29 Feb 2020

Named!


            Our community enjoys an ecumenical "Lenten Café" where each week a gathering come together for an interactive and guided discussion on a theme. With coffee, obviously.
            Our theme this year is the Great I AM - how God first self-identifies in Exodus 3. In looking at that chapter, one of the things we noted was that God does not give a name, but a verb - I *AM*. (In some translations, this comes out as I will be - God is a present and future reality to be known by all of God's people).
            We were able to journey through a number of discussions on the passage. The focus was, not surprisingly, the concept of names. Our names are gifted to us at birth, reiterated at our baptism, they are foundational to our identity.
            Our names can carry with them the weight of history or family traditions, they have meanings that we assume through our life and ministry, they convey and confer a lot about us. It is important that we get names right, and that we respect the names of others.
            When we change our names - some traditions add a name at confirmation, some people change surnames at marriage, some are given nicknames, some have monikers added for work or safety purposes - it affects us. For names are not merely a word - a noun or even a verb - they are an extension of our very selves. How we identify ourselves in any situation indicates how formal or relaxed we wish to be at that time.
            Yet in God, nothing changes. God knows our many names, as we know God - even with the humanly unknown and unknowable name of God. God has given us the name of permanence - I AM that I AM - for now and for all time. How do we present ourselves to God?

22 Feb 2020

Would You Like An Apple?


"Apple" CC BY 2.0 by Dan Foy Source: Flickr

            "Would you like my apple?"
            The question stunned me this week - not because of the fruit in question; there was no serpent leading me towards temptation! Rather, the person making the offer had walked into the office so quietly I hadn't heard him.
            The offer was made in earnest - a contractor, doing some work in the parish hall, knew that I had been at the desk all morning - we had been discussing my availability, and I had earlier mentioned that if I was absent from the desk I was likely at home grabbing a quick lunch.
            Well, I hadn't left the desk... and the quick lunch didn't happen... so there he was, at the end of his lunch break, offering me his apple.
            This was so much more than an apple being offered - it was radical hospitality. He had brought the apple for himself; it was part of his planned daily intake. Yet there he was, seeing me without so much as an apple - and thus making the offer.
            Such a simple gesture meant so much: it meant that he had truly seen me, and paid attention to me; he understood my situation and wanted to do what he could to make it better.
            It was so simple - would you like an apple - yet the meaning was so clear and rich. "I see you," the offer said. "I respect you. The holy in me acknowledges the holy in you."
            I may have declined the apple - I was headed home for my lunch - but I did accept the offer. For when someone extends the grace of hospitality, it is a gift to honour the holiness of the moment.
            What do you have to offer God - and God's people - today?


15 Feb 2020

DeFluffed... and Loved



Comet rests, peering over her successful defluffing
            Comet is really getting settled into her new home. She knows where food is, where toys are, where the 'barking window' is... at not quite 2 months, she's home.
            But Comet, as I have mentioned, comes with some baggage. Every rescue dog does; Comet's history is unspeakably sad. (Her fosters worked with her to get her to be the stunningly gorgeous and trusting beauty that Watson and I welcomed!)
            One of the ways that Comet's anxiety comes through is via stuffed toys. Anything that *can* be destroyed, is destroyed. She limits this to dog toys (cushions, shoes, etc. are all safe). But she seems to understand "chew toy" as a directive rather than a noun.
            I've had numerous people indicate I should stop this behaviour: deny her the toys, find other non-destructive toys, etc. And yes: if I was worried about the toys, I could. I would!
            But here's the thing... chewing apart toys makes her happy. She frolics, she sings, she wags her tail hard enough to knock down a wall. She's a good dog; living a good life. If that means I clean up toy fluff every day, that's fine by me.
            We do this for our beloved pets: make concessions, overlook imperfect behaviour, allow for antics that may not be our preference.
            Imagine if we treated people the same... accepting them for who they are, knowing that their background may not be perfect. Welcoming them as they are, instead of projecting our own expectations. Helping our siblings in Christ to celebrate that they are free to live the good life today, no matter what happened in their past. Extending encouragement and empowerment as an extension of trust and inclusion.
            It's so easy with our pets... to give the benefit of the doubt, to show some extra love, to overlook the defluffing - and to watch the confidence grow as her true self is loved.
              
            Imagine if the church did the same with everyone we encountered...


1 Feb 2020

Happy Groundhog Day!


"Baby Groundhog" CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 by "tv". Source: Flickr
         In a time when every day seems to have a "National *** Day" designation, some of the old classics have deep roots that give us some meaning.
         Obviously, the celebration of the weather-forecasting rodent is one of these things.
         A number of years ago, a film "Groundhog Day" provided amusing vignettes of living the same day - 02 february - over and over and over again, where only the one character realises the repetition - that only ends when the "right" series of events occurs.
         It's an interesting premise: to have unlimited 'do-over' opportunities. Imagine if you could do that... What day would you choose? What activities do you think would cause a different reaction? Would it make a significant difference? How would we know when we finally 'got it right'?
         I wonder, then, under this premise, if we consider that each day gives us an opportunity to get it right. Each morning, we have another chance to engage the world in meaningful ways. We can choose to be kind as much as possible: to practice forgiveness, and humour, and express our faith.
         It's not always easy to seek the positive in life: but it is always possible. We are given the choice to respond to the world however we choose: each day we can choose to do the right thing.
         In a world where there is such desperation that even our hope goes to rodents, what a great landscape for sharing some love and light.