Currently Reading Unbinding the Gospel (Church Leaders' Study in the Real Life Evangelism Series) By Martha Grace Reese see related

What do you do about all of the negative forces in life----the critical people, the depressing situations we all get into, the bad news, the things you can't get done?  I try to pray about them, but I confess I am rather imperfect at it.  I expect sometimes God must think my prayers are a bit "whiny."  I also expect that God loves me anyway.   I think I can understand, however, why the disciples said to Jesus "Teach us to pray." 

One of the other things I try to do is remember that life isn't about everything being perfect all the time.  I keep expecting things to be perfect---by my standards of course! :)  There's a reason that the expression "chill!" became so popular, I expect.  In my self-talk, I have to remind myself to chill.  Perhaps scripture can be helpful with that.  There are really only one or two occassions when Jesus really got mad.  Most of the time, even when he was severely provoked, he managed to use humor and patience to diffuse the situation.  I'm not Jesus, but I'm not above asking "What would Jesus do?"

I would love to hear what you do about the negatives in life.  You no doubt have something to teach me.  Please write.

Blessings, Marja

Currently Reading The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World By Eric Weiner see related

We are all busy.  I hear it all the time.  I hear from my colleagues about the impossible things they/we are trying to accomplish.  It's all in a good cause.  We are God's hands and feet.  We are trying to make the church a better place.  I've said it myself, many times.  And I am guilty of working hours past the time I say I will be home. 

But there's a problem with this busi-ness.  There are casualties.  In my case, among my casualities are reading books and journals just because they interest me; surfing the web and following a trail for the pure joy of learning something new; writing in my journal; and talking, eating, sharing and just hanging out with my spouse and my friends.

Of course I still read.  I read something every morning during my quiet time.  But often I have to choose between reading a bit longer or making a journal entry.  It's only on days like this---a wonderful, snowy, winter Saturday---when I convince myself that I need have no particular agenda, that I remember that I have four or six or twelve magazines that I have been waiting to dip into.  And I can finally fish around on the web to try to figure out what this mysterious thing called "podcasts" is.  And there's a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, and old movies to watch.

We are all busy.  We are all working for the church.  But perhaps we ought to be praying for more snow days when we can tuck up under an afghan and feed ourselves with those books and articles and thoughts that have been waiting until we had time to give them attention. 

So, what are you doing today?

Last night I watched a Hallmark Hall of Fame television movie called The Mitchell Girl.  It had been widely advertised and hailed as a strong, moving performance in the grand tradition of Hallmark Hall of Fame presentations.  Certainly the acting was strong, but I found myself wanting to shake the main character.  She had been diagnosed with an agressive form of luekemia, decided to make the trip home to be with her family and to deal with an incident from her past that continued to haunt.  She arrived in her hometown and encountered both family and friends, and chose to tell no one.  Her mother is perky, her old boyfriend is still interested in her, she receives word that at long last she has been accepted to medical school and still she chooses to tell no one, take no one into her confidence, let no one into the circle of her misery and fear.

It is only at the end of the movie, of course, that it comes out that she has cancer.  It is only at the end of the movie that she divulges this news not to her mother first, but to the woman across the street whose child she had been babysitting on the night there was a terrible accident resulting in that child's death.  It makes a great movie, but it makes a terrible life scenario.  As a nation, we Americans need to be a little less the "strong, silent" type and a little more willing to open our lives, especially to the people we love and who love us. 

Were there things I kept from my parents?  Sure, I was a child of "the movement" in the 60s and 70s.  I marched on campus.  I smoked and drank and stayed out too late.  But you'd better believe that if I had been diagnosed with a major life-threatening disease, there's one place I would have made a bee-line for:  My parents' house.  I believe in the power not only of family but also of community.

That's what the church is lacking in many places today.  It needs to be the emotional center where one can go to get loved, supported and challenged in the face of life's crises, large and small.  "Come together, people," I wanted to yell at the television last night.  "Come together, people," is not a half bad summation of the message that Jesus gave us----love, compassion, healing, forgiveness.  Can we take each other seriously enough to trust others with our needs and fears as well as our joys and challenges?  Come together.  Right now.

Currently Reading Why Jesus Makes Me Nervous: Ten Alarming Words of Faith By Joy Jordan-Lake see related

Last Tuesday I sat with a group of nearly twenty pastors of local congregations, in a service of word and sacrament, this being the first time I had been with them as a group in a year’s time.  The leader of the worship, one of my colleagues in ministry in this Conference, Allen Fluent, invited us to name moments of faith.  With little prompting, those gathered in the circle began to quote verses of scripture and hymn texts that meant the most to them, telling stories as they went to describe situations or people who had showed them the deep truths, whether in children’s church school, or in seminary, or in the grief counseling we do before a funeral.  I was amazed, not that they knew scripture, of course, but rather to hear the affirmation of how much the scripture meant to them personally, sustained them in their hard times, led them forward.  One tends to think that pastors today are, if not jaded, at least a tad cynical about the difficulty of ministry or the prospect for hope and change in this time of division and retrenchment.  It is an echo of what I believe people in general are hoping to find in church---the word of hope, the comfort of presence, the healing touch. 

Allen also read a poem called something like “The Mystical Weaver” by a 19^th century pastor, by the name of Henry Harbaugh, who served here in Penn Central Conference.  Perhaps there is even now a mystical weaver, who sees the pattern, who weaves us into something new when we are not looking.  I believe it’s my responsibility to stay open, and to do whatever I can, but in the end, I must also believe that there is a power greater than me who indeed, as the prophet Isaiah says, is “doing a new thing.”  Praying is hard when you don’t know what you are praying for.  But the one to whom we pray knows.  It has to be enough.

Currently Reading Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself By Alan Alda see related

I've just finished reading Alan Alda's book, Things I Overheard While Talking To Myself.  It is mostly a collection of observations from graduation and other speeches he has made over the years.  There are some interesting observations, but indeed he really does seem to be talking to himself.  I'm also in the middle of reading Anne Lamott's Grace (Eventually), which similarly contains a lot of self-reflection.  Though I can't exactly put my finger on it, somehow Lamott seems to be talking more to me.  I feel like she cares about who I am and wants to hear my life story too [which of course is ridiculous because she has hundreds of thousands of fans and I will likely never get to meet her.]  Writing is a tricky thing.  We all want to be unique.  We all want to be recognized as the unique individuals we are.  And most of us want to know we will be remembered.

A lot of Christmas is about remembering.  That's why people send out Christmas cards [though Jim and I sent ours electronically this year after reading that 3 billion cards end up in land fills].  That's why we exchange presents and give Toys for Tots.  Just as we want to be remembered, we are also willing to remember others.  We recognize that in the midst of our unique individual life circumstances, we need each other.

I remember so clearly when Coke did a commercial in the 70s using the somewhat treaclely song "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing."  Why do I and so many others remember so vividly a commercial with questionable artistic or creative value?  Because we really do want to teach the world to sing.

People in general are pretty sick of war and violence I think.  The only things keeping us from world peace is that there are meglomaniacs who keep people stirred up, keep them believing that they have been cheated out of their share, their uniqueness, their dream.  Many people have been cheated out of their dream by the greed of others.  But violence won't fix that.  Dream-sharing, story-telling, and example are the only things that will indeed teach the world to sing together. 

I'm looking forward to visiting with relatives and friends over the next few days.  I probably won't write again until after Christmas.  So to all of you, I wish a wonderful Merry Christmas, and the dream of peace!  Blessings, Marja