Collage supplies for the retreat kits

 

For those of you still thinking about whether or not to sign on for this year’s Creative Arts Lenten Retreat, please note that tomorrow–Valentine’s Day, is the last day to order the retreat kit with the art supplies. The PDF of the written booklet will be available any time.

I am so glad to be creating this retreat! I have been working hard to get the retreat materials ready to go out this Wednesday. And it has been good work, graced work.

I am really excited to walk through Lent this year with other folks who have signed up for the retreat.  You may have seen that I already did one of the art activities (the labyrinth), but I have managed to make myself wait for the others.

Blessings to each of you as you prepare for your Lenten practices, whatever they may be.

This prayer of confession is based on Daniel 3.  (I cannot wait to preach this text on Sunday!)

Holy One,
Sometimes we are like Nebuchadnezzar, wanting to be in charge, desperately and destructively trying to control everyone around us.
God of freedom, forgive and transform us.
Sometimes we are like the Chaldeans, jealous of those who seem more successful, malicious toward people who do not do things the proper way.
God of grace, forgive and transform us.
And we are not sure if we could, if we would, be like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, trusting you despite all odds, devoted to you even in the face of death.
God of salvation, transform our fear into faithfulness.

Assurance of Pardon:

You servants of the most high God, do not be afraid. For with God there is great mercy to forgive and there is great power to transform. So may the peace of Christ dwell within you. Amen.

I’ve been working on the materials for the Creative Arts Lenten Retreat today. In thinking about the holy space of wilderness, I was inspired to create a finger labyrinth.  You can find plenty of labyrinth images online to print out, though I found it strangely soothing to draw my own. (Mine is a classic 7-circut labyrinth.) Because I love texture, I traced my lines with Crystal Effects (a paper crafting product available from Stampin’ Up.)  I read that fabric paint also works well.  In a pinch, you could even use regular glue.

I am excited to journey through Lent this year with those who are joining me in the Lenten Retreat.  The preparations are nourishing my spirit, as I pray the retreat will nourish yours.

Here is the call to worship we will use this week.  Our text is Jeremiah 18:1-11.

We come to worship God,
Creator of mountain, sea, sky, and land.
We come to praise God,
Fashioner of all creatures–even you, even me.
We offer ourselves to God,
Who forms and transforms
in power
with grace.
Amen.

For this week’s call to worship, I decided to add to a piece I had written for an earlier Sunday when we were doing the Narrative Lectionary. I edited it a bit and added in the kings and prophets to reflect that we are a bit further along in our journey through scripture.  This week we are reading about the prophet(ess) Huldah.  I can’t wait!

Call to Worship

Leader: We gather to worship God–the God of the Law and the Prophets:
Side 1: The God of Eve and Adam
Side 2: Our God who spoke and hammered the world into being;
Side 1: The God of Abraham and Sarah
Side 2: Our God who fulfilled an improbable promise;
Side 1: The God of Rachel, Leah, Jacob and their children
Side 2: Our God who remained faithful despite deceit and disobedience;
Side 1: The God of the Moses and Miriam
Side 2: Our God who took pity on a suffering people and led them to freedom.
Side 1: The God of Kings Saul, David, and Solomon
Side 2: Our God who empowered leaders and created community.
Side 1: The God of the Prophets
Side 2: Our God who called the people to repentance.
Leader: We gather to worship God:
All: The God of each of us, of all of us.
Leader: Open your ears and your hearts, O people of God.
All: Let us hear the word of our God for us. Amen.

 

Aren't they adorable?

There is a phrase parents sometimes use. When I hear it, I feel a small, uneasy twinge in the pit of my stomach. The phrase is floating around out there, so I’m sure you’ve heard it too. You may even have used it before. (Respectful comments welcome below.)

One particular memory I have of this phrase is in an email I received from an upset reader. Years ago, I wrote a humor column for a local parenting publication. In one of my articles I discussed the joys of other people’s babies. Namely that you can cuddle them and smell them and give them back to their parents when they need their diapers changed. So a reader wrote to inform me that perhaps, if I hated children so much, I shouldn’t even be a mother. She didn’t know what was wrong with me, but she adored her children.

There’s the phrase: “I adore my children.” I heard it again a few days ago from an author who was being interviewed on NPR.

I could tell you that the phrase makes me cringe because I worry about what kind of adults these adored children will turn into. Selfish? Irresponsible? Oblivious?

The truth, though, is that the phrase makes me cringe because I do not adore my children. And every time I hear another parent use that phrase I wonder what is wrong with my parenting. Why don’t I adore my children?  Is it because my older two kids are adopted? Is it because my son is special needs? Is it because some “mom” part inside of me is broken?

Don’t get me wrong. I find my children adorable at times. (Not so much at other times.) I love my children. I take good care of my children. I often enjoy my children. But ever since I opened the door to see the case worker holding on to two little strangers who were about to become my children, ever since the first wave of pregnancy nausea, my relationship with my children has been much too complicated for me to claim that I adore them.

It’s not the first dictionary definition of adore that I have a problem with: “to regard with utmost esteem, love, and respect;”it’s all the overtones of the second definition: “to worship.”1 Maybe when other parents use the word “adore,” they mean the first definition. I’m pretty sure that’s what the author on NPR was getting at.

Maybe it’s because I’m a pastor that my mind automatically goes to the second definition. When someone says, “I adore my children,” I hear “worship.” I imagine that the parents take in every little thing their children do with awe and joy. I imagine that, in the eyes if these parents, their children can do no wrong. I imagine parents setting aside the entirety of their own selves and lives to serve the whims of their children. That’s not the kind of parent I am.

And so I will not say that I adore my children. I will work on loving and respecting them more deeply each day.

And when someone in our family needs a good dose of adoration—as we all do from time to time– I’ll give them a treat for the dog. There’s nothing quite like that tilted head and those big brown eyes gazing up at you for making you feel adored.

1from dictionary.com

At Peace Mennonite, we’re back into the Narrative Lectionary.  We’ve made it to the prophets.  (Whether we survive them or not remains to be seen.)  Here’s our call to worship, based on the Message version of Isaiah 1:10-20:

God says, “Quit your worship charades. I can’t stand your trivial religious games.
When you put on your next prayer-performance, I’ll be looking the other way.”
Are we here as a charade?
Are we playing a game?
Are our prayers just a way to show off how spiritual we are?
Why are we here?
Not to show that we are wonderful people,
but to become better people.
To strengthen our spirits as we seek to live out God’s call:
Say no to wrong.
Learn to do good.
Work for justice.
Help the down-and-out.
Stand up for the homeless.
Go to bat for the defenseless.
May this time of worship bear fruit for the Kingdom of God. Amen.

Last Saturday I was awake at 5 a.m. I didn’t want to get up, so I stayed warm under my covers and started thinking. I began making a mental outline of the sermon that I needed to write that morning. Then I started thinking about possible crafts for the February craft kit. And back and forth my mind went from the problems of sin and punishment to ideas involving tissue paper and ribbons.

This happens to me a lot. I love the spiritual creativity of being a pastor and a preacher; I love the hands-on creativity of making cards and craft kits. Sometimes, though, my brain hardly knows which direction to go.

So then I started thinking, what if I combined my passions for ministry and creative arts? Are there other people out there who, like me, find a deeper awareness of the Creator when they are being creative? Others who like to read scripture, think about God, and play with art supplies? Others who zone out during contemplative prayer but focus if you put a colored pencil in their hand?

How might I be able to help people connect spiritual practices and creative practices in a meaningful way?

From this early morning musing has emerged a creative arts retreat for Lent. The retreat material can be used by individuals or small groups and is based on the scriptures from the Revised Common Lectionary. Each of the ten sessions incorporates both visual and written creative practices. We will also have a private Facebook group where retreat participants can share their insights—and their artwork!

I am really excited to offer this resource! And I must say that I am looking forward to Lent more than usual this year. I hope that some of you will use the retreat for your personal Lenten discipline or with a small group.  I would love to journey with you.

You can find more details on the “Lenten Retreat” page.  Feel free to contact me with any questions.

(Here is the reflection I shared during worship on New Year’s Day, 2012 )
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 11-14a

It’s probably not surprising that I’ve been thinking about gifts this holiday season. Of course, I’ve been considering what gifts to give others and I’ve been enjoying the gifts others have given me. And as one year ends and another begins, I’ve been thinking about what it means to accept my life as a gift from God.

I’ll be honest with you–my life is not exactly the way I want it to be. I wrote this reflection on Christmas Eve, feeling sick, having too much to do to be ready for church and family Christmas celebrations after a week of kids missing school with fevers and coughing. Like everyone, I have rough spots in my life. Times of illness and stress and just plain grumpiness. Times it is difficult to accept life as the gift that it is.

I imagine Mary had one of those times when she found out about the census. Can you imagine? Nearly 9 months pregnant and she’s expected to travel to Bethlehem? Walking and riding the donkey; walking and riding the donkey. And then not even a comfortable bed at the end of the journey. What must Mary have been thinking when the contractions started there in the stable? As she paced the straw-strewn floor, stepping over piles of dung and around various animals? Was she thinking about how life is a gift from God?

It’s difficult to keep in mind the holiness of life, the fact of life as a gift, when we are having a bad day; when our plans crumble; when our bodies ache, our computer breaks, the weather does not cooperate.

And beyond having bad days, many of us face deep disappointments about the reality of our lives. Some people desperately want children, but cannot have them. Some people have struggles with their children that they never imagined–they feel they are unable to be the parents they want to be or to have the family life they had hoped for. Some people feel they married the wrong person, chose the wrong career path. Some people fall into addiction. Nearly all of us struggle to get our lives in line with our values.

I’m sure Mary and Joseph had imagined their lives quite differently. Sure, giving birth in a stable was inconvenient, but the pregnancy itself was the real issue. What would this pregnancy and birth mean for their life together, for their standing in the community? This was not the life Mary or Joseph had planned.

Yet life is a gift from God. That’s what I’ve been thinking about during this season of giving; amidst the Christmas gifts and the magi bearing their treasures. That this life that I am living is a gift; it is a treasure.

That doesn’t always feel true. But it is true. And the beginning of the year seems like a good time to think about this truth.

I’m not talking about being thankful despite your bad days and disappointments. We can always find someone worse off than we are. We can always find something that is good in the midst of our messy lives. And those are good practices–to gain some perspective, not focus on the negative.

This morning, though, I’m talking about something different. I’m talking about receiving your life–all of your life–as a gift from God. The joys and disappointments. The parts that turn out the way you want and the parts that don’t. For God has made everything beautiful in its time. Amen.

I found a treasure online that I want to share with you on this day of Epiphany.  Here is a sound recording of T.S. Eliot reading his poem “Journey of the Magi.” The words to the poem are printed on the page as well, but I recommend listening to it with your eyes closed.

I love Eliot, and I love this poem.  Plus, I’ve always been a sucker for a British accent.

Epiphany blessings to you!

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