Light in the Darkness

Light… Something that those of us living in northern climates this time of year don’t see a lot of. 

Light… Good News that was unwrapped for us as Immanuel–God With Us in the nativity. 

Light… That Epiphany reminds us shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Bernadette Farrell writes of our dark reality and deepest longing in Christ, Be Our Light…

Longing for light, we wait in darkness.  Longing for truth, we turn to you.  Make us your own, your holy people, light for the world to see.  Christ be our light!  Shine in our hearts.  Shine through the darkness.  Christ be our light!  Shine in your church gathered today.

As the long winter days brighten and as the dark and cold swirls all around us, the light of Christ glows, warms and enlightens our days and the most bitter of nights.  The Epiphany season is a reminder that… Now Christ Jesus has come to show us the kindness of God.  Christ our Savior defeated death and brought us the good news.  It shines like a light and offers life that never ends. 2 Timothy 1:10 (CEV)

In Until the Whole World Hears, Casting Crowns sings about this reminder and our call to do God’s work through our hands:  “Lord I want to feel your heart and see the world through your eyes.  I want to be your hands and feet.  I want to live a life that leads… Let us shine the light of Jesus in the darkest night.  May the powers of darkness tremble as our praises rise until the whole world hears we are calling out.  Lifting up your name for all to hear the sound, like voices in the wilderness we’re crying out.  As the day draws near we’ll sing until the whole world hears.”

For me the verse that speaks to me loudest is part sharing that Epiphany light and part New Year’s resolution:  “Want to be your hands and feet, want to be a life that leads.  To see you set the captive free, until the whole world hears.  And I pray that they will see more of you and less of me.  Lord I want my life to be the song you sing.”  Your work, my hands… but more of you Lord, and less of me I pray.  Amen.

 

Epiphany on River Road

I traveled up North River Road for a dozen years on my way to work.  And more than a couple dozen years ago as a freshman, I rode the bus on the same route between a downtown dormitory and a campus five miles north.  The road is lined with a collection of homes, but one in particular has stood out over the years.

The house is not much to speak of, a small white New Englander probably built around the turn of the last century.  It’s got to be less than a thousand square feet and has a one car driveway that ends where a garage should be.  The white clapboard house was well maintained and in a way reminded me of my grandparent’s modest home.  Perhaps the familiarity was what caused me to first notice it.

As a freshman, I would watch as the gray haired couple who lived there rake the leaves, sweep the driveway, wash the new Pontiac, or take care of routine lawn maintenance.  When winter came, they wrapped the shrubs in front of the house and hung a wreath on the door.  They seemed to always be outside as the bus went by and I looked to see what they were up to almost every time I passed. 

My sophomore year, I moved to campus and no longer made the daily commute up North River Road.  I had long forgotten about the couple and that little white house until I moved back to New Hampshire and resumed a commute along that very familiar route.  One day I noticed a now white haired elderly woman trimming the much larger shrubs in front of the same white house with a fading Pontiac parked in the driveway.

I wondered if her husband was still living and on one warm and sunny day saw the two of them sitting at the end of the driveway in the shadows cast by the familiar little white house.  I was pleased to see them sharing what was a beautiful late fall afternoon.  As fall faded to winter, I rarely would see the couple, but found a strange comfort in the stability and order that modest, tidy home and their presence represented.

 

Wait for the Lord, whose day is near…

Advent is a time of waiting, watching and wondering and Psalm 40 from Rob Lacey’s Word on the Street captures the edginess in my waiting this year…

I waited, waited quiet, quiet calm; he turned towards me, grabbed my arm,  pulled me up out of the cesspool’s hold,  away from the filth, the mud, the cold.                                             

He stood me firm on solid rock,  a place no one dare knock.  He taught me a brand-new song to sing,  spot on for the only true King.       

Many will hear; many will see and fear, and rely on awesome God making it here.

The winters cold, snow and darkness has had a “cesspool” like grip on my Advent at times.  But this view of light breaking through is literally of the leach field in my front yard…  fresh snow covering the filth and the mud that lie beneath the cold blanket of white.

When I took this photo earlier this month, I was reminded of how God with us, daily gives us strength and new beginings to deal with the filth, the mud and the cold of our lives.  The sun breaking through that cold morning fog was the longing words of the Taizé chant Wait for the Lord…

Wait for the Lord, whose day draws near.    

Wait for the Lord, keep watch, be strong.   

Listen and watch with the Taizé community in France 

or listen and watch a beautiful instrumental version 

Advent blessings as you wait for the Lord…

 

 

There Will Be Signs

Sermon preached the First Sunday of Advent…

click here to listen:  There Will Be Signs

In 1971, the obscure Canadian rock group Five Man Electrical Band released their album Goodbye and Butterflies with a song you may know, even if the band doesn’t ring any bells.  The song “Signs” is a rant about billboards obscuring views during a California drive and reflected the bands frustrations and the uncertain times.  The song was a smash, hit #3 on the charts and sold over a million and a half copies.

And the sign said “long haired freaky people, need ought apply.”   So I tucked my hair up under my hat, and I went in to ask him why.  He said “you look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do.”  So I took off my hat, I said “imagine that, huh, me working for you!” whoa

Sign, sign everywhere a sign.  Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind.  Do this don’t do that can’t you read the sign?

Signs, the Gospel is full of strange ones this morning… sun, moon, stars, earth and sea, some kind of biblical bowl of Lucky Charms cereal spilled everywhere, setting everyone all over the world in a panic, the wind knocked out of them by the threat of doom, the powers-that-be crying over much more than spilt milk. 

 

Reflecting on Leadership in Multicultural Faith Communities

A Peaceable Kingdom: Isaiah 11:6-9 (The Message)…

The wolf will romp with the lamb,
   the leopard sleep with the kid.
Calf and lion will eat from the same trough,
   and a little child will tend them.
Cow and bear will graze the same pasture,
   their calves and cubs grow up together,
   and the lion eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child will crawl over rattlesnake dens,
   the toddler stick his hand down the hole of a serpent.
Neither animal nor human will hurt or kill
   on my holy mountain.
The whole earth will be brimming with knowing God-Alive,
   a living knowledge of God ocean-deep, ocean-wide.

Prayer of Archbishop Oscar Romero…

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.

So Come As You Are…

All Are Welcome by Agape

Prayer by Eric H. F. Law from his book…

The Wolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb: A Spirituality for Leadership in a Multicultural Church:

O God, You made us in you own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son; Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred that infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

 

We Are All Cup Bearers

Sermon preached the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost…

click here to listen: We Are All Cup Bearers

Each day more than 2 million passengers go through TSA security check points at US airports.  Since 2008 self-select lanes modeled after familiar ski icons guide travelers to choose the appropriate one based on their skill level.  Green designates the queue for families or beginners, blue is for casual travelers at the intermediate level,  and black diamond is reserved for expert travelers who know the  rules and arrive at the checkpoint ready to go through efficiently.

I’ve learned this from three years of weekly commuting between Manchester-Boston Regional and Philadelphia International on Southwest Airlines.  The experience has led some to dub me “the Southwest Seminarian” and along the way I’ve become an expert traveler (at least by Federal TSA standards).  This week however… in my impatience with the long lines (even in the black diamond lane), I had what one could call a “Zebedee brothers experience.” 

At Philadelphia there is an unmarked lane behind the initial security kiosk for airline priority and V.I.P. members.  So on Thursday I flashed my card the TSA agent stepped aside, pulled back the rope and allowed me to go down the empty lane ahead of hundreds of other travelers lined up on the left and on the right.  And just like the Zebedee’s James and John, others began to be angry and wondered aloud:  “who does that guy think he is…” and “why does he deserve preferential treatment?”

 

Walking a Winding Path – Labyrinth as Rest and Refuge

Sanctuary is defined both as a place of refuge and as holy ground.  One of my favorite places of refuge on the tree lined campus of the Lutheran Seminary at Philadelphia is the 101 year old Krauth Memorial Library.  There in the upper rotunda is an eleven circuit Chartres-style labyrinth, described as a winding path to center and spend time at rest with God.

And walk the winding path I did this afternoon.  The late afternoon light streamed through the massive leaded gothic windows into the upper rotunda, casting shadows on me the only person in the space.  The dappled light illuminated limestone framed walls, my reflection and prayers as I walked the labyrinth.

The floor of the rotunda is covered in autumnal brown and rust colored low loop carpeting.  As I walked in stocking feet my footfalls fell softly and quietly.  All of my senses seemed to fade away as my focus shifted from following the path to praying and listening.  My inward walk was accompanied by John Bell’s of Psalm 46:10 from the Iona Community as a repeated refrain.

Be still and know, that I am God.  Be still and know, that I am God…

The cadence of this journey was timeless until I found myself in the center, breathing calmly and filled with a great sense of peace.  I relished those moments of refuge and lifted the prayers I had carried along the way.  I began the journey out of that place of centered stillness, walking slowly back to the demands of my day.  Again the words of a song were placed on my heart…

Calm to the waves.  Calm to the wind.  Jesus whispers, “Peace, be still.”  Balm to our hearts.  Fears at an end.  In stillness, hear his voice.

As I wound my way out, I noticed the stone cross outside the window that sits above the entrance to the library.  Through blurred glass and dancing sunrays, the cross was difficult to see or focus on.  As the setting sun faded behind wispy clouds and I walked on, it would become clearer and then fade from view.

When I walked the final leg of my winding journey, the sun brightened in the massive west facing window.  As I got closer to the end, the stately stone cross became clearer and clearer.  I stepped out of the labyrinth path, put my crossed arms on the windowsill and gave thanks for the gift of God and that holy ground at the foot of the now clear and rock solid cross.

 

When Sudden Terror Tears Apart

The Episcopal priest and hymn writer the Rev. Carl P. Daw Jr.  provided this hymn of lament seeking comfort just days after the national tragedy of September 11th:

When sudden terror tears apart the world we thought was ours,
we find how fragile strength can be, how limited our powers.

As tower and fortress fall, we watch with disbelieving stare
and numbly hear the anguished cries that pierce the ash-filled air.

Yet most of all we are aware of emptiness and void:
of lives cut short, of structures razed, of confidence destroyed.

From this abyss of doubt and fear we grope for words to pray,
and hear our stammering tongues embrace a timeless Kyrie.

Have mercy, Lord, give strength and peace, and make our courage great;
restrain our urge to seek revenge, to turn our hurt to hate.

Help us to know your steadfast love, your presence near as breath;
rekindle in our hearts the hope of life that conquers death.

Many this day are reflecting where they were individually as we relive the terror, disbelief and grief of that shared experience.  Many have filed the hursts and nagging questions away and many are still trying, searching and longing to find peace and comfort.

Today is a day of rememberance and listening.  In the midst of all of our individual stories, we have a shared story.  In the midst of all of our individual places of lament and comfort, we pause and share in the unknown place we are at as a country and people. 

There are no easy ways to ”fix” or heal what has happened both as individuals and as a nation.  But there still is a God of mercy and love with ears to hear our cries and arms to comfort our anxieties and grieving hearts.  Kyrie eleison.  Christe eleison.  Kyrie eleison.  Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.  Lord have mercy.

 

Be Still + Know

Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth.

Psalm 46:10 has been the refrain of my life.  For in all my busyness, work, education, recreation and even church related activities… I need to pause and know.  While I know in my very core of the God of creation, the God of incarnation, and the God of presence who blows in and through my life, I often get so caught-up in the selfish stuff of life that I do not pause to reflect, give thanks and exalt our awesome God.

Yet when I read, hear, or sing the words ‘be still and know,’ I am drawn to Sabbath, to listen and spend time with God.  In those moments spent in the majesty and mystery of our creator, redeemer and sustainer, I may not know fully, but most fully feel the presence of God.  I pray for the gift of stillness, to be able to let go of my schedule and stress that I may know, experience and share God with others.  In the words of the simple Iona hymn:

Be still and know that I am God… I am the one who call you my friends…I am the one whose love never fails… I am the one who says ‘follow me’…  Be still and know that I am God and there is none beside me. 

 

Amateur Guest Chef Benefit Event Photos

August 10th one of Manchester’s hottest restaurants  Z food and drink featured my take on a fun summer Tuscan supper and allowed me to play in their kitchen.  This event benefited the New Hampshire Foodbank to help take a bite out of hunger for kids and families this summer.  Check-out the menu and a visual taste some of the event below…

welcome + grace

chilled garlic soup, ciabatta crostini

preparing caprese lasagna

panzanella salad

working the line

caprese lasagna

seared tuna + cannelloni arugula salad

limoncello tiramisu