A blessing of unplanned prayer

I was in a Zoom meeting this week, and one of our beloved members was sharing about some of the challenges they’ve been facing. One member said “we’re praying for you”, and it was met with a Zoom Room full of nodding heads and heart-reactions.

And before we moved to the next agenda item, another member said “We’re praying for you, now.”

And pray we did. Aloud, unplanned, authentically, beautifully, from the heart. The one who led the prayer named our friend, commended the challenges to God, asked for strength, and expressed gratitude for God’s companionship and faithfulness in this difficult time.

It was beautiful. It was important!

It hadn’t been on the agenda, but it was exactly what we were gathered to do. (Yes, we did the other work as well!) As a faith-based organisation, we often speak of prayer – and I know that these people of prayer are committed to that ministry of praying!

But so often we can forget that sacred pause, when the to-do list can wait, and pray aloud when the opportunity presents itself. There will always be something else that is waiting to be done, of course, but we risk the chance of diminishing ourselves and our communities if we skip over those few brief moments to engage.

It may not fit every setting (like a business meeting) or every venue (like a grocery store – I was once asked for prayers over the produce!). But for those of us this week – it was holy. We’re all blessed by the privilege of prayer!

The Power of Community

A few weeks back, I had a conversation with someone who self-identified as “a Christian Pilgrim” – by which they detailed that they did not follow any denomination, but went from church to church each Sunday. This person had been a guest at our service, and stayed after service not to join our coffee hour, but to tell me explicitly why they would not be coming back.

Their discourse notwithstanding, what stayed with me after reflection was a sadness. Not that we wouldn’t see them again, as our faith community was evidently not a ‘good fit’ – and I do wish them blessings on their journey. My sadness was rooted in recognising that this person had chosen to be without Christian community at all. They were clear that they were not looking for community; they were happy to be permanently itinerant.

By moving each week to a different house of worship, they are denying themselves the benefits of that community: people with whom to pray and praise, to study and discuss, to serve alongside.

Church is not just about being in the pew; it’s about being the people of God together. We learn from one another and gain new perspectives as we discuss how we sense God calling us. We are challenged into different interpretations of scripture as the lectionary takes us into the whole of the book, inspiring us to move beyond our favourite passages and into understandings that evolve as we ourselves grow and mature.

In community, we hold one another accountable, we discern together, we minister together. We respond to the needs of the community: within our broader geographic location, and within our spiritual connections. We laugh and love together, we join one another in celebration, we support one another in suffering, we do our best to be faithful companions.

But we never do it alone. Every teaching of Jesus invites people to go in pairs or groups, every epistle is written to build up the community of faith, every time of fellowship is designed to bring us closer to each other as the children of God.

I love being part of healthy church community: I have been blessed more than I can detail by people I’ve journeyed with. And with technology we have means to stay connected as never before. My hope is that we all find a community to which we can belong; with God at the centre, keeping us connected in holy ways.

More than a Food Basket

potatoes, carrots, parsnips, asparagus, lettuce, orach,
spinach, rhubarb, onbion, coriander, and dill. YUM!

Last night, it began…
This weekend was the first collection of the CSA produce for the season!

CSAs, or Community Supported Agriculture, are closely linked food systems where consumers pay in advance for a share of the season’s crops, and the farmers then provide a share of the crop based on what is produced.

CSAs serve to decrease the distance between farm and table (thereby decreasing travelling time and expense, and allowing for fresher food), they also increase the links between the growers and the purchasers (thereby building community). It’s a means to highlight local and seasonal food, and may expose people to new (to them) foods and thereby new recipes can be tried. (This week, for example, one of the foods I received is orach – and got to learn what that was! I haven’t considered up how I’ll eat it yet…)

It seems fitting, this Pentecost Sunday, to be reflecting on how community is built. Those of us who pre-purchased a share have supported the farm, and will share in the risk of the season. Our weekly collections will reflect if it’s a good growing season or a challenging one. Together, we share the output, proportional to our input.

I do not know everyone who participates in this CSA, but we share in the collection and distribution. We enter into the community with trust, as there is a cycle of us who bring the food into the city for member pick up. The bags of goods vary in content (based on the time of year and any prferences identified) and quantity (based on what size of share we've ordered). We've given and receive in proportion to what we have and what we need.

We have all invested in the farm – its people, its crops, its ethics. It’s a commitment in hope, as we support not only the literal fruits of the earth but also the different concepts of economy, ownership, and cooperation. It’s high quality food that allows us to see the world in new ways, healthier ways, moral ways.

I’m looking forward to being part pf the CSA this year; just as I am excited to see how this garden reflects the kin-dom as it feeds our bodies alongside our souls.

Snipped

Not my hair...

I had a haircut this week.
Not a big change, just a good trim in time for summer.

Before we had started, my stylist communicated well with me, confirming that I wanted about 3 inches taken off. More than just trimming the split ends, long enough to be easily pulled back.
She started by taking off about an inch – until I confirmed that I really did want it shorter, and then – snip!

As we were chatting, she commented that I was always so relaxed about my haircuts… and I replied that it’s only hair! If I didn’t like the end result, it would just grow back. The stylist at the next chair said she wished she heard that perspective more often!
As I am not someone who spends much time styling my hair (a simple ponytail is my normal summer ‘look’), I was less concerned about defining the precise outcome that some others do.
No shade on those who do – it’s just not my thing.

I try to live life with a similar viewpoint. Life will happen – sometimes as we expect, sometimes very differently. Sometimes the outcome is exactly our goal, and we can be pleased; or it may be adequate but not quite what we had in our minds; or it could be entirely … off.

But: the do-over can happen. Like a tragic haircut, it will usually grow back. It takes some time and effort, and often some involvement from someone with appropriate skillsets. (My stylist for growing out the pixie cut was fabulous!)
But we can consider more than just the immediate.
We can work to change our patterns, styling our habits in ways that will be helpful.

We can communicate what we want - meaning we've spent some time thinking about it.

We can make changes gradually, and increase over time if we feel it appropriate. Or we can choose a drastic change!
We can make effort to repair damaged relationships; and if that’s not feasible we can accept that it’s not meant to be, and move forward with peace.
We can adapt to the circumstances that life throws at us, like containing a ponytail on a windy day or planning a perfect blowout for an event… we almost always have some options as to how we respond to the world around us.

And – more often than not – we can simply be satisfied with what we have, day after day.

Who Says I Can't?

I had a lovely conversation this week with a friend and encourager. We were discussing how “anyone can sing!” – as we are both musical enthusiasts.

It was sadly interesting, as we both had stories to share of hearing that we’re not good enough to make music… for me, it was a grade school teacher who said I ought never to sing in a choir.
So, I stopped singing. For a long time. At least in public – for singing has always brought me joy!

My friend noted that if someone is less than stellar in other subjects, we don’t kick them out of class – we do our best to teach them. For that is how we lift one another up – through teaching, not through exclusion.

What a great reminder as we consider all manner of connection: admittedly not everyone is meant to do every thing – even if they do enjoy it. We can’t all be professional singers (I’m not!) or athletes (I’m *really* not!) or physicists or… but we can try, and if these things bring us joy, then there are options to find a system that ‘fits’.

For me these days, I love singing with a community choir; even when I hit the wrong notes, or struggle to learn a piece. (A favourite from our concert last month: https://youtu.be/q9voFOQn5JM )

Just because someone long ago said I couldn't sing, doesn't mean that I have to keep listening to that voice now - and indeed, I don't! But I do remember it - as a cautionary tale, to do my best not to have a negative impact on someone else.

I’m grateful for the people who were the encouragers along my path, and who continue to build up my involvement and enjoyment. I aspire to do the same with others – in the church, in the community, in life in general.

We never know when we might be making an impact in someone’s life; and we can hope that our words and actions will be for the building up of those we encounter.

Heb 10.24-25a “let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another”

Dog Rugs

There’s some beautiful hardwood flooring in my house.

And the longer I’m in the house, it seems the more it gets covered – by rugs.

The first rug came in winter, as the dogs were less inclined to sleep in the living room floor, excepting the dog beds; but were happy to tread to the carpeted areas in the office and bedroom.

A hall runner appeared when the Rocket Dog (named “Comet” with good reason) could crash into the ancient one, and knock him sideways with minimal traction.

A third carpet popped in as Watson’s arthritis became more painful, and his efforts to stand up became more laboured – and a little extra grip made a lot of difference.

Thus, the dogs meander more, there are fewer falls, and they continue the happy practice of being in whatever room the human occupies.

The rugs aren’t good quality; they aren’t even matching. While somewhat beige, they are different shags, weaves, shapes, even colour. The hardwood is mostly hidden; and it’s not pretty.
But it’s wonderful: because it makes life just a little bit easier and a little bit more comfortable for the dogs.

They serve a purpose: to make life a little bit better. So it’s entirely worth it.

For the house, it’s rugs; but in other areas of life, what small adjustments might be made to improve the quality of life for someone else? Can we donate to a local Food Bank, or support a local refugee resettlement cause? Can we pause in our busy-ness to have the same conversation we have with our forgetful neighbour, giving them the dignity of a chat that they are having for the first time? Can we contribute to a community clean-up, demonstrating our commitment to all that our Creator God loved into being?

Can we live our faith in ways that are meant to be supportive and helpful?

It doesn’t take much, but it can mean a lot. And in our efforts, the world might become a kinder, gentler place: a place where the important things aren’t just what looks lovely, but what makes the most impact on the ones who are there.

How do you talk about faith?

In a few pastoral circumstances this week, I had several conversations with many people, about faith and calling- I was in a few spaces as a cleric, and these are not uncommon conversations. Some folks ask for prayer, some ask for information, some ask about my marital status (!!!)

One person this week was telling me that they aren’t sure if they believe in God. (Again, not an uncommon conversation to have). But they did say that they have read the scriptures, and they attend church from time to time; and while their faith is questioned, they said that being part of a community of believers was important to them.

They said it makes them feel that they are kinder, more connected to their neighbours, that they want to be a better person – basically that it makes them feel better to be part of the faith community than they do without it. They said they weren’t sure about the concepts of resurrection, heaven, etc., but that regardless of the promises for eternity, they were happy about the way they were living their life now.

It was a beautiful conversation; where this person allowed themselves to be vulnerable, and to be honest about their faith journey. And it reiterated for me the beauty and significance of being in community: that we hold one another up, we hold space for questions and queries, we accept wherever we are in our beliefs, we accompany one another without judgment or criticism, or forcing our expectations and opinions on others.

It was also a conversation starter as we sat around a table, as others started sharing of their experiences, the teachings of faith and morality that they had learned along the way, the sharing of wisdom from many perspectives. At the core, everyone was expressing that whatever their belief, they wanted to live peaceably with one another and with the earth, and that they wanted to leave this world a better place for those who come after.

Sometimes theology happens like this: in unplanned yet comfortable conversations around a table. It happens when we are willing to listen and to hear, to feel safe enough to open our hearts to others, and to be that safe space for others to open up to us.
It’s the community that dwells in sacred time and space, where the Spirit of the divine exceeds our words and our rationality – and simply is: a guiding force of love for us to follow.