved.

Third, notice when we are operating primarily from our analytical minds. As with the ego, the mind is not our enemy. Our minds are a gift from God. And the rational mind is relentlessly dualistic. It knows by comparing, opposing, judging, differentiating. Our minds also assign binary labels: good/evil; beautiful/ugly; black/white; right/wrong. 

As long as we’re aware of this, we can receive and appreciate the analytical mind for what it is: helpful in many ways, and yet wholly inadequate for dealing with the deep mysteries of God, grace, pain, sexuality, suffering, death, love. If we want to be fully present with God in each moment, the rational, analytical mind can’t get us there on its own.

Contemplative people have much to offer our ruptured world. The contemplative Dorothy Day co-founded the Catholic Worker movement and championed the plight of the poor. The contemplative Howard Thurman was a principal architect of the nonviolent Civil Rights movement in America. The contemplative Desmond Tutu stood up for peace and justice during and after the darkness of apartheid in South Africa.

The presence of the Beloved is constant, infinite and everywhere. We cannot not be in the presence of God. As we grow in our capacity for prayerful listening, we can notice and join the movements of the Spirit that bring healing, liberation and life.

Julie Pennington-Russell

In the work of racial justice, what is our 50-pound part?

They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying, “Peace, peace,” when there is no peace. ~ Jeremiah 8:11

My FBC Family:

I continue to hold all of you in my prayers, especially in this gut-wrenching, soul-searching time for our nation.

To my FBC siblings of color: While I wouldn’t presume to know what each of you is feeling right now, I imagine that watching people who look like you be gunned down while jogging, shot while in bed, threatened while bird-watching, and choked to death on a public street by a “peace” officer has been horribly traumatizing. I am grieving with you and for you, even as I grieve for our country.

To my white siblings in Christ: We have work to do. Let us pray for one another as each of us does our own personal, vulnerable work in order to become genuine allies to our black and brown friends and neighbors. This is not the time to turn to our friends of color and ask them to tutor us. Their plates are full. For white people, there are no magic words to gain instant credibility and deep trust. There is only a willingness to wade into the troubled water.

My question for First Baptist Church is this: What is the Spirit inviting in this moment?

I remember reading a story once about a farmer in Nebraska who, for some reason, needed to move his barn about 110 feet. Maybe a highway was coming through—I don’t recall. Some of the farmer’s neighbors approached him with an unusual idea: What if all of us come and pick up your barn together and carry it where you want it to be?

As the story goes, sure enough, a few days later, several hundred friends and neighbors from the community showed up. With a hydraulic jack they lifted the barn just a little off the ground. Then 300 people picked it up and carried it 110 feet and set it down in one piece.

The farmer estimated that each person lifted and carried fifty pounds.

I believe the Spirit is inviting First Baptist Church to ask: In the massive work of dismantling a system built to dehumanize people, what is our 50-pound part?

For starters, some of us might join our friends from Nineteenth Street Baptist Church for weekly prayer and/or for the vigil against racism Friday night (see announcements in this email). In the work against racism, relationships count for a lot.

Listening also matters...especially when we begin by listening for God:

Help Me Listen
by Ted Loder

O Holy One,
I hear and say so many words,
yet yours is the word I need.
Speak now and help me listen;

and, if what I hear is silence,
let it quiet me,
let it disturb me,
let it touch my need,
let it break my pride,
let it shrink my certainties,
let it enlarge my wonder.

~ Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace

With you,

The Gift of Spiritual Direction

Over the past four years, I have spent many meaningful hours in a sacred space not far from our house. When not living in pandemic mode, every three or four weeks I make the 20-minute hike through my neighborhood to the Brookland Pastoral Center. Just half a block from the Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land, the BPC sits high above Quincey Street.

I climb the steep, stone steps, pausing to catch my breath at the top before entering the simple, three-story house. Waiting for me in her cozy, upstairs office is my spiritual director, Charlotte, who for decades has been accompanying people on their path with God. I fondly describe her as “Mother Theresa meets Mrs. Doubtfire.”

Time spent with Charlotte is not about achieving, producing or plan-making. From the moment I walk through her door, I know I’ve entered a space in which the point is being present—present with God and with myself. I settle into the swivel-chair as she lights a candle to remind us both of Holy Spirit’s presence. With grace and compassion, Charlotte receives whatever I bring. Nothing is off the table. Questions, complaints, tears and/or silence are welcome. “There’s something happening here.” she says sometimes. “Let Love bring it into the light.”

Many years ago, Charlotte answered a call to the ministry of “holy listening”—also known as spiritual direction, spiritual guidance, or spiritual companionship. At the heart of this ministry lies the radical conviction that spiritual companionship is a form of prayer and that contemplative listening comes not so much from a set of skills but from grounding in one’s relationship with God.

With this in mind, I want to share with you some developments happening in me that relate to my own life and and sense of calling…

I am feeling drawn to the ministry of holy listening.

Douglas Steere, the 20th century Quaker writer and professor of philosophy at Haverford College, said that “to ‘listen’ another's soul into a condition of disclosure and discovery may be almost the greatest service that any human being ever performs for another.” After six years of receiving spiritual direction I am sensing a call to offer this ministry to others.

Two years ago, I began to pray about applying to an 18-month program offered by the Shalem Institute for those who feel drawn to the ministry of spiritual direction.  Shalem’s Nurturing the Call Spiritual Guidance Program draws on the rich resources of Christian contemplative tradition to deepen the spiritual lives of those called to this ministry.

It was important to me, before applying to the program, to receive congregational affirmation for this undertaking. In January, I reached out to our Diaconate and Personnel Committee to ask for their blessing and support and was grateful to receive this word from Philip Hawkins, our deacon chair: “…go forward with the blessing of the holy breath of this church behind you as you continue to grow deeper in your own spiritual listening journey with God.”

Back in March, I was about to let the congregation know of my acceptance into the Shalem program (including a scholarship to defray costs) when COVID-19 caused us all to shift our focus to more urgent matters. Now that we have settled into this “new normal” for now, I am once again turning my attention to the Spiritual Guidance Program. I have loved the readings so far and have met once already with the peer group made up of people from around the country with whom I’ll be journeying for the next 18 months.

I’ve received some good questions from deacons and others about the program. Here are a few and feel free to ask questions of your own.

What will this 18-month Shalem program require of you?:

• The program includes two 10-day residencies at Bon Secours retreat center in Marriottsville, MD, in the summers of 2020 and 2021. (Because of the pandemic, the 2020 residency will take place online.)

• I will be expected to receive spiritual direction myself (which I already do) and to offer spiritual direction/companionship to at least two individuals during the course of the program.

• I will participate in a monthly peer group meeting with other spiritual directors.

• I will be expected to fulfill required reading assignments throughout the 18 months.

How will your participation in this program benefit our church?
Though I can’t predict all outcomes, it is my prayer and expectation that this “deep dive” into the ministry of helping people explore their relationship with God and discern the movements of Holy Spirit in their lives will have a ripple effect in our congregation. In addition, more and more seekers and newcomers to faith are looking for spiritual direction , even before they step foot in a church.

Is spiritual direction the same as therapy, but with a religious focus?
Spiritual direction is not therapy. Fundamentally, spiritual direction is an act of prayer. It is an act of intentional availability to God on the part of both the director and the one receiving direction, with the assumption that Holy Spirit is the real “director”. Spiritual direction or companionship is a guided conversation about a person’s spiritual life. While spiritual directors are trained to listen carefully to those seeking their help, the focus is on prayer and contemplation, not the treatment of mental health issues.

Will you please pray for me as I embark on this meaningful path? I’m eager to see what God will do.

Peace and grace,

Lent, COVID-19, and Discovering the Unshakable

It’s hard to believe it was only three weeks ago that we gathered in the sanctuary on Ash Wednesday. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return,” we said, as we traced the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads. Then COVID-19 showed up in our city—in a church, of all places—as an alarming reminder of our mortality.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately of how this pandemic arrived (in our part of the world, anyway) at the beginning of Lent. I don’t know about you, but my experience of Lent through the years has been hit-and-miss at times. I'm offering my confession here: I don’t always make it all the way to Easter before tearing into that bag of Oreos or ordering that glass of cabernet at the restaurant.

This year, however, COVID-19 has sent us into a Lenten wilderness like none we’ve experienced before. Look no further for proof than the empty shelves at the grocery store: instead of going without in these weeks before Easter, people actually have begun hoarding. But as with all things that cause us fear and dread, if we pause long enough to breathe and get our bearings, we’ll find the gift of God waiting for us at the center.

And so, here's my updated list of Lenten practices for 2020:

• As COVID-19 sends us into isolation from others, let this new reality invite us to identify all the more with Jesus’ lonely pilgrimage into the wilderness.

• As the coronavirus imposes more “space” in your schedule, remember again the holy rhythm of sabbath: pausing; resting; becoming still.

• Keep up with information about the pandemic as it unfolds. It’s important to stay abreast of the news. Then turn it off and go outside and take a walk. Notice the cherry blossoms and daffodils blooming, and listen—really listen—to the Song Sparrows and Blue Jays. Signs of resurrection are all around us these days.

• Observe social distancing as a gift to the people around you and give thanks for the connections that Facebook, texting, Twitter, Instagram and email offer these days. Then, at some point, consider picking up a pen and writing a letter (I love getting cards and notes!) or picking up the phone so someone on the other end can hear your voice and even see your face -- especially if they are feeling anxious or lonely. In these days of physical separation, personal connections are a treasure.

• Choose community. FBC is offering a variety of options for leaning in toward one another as a church family. You’ll find them in our weekly news updates and Tim P-R is standing by to offer technology assistance to anyone who needs it.

The Highest Use of a Shaken Time

In 1952, at the threshold of the Cold War, Harry Emerson Fosdick spoke to students and faculty at the Pacific School of Religion in Berkely. After acknowledging the uncertainty and chaos in the world at that time, he spoke these now-famous words: “The highest use of a shaken time is to discover the unshakable.”

This is the church's invitation in this unprecedented hour. As COVID-19 causes the social, economic, political and religious structures around us to quake beneath our feet, the people of God return to the unshakable. We come back to the Source that does not move. We join the ancient ones, our ancestors in faith who, in the midst of cataclysm and uncertainty, raised their voices to sing:

"God is our refuge and strength...
And though the whole earth should change,
we will not fear.
Though the mountains themselves should tremble
and fall into the seas…
we will not be afraid.
For God, our God, is with us,
a refuge and strength." (Psalm 46)

“The highest use of a shaken time is to discover the unshakable.” This is our calling: to return again and again to that which cannot be shaken:

• The unwavering love of God.

• The calling of Christ to love God, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

• The empowerment and encouragement of the Spirit.

Beloveds, God is our refuge and strength. Take heart and don’t be afraid.

Peace and grace,

The Holy Practice of Creating Margin

Think about your week. Do you spend your days rushing from one activity or event to another? Is your schedule so full that a small, unexpected “hiccup” in the day feels like a calamity? This may be a sign that you could use a little more margin in your life. Margin is the space we leave in our day or week for some wiggle room, for do-overs, for unplanned interruptions and creative thinking. For instance:

• When you’re operating at 80% capacity and your supervisor surprises you with a sudden and unexpected assignment, no problem. You’ve built some margin into your week. Your response: “You bet! My pleasure.”

• When you’re operating at 95% capacity and your supervisor gives you a last-minute assignment, you feel some anxiety and even a little irritation, but you reckon you can complete the task if you pull an all-nighter.

• When you’re operating at 120% capacity and your supervisor asks you to prepare a few words for the Monday morning office birthday celebration, your entire day’s schedule falls apart like a line of dominoes. You wind up in your office, binge-eating Girl Scout cookies. (But maybe that's just me.)

We all have finite capacities. And as a friend and former colleague often reminds me: “Finitude is not a sin!”

Even Jesus had his limits. As someone who was not only fully divine but also fully human, Jesus had to grapple with the issue of margin, too. And he did so, as he did all things, with wisdom and self-understanding. In the Gospels we see him fully engaged with his world. We see him teaching, healing, confronting, preaching, storytelling, etc. And yet, again and again we also see him pausing and stepping away: out under the stars in the desert, or among the flowers in a garden, or asleep in the back of a boat. Once, in the midst of a particularly demanding day—so demanding, in fact, that he and the disciples didn’t even have time to grab a meal—we hear him say: “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” (Mk. 6:30-32)

I can imagine Jesus giving a thumbs-up to some wise words by physician Richard Swenson. In his book, Margin: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives, Swenson describes margin this way:

“Margin is the space between our load and our limits. It is the amount allowed beyond that which is needed. It is something held in reserve for contingencies or unanticipated situations. Margin is the gap between rest and exhaustion, the space between breathing freely and suffocating.

Margin is the opposite of overload. If we are overloaded we have no margin. Most people are not quite sure when they pass from margin to overload. Threshold points are not easily measurable and are also different for different people in different circumstances. We don’t want to be under-achievers (heaven forbid!), so we fill our schedules uncritically. Options are as attractive as they are numerous, and we overbook.

If we were equipped with a flashing light to indicate ‘100 percent full,’ we could better gauge our capacities. But we don’t have such an indicator light, and we don’t know when we have overextended until we feel the pain. As a result, many people commit to a 120 percent life and wonder why the burden feels so heavy. It is rare to see a life prescheduled to only 80 percent, leaving a margin for responding to the unexpected that God sends our way.”

Margin isn’t something that just happens. We have to create it, reserve it.

After several decades of pastoral ministry, I still work at creating healthy margin. I try not to be rigid and inflexible when it comes to my weekly schedule. My minutes and hours and days are held in God’s hands. Even so, here is a peek at the general rhythm of my week:

• Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I get up very early on Sundays for prayer, silence and putting final touches on the sermon. Sunday afternoons are usually for rest and family time.

• Monday is a writing day and a “big-picture thinking” day. I begin working on the following Sunday’s sermon and other writing assignments. I think through agendas for weekly meetings with staff and lay teams.

• Tuesday and Wednesday are devoted mostly to meetings with staff and lay leaders, appointments and pastoral visits. Every Wednesday afternoon I plan worship with Lon.

• Thursday is my sabbath day. Ideally, this day is free from meetings, email or anything work-related so that I can breathe, rest, create and enjoy nature and/or DC sites with my family (Tim is also usually off on Thursdays).

  
  Friday is my main sermon-prep day and I try to go “down the rabbit hole” in order to concentrate, ponder and pray. On Friday I also plan for the following week.

• Saturday (when I don’t have church commitments) is for personal chores, relaxing and finishing Sunday’s sermon.

I invite you to spend some time imagining your “ideal week”. What would you include? What might you need to remove in order to strike a better balance? May you feel God’s deep peace, strength and rest this very week.

Peace and grace,

Trudging

Today I’m thinking about a brief scene from the 2001 medieval adventure-comedy, A Knight’s Tale, in which a destitute Geoffrey Chaucer, played by actor Paul Bettany, is walking, nude, down a country road, having lost all his clothes in a gambling wager. He is met on the road by three serfs who ask him what in the world he is doing, walking jaybird-naked through the countryside. Chaucer’s reply: “I am trudging. You know, ‘To trudge: the slow, weary, depressing-yet-determined walk of [one] who has nothing…except the impulse to simply soldier on.’”

I won’t lie: We’ve been doing our fair share of trudging lately at First Baptist through what has felt like an endless stream of facilities fiascos. I present here the “highlights” reel from the past two months:

• November 25 (3 days before Thanksgiving): a pipe burst in the back corner of the Dawson Room, flooding the gymnasium below. Professional cleaning costs: $2,150

• December 3: a pipe burst in the floor of the 3rd floor of the Education/Office building sending hot water cascading into the O Street Lobby and requiring us to close the Child Development Center for 3 days. Cleaning costs: $2,500. This incident led us to turn off all heat in the Ed/Office building indefinitely. All offices and most meeting rooms are now being warmed by portable heaters.

• Sunday, December 7: temperature in worship was 90°.

• December 21: a valve-related issue caused partial flooding in Fellowship Hall.

• Christmas Eve: five hours before our community was to arrive for worship, a pipe failure caused flooding in our narthex. Our office staff rallied with mops and towels.

• Sunday, December 29: temperature in worship was 57°.

• January 10, 2020: our gym (in which CDC children play daily) was flooded with sewage when a sewer tank failed. Clean-up, air scrubbing and sanitizing costs: $3,750.

• January 19: a valve-related issue led to the flooding of the entire Fellowship Hall in ½ inch of water (thankfully clean water, not sewage). Estimated cost: $4,000.

• January 26-27: another valve-related issue led to the flooding of the entire Fellowship Hall—again. Clean-up is still underway.

I'm sure many of our folk are unaware of the sheer volume of building-related issues FBC faces on a regular basis. Even so, the above list of facilities rebellions prompts me to say this:

a) I thank God that the work of our Facilities Improvement Team is well down the road! FBC Moderator Rod Coates and Executive Pastor Charlie Fuller initiated the work of our FIT in February of 2018. You can hear more about the insightful, forward-thinking work this team doing at the congregational meeting after the potluck this Sunday.

b) Please pray for dear Sarah Hodges-Austin, our Interim Executive Administrator, who knows how to absorb chaos and give back calm as well as anyone I know.

c) While our buildings are creating enormous, unwelcome sideways energy these days at FBC, especially for the FBC and CDC staff who work here every day, God continues to show up in beautiful ways in our faith community. We continue to worship, welcome newcomers into community, serve, give and grow together. There is plenty to celebrate. (One meaningful example: a husband and wife from Australia received distressing news from home while on vacation in DC. They looked church online in which to pray and wound up in our sanctuary on a recent Sunday afternoon, just as dear Charles Pugh was playing beautiful music on our organ. They wept and prayed and later shared with us that God met them here in a powerful, much-needed way.)

So, we press on, FBC family, in the midst of floods, ancient pipes, sewage spills and wildly-fluctuating sanctuary temperatures. In the parlance of St. Paul, “We trudge not as those who have no hope!”

Peace and grace,

Looking Back...Looking Forward

New Year’s Blessings, FBC Family!

Today finds me thinking of the ancient character from Roman mythology, Janus, the god of gates and doorways. Janus had two faces, one looking forward and one looking behind him. The face turned toward the future was youthful and eager; the one facing the past was haggard, wrinkled and weary. It’s no surprise that Janus is the god for whom the month of January was named. He probably represents the place where many of us feel we're standing today, in this doorway between the old and the new.

The Examen: A Prayer Practice for 2020

On the brink of a new decade, I invite you to try with me a daily prayer practice that was initiated nearly 500 years ago by Ignatius of Loyola, the Spanish soldier-turned-mystic who co-founded the Catholic religious order called the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits. St. Ignatius encouraged prayer-filled mindfulness through what has come to be called The Daily Examen. The Examen is a practice of prayerful reflection on the events of the day in order to detect God’s presence and to discern Love’s direction for us. One Jesuit priest likened the Examen to rummaginghttps://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/rummaging-for-god-praying-backward-through-your-day/ through a drawer full of stuff, feeling around, looking for something you’re sure must be there. In the Examen we look back on the previous day, rummaging through the “stuff” to observe God’s presence there.

Here's a simple 5-step version of St. Ignatius’ Daily Examen:

1. Become aware of God’s presence. Give thanks for God’s great love for you. Pray for the grace to understand how God is acting in your life.

2. Review the day with gratitude. This step is the heart of the Daily Examen. In the company of the Holy Spirit, look back on the events of the day. The moments may seem like a blur. Ask God to bring clarity and understanding as you ask:
• What were the events of the past 24 hours?
• Where did I find God in those events?
• Where did I get in the way of finding God in those events?
• Who wore Christ’s face to me? Did I see it and respond, or was I preoccupied by other things?

Pay attention to small things—the food you ate, the sights you saw, the faces you encountered, the frustrations you felt, etc. God is in the details.

3. Pay attention to your emotions. Reflect on the feelings you experienced during the day. Boredom? Elation? Resentment? Compassion? Anger? Confidence? What is God saying through these feelings?

4. Choose one feature of the day and pray from it. Ask Holy Spirit to direct you. It may involve a feeling—positive or negative. It may be a significant encounter with another person or a vivid moment of pleasure or pain. Or it may be something seemingly insignificant. Look at it. Pray about it. Allow the prayer to arise spontaneously from your heart—whether intercession, praise, repentance, or gratitude.

5. Look toward tomorrow. Ask God to give you light for tomorrow’s challenges. “What will it look like for me to wear Christ’s face and to be Christ’s hands and feet tomorrow? What gift(s) from God do I need (patience, hope, strength, etc.)?” Pay attention to the feelings that surface as you survey what’s coming up.

Bonus: Examen for New Year’s Day

Just for fun, take your 2019 calendar and try praying an annual version of the Examen, noting one highlight from each of the last twelve months. Where did you see God in 2019? What will it look like for you to wear Christ’s face and to be Christ’s hands and feet in 2020? What gift(s) from God do you need?

May you see and know God’s loving presence daily in the year ahead.

Peace and grace,

P.S. Here are a few resources for diving deeper into The Daily Examen:

“Into the Examen”: https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/into-the-examen-video/ This video from St. Ignatius College Prep in San Francisco features a student trying out the Examen for himself.

A number of links are listed on the Ignatian Spirituality website: https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/

There is Wonder in the World

The poet Mary Oliver gave these instructions for living a life: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Was Oliver thinking of Advent and Christmas when she wrote these words? Who can say, but each of the three directives shows up in the carols we sing at this time of year:
Pay attention: Watchmen, tell us of the night, what its signs of promise are.
Be astonished: Silent night, holy night! Shepherds quake at the sight;
Tell about it: Go, tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born!

Brenda & Paul Clark

Our friend and brother, Paul Clark, who is a pastor and preacher, is also a poet. Many of you know that Paul was diagnosed with ALS in the spring of 2017. He and Brenda have responded to this unwelcome reality with courage and faith. If allowed to do so, a grave illness can bring the gift of opening our eyes to things we otherwise might have missed. Paul has written poems throughout his journey with ALS that reveal a child of God who is looking beneath the surface and listening beneath the noise. The following poem is one of my favorites. I don’t know if Paul was thinking of Advent and Christmas when he wrote these words, but this poem shimmers with all the gifts of this holy season:

There Is Wonder in The World

There is wonder in the world
Looking up and gazing on a star
And listening for a sound in the heavens
Or possibly seeing objects move
And wondering if life can remain as it is right now

There is wonder in the world
There is mystery for the taking
In the eyes of the beholder
When as a child I believed in the realty of wonder
Life spoke through the blowing of the trees

In the unexpected voices of the woods
When I became an adult, as growing up took so much
Life as wonder or mystery is no more
Life turns to paying attention, to hearing voices that are so many
Tasks, money, power, survival at any means

So many pressures in the turmoil of living
Living in a way taxing to the soul
It has its way of making us feel old
Then comes a new birth-a child, a new love, something exciting
A much sought after discovery

And to our surprise the heart moves things around
Creates space for love, making a place for wonder
In the blessing of the moment
Behold wonder and mystery
As in the birth of a child

We pause to remember, to give thanks and
To praise every time we experience wonder

© The Reverend Paul A. Clark
June 12, 2019

Still learning to live in wonder,

Everybody Cries

“Everybody cries, and everybody hurts sometimes” sang R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe years ago. It’s true: life slings some heavy-duty pain at everyone eventually.

Twenty years ago, just before Thanksgiving, my father died at the age of 64 after a brief battle with melanoma. All I remember about the 1999 holiday season is that it went by in a kind of foggy haze. Because Taylor and Lucy were young children, for their sakes I pressed on through the Christmas season with a kind of grim determination. But in truth, my heart was broken and the last thing I wanted to do was celebrate. What I do remember is the strange feeling of hearing everywhere—in the TV commercials and music and shopping malls—this relentless voice, urging me to “Come on and get in the Christmas spirit!”

For people who are hurting, Christmas can be the hardest season of all. It’s no coincidence that twelve-step programs welcome record numbers of people in December. Two weeks from tonight, FBC will offer a safe harbor for people who are grieving or who are anxious or overwhelmed or lonely, or who feel sad and can’t even pinpoint why. Our Blue Christmas service is for any of us who need a safe space to feel what we feel while aiming it all at God.

I’ve led or participated in some twenty or so Christmastime services of hope and consolation through the years. While each has been meaningful in its own, unique way, one thing happens nearly every time: Each year, caring deacons, Bible study leaders, staff and/or other volunteers turn out to help, often arriving early to place tissue packets on the pews and set out little votive candles in the narthex. They do this for “the struggling folk” who will show up for the service. These dear people are genuinely glad to offer this ministry to others.

About halfway through the service, though, almost without fail, I'll see volunteers begin to reach for tissue packets of their own. And sure enough, when the invitation is given for people to come and light a candle in memory of someone who has died or in acknowledgment of some other hurt or stress or loss, many of the people in line are the very volunteers who showed up to help “those hurting people.” Why is this? Because it really is true: Everybody cries, and everybody hurts sometimes.

It is a faithful, loving act to come alongside other people who are hurting. And it is a faithful, loving act to offer our own pain into the arms of a trustworthy God. I invite you to join me in doing this together at Blue Christmas on December 18.

For all of us who suffer pain and loss, this promise comes as deep relief: 

Do not fear, because I am with you;
don’t be afraid, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you,
I will surely help you,
I will hold you
with my righteous, strong hand. (Isaiah 41:10)

Peace and grace, fellow criers…

Doorway to Advent

Thanksgiving blessings! Wherever you find yourself tomorrow, may you experience deep in your bones God's unconditional love for you.

This Sunday we begin together the beautiful season of Advent. Because there are always new people at First Baptist who’ve not celebrated Advent before, I offer here some words about this beautiful and rich season.

Advent means "the coming." The season of Advent is the season of expectation and longing for the coming of Christ into the world. More than getting ready for Christmas, Advent is about getting ready for Christ, who came to us once in the form of a baby and whose return will bring about the fulfilment of God’s loving intentions for all of creation. Preparing ourselves and our world for this coming is the focus of Advent.

And what a gift this season is to us. For one thing, if observed with intentionality, Advent can help us hold at arm’s length the relentless American Christmas Machine. By contrast, Advent asks us to hold back a bit before immersing ourselves in the Christmas celebration, inviting us first into a season of prayer and even some emptiness, instead of filling ourselves too full. Advent invites us to linger a while in repentance and reflection before we celebrate.

And let’s be honest: waiting comes hard for most of us. But how about we give it a try? Here are some simple suggestions for savoring the season of Advent:

In the weeks ahead, try practicing some holy restraint:
• Go without something—for someone else’s sake or for your own.
• Eat a little less.
• Talk a little less.
• Cross a few obligatory parties off your list.
• Let go of some particular anxiety.

And in the weeks ahead, try practicing some holy extravagance:
• Take a walk at sunset.
• Hold a baby.
• Go fishing (this one’s for you, Steve Netcott).
• Be an advocate for someone, or for some gospel-infused cause.
• Give an extravagant gift that benefits someone you may never meet.
• Listening deeply to someone; be as fully present as you can.
• Read Mary’s song of praise out loud, every day throughout Advent (Luke 1:46-55). https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+1%3A46-55&version=CEB
• Listen to Handel’s Messiah and/or watch last year’s Spelman-Morehouse Christmas concert https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNBbLUb787E.
• And of course...come and worship. Worship as often and as fully as you can. There are some beautiful opportunities for worship at FBC this year.

Waiting with you, wide-eyed and on tiptoe…

"The Work of Christmas" Includes Caring for Immigrants and Refugees

New Year’s blessing, FBC family. I’m thinking today about the timeless words of Howard Thurman (which are included in this Sunday’s worship guide):

When the song of the angel is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers and sisters,
To make music in the heart.

The work of Christmas... This is the line in Thurman’s poem that shimmers for me and invites me to sit with this personal question: If, like the repentant Ebenezer Scrooge, I resolve to “honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year,” what new actions will I undertake in 2019 that reflect the love of God made visible in the life of Jesus? (This question, by the way, is at the heart of the conversations we are having about our facilities and our prevailing mission as a church.)

This Sunday in worship, Epiphany Sunday, we will read the story, in the second chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, of the “Flight into Egypt” in which, after the birth of Jesus and the visit from the Magi, an “angel of the Lord” comes to Joseph in a dream and warns him to leave Bethlehem for Egypt because King Herod is planning to “seek out the child to kill him.” Mary and Joseph do leave, along with Jesus, and, according to Matthew, make their way into Egypt. Afterward, King Herod slaughters all the male children in Bethlehem under two years of age. (Matt. 2:13-18)

Matthew shows us a family that is forced to flee their homeland for fear of persecution. This is the classic modern-day definition of a refugee. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) defines a refugee as “someone who has been forced to flee his or her country because of persecution, war, or violence. A refugee has a well-founded fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a particular social group.”

The Holy Family, as Matthew recounts the story, was fleeing because of a “well-founded fear of persecution” because of their “membership in a particular social group,” in this case people with young children living in Bethlehem.

In 2019 we have two particular opportunities to enter into the struggle of refugees both in the U.S. and overseas (see related announcements on p. ??). In the spirit of "the work of Christmas" and in solidarity with the Holy Family, I invite you to consider participating in at least one of these:

1. Pilgrimage to the U.S.-Texas border, March 10-14, led by Pastor Julie and Rev. Jeana Martin, pastor of Wesley United Methodist Church in Harlingen, TX.

2. Pilgrimage to Albacete, Spain, July 20-27, led by Alyssa Aldape, FBC Missions Team leader Chelsea Clarke, and CBF field personnel Eddie & Macarena Aldape.

In the meantime, I ask you to take up “the work of Christmas” in this fresh, new year before us. What new actions will you undertake in 2019 that reflect the love of God made visible in the life of Jesus

Peace and grace,

Julie Pennington-Russell

"Refugees: The Holy Family" by Kelly Latimore. Used by permission.