A story for Ascension

I heard the story from someone who’d read it in the works of Abba Sayah …He admits that it’s a pretty shaky story when it comes to reality but there is no doubt whatsoever that it’s true.

As the gospels tell us, after forty days of resurrection appearances, Jesus knew it was time to leave his disciples – his mother, his brothers and sisters, all his companions in the Way. It was hard to say goodbye, but he knew that the time had come. After all, he was the Truth and we humans can only take so much of that.

So Jesus called them all together on the mountain top, and made his farewells. It was a tearful moment. Mary was crying. John was crying. Jesus was crying. Even Peter, the immovable rock, was reaching for his handkerchief.

They knew that Jesus had said he would always be with them. But they also knew it wasn't going to be the same. There would be no more breakfasts by the seashore, no more late night discussions around the campfire, no more unexpected jugs of wine…and so they wept.

Jesus was sad too, but he was glad to be returning to his Father, and he knew it was all part of the plan. And so he began to ascend.

As Abba Sayah told the story, as Jesus began to rise, slowly and gracefully into the air, John just couldn't bear it. He grabbed hold of Jesus' right leg, and refused to let go.
"John?" said Jesus “What are you doing?”
And John shouted back,
"If you won't stay with us, then I'm coming too."

Jesus calmly continued to rise, hoping that John would let go. But he didn’t. And then, to make matters worse, Mary suddenly jumped up and grabbed hold of Jesus' other leg.
"I'm coming too," she shouted.
By now, Jesus’ big exit had obviously been ruined, but he looked up into heaven, and called out:
"Okay, Father... what do I do now?" And a voice came out of the clouds, deep and loud like the rumbling of thunder in the distance.
"Ascend!" the voice said.
"Ascend?" Jesus asked
"Ascend!" the voice replied.

So Jesus continued to rise through the air, with John and Mary holding on until they too were lifted off the ground. But the other disciples couldn’t bear to be left behind either, so they too jumped on board…and within moments there was this pyramid of people hanging in the middle of the sky. Jesus at the top. John and Mary next. The other apostles hanging on below. Quite a sight, if anyone had been watching...

And then - what was this? Suddenly all kinds of people were appearing out of nowhere…friends and neighbors from around Galilee, people who’d heard Jesus’ stories, people whom he had healed, people who just knew that he was something special…Young and old,- men, women, children, Jews and Gentiles…a huge crowd – and they too refused to be left behind…So, they made a grab for the last pair of ankles and hung on for dear life. One way and another there was quite a kerfuffle -people squealing “Wait for me” -then startled yelps as they felt themselves seized by the ankle -and above it all the voice of God calling out, “Ascend!"

But all of a sudden, from the bottom of the pyramid, there came the voice of a small child.
"Wait!” he shrilled, “I've lost my dog! Wait for me”
"I can't wait," Jesus called back, "I don't know how this thing works."

But the little boy wasn't going to be left behind, and he was determined his dog was coming with him. So, still holding on with one hand, he grabbed hold of a tree with the other, and held on with all his might.

For a moment, the whole pyramid stopped dead in the air - Jesus pulling upwards, and the little boy holding on to the tree, scanning the horizon for his lost dog. But Jesus couldn't stop. The ascension had begun, and God was pulling him back up to heaven.

At first it looked as if the tree would uproot itself. But then the tree held on, and it started to pull the ground up with it. Sort of like when you pull a rug up in the middle, the soil itself started moving up into the sky. And hundreds of miles away, where the soil met the oceans, the oceans held on. And where the oceans met the shores, the shores held on. All of it held on, like there was no tomorrow.

Jesus DID ascend to heaven, He went back to his natural habitat, living permanently in the presence of God’s endless love and care and wholeness and laughter. But, as Abba Sayah tells it, he pulled all of creation – the whole kit and caboodle – everything that ever was or is or ever will be – he pulled it all up into heaven with him.

There's a sense in which we can think about the Ascension as “Christmas backwards”. At Christmas, we concentrate on Jesus coming to earth to transform us with the presence of God. At Ascension, we focus instead on Jesus taking earth back with him into heaven…

Whichever way you look at it, the work of Jesus was to transform us and the world we live in by infusing everything with the presence of God. Heaven meets earth; earth is drawn into heaven.

And, as Abba Saya said. that's where we've been ever since.

If you have a source for this let me know and I'll be glad to credit it. I have no idea where I got it.

Parrot stewardship

Suzi Orman is a financial guru. She regularly tells people how to have more money. One of the things that fascinates me about Suzi Orman is that she tells people, “You must give away a significant amount of your money to someone else. Someone who is not related to you. Someone for whom you are not obligated to care.”

She tells this story to illustrate her point. In Mexico in the Mercado, she saw a man who was selling parrots. All of the parrots were perched with no cages, yet the parrots were not flying away. Suzi talked to the man to find out how he could keep the birds from flying away. He told her that he trained them to believe that if they let go of the perch they would die. Suzi says, “And that’s how we are about our money. We clutch it so tightly that we believe that if we let go of it we will die. However, what we need to realize is that it is only when we open our hands to give away what we hold so dear that our hand is open to receive the gifts that can come to us. We cannot receive anything with closed fists. Only open hands can give and receive.”

I find it fascinating that a completely secular financial guru gives advice that has such a profoundly religious basis. When we focus on hanging onto our stuff, we make our stuff our God. When we listen deeply and intently for God’s voice regarding the use of the stuff, we discover that God provides.

All Saints

When the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC was designed, there was a controversy over which design should be selected. A wonderful young Asian-American artist submitted an unusual design -- a partially buried, long wall of polished black granite. Most who saw the proposal did not like it at first. It did not look like a typical memorial. There were no heroic figures of warriors. There were no representative generals. All that was there were a long list of all those who had fallen in the American forces in Vietnam.

Thousands of names were listed, not in alphabetical order, for that would be like listing them in the phone book, but rather in the order of the date in which they fell.

If you have ever visited the Vietnam Memorial, you know that it has a stunning effect. The most memorable effects are those rows and rows of names. So many names. And there is an additional effect. As we stand at the wall, looking at the names, suddenly we realize that we see our won face reflected in the polished black granite. We stand there, looking at ourselves, our own reflection, our own face, with all the names of the dead.

In a way, this is what All Saints' is like. We remember the saints, all of them, not just the more notable martyrs, but your Sunday school teachers when you were a child, your parents, the preacher, all those who have preceded you in this church and in the faith. And yet, as we remember their names, we see ourselves reflected in them. We join the procession down through the ages. We take our places along with them. We focus on the saints and we see our own contemporary faces reflected in their names.

software solutions update

Things learned on a Saturday night:

• The mouse wheel noise is "room room room room."
• The headphone cord picks up movement and creates spontaneous editorial comments.
• The on and off positions for the microphone icon are not appropriate for someone who is 12.
• Sometimes commands become commentary.
  
• Speaking louder does not increase understanding.
• It does not recognize most of the seven words you can't say on tv.
• Laughter is poorly translated into a repeated word. The word chosen is dependent on pitch.
  

Predicted outcome: I don't think it will significantly add time to my work after enough training has happened.

planting seeds

The more I read and hear about Josh Hamilton the more impressed I am with Johnny Narron, Clay Council, and Josh's family, especially his grandmother.

While there's not as much information about Clay Council and his relationship with Josh, I'm thinking that a 71 year old who still pitches batting practice for teenagers has got some influence on the lives of young people. Obviously, Josh remembered him enough to ask him to pitch for the Home Run Derby.

John Donne got it right: No one is an island.

a Pam Tinnin story

When this story was originally shared through a public email list for preachers Rev. Pamela J. Tinnin was pastor of Partridge Community Church-UCC, the only church in Partridge, KS, USA (population 250).

“Last week I spent some time in the waiting room of a social service agency in Hutchinson. Except for the large woman with bright red hair who sat behind the desk, there was only one other person there, a thin woman who looked to be in her early forties. In blue jeans worn white at the knees and a sleeveless cotton blouse, she looked tired, her eyes sunk deep in the sockets, her hair lying in damp curls. I was waiting to talk to one of the staff people about a project I’m trying to organize, a volunteer chaplaincy program for people who find themselves homeless and in dire straits.

Glancing over, I saw that the woman was looking out the window at the street, her eyes sad, her hands held still in her lap, her feet in the scuffed tennis shoes side-by-side, flat on the floor.

I picked up a year old Readers Digest and began flipping through the pages, past the ads, past the jokes, past the uplifting stories. To be honest, at that moment, I didn’t have the energy to take on anyone else’s problems and she looked like problems came in the door with her. Early that morning I’d had some bad news from California. Pretending to read, all I could think of was how little I could do for the woman sitting across from me, much less my family, almost 2,000 miles away.

Just then a whispery, rough voice said, “Are you in trouble?” I looked up, and then behind me, thinking the slender woman was talking to someone else, someone who’d come in when I wasn’t looking. But when I turned back she was still waiting for me to answer. “Me?” I asked. “In trouble?”

She ducked her head then, like she was embarrassed, but answered. “Your face…you look like something bad has happened…like you feel really lost.”

I couldn’t speak for a minute and could feel myself flush with shame, me thinking all the time she had wanted something from me. Then to my surprise, I told her what had happened, told her how hopeless I felt, told her how more than anything I kept hoping for a miracle. She moved closer and sat down in the next chair. She told me not to give up hope, that miracles do happen. “About five or six years ago I got into smokin’ dope; then it was cocaine and meth…my husband left me…then he went to court and took my kids away,” she said. “I thought my world had come to an end…I didn’t believe in anything…not my family or friends…not even God,” she said, and smiled a funny smile that only curved one side of her mouth.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just kept quiet and patted her arm.

“But you know, just when I’d almost given up, I met some folks who gave me another chance,” she said. “They gave me a place to live; helped me get a job. Pretty soon, I’m gonna get my own place…try to get my kids back, least part of the time. Don’t you worry,” she said, “things work out.”

“But you don’t understand,” I said, “I’m a pastor…I’m supposed to have answers…I’m supposed to be the one who knows how to help everyone, how to fix things.”

“The way I look at it,” the woman said, smiling this incredible smile that seemed to light up the small room, “that’s the work of all of us … we all got to help each other … who else is gonna do it?” And she tipped her head then and winked. “This is a hard old world,” she said. “We got to be there for each other. Don’t you think that’s the good Lord’s plan for things?”

Just then a woman in a suit, a clipboard in her hand, came through the door and said, “Mrs. Holcomb?”

The woman in the worn jeans stood, reached down and slung an old blue backpack onto her shoulder. She stepped past me, then turned back and hugged me hard. I could smell the shampoo she’d used and I glimpsed five tiny silver hoops in a neat row along her ear.

“Good luck,” I told her, “and thank you…thank you.”

She walked away and I sat there thinking how easy it is to look at someone and not even see who she is … not even see that she's a unique and amazing child of God, someone who has come into our life to give us a blessing. None of us has a lock on God’s grace; none of us — pastor or president or homeless person — no one is more special than any other. In the First Letter of Peter, Chapter 2:9, it says, “…you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.” It doesn’t say some of you … it says you, as in all of you. That woman in the waiting room was right … each of us is called to care for each other — it’s the work of all of us. As she said, “We all got to help each other…who else is gonna do it?” It is pure arrogance to think that one person is called to be all things to all people. When we falter, someone else will reach out a hand and help us walk on down the road. Then there will be the days when our turn will come and hopefully we'll be the ones to reach out that helping hand. Sometimes this is a hard, old world and “we got to be there for each other.”

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five

An Old Versus Modern (Postmodern?) Friday Five

as posted by Singing Owl

Yesterday I had two separate conversations in which people were musing about how much change is occurring. The WW II generation, of which my mom is a part, went from horse and buggy to automobiles, saw the lessening, or even the end of many diseases, went from widespread use of kerosene lamps and outhouses (in the country, and most folks were rural)) to a totally electrified and plumbed society. The fastest means of communication was a telegraph. The second conversation--gulp--was about MY generation and how much change occurred in the last half of the 20th century. The person said his 13 year old had not seen a vinyl record album until a few days before, couldn't remember a time without cell phones, and on and on.

As for the questions!

1. What modern convenience/invention could you absolutely, positively not live
without?

Remicade (or the other biologics) that let my body move in such a way that most people don't know how bad my arthritis is

2. What modern convenience/invention do you wish had never seen the light of day?
Why?

Since I am fully convinced that everything has the power for both good and evil, depending on who is using it or how it is being used, not one thing. God gave us a brain for us to use it. The same brain should also be used to make judgments about the usages that bring about more good.

3. Do you own a music-playing device older than a CD player? More than one? If
so, do you use it (them)?

Older than a CD player? there's a cassette tape deck and receiver that are older. The receiver is used much more frequently than the tape deck. The tape deck (dual, mind you) has been used Maybe twice in the last 3 years.

4. Do you find the rapid change in our world exciting, scary, a mix...or something
else?

I think I''m used to rapid change since I haven't known much else. After all, both MTV started and I learned basic programing on an Apple when I was in high school while the rotary dial phone still hung in the kitchen of my house and we were only able to change the channels on tv remotely because we used the cable remote. (I remember renting a VCR with the tapes for a birthday slumber party for my little sister.)

5. What did our forebears have that we have lost and you'd like to regain?
A better sense of community.

Bonus
points if you have a suggestion of how to begin that process. Well, first, I think we need to intentionally set aside time for re-creation. With all of our "time-saving" devices and strategies, we focus on getting more done instead of using that time for sabbath, for soul building, for nurturing friendships. Somehow, my grandpa knew that there would always be something to do on the farm but a nap might be the best use of time right then. He did chores AND went to church and taught Sunday School because it wasn't about one being more important than the other but that both needed to be tended to. Feeding the cattle and pigs and horses was just as important as capturing the attention of teenagers and trying to feed their souls. We have to decide that tending to our souls (which includes our community) is important enough to count as "getting stuff done."

sermon writing

I very often have something on tv while writing sermons. I'm trying to finish a wedding homily type sermon for tomorrow. I'm not sure that Juno was the best choice for the tv background, however, I did laugh a lot -- like the kind of laugh evoked by Gracebythesea and Will Smama and company at dinner. (wait ... who's birthday is it???)

Juno is way more funny than I expected. And the sermon is way less done. I guess the friday five will have to wait 'cause the wedding is kinda early so I need to finish sooner rather than later.

Easter thoughts

I'm not sure where I found this because I didn't write down the source but I wrote down the thought. It's related to the Harry Potter series and the concept of Horcruxes, inanimate objects that hold pieces of a soul, placed there through dark magic.

If you think about it the notion that a thing can hold a soul is not a new concept or limited to those who use magic. How many cars have been bought as an expression of who I am? How many mansions have been built to last forever?

If it doesn't resurrect, it isn't worth dying for.

the ordinary that is more than enough

All too often we focus on what we don’t have and forget that with God we have more than enough. Michael Pollesel writes, “God has been at work, since creation, to bring God's dream to fruition by investing in creation.” God regularly gives us gifts. Michael goes on to say, [But too often] I have been afraid to use the gifts, or to look for new ones. Having been 'forced' out of my 'comfort zone' I did find new gifts which are now being put to good use. Is God continually drawing us out of our comfort zones to help us discover what other gifts God has for us? Could it be that Jesus wasn't aware he could do what he did at Cana? Maybe someone pushed him where he really didn’t want to go. Could it have been an instance when he was out of his comfort zone? Not only does the water change to wine, but the best wine at the wedding party! Using our gifts can have results that are greater than we might imagine.”

There are many in the church who think that they have no gifts, or their gifts aren’t good enough, or they don’t have any gifts left. It’s that “we don’t have” attitude that prompted 'The Reverend William Sloane Coffin to say, "Jesus turned water into wine, but we in the Church have become very good at turning the wine back into water." the new wine of Jesus - the fulfillment of the hopes of God's people - is what we long for and hope for. Yet when we look about us, we can see oldness at every level. We carry old fears and anxieties despite our faith in God; we are weak stewards of God's gifts to us. Sometimes it's hard to see the newness of life, and like the chief steward at the wedding, even when we do see the evidence we misattribute it to the usual sources instead of recognizing the miracle of God working through us.

3 pennies

One of my favorite stories about Mother Teresa happened when she was still Sister Teresa. She went to her Bishop for permission to start a mission. God had called her to be in this kind of ministry. Because of her vows, she had to have permission to change the focus of her ministry. Her Bishop asked her how much money she had to start this new mission. Sr Teresa said, “I have three pennies.” The Bishop said, “Sister, this may be a noble calling but you cannot start this ministry with three pennies. You can’t do anything with three pennies.”

To which Sr Teresa replies, “You are right, sir. But with God and three pennies I can do anything.” She was granted permission.

pirates

Albert Einstein said, “There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

You may remember this story. It’s in one of the Chicken Soup books written by Marjorie Wallé. One day Mrs. Smith was sitting in her doctor's waiting room when a young boy and his mother entered the office. The young boy caught Mrs. Smith's attention because he wore a patch over one eye. She marveled at how unaffected he seemed to be by the loss of an eye and watched as he followed his mother to a chair nearby.

The doctor's office was very busy that day, so Mrs. Smith had an opportunity to chat with the boy's mother while he played with his soldiers. At first he sat quietly, playing with the soldiers on the arm of the chair. Then he silently moved to the floor, glancing up at his mother.

Eventually, Mrs. Smith had an opportunity to ask the little boy what had happened to his eye. He considered her question for a long moment, then replied, lifting the patch, "There's nothing wrong with my eye. I'm a pirate!" Then he returned to his game.

Mrs. Smith was there because she had lost her leg from the knee down in an auto accident. Her trip today was to determine whether it had healed enough to be fitted with a prosthetic. The loss had been devastating to her. Try as she would to be courageous, she felt like an invalid. Intellectually, she knew that this loss should not interfere with her life, but emotionally, she just couldn't overcome this hurdle. Her doctor had suggested visualization, and she had tried it, but had been unable to envision an emotionally acceptable, lasting image. In her mind she saw herself as an invalid.

The word "pirate" changed her life. Instantly, she was transported. She saw herself dressed as Long John Silver, standing aboard a pirate ship. She stood with her legs planted wide apart – one pegged. Her hands were clenched at her hips, her head up and her shoulders back, as she smiled into a storm. Gale force winds whipped her coat and hair behind her. Cold spray blew across the deck balustrade as great waves broke against the ship. The vessel rocked and groaned under the storm's force. Still she stood firmly – proud, undaunted.

In that moment, the invalid image was replaced and her courage returned. She regarded the young boy, busy with his soldiers.

A few minutes later, the nurse called her. As she balanced on her crutches, the young boy noticed her amputation. "Hey lady," he called, "what's wrong with your leg?" The young boy's mother was mortified.

Mrs. Smith looked down at her shortened leg for a moment. Then she replied with a smile, "Nothing. I'm a pirate, too."

Holy Week distraction

From Maundy Thursday through the last service on Easter, I will lead 6 worship services, including a wedding.

And somehow, in the midst of all that sermon writing, praying, setting up the sanctuary, cleaning up, locking and unlocking the building, etc., the reoccurring thought I have is: "Thank God I don't have anyone in my congregation running for office."

a drink of water to a thirsty soul

I had to cut this story to make the sermon shorter but it's a good story for a "water" sermon. It's from James W. Moore, Some Things Are To Good Not To Be True, Dimensions, p.105-106.

Have you heard the legend of the Fisher King? When the Fisher King was a boy, he was sent out to spend the night alone in the forest, as a test of his courage to be king. During the night, he had a vision of the Holy Grail—the cup used by our Lord at the last supper. He saw it surrounded by great flames of fire, and he immediately became excited by the prospect of the wealth and glory that would be his by possessing such a great prize. Greedily, he reached into the flames to grab it, but the flames were too hot, and he was severely wounded.

As the years went by, the Fisher King became more despondent and alone, and his wound grew deeper. One day, feeling sad and depressed and in pain, he went for a walk in the forest and came upon a court jester.

“Are you all right?” the jester asked. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Well, I am very thirsty,” the Fisher King replied. The jester took an old dilapidated cup from his bag, filled it with water from a nearby stream, and gave it to the Fisher King. As he drank, he suddenly felt his wound healing for the first time. And incredibly, the old cup he was drinking from had turned into the Holy Grail.

“What wonderful magic do you possess?” the Fisher King asked the jester. The jester just shrugged and said, “I know no magic. I only gave a drink of water to a thirsty soul.”

that'll preach

Tom Long says that while he was at Princeton, he went to a nearby Presbyterian church that prides itself on being an academic, intellectual church. Early on, he said, he went to a family night supper and sat down next to a man, introduced himself, told him he was new, and said, “Have you been here long?”

“Oh yes,” the man said. “In fact I was here before this became such a scholarly church. Why I’m probably the only non-intellectual left. I haven’t understood a sermon in over 25 years.”

“Then why do you keep coming,” Tom asked?

“Because every Monday night a group of us get in the church van and drive over to the youth correctional center. Sometimes we play basketball, or play games. Usually we share a Bible story. But mostly we just get to know these kids and listen to them.

“I started going because Christians are supposed to do those kind of things. But now I could never stop. Sharing the love of God at that youth center has changed my life.”

And then he said this profound statement. “You cannot prove the promises of God in advance, but if you live them, they’re true, every one.” (Dr. Lane Alderman, "Asking All The Right Questions")

starting the New Year right

At the beginning of a New Year, many people make New Year's resolutions that might include starting diets or exercise programs. Many stores have containers on sale to help with getting organized. In some sense, each of these is a way to bring about a better quality of life.

John Wesley was continually encouraging others toward living a consistent Christian life – a better quality of life. Wesley developed a covenant prayer to help articulate that rededication and recommitment to a God centered life. Below is an updated version of Wesley's Covenant Prayer that can be used for a renewal of the commitment to a Christlike life for the coming year.

I am no longer my own, but yours.
Put me to what you will, place me with whom you will.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be put to work for you or set aside for you,
praised for you or criticized for you.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and fully surrender all things to your hope and service.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
you are mine, and I am yours.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be made also in heaven.
Amen.

safety and danger in Bethlehem

Since Sunday Dec 30 is the reading for the Holy Innocents, I'm sharing this recollection from an old sermon.

Probably the most moving event, for me, while I was in the Holy Land was my visit to the Church of the Nativity. We found out the night before I left that I was pregnant with The Entertainer. So as I stood in the place where they say Jesus was born and then laid in a manger, I was filled with awe and wonder. To be pregnant and stand in that holy and sacred place was incredible.

Like every other tourist that visits the Church of the Nativity with a tour group, a few brief moments at the church were followed by a visit to a souvenir shop. After a long time at the souvenir shop, we finally boarded the bus to return to Jerusalem. We noticed that the driver, a Palestinian, was quite agitated and as he talked to our tour guide. The Israeli tour guide also became agitated. Later, we discovered that the driver had heard on the radio the first report of the bombing of a major intersection in Jerusalem. It was March of 1996. Just days before we were scheduled to leave the United States, the bombings of the red city buses had begun. So as we left, we knew that there was some danger. What we didn't know was that we would travel through that intersection that was bombed just hours after we had passed through safely. We left Bethlehem on the way to Jerusalem not knowing why our driver and tour guide were upset because neither of them would tell us and none of us understood the radio. But the TVs in our rooms quickly filled us in on the details of the bombing that had happened only miles from us.

This year Bethlehem was on the news because there were more tourists and less violence. Someone said (and I had a similar experience), "When one is in Bethlehem, it is not hard to think "What a place for God to pick to be born in." What a place! The dust, the misery, the ugliness. Bethlehem."

But the glorious truth of the incarnation is just that. God comes to where we are; into the midst of evil; into the very spot where we are; into the struggles and the pain and the fear and the suffering. God comes to us where we are, in Bethlehem, or Boston, or Bangkok, or Brazil, or your home county. Emmanuel. God with us. God with us.

The Light Bearers

Several years ago, I found this story on a preacher sermon email list in a sermon written by Jody Felton. I adapted it for my Christmas Even sermon that year. The Entertainer (at age 8) thought it was a perfect Christmas Eve story.

When we moved to another church, she told me I should preach the goat lady sermon on Christmas Eve. After I told her she would be gone to her dad's, she told me to wait and preach it the next year. So I've already told it at my current church and I share it, like it was shared with me, for anyone else who is looking for a great Christmas story.

"I am reminded of a true story I once read. It was written by a man who grew up in the woods of Minnesota during the Depression. His father was mentally ill, a shameful thing in those days, a thing to be hidden behind closed doors.

When his father was relatively well, life was not too bad for the family. But when "the darkness" as his father called it, descended, he became moody and violent. The father was terrified of "the darkness", both the darkness outside himself and the darkness within that tormented him so.

The only things that eased his torment were light and the potion brought by the Goat Lady. Some considered the Goat Lady a witch. She lived alone with her goats and had a knack for discerning when others were in pain. Somehow, the Goat Lady always knew when "the darkness"descended on the author's father. She would arrive at their doorstep with a pail of goat's milk sweetened with a little Karo syrup and laced with herbs known only to herself. Whatever was in the milk always calmed his father, eased his fears, and reduced his violent episodes.

The author especially remembers the Christmas Eve when he was nine years old. That year, it began snowing a few days before Christmas. As the days got shorter, the snow got deeper. The darkness grew both outside and within his father.

Because of the snow, the author's mother had been unable to go out to buy more kerosene for their lamps. By late afternoon on Christmas Eve, they only had one lamp left and the fuel in it was about gone. The father begged his wife to not let the lamp go out. She had to find more kerosene. If the lamp went out, the darkness would destroy him.

The family's only connection with the outside world in that fierce snowstorm was the party line they shared with 17 other families. By ringing the right number of longs and shorts, one could reach other members of the party line. Of course, you usually got the rest of the party line, too, as they listened in on the conversation.

Reluctantly, the mother finally gave in to her husband's pleading She called a neighbor and asked if he had any extra kerosene he could lend them. As it turned out, he had extra, but because of the ferocious snowstorm, he didn't know ow he could get it to them.

A little later, the author was sitting staring out the window into the darkness and the snowstorm. He dreaded the moment when kerosene would run out and his father would lose the battle with his own darkness.

Suddenly, he saw a light coming toward the house. He could just make out the Goat Lady carrying a pail of goat's milk in one hand and waving her other arm, as if to push back the storm.

Then the miracle happened. It was as if she really had pushed back the storm. The clouds parted, a full moon shone on the freshly fallen snow, and the stars twinkled like diamonds.

That was not all he saw. Coming through the woods from 17 different directions were more lights...the lanterns of their neighbors on the party line. The little house was soon filled with people and light. Not a single corner was left in the shadows.

Christmas cookies appeared out of nowhere accompanied by hot coffee. Fellowship and laughter rang out. Even his father's own personal darkness was dispelled by the light-bearers and the Goat Lady's pail of milk.

Before they left, someone brought in the family's kerosene barrel. Each one poured the kerosene from their lantern into the barrel, saving just enough to light their way home.

As the neighbors left, the boy once again sat at the window and watched as the lanterns went off in 17 different directions like the rays of a brilliant star. The light-bearers had done their work."

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.

opposing parallels

I bought "WinterSong: Christmas Readings" by Madeleine L'Engle and Luci Shaw so I could participate in the RevGals book discussion. Well, then I didn't get it read in time to participate. I still haven't read all of it. I have read enough of it that the journal entry by Madeleine L'Engle titled "Opposing Parallels" caught my attention. With the sermon for Matthew 1:18-25 only partially formed, this will probably make the cut. Once again, Madeleine L'Engle gets quoted in a sermon

"A group of us from Regent and Vancouver School of Theology went to an excellent production of Much Ado about Nothing at Bard on the Beach. I've always loved the play because of Beatrice and Benedick, Beatrice being one of the best, funniest, and warmest of Shakespeare's women's roles.

Hero, Beatrice's cousin, and Claudio come off much less well. Hero is set up by the villain to look as though she is being unfaithful to her fiance on the eve of their wedding. Claudio believes the cruel hoax without question and then, with vicious cruelty, allows the wedding to take place as planned until the moment when the friar asks if anyone knows of any impediment, at which point he brutally and publicly denounces the innocent Hero.

It reminded me of another man whose fiancee seems to have betrayed him at the last minute. Instead of denouncing her, having her stoned -- the customary punishment for adultery -- he lovingly decides to send her away to some safe place.

And then he is willing to believe the angel who tells him not to be afraid to take the young girl for his wife, for the child within her is from God."

I wonder if Shakespeare was aware of the opposing parallels?"

lost

Billy was five years old and was so excited when his mother came home from the hospital with Billy's new brother. Billy had wanted a brother for a long time. Nothing could have been more wonderful. But things weren't working out quite like Billy had imagined. Everyone was fascinated with the new baby. This new arrival got all the attention, all the love, of the family. It seemed to Billy there was none left for him. The walls of his little world were beginning to crumble.

Billy couldn't do anything right. If he left the door open, it was, "Billy close the door, the draft will give the baby a cold." When he closed the door, it was "Billy, don't slam the door - you will wake the baby." So, he did the only thing a five year old can do when no one loves him, when there was no room left for him at home. He ran away. Not far, of course, just into the pine trees behind his house. In the cold and dark he began to cry at how alone he was, not unlike the bleating of a lost sheep.

After a while he heard noises moving in the brush. An animal! Must be a bear or a lion or worse, heaven knows! Scared to death, he tried to hide himself under the branches, but the noisy footsteps got closer and closer. And then there was the voice. "Billy...Billy." The voice was familiar - it belonged to his grandmother. She had missed him and realized he was gone. She alone knew exactly where he had gone. Drawing back the branches, she pulled him into her embrace and held him. Finally she spoke: "Billy, it's time for dinner. It's time to come home."

According to Jesus, this is the good news, that God is like that. God searches for us in all our hiding places whether we have just wandered off or are intentionally trying to hide. God's search is risky and relentless, well, because supper can't be served until all the family is there, until everyone the child at the zoo or the one named Billy has been found and brought home. And there is joy before the angels of God.

I have no idea where this came from originally. Even so, it will end my sermon tomorrow.