What does real love look like? Seminary, Cohorts and M.E.

What does love with forbearance and forgiveness look like?  What does love lived with passion and open eyes look like?  Can the two be one?

My cohort may never forgive me for this one, but I pray they 'get' it... In fact, I am pretty sure they will.

In my cohort of over 20 people we have all kinds.  We come from all over the country.  Not everyone would choose to spend time as 'best-ies' outside of school, but we have found a common connection beyond our call.  It is called love.

We are not perfect.  We drive each other nuts even as we drive each other on in joy. Here is a short list of some of our better or worse attributes (you decide if they are good or bad, it is all perspective):

Some of us are:
Sociable         Talkative             Timid                Private              Boisterous              Methodical
Studious         Loud                   Meek               Confident          Artistic                   Capable
Skilled            Experienced        Expressive        Modest             Flashy                    Articulate
Simple            Detailed              Humble             Joyous              Self Conscious       Self starters
Driven            Affectionate        Bubbly              Frustrated         Busy                       Calm

You see, we are all kinds of things.  Sometimes annoyingly so, even to each other.  But in those moments that would drive anyone else mad, we are blessed with this amazing grace that lets us see past the annoying part and LOVE the person in front of us.  They are part of us, they are us.  We know no matter how good they may be at something we are not good at, that they are a little doubtful of a different, weaker, skill of attribute of their own.  We know we all bring something to the table.  More than anything, I have seen tremendous patience.  It allows us to breathe, to listen and to HEAR and see each other and what is really happening around us, not just what is colored by our immediate reaction.

This group of people is full of imperfection and disagreement.  One of my closest friends in this group goes NUTS every time she finds out I have not started a 10 page paper that is due in 5 hours- because she is a planner and does her work methodically and carefully.  I on the other hand vomit words on paper and try to sort it out.  It works for me. Hers works for her.  The best part?  We both get A's but if we tried it the other way we would fail miserably.  The lesson here is that we could really drive each other to distraction with our differences, but instead, we love each other all the more.  We (or at least I do) find great comfort in the difference that we see with eyes wide open, full of passion and yet, in forbearance and forgiveness.  (She really needs to forgive me for the white hairs I am giving her when she finds out about these papers... I will buy her hair dye as a token apology next time I see her.)

We are NOT this way because we are future pastors... but we are this way because the Holy Spirit allows us to LOVE with eyes wide open, with deep and convicting passion, with forbearance, and most importantly, with forgiveness.  I could not ask for more.  Now I just wish I could bottle that for the world.

What Happens After? Sermon for August 25, 2013

 Luke 13: 10-17

Cinderella got her Prince Charming. So did Snow White, Belle, Sleeping Beauty and Juliette.  

The problem is that is always where the story ends.  I much prefer the  Shrek storyline.  (hands on who has seen this one… if your hand is not up, I will see you at blockbuster after coffee hour).  The story line of Shrek II specifically dances with the question about what happens after happily ever after.  It addresses life after with the imperfection of diapers and bills and the craziness that makes us sit back and wonder "who did I marry?"

 

Let me read again what happens here that leaves us asking this question:

Luke 13

The woman was healed, stood up and praised God. But then what? 

As I pondered this passage this week, I kept thinking my love of fairy tales must be going overboard.  I went through site after site looking for someone else who asked the same thing- so to be honest, I am on my own here unless you are with me.  So, do you wonder too?  What happened after they all went home that Sabbath?  It is the ultimate season cliffhanger,  JC style.  

I also notice everyone in the story got so caught up in the Synagogue Ruler’s temper tantrum that we forgot about the woman.  She got healed, praised God, and that was it.  Never heard from again. Talk about a one hit wonder, and the shortest 15 minutes of fame ever. 

Now I am sure it actually raised a bit of ruckus for a while with those who knew her.  She probably was ecstatic at first.  I mean,  think about it, she could stand up straight after 18 years.  That is no small thing if you have ever lived with back pain.  
 

Lets take a moment though and look at some other things we should know about this text.  If we go back to the Greek word, ασθενειας  used here, it is best translated as "infirmity or un-firm" in our language.  But that doesn’t tell us what kind of infirmity.  In fact, it might actually read better if we called it "the results of depression."  The type of infirmity historically referenced here in the original language is the kind caused by mental distress and depression.  It is the kind you see when you can tell through body language that someone is dejected, lonely, sad, depressed and hopeless; drooped shoulders, downcast eyes, a person literally as curled into themselves as they can get and still be upright.  

What amazes me, and it shouldn’t, is that Jesus saw her.  The synagogue was  bound by strong social rules.  Men and important figures were always up front.  Women and the unimportant, in the rear.  Bent and infirm, this woman was more than likely the lowest of the low on the social scale.  So this woman was in the rear of the room and he noticed her, calling her forward.  

In that moment she must have felt an odd mixture of fear and joy.  

               Jesus noticed HER!  Oh no! Jesus NOTICED her!

 I don’t even think she really understood what was happening until he touched her, when she stood up, and she immediately praised God. 

And then in her moment of glory and joy,  Mr. Buzzkill pipes up and says, “Hey, you have 6 other days to get healed lady, do that some other time.” Immediately the attention is turned from her.  The Synagogue leader was exerting his right and power over the way things went in the synagogue on the Sabbath.  I wonder if he was jealous?  Or was he just upset over the planned day not going as he expected?  I think a little of both.  But don’t you wonder, what happened afterward for this man too?  He not only exerted his power, but then got shot down big time in front of all those folks- and they agreed with Jesus' actions and words.  Talk about an ego buster. So what happened to him?  How did the rest of his day go?  
 

And how did the rest of her life go? 

 Suddenly she is able to do an awful lot of things she could not do before.  If we read this right, not only is she healed physically, but  also of the infirmity, the depression, that made her this way.  So she has a whole new attitude folks.  

Now let me ask you… the last time in your life you felt a huge personal change and you got home or went to school or work the next day- how did people take it?  What about a few days later?  Did you get to a point they kind of looked at you and said, “ok, that was all well and good, but we need to get back to normal now.”  What about when you go back home or to a reunion?  You may have had a HUGE change in your appearance, life or frame of mind, but you are treated the same as before.  Does that help you succeed at keeping your new perspective?  Does it help you stay on track?   Me Either. 

Cynthia was born with scoliosis.  By her early teens, her spine was curled like a pig tail and a rod was  inserted into her spine that she still has to this day.  Although she was deeply loved by her family, she knew she was different and even though doctors were working on keeping it minimized, it was still obvious that she had something different going on physically.  And we all know how kids are to each other.  

But Cynthia, she is tough.  And she fought back the only way she knew how.  By being mean.  I mean, really, really, mean.  She has told me how she was nasty, vicious, cruel and hurtful- all on purpose.  Because if she struck out first, others would still be licking their wounds as she walked away relatively unscathed.   

She was raised in a Christian home by two of the kindest, sweetest, most nurturing people I know.  But she ran from God.  And man oh man did she run.  She did her best to destroy her spirit to match her own image of her body.  I won’t go into details, but let’s just say, if you can imagine a way to offend God and other humans, she did it or she tried to. Because she was hurting inside.  She was infirm.   She was bound and she was broken.

Then one day she realized it was time to get off the pity pot and get right with God.  What she was doing wasn’t working and she knew deep down inside that she had Jesus and a chance to start over. 

 Today she is one of my dearest friends,  fiercest of my supporters, and most brutally honest with me as a sister in Christ.  Her life is on the right track and she seeks to honor God in every word and step. She lives the gift of a healed woman. She knows Jesus has healed her.  She may still be physically ‘broken’ to the world, but she is spiritually healed.  Unfortunately, her soul still suffers.  

BUT, even though she was healed, she left a path of destructive consequences that are still piercing her life.  Her good and healed life.  She didn’t get a ‘happily ever after’  While she still cringes at her own x-rays and broken body,  she did get healed of her infirmity- the one inside that was destroying her far worse than anything physical ever could.  And the best news is that every time those barbs of consequences bite into her, she drops them back at the feet of Jesus and the Cross.  She is healed regularly, sometimes daily, or even minute by minute.  But over and over again, she is healed.  

When Jesus told the bent woman to stand up, that she was healed, he knew there would be more.  She would go home and face the changes, good and  bad that came with no longer being  infirm.  She would have to train others to look at her differently, but to still see her as the same woman in many ways.  She would have to learn how to be a more productive person and to fit into the fabric of her social world in a whole new way.  But when she would stumble, she was not left to her own devices.  She had Jesus, and she had his gift of life, of healing; over and over and over.  

So what does this mean to us?  Now I am not saying we get a free pass to intentionally act stupid and still be right with God.  But it  does mean, when we  leave church today and  backslide by calling someone a choice name for cutting us off in traffic, or you don’t pick up that Bible to read it tomorrow morning, like you keep promising you will do every Sunday, or you forget to pray over your meal at lunch later in the week, it is okay.  Those are the small things... when you lie to a friend, when you steal on your taxes, when you are sexually immoral... it is not right, but it will be okay, because if you are already saved, you are unbound and already in possession of healing and that healing is not a one time deal.  It has a lifetime warranty. Because of the cross You can keep using that promise over and over. 

Invisible Sacrifices and M.E.

In her books, Madeleine L'Engle often speaks of that which we cannot see with the naked eye.  Things that are amazing to behold and stunning in their purpose and presence.  We take them for granted and forget how they impact our lives.

When speaking of faith, someone once said that they do not understand or 'see' gravity, but they sure know it exists when they fall and hit the ground.  I think that in relationships, we do not take sacrifice seriously because we don't see it.  We are doubting Thomas in our daily lives with our mates, children, parents, and even neighbors.

In sociology courses, students learn about the ideas of me-centered society and other-centered society.  One places the emphasis on the individual, the other on the individuals constant and relevant part of the greater whole.   For those who are not sure, the United States and most western culture is me-centered.

I hear people leave a job because they deserve better (really? Because there are a lot of people out there who do not even have a job, let alone one that meets their desire to be treated well).  I hear of marriages ending because "I deserve to be happy, don't I?" or "I deserve a better mate."  Really?  Don't they deserve a mate who will stand by them no matter what?  Funny how that works, I want that for me, I expect MY mate to stay by me as long as I want them and need them, but if they are not fulfilling my needs I "get" to be selfish?  We don't see in that moment that we are the less than ideal mate, not them. 

In a story I read this week,  a woman said to a man, "I deserve more than just one step, I deserve someone who will meet me half way."  I get the idea here, she had been in abusive relationships up to that point.  But the fact is, relationships are never 50-50.  They are always about one person giving more than the other at any given time.  When my hubby is rubbing my feet, there is no 50-50 about it- it is 100-0.  He is giving and I am simply laying there like a fatted calf... him 100, me ZERO.  When I am making dinner and he is chilling out by skimming the pool (something he will fight you over to get to do) it is also not 50-50.  It is more like 75-25.  He is doing something that needs to be done, but not really, that is why we have a pool guy.  I am doing something that MUST be done or we will lose our generous proportions.  See?  not 50-50.

As Matthew points out, "whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me."  I am going to get really real here folks.  Be ready to not like this... so here goes:

If you think that you are going to grow as a Christian and become more Christ-like without giving more than a little- or less than 100%, then you are wrong.  This is not about salvation, this is about those of us who say we are Christian's and then don't live it.  You are NOT bearing fruit.  You are NOT growing.   You are sitting by the side of the road whining about the splinters of the cross and that they are going to get infected.  Get up.  Shut up.  Pick UP the cross and walk.  It is not easy. It is not fun.  It is not all happy, skippy, joy, joy.  It is about sacrifice.  It is about honoring the relationship. And when you think you are the only one sacrificing in it- just remember, you didn't get scourged or die a horrific death on a cross for something you did not do.  His sacrifice is invisible today- but that does not mean it was not 100% or does not exist. 

Now, as they say in the Army... kwitcher bitchin, pull up yur big girl panties, suck it up and DRIVE on.  I believe in you- you are not alone and you are worth the work. Go give.  

How being full of holes can actually be more whole... and M.E.

We tend to think that something with holes is incomplete, less than perfect or damaged, right?  I mean, the underwear with holes get tossed, as do the socks.  If my pool has a hole, I have to patch it or it is useless.  If there is a hole in my heart, I am broken.  Or not.

Being full of holes can actually be a good thing too.  I have a tomato plant in a container.  It gets watered well by the sprinklers and I noticed that it was gaining and holding water.  It turned out I forgot to punch the holes out in the bottom.  The roots were starting to rot away because they were stuck in their own juices.  I also have a pasta strainer that doesn't have very good holes on the bottom, so it doesn't drain away the pasta liquid without a lot of help.  If it doesn't drain right, the pasta gets all sticky and goopy and useless.  And of course, my neighbor would argue the holes in his t-shirt are perfect air conditioning.  There is a purpose behind being full of holes.

I once heard a story of a clay pot that was broken.  It was tossed to the side, useless as it no longer held water.  Until a windy day came.  And the light kept going out because of the wind.  They needed a wind 'break' that would not cover and extinguish the flame, while still letting the light out and air in.  The broken pot suddenly had purpose- very important purpose.  Its holes let the light out and the air in.

Much like my tomato pot, if I am not hole-y enough, I am sitting in my own juices getting all stinky and root rotted.  There is no room for fresh water to flow in and through.  There is no way to allow my insides to breathe.  I fester.  The holes are helpful.

Sometimes I hear people talk about the day they will be better Christians.  But first they have to read the Bible more or start going to church they say.  The truth is, that would be depending on us.  There would be no room for the Spirit and gift of salvation to move through us and in us.  We would be doing it alone and if that is the case, we will only get root rot.

We need to open up to our holes.  God still has purpose for us with those holes.  That is what they talk about when they say salvation by faith, not works.  We cannot open our own holes, life does that, sin does that.  But we can embrace the holes first, and let God move through them, like fresh water, bringing nutrients and flushing away the nasty stuff.  That tomato plant isn't doing anything different but the fruit of it is affected by allowing the holes to do their job too.  Then it can produce fruit as a by product.  Our salvation is the same.  It is not in our control, but when it is gifted to us, when we need it because we are full of holes, it becomes this amazing gift that frees us to do what we are supposed to do.  Just be us, and grow fruit by being us.

Don't think you have to get to church first, or pray more, or read the Bible more.  Not that those aren't important, they are.  But they are not what gets you right with God.  God is.  You just have to sit back and be hole-y.  In that, you will be made whole and holy.

Sometimes They Say Things That Hurt and M.E.

Today Madelleine L'Engle (M.E.) writes about being new and yet staying the same.  She loves Bach and finds a newness in his music even when she thinks she knows it already.  There is something to be said for this concept in relationships too.  When we think we know someone we can fall into traps of stale murkiness.  In fact, when we think we know our own life the same can happen.  We think we know who we are or what we are called to do and that is that.  But, if there is one thing I have learned in seminary, it is that discernment is a forever kind of thing.

It goes to show then, that we need to keep our minds and hearts open.  Even more, we need to keep people in our lives who keep us on our toes.  A life full of comfy cozy people is not the best for making us get up and get busy living the way we need to be.  We need people who challenge us, call us on our crap and love us enough (or sometimes dislike us enough) to be brutally honest with us and say things that hurt.

The other day I vented some frustration and pain to a collared friend.  Suddenly I said, "So there it is.  I am done now.  What do you think?"  In all his wisdom and truth he said, "I don't think you are.  What else?"  At which point I burst into tears.  I had, of course, known I was close to crying (which I hate to do) and tried to avoid it by ending my vent and turning it around to him and his thoughts.  He knew enough to call me on it and force me to try.  The funny thing is, we are new friends.  Kind of a big-brother mentoring thing.  We walk and talk through the struggles aligned with military chaplaincy and seminary.  But he already gets it, his role.  The one of brutal and up front honesty.

I have been blessed with a few of those in my life.  One is long gone now.  Lost to suicide.  Her gentle nature was not lost in the force of nature that I tend to be.  Instead, it was an opposites attract kind of thing.  Still, her words of truth and love live on.  If anything, the gentleness is all the more powerful than every because she is gone.  I never thought I would say this, but she is still teaching me, even by her own death... and it hurts.

I have a couple of others still.  They are in my life to varying degrees.  One, if I need her, and occasionally she pops up with a word of wisdom on fb too.  Our shared birthdays gave us a day once to get to know each other far better and yet, I really didn't need to know her better.  She was already being steel sharpening steel.  What I was seeing on the outside was what I saw more of.  She was just her, being her.  No apologies necessary. What a powerful lesson all on its own, but man did it hurt to look in the mirror some days.

My sun worshiping one is not in my life as much as I like, but she is doing some good things for her soul and that makes it okay with me.  It isn't about my needing her or her needing me.  Instead we teach each other constantly kind of like a sparring match.  I love it.  It invigorates me and some days makes me cry when I realize how little I really know. Because of that I would not trade her for the world.

Then there is this one who is almost daily in my life and we go through cozy days.  Then suddenly, like a freak summer thunderstorm, her words of wisdom and strength pile in and force my attention.  I love thunderstorms.  They are a little scary when you really think about them. They are all the same yet very individual.  They are full of surprises and energy and power beyond our imagination.  Beyond beautiful, they are awesomely cool.

But each of these lovely people say and do things that hurt.  Not to be mean. Not to vent their own needs.  But because that is what they are supposed to do.  Be real. Be honest. Be loving.  It is in those moments that I thought I knew my own life that they surprise me by being the most fantastic mirror and showing me more of who I am than I could find alone.

I think when we wonder where God is in our lives, we need to stop, be quiet, and listen to the voices already around us.  They may very well be God right in our living room turning fashion magazines and drinking tea, or on skype with coffee talking about new eye makeup, or baking up a storm for the unit bake sale and corralling kiddos.   They may seem to be the most mundane, ordinary, unsurprising part of our lives. Until they aren't.  But don't be angry when they say things that hurt.  Instead, love them and honor them enough to hear their words and ponder them... you might be pondering the words of God in your heart.  

Laundry and The Cross with M.E.

For full disclosure, I should start with telling you I love doing laundry.  No wait, that should read more like this: I  LOVE doing laundry... as long as it has to be hung on a line.  For me there is something very peace-creating about the silent work of taking a heavy wet piece of fabric, shaking out the wrinkles and hanging it neatly on the line.  Even better is coming back later to take it down, fresh, crisp, clean, and wrinkle free.

M.E. feels much the same about her life laundry- sins of omission and commission- and hanging them on the cross.  She writes of a Russian priest who would share that image with those he counseled and she found it very helpful.  I would have to say, I do too.

That basket of wet clothes is heavy.  So are the weights of sin and humanity in my life some days.  Or rather, some days I notice the weight more than others.  Lately that weight has been heavy.  It has been a hard year.  Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining.  Life hands us patches of heavy laundry and I am grateful I have them but they really are a lot of work and make my body and mind scream out some days.

The beauty is, we can drag that heavy laundry to the lines of the Cross and hang them there, all willy-nilly and rumpled and unshook and even kind of dump them there unceremoniously.  Very unlike the image in my mind of the way I hang laundry.

But the thing is, the cross was a very unceremonious event.  It was ugly, lumpy, rumpled, and willy-nilly to all who looked on.  But to Christ and God in heaven, it was enough.  The simple act of dumping my laundry at the foot of the cross allows me to turn around and in time, find clean and fresh laundry again.  The cross did all the work.  Kind of like a dryer.  Wow.  Did you ever think Jesus would be compared to a dryer?

The point is, it wasn't my work.  It wasn't my will and it wasn't my sacrifice.  But is was my dirt, my pain, my groaning life that was taken up on that cross and the Son (sun) dried and bleached away the ugliness.  I get the benefit of the clean fresh life and didn't have to do the work (or if you are a control freak that could be worded: I didn't get to do the work).

As a future pastor, I am inundated with reminders of caring for self right now.  As a mom, I am reminded regularly by those who know and care that a mom MUST take care of herself in order to care for her young.  I get that.  Some days we cannot get away and we must find the small things that add up to personal care.  For me it is laundry.  The simple, silent, act of hanging wet heavy cloth on a line to return and find it fresh and clean, wrapping my grateful arms about it as I  fold it in the warmth of the Son. 

Imperfection and M.E.... sharing the TMI at church

I have attended many churches in my life.  The moving has created an opportunity to see and experience more fully how people do and see 'religion' differently.  One aspect never changes though.  Perfection.  Or rather, expectation of perfection.

Whether you attend a service that is dressed to the nines or wear jeans and t-shirts to church, there is still an expectation.  We don't want to see imperfection.  We don't really want to know what is happening in our neighbors home- that might get messy and we would have to give up our precious time to help or support.

We don't want to know the pastor is lonely or struggling with a bully in the congregation (yes, there is always one and pastors won't tell you who it is, but trust me, they are there and they are mean because they can get away with it because pastors won't be mean back).

We sure do not want errors in the bulletin or errant slides or heaven forbid, a bad sound system or musical gift.

We want perfection.

As I read M.E.'s thoughts for today, she speaks of false expectations and at first I was caught up in the friendship side she mentions.  But after some time in silence and meditation I read the passage again and the words "we have false expectations of our holy days, of our churches" jumped off the page at me. Immediately I knew I was guilty of that.  I want my church holidays to deliver some meaningful, emotionally laden and personally life altering experience.  That is not what the church is for.

The church is also not a place for us to put on a face of perfection.  The fact is, you go to church with people who suffer.  They fight inner demons of alcohol, drugs, cruel fists, sexual yearnings and more.  They are not perfect and neither is your pastor.  We are just human.  All of us.

A few places we have been my first complaint to Lance was that I felt like I wasn't being 'let in'.  Really.  I was welcome to help at church and worship there but the personal lives were bricked off like Ft Knox.  I wanted relationship. I wanted personal.  I wanted real.

 How can I pray for you when you won't tell me?  But why on earth would you tell me if I am going to judge or blab about town? I get it. No wonder we build those walls thicker at church than at home.  We are afraid of the judgement.  I know that feeling very well.  I am blessed with a daughter who knows no sense of secrecy when it comes to 'life'.  Her greatest desire upon being hospitalized for depression was for us to tell people where she was and why.  She figured they might be able to find their own inner demons and fight them if she shared hers.

 The hardest part was being so transparent to others at church and her school.  Let me tell you, offering up in verbal prayer to the whole congregation that your daughter is hospitalized for suicidal thoughts is not easy.  It had me quaking in my boots.  I remember thinking, they really will think this is TMI (too much information) but my heart yelled at me, "this is not about them, this is about Sandy and what she wants and needs to heal!"

So I did it.  I prayed for her safety and health and spirit out loud.  I shared with her friends and then, I left service crying several times over the weeks she was not with us. What I found though was not judgement. (*Caveat, there was fear deeply wrapped about the 's' word- and that is another blog for another day- shame and suicide).  Instead I found arms of solace and even more shockingly, as I shared, more and more people came to me crying themselves for the pain they had never shared with another soul or outside their little families.  They worried for grown children, for teens at home.  They mourned their own years of despair spent alone and afraid.  Some of these wounds were dozens of years old!  One woman had watched her little brother go through this when she was a teen, now she is in her late 40's.  Not one word to anyone else in all these years.

As I lowered the mask of perfection, what I saw, felt, heard and experienced was a freedom.  For me, yes.  But for those around me too.  When I took that first step (coerced by mothering instinct alone) I gave them permission to open up too. This allowed my daughter's and my cry for help to be their cry for help in those moments.  Together we grieved and found solace. That would not have happened if I had maintained "perfect" standards.

Don't get me wrong, church is not the place for broad, personal, verbal confession, but it is a place we should find imperfection and we must follow that up with the gifts of grace, mercy and absolute forgiveness. Let's let the message really work.... but first, we have to admit we are imperfect.  

M.E. and Remembering what I Forgot and The Impossible

Today (day 2) M.E. writes, "One of the great sorrows which came to human beings when Adam and Eve left the Garden was the loss of memory, memory of all that God's children are meant to be."

In the following questions we are asked to ponder the impossible we have to do in life and when God enabled us as well as how we know our will is one with God's as we ask in the Lord's Prayer.  For a moment I was stymied.  I don't recall doing anything I thought was impossible.  Does that mean I don't accept challenges from God?  Am I that chicken and don't hear God?  Then I realized. Hello?  I am in seminary.  A place I never thought I would be.  Then I realized, it is time to share some of how I ended up here.

You see, for many years I was interested in pursuing politics as a profession.  When I was looking to join the Air Force, I wanted to go in to be a political spin person, like Olivia Pope in ABC's Scandal.  I wanted to be the one who helped turn what didn't look so good or was dangerous for the American public to know into something innocuous and insignificant.  For years! In Savannah, I even had a wealthy gentleman from church tell me he would fund my first run for the Chatham County School Board (talk about a political good old boy system!).  That would have been my first 'in'.  But we moved.

In New Jersey I watched my Great Aunt Ruth die of cancer and in those drives to visit with her I had a lot of time to think and pray.  I also had a pastor, Dave, who was convinced I was supposed to be in seminary when I was thinking it was my husband who was supposed to go.  By the time I watched those shovels pour dirt onto Aunt Ruth's casket, I knew where God was calling me and it was not Politics.  A little sad, I gave up that dream and began discerning a call to ministry.

When Lance asked me recently if this made me happy to be in seminary and if being a pastor would make me happy I had to answer yes and no.  It made me sad at first and that was the no.  But I told him I could be very content being a pastor and that was even better.  He replied he did not want me content but I explained to him that this was a far better happiness.  See, deep down inside, what I want more than I wanted a career in politics was to follow God's will for my life.  In giving up politics and following a call to ministry, I am not doing something I do not want to do.  I do want to do it.  Better yet, is the knowledge that God wants me to do it and that brings a peace and joy so deep down in my soul I cannot express it thoroughly enough.  So more than politics, I want to be a Pastor, because God has called me to that and is equipping me for that life.  In a way, this is my 'impossible' scenario.  I know I would be a rotten pastor on my own.  But God is giving me all the gifts and skills I need to do God's will.  In that then, I am pursuing my dream and achieving the impossible WITH God.

Oddly enough, a few years ago I helped get the walk on Washington and annual Press Conference on the Capital lawn off the ground.  Talk about political.  I had to call all the secretaries of all the US Representatives and Congress to see if I could send an invite to them to speak at this instead of the 9/11 10th anniversary event the next day in NYC.  If you think anything is impossible, ask for a representatives personal schedulers email!  Easier to get the rep's email but not as effective.  I managed the over 200 calls over the weekend for those who would speak to me.  By the time all was said and done though, I was wiped out and ready to cry.  By the time I opened our press conference on the lawn I was so done with politics that I think I still have post traumatic stress over it.  In those moments of clarity, I realized, God had blessed me with that side job as I was entering into seminary that coming fall .  It let me see that the dream I had for myself was not at all what I thought and it reassured me that my will now is in line with God's will.  Talk about doing the impossible again... but only WITH  God, not on my own.

I may not recall too many impossibles in my life, but I think that is because I have learned to forget that I am alone.  God is with me, walking beside me, carrying me when I am weak or unable and that, that is what I am remembering that I forgot in the Garden.