A Blizzard Children's Message for Parents

Snow covers Tulsa...still...with the promise of more to come (oh yay!). Church has been canceled and everyone is home. I know with each day you are growing more restless and you are running out of things to do with your children. Parents, this gives you the perfect opportunity to give the Children's Message today to your children at home!

No worries, I will walk you through it. Today's Gospel lesson is a continuation of the Sermon on the Mount (from last week). Jesus goes on to tell us that we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world! You will need to gather a few supplies before you begin.

Here is what you will need: a plate, a piece of ice, a piece of string (yarn) that is wet, salt and a flashlight or a candle.
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Okay kids, I have a problem for you to solve today. I need you to pick up this piece of ice with this string. You can't tie it around the ice. Just take the string and lay it over the ice cube and pick it up. Maybe you can try pushing the string and holding it on the ice. (Hopefully they won't out-clever you and figure it out). Do you think that I can do it? (Take the string and lay it on top of the ice and liberally sprinkle salt over the part of the string that is on the ice.) Okay, now we have to wait a minute.

(While you wait) What kinds of things to we use salt for? Why do we use salt?

Okay, let's try it. (Pick up the ice cube with the string; but, just before you pick it up, make sure the ice has not stuck to the bottom of the plate or your string will tear off the ice.) Wow! It worked. How did I do that? It was the salt. The salt made the string freeze to the ice.

In today's Gospel lesson Jesus tells us that we are the salt of the earth. Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:13-16

What do you think Jesus meant when He said that YOU are the salt of the earth? Here is an interesting way to look at it. The string is like God - He holds the world. The ice is like the world - the world can be a cold and lonely place and desperately in need of God. So, who is the salt? You and I are the salt. The church is the salt. It is our job to help the world come to God. That is our mission in life - to be like salt - helping our friends and our neighbors to understand who God is, how God loves them, and how that they can come to God, too.

Jesus also said that you are the light of the world. We are lucky that we didn't loose our electricity with this snow storm, but what if we did? What if our house was all dark and we couldn't see - what would we need? A flashlight or a candle. And even just one candle would have made the difference in the darkness. Jesus said, "YOU are the light of the world." You can make a difference in other people's lives. When they are sad or hurting, lonely or afraid, you can brighten things for them by sharing Jesus' love. Just like one candle can make the difference in a dark room, your light can make the difference in someone's life, too.

Let's pray: Dear God, thank you for sending Jesus to be the light of the world. Help us as we try to live out His call to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Extra Credit: Sing "This Little Light of Mine" together!
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Good job, friends! Let me know how it goes with your family. Since we won't get to see all of the cute things those kids say and do in front of the church, you'll have to share it with us.

Blessings to you and yours!

The Cost

On Christmas Eve, a homeless man was found in our church. It seems that he has been staying there at night for quite awhile. Although the police were called, no charges were pressed and they let him go. An act of mercy on a cold Christmas eve.

He has since been back to the church, somehow finding a way to pry open a door to get in. Even I had a fearful moment of hearing him in the building and calling the police. We witnessed the police walk around our building with guns drawn only to find nothing. After a week of several trips by the police, our exterior door locks have been made unpriable. We are pretty sure he hasn't been back.

Breaking and entering is against the law, I understand. It's not safe for a stranger to be in our building, I get it. We are responsible for the safety of our congregation, I know. But somehow I still can't stop thinking about it. Who was he? What was his story? Who can blame him for finding a place with heat, a soft couch to sleep on and occasionally some food to eat in the kitchen?

Last Sunday I had the privilege of hearing my mom give the sermon at her church. She spoke about "the cost of Christmas." Not only what Christmas cost us monetarily, but what it cost us in terms of living differently because of the message of Christ's birth. She told stories about people all over the world who risk their lives to live out the Gospel. Many times as the church we build big building and provide expensive programming and yet neglect Jesus' call to help those who are hungry, thirsty, a stranger, without clothes, sick and in prison.

I'm not a big fan of Stephen Colbert, but recently I saw a quote by him that made me stop and think. He said: "If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it."

Without condition.

Four of our youth took a challenge to live homeless at the Salvation Army this past summer. They encountered many people who were good, faithful people, yet homeless. They built relationships with homeless individuals and families that changed their perceptions and misconceptions about who homeless people are.

And then there is the homeless man - Ted Williams - who has been all over the news this past week. The man with the golden voice. Such a remarkable story (and yet the media has to overkill and talk away the good). The man who says he has a God given voice and just wants to do right by it. The two things that struck me most about the story: He was offered a job by the Cavaliers - and after they found out about his rap sheet they were asked if it would change their offer. They said, "No. We believe in second chances." When I watched the original video uploaded by "ritchey" he had several updates on Ted just as the story was breaking. His final update said this: "Whenever you run across a story such as this, don't assume it'll take a life of its own, on its own. It won't. It can't. There are too many other stories that will drown out the one before it...If you care, you'll do it. Keep the faith, pay forward and always lend a hand..."

Which all leads me back to the homeless man at the church. Instead of doing something that would make a difference in his life, we let ourselves be gripped by fear. When I was in the building thinking he was there, I remember being so scared. And even though we have been told we did the right thing - somehow I feel as if we failed.

What does our Christian faith really cost us? It costs us an hour a week going to a worship service (and many times we think that the service is about us and what we get out of it, but is it?). It might cost us an hour in Sunday school or on a Wednesday night. But what does it cost us when it comes to living differently because of our relationship with Jesus? I know we haven't all been called to live radical lives - but when was the last time we stepped out of the safe comfort zone of our lives and really made a difference for the life of someone else? When was the last time we really lived our faith out in the world?

I'm still not sure I have the answer or if I've reconciled all of this. We walk a thin line of living safe, pretty lives and actually loving our neighbor. Sometimes it is really hard to practice what you preach.

Pilgrim Story

Meaningful family stories that are passed down from generation to generation never seem to loose their significance. Thanksgiving always seems to be the time of year when I think about my favorite family story - one that has been passed down for over 300 years.

Since I was a little girl my grandmother has told me that I come from "good blood." I come from good blood because my great-grandmother told my grandmother that she was marrying into good blood on the day she and my grandfather announced their engagement. My grandfather Jean came from good blood because his grandmother was Grace Cushman ... descendant of Thomas Cushman and Mary Allerton. Mary Allerton came to America from Leiden, Holland in 1620 at the age of 4 years on the Mayflower. Thomas came to America in 1621 at the age of 13 years on the Fortune. We come from good blood.

It is fascinating to research and learn more about these people who are so ingrained in the history of this country and with whom I share lineage. Mary Allerton was born 362 years and 1 day before I was born...and on Sunday, she will have died 311 years ago. She was the last living survivor of the Mayflower. Mary sailed on the Mayflower with her father, mother, brother and sister for 66 days. She lost her mother to disease before they even made it to land. Mary was 5 years old when the Pilgrims celebrated the first Thanksgiving with the Native people in the fall of 1621. There were 53 pilgrims (out of 102) who survived the first winter. 90 Natives were also present at the feast that lasted 3 days. Squanto and King Massasoit had taught the Pilgrims how to plant and harvest in the new land and had even shared food with them that first winter. Although they had endured much hardship and suffered many losses, they had much to be thankful for.

We have much to be thankful for as well. Even when times are hard and there is suffering all around, we have much to be thankful for. The brave Pilgrims came to this country is search of religious freedom. Freedom defines our country and I'm thankful and blessed to live in this great country. I am thankful to be free to serve God and follow Jesus without the persecution that many people face all over the world. I am thankful to be surrounded by a loving a supportive church family. I am thankful for the health and love of my family - near and far. I am thankful for friends - near and far, friends I've known for years and those I've just met. I am thankful for the experiences that have made me who I am today.

I am thankful for all of the big things but I'm thankful for all of the small things, too. I'm thankful for hoodies and coffee. I'm thankful for OSU football and the changing colors of the leaves; for smut TV and movies that make me cry. I'm thankful for facebook and google and ipods and cell phones. I am thankful for bonfires and wine parties; for snowflakes and Christmas lights. I'm thankful for clean sheets and pumpkin pie.

I'm thankful for dirty windows, because it means there have been children with dirty hands playing nearby. I'm thankful for dirty dishes because it means my family has plenty to eat. I'm thankful for piles of laundry because it means they have clothes to wear - although maybe too many. I'm thankful for the noise that fills my house because someday I know the child-like voices will be gone and my house will be empty. I am thankful to know who I am and to have people in my life who remind me when I forget.

Today, I am thankful for all those who have come before me, weaving the story of history - especially my Pilgrim ancestors.

My genealogy to Mary:

Mary Allerton (m. Thomas Cushman)

Eleazar Cushman (m. Elizabeth Coombs)

James Cushman (m. Sarah Hatch)

Seth Cushman (m. Abiah Allen)

Seth Cushman Jr. (m. Nancy Rundel)

David Cushman (m. Catherine Kennerly)

Thomas Cushman (m. Elizabeth Baker)
Grace Cushman (m. Clarence Whitlock)
Merle Whitlock (m. Ruth Riggs)
Jean Whitlock (m. Eileen Stitt)
Kim Whitlock Sisk (m. Kip Yarborough)
Kara Yarborough Farrow (ME!)

Show Up

Pastor graciously admitted one of his shortcomings yesterday during his sermon. I guess today is my day to join him in confession.

I've struggled with a lifelong battle against...prayer. There - I said it. I don't have anything against prayer - I know how important it is in our faith - but I've never been able to quite see eye to eye with prayer. Not with God necessarily, just with prayer.

Last night I joined a group of people in a Contemplative Listening class with Sister Ellie Finlay. I carry guilt around about this "prayer battle" and thought I would go see if she could give me some insights. Being a nun - a figure she knows a thing or two about prayer. Pretty early on she asked us: "What is it that brought you here?"

I didn't disclose my battle last night but I think I was able to put it into words in my head. I think I struggle with prayer for two main reasons. First - God knows everything I would ever say anyway. He knows. He's told me before - "I got your back" - so I know He has my back without me even having to ask Him to have it. Anything I'd ever say, He's already heard going around in my head. Second - I'm tired of thinking about and talking about all the stuff constantly going around in my head. Sometimes I'm guilty of not sharing things with my family because I'm just so tired of talking about it! And if God already knows anyway, then I really don't want to talk about it. I know prayer is also about the relationship building stuff but so often I just fall away out of exhaustion.

I share this because maybe you can relate. Some people have flowery, beautiful prayers, but I don't. Some people can easily get up in front of a group a confidently pray. I can't. Sister Ellie confirmed what I knew - it doesn't matter.

We sat in silence for 2 minutes. I'm not a fan of silence...it creeps me out. Well, there was soft music playing so it wasn't completely silent. Anyway, we were just to listen. We didn't have to say anything and if our mind wandered we were to acknowledge the thought and push it aside. She likened it to sitting beside some you love and not having to say anything, just enjoy their presence. So I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. Every time I thought of something that I should tell God, it is almost as if I heard Him whisper, "I know." Over and over, I heard, "I know." So I stopped thinking and just practiced being.

How refreshing to sit with God and not feel like I had to say anything. Sister Ellie said that you just have to "Show up." It's not as if prayer is coming into the presence of God because we are always in the presence of God. He surrounds our every move and every breath. But Sister Ellie said that sometimes prayer is just bringing God to our "recollect." - intentionally bringing Him to the forefront of our mind.

We also talked about starting our day with prayer. That's sounds lovely but it's not something I do. In the convent, Sister Ellie was taught to start each day with reciting Psalm 63 as a morning prayer (at 5:30 am). She did suggest a couple of prompts to help bring God to recollect first thing in the morning. I thought that as long as I'm taking this 6 week class, I could try it out. So I wrote Psalm 63:1 on a post-it and stuck it to my alarm clock. "Oh God, You are my God, eagerly I seek You." Reciting the whole Psalm is a recipe for failure - so I decided to just stick with one verse. That's easy enough to remember. "Pray as you can, not as you can't." Maybe it's enough to bring God to recollect for now.

She taught us many other things - gave us other hints on how to live has Paul encouraged: "Pray without ceasing." I think I'll stick with these two things for now. I'm going to try to just show up at least once a day - and not feel like I have to say anything. And I'll start my mornings bringing God to recollect through Psalm 63:1. Perhaps what I purpose to do for 6 weeks, will bring my battle to an end.

I hope to share more of what I discover along the way. Maybe you can give that two minutes of listening a try, too. After all, He just wants you to show up.

A Day Off

I'm taking today off. If my memory serves me correctly, it has been 17 days since I last took a day off. The past 17 days have probably been the longest and hardest I've had in a very long while. And although I'm not at work, I can't seem to get my mind off of work. So here I sit - ready to blog for the first time in months - hoping to clear my mind a little.

The past 10 days have gone something like this: plane crash, VBS x 5, VBS tear down, wedding, funeral, worship service/baptism, funeral, funeral.

I am tired. I need some normal to come back into my life. But in the same breath in which that sentence escapes, guilt creeps in. I get to go back to normal - Jill, Donna and Pam will never know the same normal again.

I know that God can use all things for good. I am certain this will be no different. I'm just not sure when the good will come.

There is so much that I don't understand, I can't understand, I'll never understand. I don't understand why planes crash and good people loose husbands, fathers, brothers and friends. I don't understand how life can change so drastically in the course of one day. I don't understand why I hold onto feelings of bitterness that I can't seem to let go of. I don't understand why those feelings show up at unexpected times. I don't understand how there can be so many different "brands" of Jesus and so many different interpretations of the Bible. I don't understand how people keep going with such dignity and grace after such tragedy. I don't understand what I'm supposed to say or do now. I don't understand how I haven't learned to keep my mouth shut by now.

What echoes through all of this not understanding ... is that God understands. His ways are higher, His thoughts are greater. I have hope that someday when I come face to face with my Maker, that my perspective will be broadened and all that I question will be answered. It's okay that I don't understand everything and it's a great lesson in humility to not have all the answers. I'm not God ... and that's one answer I'm good with. Faith is a life-long journey of growth - and through doubt, joy, trials, pain, enlightenment - with each step we get a little closer in pursuit of God. I pray that God keeps me thirsty, even when it hurts sometimes.

And when it hurts - the body of Christ is most evident. I have not quite been able to wrap my mind around how we went from VBS, to a wedding, to a funeral, to a baptism, to a funeral in our Sanctuary in the course of four days. Such extreme emotions. Such life and such absence of life. But what a beautiful picture it painted of the circle of life and the Body of Christ. Because through it all, the Body of Christ came together in community. The Body stepped up as I've never seen before. This community of believers came together to praise, to serve, to mourn, to celebrate, to sing, to cry, to laugh. The Body put aside any self-need to support and strengthen others in whatever way they could. Even strangers prayed, cooked, cleaned, and were present to help in whatever way possible. That is Church. I'm so proud to be a part of something bigger than all of our differences.

Life is so short. Life is so precious. Why do we spend so much time wrapped up in our own individualistic worldviews? Life is a gift - love while you can.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind. And love your neighbor as yourself. Who is your neighbor? Look around. Each person you see is your neighbor - and we are called to love. That's so hard - and I don't understand how to do it perfectly - but I'll keep trying.

You know why?

"When my last breath brings me to the feet of God,
I want to hear Him say I lived for His glory.
We are His story, we are His song -
a beautiful melody that shows the world His love.
When we're on this journey, when we're on this road -
we are apart of the greatest story ever told."
-Addison Road

I had a glimpse of holy this week...and it was you.

Phooey-dooey

This blog post may get me fired, but here I go anyways.

It is a strange phenomena, but I'm starting to realize that the time that I question my faith the most is around Easter. I hear the familiar story, the same story I have heard every year for the last 31 years, and I think: "That sounds like a bunch of phooey-dooey. How can I really believe that?" I mean if you look at the story that the entire Christian faith is based on, it sounds a little crazy. When you step back and try to look at it from an unbiased, outside perspective - it sounds kind of far-fetched. A man who claimed to be the Son of God was arrested, did not fight against the ludicrous charges, was put to death on a cross, and then came back to life three days later. Really?

That's why I'm thankful for the story of Thomas in the Gospel of John. Maybe that's why John included this story, because he knew that there would be more skeptics than just Thomas along the way.

Thomas just couldn't find it in himself to believe that Jesus was really alive. All of his friends were talking about it. They all said it was true. But unless he could see for himself, he just couldn't believe. I love Jesus' words when He finally confronts Doubting Thomas.

"Stop doubting a believe...because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." John 20:27,29

This is ALWAYS the lesson the Sunday after Easter. It comes as surely as Easter itself. And every year I take comfort in those words. Stop doubting. Believe. Blessed are those who believe without seeing. Isn't that what faith is all about? Believing in something you cannot see.

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Hebrews 11:1

At some point, you just have to jump. That's why it's called taking a "leap of faith." Faith just doesn't make a lot of sense. But faith is what keeps me going. Faith is what drives me forward and what makes each day worthwhile.

I have faith in a faithful God. I have faith that God works for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. I have faith that God's not done with me yet. I have faith that I will survive parenthood. I have faith in love over law and grace over condemnation. I have faith that beyond this place, there is a new heaven and a new earth where we will be in the presence of the Lord forever.

I have faith that sending Jesus was God's plan to redeem and restore humanity unto Himself. I have faith in Jesus Christ who was crucified, died and was buried. Three days later He rose from the dead and ascended into heaven. He is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty and will come again to judge the living and the dead.

Even if it at times sounds like phooey-dooey - I have faith that it is true.

She Did What She Could

This week I am reading in each of the Gospels what happened on each particular day of Jesus' final week. Today is Tuesday - the day Jesus did much of His final teaching. As I read these accounts, some several times because of repeats in each Gospel, I find it funny how you can read a familiar story over and over but one particular time something will stick out to you.

That's what happened to Elisa Morgan, a woman I met at the Children's Pastors' Conference in San Diego this year. I went to her workshop which focused on one sentence in the Bible. A sentence that I read again today. A sentence that was spoken on the Tuesday before the crucifixion and resurrection of our Lord.

While He was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on His head. Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, "Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." And they rebuked her harshly. "Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her." Mark 14:3-9

She did what she could.

I often times get overwhelmed by the problems of this world. I usually don't even watch the news because it just stresses me out and makes me sad. Sometimes the darkness just seems so dark and there seems to be just too much that needs to be done. There are so many people hurting, dying, starving - so many who are lonely, homeless, living in fear - all over the world. How on earth is there anything that I can possibly do that will make a difference? My to-do list of personal things overwhelms me - much less the to-do list of humanity. I am just one girl.

Mary was just one girl, too. The girl of Mark's story is Mary - the sister of Martha and Lazarus, the daughter of Simon the Leper. Perhaps Simon was the leper that Jesus had healed at the very beginning of His ministry, just after He called Peter, James and John to be His disciples (Luke 5:12-14). Regardless, this family had become very close to Jesus. Jesus often stayed at their home in Bethany - this is also the same Mary that was found not working with her sister, but at the feet of Jesus listening to His teachings.

Mary loved Jesus and she knew that He loved her. She spent time in relationship with Him. She had heard Him foretell His death and resurrection and I can imagine she was confused and scared. Her friend, her teacher, her Lord had said that He would soon be put to death. There was nothing that she could do to stop it. But because of her deep relationship with Him, I'm sure she felt she had to do something. Her relationship resulted in a response. She did what she could. Mary lived loved and she showed her love to her Lord by anointing Him with extremely valuable perfume.

This perfume was made from nard and cost 300 denarii, nearly a year's wages. Nard was imported from Egypt. Mark tells us that she broke open an alabaster jar. Once you break open an alabaster jar - you have to use it all. There is no corking it for later, the perfume spoils if it is not all used immediately. Her actions are a big deal. In my mind, I can see Mary concocting this plan up in her head, acting impulsively, and then when the disciples indignantly rebuke her for being foolish - I can picture her holding her breath and thinking, "Oh crap. What will Jesus say? He's always telling us to help the poor."

Instead of rebuking Mary, Jesus reprimands the disciples and tells them to "leave her alone." In giving what she could give, in doing what she could do, she did a beautiful thing. Now think of how lovely the perfume smelled running down Jesus' head. This is Tuesday before Jesus is arrested on Thursday night. The likelihood of Him hopping into a shower is not good. The fragrance of this expensive perfume more than likely lingered with him throughout the rest of week - He could smell it during His trial, His beatings, and while He hung on the cross. When Mary did what she could, her blessing lasted much longer than that Tuesday evening.

What if we didn't worry about doing everything, doing it all, and being the best at it all? What if we did what we could and we didn't feel guilty about the rest? What if we lived loved - and out of that love, we did what we could, when we could for Jesus and others?

If you did what you could and I did what I could and every Christian did what they could - what could we accomplish together? What if we stopped worrying about all the darkness that surrounds our world and just concentrated on being a light that shines in it?

Today, I pray that you release the guilt of not being able to do everything and be everything to everybody. I pray that you do what you can to be His light in the world around you. I pray that this day, you live loved.

(Thank you to Elisa Morgan for inspiring this blog. Check out her book, "She Did What She Could.")