It's Done

It's Done. I turned the resignation letter in yesterday and it was good.
I prayed for peace and that my words would be tempered. That I would not say the perfect things, just what needed to be said. I was simple. It was simple.
I wasn't old enough to remember the times my Pop put in his resignation at our other churches, or maybe I wasn't actually present. But this last time I remember the hurt, and the dissapointment that the people I loved felt and I think in some way I was worried that it would be that way here.
Well as my Pop pointed out that was a whole different ballgame, Pastor for seven years vs. youth and children's for two. A whole different set of expectations and a whole different investment. And since he won't be reading this... He was right!
I will be missed, but God is in this and his people were gracious and loving to me last night.
Thanks to you all who prayed for me, and my people.

If you catch this

If you catch this please remember me and my church this week. I am turning in my resignation next Wednesday... It will be one of those weeks! I will be leaving them in under three months.
I love them and don't want them hurt, so pray that though they are sad, they see God's hand as he moves in my life. I'm sure they will, but remember us this week. And I will be sad too.

Nic's Dream...

Nic was hosting SNL. As funny as he is it's possible. He had just finished the opening monologue and the crew was getting ready for the first skit. It was taking place on an old-fashioned ice rink, the kind with bleechers for people to sit on. I came up to him and said, "You've had a hard time this week in practice, but I know you've got it now." He said he had NO idea what "it" was or even what the skit was about.
The next thing He knew He comes on camera and two girls are fighting on the edge of the ice. They are dressed like ice dancers and are pushing and yelling. "Ladies, there's no reason to fight," Nic says as he walks over to try and break them up. They both look at him like he had a mule growing out of his forehead. He repeated the line and then looked at me, the director. I was mouthing something that looked just like the line he had repeated twice. He figured I knew what was supposed to be going on. so he repeated the line again.
So I walk over and literally pull a plug from the wall, at which point the whole place goes dark and the crowd and other actors are gone. I say to Nic, "In the history of Saturday Night Live we have never, ever, never, ever had to cancel a broadcast. Now thanks to you this will be all over the news when people find out."
He woke up and his first thought was "Man, I'm glad that was a dream. My fans would have been so dissapointed."
This dream was posted with the permission of the dreamer. This was a dramatization of fictional events.
*Also note that I would never pull the plug on anyone, though I am flattered that I was an SNL director.
I laughed long and hard about this one! Thanks Nic.

Oh Absalom

The other day my pastor and I were discussing why we have bible study, specifically character studies. We have just completed the life of David, and are now embarking on the disciples. My assertion was that we need to know that there are people like Andrew among the twelve closest to Jesus, and that there existed this misguided son of David named Absalom. We need to find ourselves in each. We cannot only say “I am more like Andrew,” or “I am Peter” without saying “I am Absalom.”
Andrew brought people face to face with Christ. He followed the eternally cool John the Baptist, faithfully and sincerely. He followed to such a degree that when the true teacher was pointed out Andrew lost no time in following. This humble brother of the outspoken Peter was counted among the men that Christ chose as his posse. We need to find ourselves in this simplicity, and humility.
Peter… what more needs to be said? He was the outspoken disciple, who the Holy Spirit used to proclaim Christ as the Son of God. He was an overzealous man, whose love for Christ spurred him to action without thinking or listening first. We need to be deeply in love with Christ, finding ourselves the mouthpiece of the Spirit and allowing our actions to speak of that love.
We must also love the Absalom in ourselves. When I was younger, my Pop would take my long hair in his hands and shake it like reins on a horse, saying “Oh, Absalom.” I remember relating this to a lady in the church and she looking at me with a stricken expression. Possibly she thought that wasn’t a particularly nice thing for a father to say to his daughter? “Oh- You rebellious much loved child, who will eventually come to ruin by taking over a kingdom not your own and getting your hair stuck in a tree.” Maybe she has a point. But I think the real problem was even less complicated. Papa was identifying me with the villain, the bad guy.
She did not see in Absalom a young rebellious man, who was loved by many. She did not see the just intentions in his heart as he carried out his ill-conceived plan to avenge his sister. She did not see the love the father had for his son, nor could she undertand the seperation. A love so great that in the face of complete and utter rebellion, complete and utter rejection, David still asks for mercy for his son. She did not see herself in Absalom.
I do. I remember all the times my intentions were good and the actions a mess. I know when I separate myself from God my judgment turns destructive and self-gratifying. I can see myself hanging from my pride in a tree, exposing myself to painful consequences. I see myself the much loved daughter of parents close to the heart of God; parents who mourn for me in situations where my rebelliousness or pride makes life that much harder. I see me in Absalom and I see something redemptive in him.

Are there true bad guys in the Bible? Possibly... absolutely. But aren't we sometimes the bad guys, too?

"The king was shaken. He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he went, he said: "O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you— O Absalom, my son, my son!" 2 Samuel 18:33

Amazed

I was out of town catching up with a friend. Amazed was the buzz word that day in the Sunday service. As I sat in a church not my own, hearing a pastor not my own, worshipping, an understanding of the wonder I was witness to spread through me.
Wonder that being in church today was oh-so voluntary. That I chose to be here no paycheck, no obligation involved.
Wonder at the depth of love one person can have for another.
Wonder at the ease of friendship restored.
Wonder in the beauty of laughter and the freedom of fun.
All weekend I felt so blessed to be in the presence of this beloved friend. To talk together, just be with her and simply witness her life. That was wonder and amazement.
Her life is a gift. A gift in the living and healing. A gift in the friendship. And God allowed me to be a witness; to partake. She: Plucked up and out, into the hands of God. Held, as a rare and precious thing. And I: Allowed to stand close and see; Catch the reflection of His firelight and love as it dances through this precious woman.
The love of God- the wonder; the knowledge of that love- the amazement. I thank you! I rejoice in you! The God of life. The God of wonder. The God in smiles and tears. The God of the broken, the Healer. The God of my friend.

Good Friday

On this day you stand in the face of the cross and you do not look away. You cannot look away from the cross on which Love died. You cannot be a coward— you must look at it, experience it, as Christ did. You must confront the blood and the body, the cross. Together we do this.

We approach the cross as one and leave the cross as a brotherhood. I see Chris take the bread between his hands and lift it, an offering. He breaks it. Dawning shivers through me. Christ broken for you. He takes the cup, and the bread is soaked red. Christ’s blood poured out for you. Do this in remembrance of me. Eyes look to the cross; they see the suffering, the end.
We come forward to dip the body into the blood, to partake. An elderly woman comes forward to receive. She breaks off a piece of the bread and carries it dripping-red in her hands, to a church member unable to come forward. What beauty!

That is what we do, we who bear the name of Christ. We carry our Christ before us, with his blood dripping onto our hands, and say to our brother “take, eat and be filled.”