Conference

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim

release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

- Luke 4:18-19

At the time of this writing, the 2013 World Conference of Community of Christ is just 5 ½ months away. Of course that will be 5 ½ months of winter, but lets not think about that just yet, okay?  

Still, time passes quickly, something I am becoming increasingly aware of the older I get. Like previous conference, the 2013 event will be held at the Church's international headquarters in Independence, Missouri.   Before we know it, conference time will be here.  Those who are willing and able to attend are already putting their names on the CEM delegate list.  If you are a member of Community of Christ and would like to represent Canada East Mission at the 2013 World Conference, you should let Cheryl Campbell know if you have not already done so.  There are still some vacancies available, but the sooner you reserve your place, the better.  

In preparation for the conference, the First Presidency has asked each of us to take the time to make some personal preparation by spending time in study and prayer using Peter Judd’s new book, Christ’s Mission is Our Mission.  This compact but thorough resource calls us to explore deeply the meaning and ministry of Luke 4:16-30.  

To help accomplish this, the book is divided into six chapters, each dwelling on one aspect of the scripture cited above.  Each chapter is further divided by a series of questions for reflection.  These are conveniently embedded into the text at regular intervals, with plenty of material for at least a week spent on each chapter.   Following this method, we might expect to make this resource a daily companion for approximately six weeks.  It will be time well spent, especially in those coming (shiver) winter months.

Christ's Mission is Our Mission is available by mail order from Herald House.  A supply has also been ordered to be available at the CEM office in Guelph for your convenience.

Hmm... now, I wonder why that snow shovel is hanging there right by the garage door!

Posted by Carman

Welfare

Once upon a time there was a very powerful king who invaded all the neighbouring kingdoms. This king was very clever. He realized there were many people living in those conquered city-states who had skills and talents that he could use to enrich life in his kingdom. Consequently he rounded up all the rulers and leaders, skilled trades people, priests, artists and artisans, and took them back to his capital city. He left behind the ordinary farmers and labourers, and a most extraordinarily troublesome man who claimed to speak for God. The intelligent king, of course, was Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and the troublesome prophet was Jeremiah. Probably the king reasoned that it would indeed be smart to leave this rabble-rousing poet behind!

Some time after this exile began, Jeremiah sent a most unusual letter to the captive people in Babylon. This message was not filled with his usual diatribe against wickedness and unfaithfulness. He did not say, “I told you so,” but rather, offered some advice that must have seem equally frustrating to the readers. “Build houses and make yourselves at home. Settle in. Plant gardens, you’ll still be there to eat what you grow. Find mates, get married and have children and even grandchildren; you are going to be there for a long time.” And then he said the most challenging and difficult thing of all. "Seek the welfare of the city where you live, and pray on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (Jeremiah 29:7) Pray for our captors? Seek blessings for them? Ouch!

One of the blessings of scripture, even the parts that seem challenging, is that reflecting upon it may allow truths to emerge that have direct application to our own lives. As different as our current circumstance are from those ancient, captive Israelites, somehow the words may speak with equal applicability. In this day of shrinking congregations, is it possible that our hope lies in the communities where we live? Does Jeremiah’s advice call to us with relevance across the past 2600 years?

“Seek the welfare of the city where you live, pray on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” What if our congregations did that? What if our work was for the benefit of our neighbourhoods? What if our ministers saw their stewardship as a ministry to the city, town or village where they live? What if we saw our true calling as being, not just to church members but to the people who live in the community where the church is? If the church were truly a blessing to the community, would the community not also bless the church? Isn't this worth our time to think about?

Of course Jeremiah’s words also find an echo in a modern prophecy, but perhaps that is a subject for another day. For those who are impatient, however, you might want to look at Doctrine and Covenants 163:4a.

May our days be blessed with opportunity for both reflection and action.

Posted by Carman

Sestina

Here we are at the turning of the seasons, yet again. And at the same time my own life is in a transition into something new. As Carman and I have been talking about how the blog will continue into this new season I am recalling one more poetry exercise that seems to have a bearing here. It's a thought that has occurred to many a poet over the centuries; I do not claim originality here.

This eternal question shows up in this poem of mine "Is life a circle too, or just a line...?"

I wrote this sestina in the spring, but no matter. I think it fits today. I share it with you as I'm considering this new transition in my life. Perhaps it will give you something to think about for yourself.

Seasons, A Sestina

Standing still I hear the sound of running water
Is winter done? I listen and I wonder
at the changing of all matter
This space I’m occupying, is it really mine
or will it melt and run away for good
Will it come again, like every season

“To everything there is a Season”
quotes the preacher, and the water
illustration can be good
and yet as I perceive the world with wonder
I cannot help but question what is mine
How best ensure my little life can matter

The snow, the mud, drab grass, uncovered matter
mark this, as yet, unflowered season
Too soon to walk out into that garden of mine
All that grows there now is under water
and yet I know it’s there, all tucked in wonder
waiting for the warming sun and good

warm wind and drying days, for good
signals that it’s time again to matter
Geese arrive in squadron formed in wonder
instincts intact, smaller birds too read the season
Fat robin waits on hedge, finds water
worms and grubs to mine

Swirling signs that seasons change around me. Mine
a life amid the birds, the plants, the melting snow, all good
I try to read the message of the seasons
Where in my lengthening days will I find water
How do robins teach me what can matter
What must melt away, what remain with wonder

Is life a circle too, or just a line, I wonder
As seasons change this puzzle still is mine
It seems so clear that each returning season
washes out the old, returns the good
springs up anew the precious things that matter
like life responding to that fresh spring water

Where is that refreshing water to renew my life I wonder
How shall I ensure all my days matter, that new energy is mine
Be certain every good comes round again in each transforming season


Posted by Marion

Perfect

Earlier today, about mid-morning, I took a break from work and walked outside to catch a breath of air. I thought to myself, “Perfect! This is just a perfect day.” It was not the first time I thought that this summer, and hopefully it won’t be the last. The sun was shining, the temperature was about 23C, there was a lovely breeze to stir the flowers, and a few white puffy clouds in the sky for contrast. Another perfect day, or at least a perfect moment.

Of course my evaluation of the day was based on the weather, but it really isn’t the weather than determines the degree of perfection a day offers, is it? It felt perfect to me, but if the weather had produced a nice, soft, warm, gentle rain, would it have been any less perfect? Probably the farmer that is concerned about his corn and beans would think that was even more perfect. In this area we have had no rain so far in July, and some plants are beginning to show it.

In truth, what made the day perfect was not that the weather was any better or different than the day before, but the fact that I happened to take a moment in the middle of the day to notice. I wonder how many perfect moments or perfect days we miss because we are too busy to pay attention.

All of that suggests that perhaps perfection, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Is that possible? I don’t think I have ever looked at a snow storm and thought, “what a perfect day.” Well…maybe when I was 10 and school was cancelled, but that didn’t seem to happen very often in those days, even when there was lots of snow and the temperature was -20! Hmmm...perhaps my eyesight for perfection needs adjusting.

According to the Weather Channel, tomorrow is expected to be much like today, and the day after, and the day after that, and so on. I guess I will just have to wait to see if I can look at a rainy day and say it is perfect. And of course I will have no problem waiting a long, long time to test that theory out on snow!

In the meantime, may we each strive to be aware of the perfect moments that touch us every day. God's peace!

Posted by Carman

Shredding

This has been my task today. I really can't say there's much of a sermonette or even a worthy thought for the day in there, but when you have an office as chock-a-block full of paper as I do, there comes a time when you just have to bite the bullet and -- shred it!

I'm trying very hard not to spend too much time looking at these pieces of paper that I'm tossing in the shredding box. My guiding principle is this: if I haven't looked at this in weeks, or months, or years, then chances are it's out of date or really wasn't worth keeping in the first place.

I confess to glancing briefly at a few workshops I've designed, class papers I've written, discussion questions I've compiled and remembering fondly the first (or last) time I used them. But I also know very well that folks offering workshops or doing research or preparing for discussions also deserve the fun they'll have inventing their own, and don't need my help.

I did only a cursory glance at the conference bulletins, orders of service for a few special occasions. I peeked briefly at the pictures in some of the old newsletters, Heralds, and graduation programs I discovered.

I'm feeling a real sense of accomplishment as I move some things that have been mine into a nice orderly and documented stack of things that will become someone else's very soon. It's especially good to know who those folks are and to feel confident that they'll do just a fine job carrying that responsibility into the future.

Now this is beginning to sound like a major "Farewell Address" and it isn't quite that yet. But today has been "Shredding Day" so this is what you get. May I also say that I'm very much looking forward to creating some more papers, stories, poems, letters, journal entries, essays, etc. for some future time. I am not through with accumulating or with creating just yet. And I have too much fondness for the blank page to give it all up any time soon.

Now, back to the files!

Posted by Marion

Sit

Meanwhile, let's revisit Lazarus' story here.
I suggested yesterday that we need to "sit" with this story a bit longer, not rushing ahead to the happy ending, much as we might want to.

This is a family story. Martha and Mary are really important to the early Christian church. They show up in two of the gospels.You'll remember the story in Luke where Jesus was being entertained in their home. Martha was being the good hostess, slaving away in the kitchen while Mary listened to Jesus, chatting in the parlor and not remembering her proper place as a good Jewish woman. There was no mention of their kid brother Lazarus in that story. Lazarus arrives in John's gospel.

Commentaries suggest the sisters must have been important. John introduces Mary as "the woman who anointed Jesus" but if we're reading carefully, we might notice that hasn't "yet" happened in Jesus' story. And yet it is such an identifier that the gospel writer can't help but mention it now. Followers of Jesus knew who the woman was! She's one of those women who don't do what they're supposed to. An "uppity woman"!

Now we find the family in mourning for their brother who has died. Our modern ears hear the story differently than those first century ears heard it. Their brother has died. It is four days after has was buried; the good Jewish family is "sitting shiva" and grieving. We may have wondered about the crowds around. Of course there were people. They are coming to provide for the women who must do nothing for themselves for seven days. They can't leave the house. It is the required mourning ritual.

That is what Mary does. She stays inside as is proper. This time it is Martha who rushes our to meet Jesus. This time it is Martha who is "uppity" as it is entirely improper for her to leave the house to meet this visitor, no matter how close a friend he is. She is the one who is behaving unconventionally. She is the one to speak bluntly to Jesus and then to return and bring Mary into the conversation.

It is Martha who is the first woman in scripture to identify Jesus as the Messiah. But she is the practical one who suggests it may not be such a good idea to open the tomb. Yes, she believes, but really is this possible?

And Jesus? What does Jesus do? He weeps. He too for a time sits with the grief that has come to this family he loves.

There is just so much more in this story than these few words can tell. Let us sit with it for a bit and let us change us as it will.

Posted by Marion

Morning

Morning has come. The air is cold but still. No wind blows and the branches of the trees do not stir. They stand entranced in this quiet, peaceful moment. Through the branches, the crescent moon is visible still, pale and white against the sky’s early blue. Were it but a few weeks later the moon would not be seen through the leaves that are as yet unborn.

Bird songs ring out, first this one then that, the morning calls adding a note of joyful hope to the quiet dawn. The birds are not visible, but their notes announce their presence somewhere in the tops of the trees.

On their northeast side, the blackness of the trees' silhouette is gently bathed in soft, yellow light as the sun slowly peeks above the horizon.

Oh that the entire world could be at peace this way, and experience this one quiet moment, with no guns, no bombs, no warplanes, no tsunamis, and no leaking atomic reactors! Oh that my own mind could be so gently, peacefully and thoroughly at rest!

If you have three minutes, you might want to spend it with this version of Cat Stevens Yusuf Islam's Morning has broken. You might also enjoy this one this one.

Have Peace today.

Posted by Carman

Drip

Do you hear that drip?

Drip…drip… drip.

All that snow that had so many of us holed up at home, or carefully finding our way through the ruts and slush of yesterday is today dripping off my roofline. The row of icicles that was there this morning has slid off into the rapidly melting snow below this afternoon. The sun is glistening on the snow piles; yes, there are still piles of snow, but they’re fading fast.

The powerful force that is the warming spring sunshine is causing it all to drip into oblivion.

Well, not exactly oblivion. It’s forming up in puddles, making mud for us to track onto the clean floors later. There will be mud. Mud follows drip. We’re sitting at the turn of the season. What a special time, here in this northland.

I’ve done enough travelling in those places nearer the equator where one day is pretty much like the next to know this is special. I recall my visit to Tahiti where #1 Son commented that he did indeed miss the changing seasons but he thought he could bear all this perfect summer weather, green leaves and year-round flowers for several seasons yet. I’m not sure I could.

I find myself just so very appreciative of this changing time that I’m even enjoying the mud. Of course I have no small children or boots or splash pants or sodden mittens to deal with. But I did live through that; I realize how quickly it passes. And here I am at the other end of it all thinking fondly of all this dripping!

Of course there are seasons in those tropical countries too. There are seasons everywhere! Remember that very famous sermon you can read here to remind you that “to everything there is a season.” It is the way the universe works.

I received an email from one of our Mission Advocates today reporting that a pastoral team is taking some discernment time, needing a bit of refreshment and renewal, but feeling some sense of guilt about stepping back. Everyone addressed by that message had the same response; not to worry, nor feel disheartened. After a long period of struggle, even of ill health, this team needs to rest and heal each other. They’ll be finding a quiet place to just listen to the drips until the snow melts, the mud is washed away and a new season is ready to begin. It will come.

I sit here at a very special spot where I can watch these transitions. I spoke with another pastor today excited about the calls he’s perceiving for two young leaders in his congregation. Young people stepping up to pick up leadership roles and planning for an exciting season of youth activities in their newly renovated space.

“For everything there is a season…a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted… a time to throw stones and a time to gather stones together… a time to keep silence and a time to speak …”
Ecclesiastes 3

Posted by Marion

Potholes

One sure sign of spring, along with the emerging grass, the puddles and dirty snowdrifts, seems to be the abundance of potholes! Whatever shall we make of that?

I’d love to wax poetic about the returning of the geese, the twittering of the little birds in the little shrubs round about. I see the swelling buds on the trees, the golden haze appearing on the patches of willow. Flocks of birds are gathering in the hedgerows at the bottom of my garden—the cardinals, the chickadees, the sparrows, all with that unmistakable spring-time bustling and chirping signaling the season.

I’m missing the familiar first eruptions of green buds I know are emerging in the garden I left behind last autumn. I wonder how my forsythia is doing. But soon we’ll be seeing what the new garden has to offer. And we’ll be putting our stamp on it before too, too long. Even the prospects of that new garden are fun and hopeful.

But what of all these potholes?

There really is water running everywhere. All those big piles of dirty snow get noticeably smaller every day, virtually every hour. Stand still, somewhere outside, anywhere and you can hear water running, snow melting, ice becoming water.

Driving through open countryside the other day I noted broad stretches of water. Fields that someday, not too far off, will need to be planted, are just now great flooded expanses. All that water is going to go somewhere. It’s going to sink into the ground, run into the water table, find its way via drain, ditch, creek, stream, to the nearest river. Some of it is going to travel under the asphalt. It’s going to freeze and melt a few more times and when it does, it’s going to create potholes.

Advising, ever so gently from the passenger seat, the new young driver dealing for the first time with the ridiculous succession of potholes in a back country road in rural Quebec, I found myself offering up my familiar Lenten message.

“You can hit those potholes without too much damage if you just take it slow. Slowing down gives you a chance to avoid the ones you can and won’t totally wreck your suspension or ruin your tires when you have to hit one.”

Who knew that the coincidence of potholes with Lent was another of those interesting happenstances? If you’re on the road today, watch out for the potholes. They are inevitable. But if you slow down you have a better chance of a positive outcome.

Posted by Marion

Simmer

We used to frequent a nice little Hiway 7 restaurant that had a sign over the cash register that read “We serve good food not fast food!” And indeed they did. If you were stopping in there for a meal you’d better have time and inclination to sit awhile. Burgers were cooked from raw. The turkey roasted on the weekend was now being served up à la king over homemade biscuits or a nicely simmered turkey vegetable soup just like grandma used to make. The pies were to die for! But they weren’t frozen. If you arrived after the last piece came out of the pan, you were too late.

There’s an official Slow Food Movement that advocates for traditional cooking methods, along with all the associated benefits of taste, sociability, support of positive agricultural and economic systems. Check them out here if you’re interested.

I’ve been thinking of the notion of simmering as I’ve considered the Lenten journey time of waiting I wrote about earlier this week. What does it mean to just wait? I liken it in some ways to simmering.

Very often the thing that recommends a recipe is that it can be “ready in twenty minutes” or “just nuked” for even less time. Families rushing in from work or school and out to practice or meetings want something quick. From freezer to table in less time than it takes to change into your sweats—that’s what we need.

And yet, there is so very much to be said for the long weekend, the extra day to cook up a batch of chili or spaghetti sauce, or to pull that turkey carcass out of the freezer and let it simmer in the stock pot for as many hours as you like. Simmering has just so very many advantages. The house fills up with good smells while the toughest sinews relax and tenderize in the broth. Given enough time and lovin’ a pot of bones and roots and a little handful of herbs and such can emerge as something truly wonderful to warm the heart, fill the belly and pull a family together in ways that no micro-waved pizza pocket can.

What do you think? Are you with me in this period of reflection and introspection, coming out of a long and (for some) dreary winter season, but not yet quite into spring?

“God is doing a new thing” Carman wrote in his Barns blog post recently. I thought I detected a bit of impatience there. What is that new thing and where is it rising up?

Maybe God has us on at a simmer just now, in this waiting time. It doesn’t mean nothing is happening; it’s a different kind of happening.

Like any metaphor, this one doesn’t work totally. Even as I’m reading over what I’ve written I can think of exceptions. If that “new thing” is going to happen, someone needs to be doing the spade work, ensuring the relationships are built and the preparation done to enable it to be.

I feel fortunate to be one of the ones who has the luxury to follow the instruction to “don’t just do something, sit there!” Sit there and simmer.

Posted by Marion