Tag: spirituality

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Stepping In | Part II

I wrote at the beginning of the year, my intention for 2025 is to step in. And, with Lent approaching this week, I find it is a good time to check in to see how I have stepped in, where I haven’t and where I should.

The events around us are moving quickly.  On a macro scale, many are not aligned to my personal values or hopes. On a micro scale, in the community of family, friends, and colleagues I  journey with daily, they are very much moving in the right direction.

I find in these moments when the macro and micro levels are polar opposites, I feel a sense of paralysis. Are the simple acts of kindness, support, and leadership I am providing enough? Should I do more? And if so, what is “more”? Is there anything holding me back from stepping in?

I reflect on the cliches such as “God is in control” or “all things work together for God’s goodness and glory” or “sometimes you need to tear down in order to build up”. Those are all true and yet, for me, not truly helpful at this juncture.

I have a fundamental belief we are all blessed with gifts to serve God and others. God doesn’t call us to be passive or to be bystanders. Could God tear down and rebuild our world? Of course. We have the story of Noah or Sodom and Gomorrah which tell us God can destroy and rebuild without our help. But, is that what God wants? I offer to you it is not. Not unlike Esther, we are “called for a time such as this.” God wants us to step in.

In my spirit as I write this, I feel God is pushing me forward, saying YES! STEP IN! And my answer back is, how? There are so many opportunities, how do I discern which is the “right one”? The answer to the question is there isn’t a “right one”, there is this one. The next right step in front of me.

That could be allowing someone to merge in on the interstate, engaging in conversation with the check out clerk or holding a door open for a neighbor. How we step in doesn’t have to be grand – it can be simple. The point is to take the step and let the next right step unfold before me. It is a deep trust that yes, God is in control and God wants my participation in bringing forth a “new heaven and a new earth” (Rev 21:1). God could certainly work faster without us, and God wants to co-create the world with us, give us agency in the communities in which we live, work, play, heal and pray.

It is in doing the simple, everyday acts we bring hope. We can counter the hate, vitriol and deception which make for “good television” but are not the community or world I want to live in. We create ripples of change in our inner circles, which God will spread to others. We can move mountains one rock, one pebble at a time because God has called us, “Only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8) and “do to others whatever you would have them do to you,” (Matt 7:12).

To step in doesn’t need to grand. We only need to take the next right step in front of us with confidence and faith that God will do the rest.

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Liturgy and Ministry | The need for both

I had never felt more alone or lonely than my junior year of college. I was studying in Germany at a time which predates email, social media and even cell phones. I was literally disconnected from my friends, family and all that provided me comfort.

It was also during this time the first Gulf War occurred. There were protests in my German university town, I was spat upon going to class and painted on the garbage dumpster in the courtyard of my dormitory was, “Amis go home” (Amis being short for Americans). It was unsettling some days and frightening on others. On top of the usual culture shock from living overseas, I felt shaken by the anger I felt around me.

During this time, I still went to Mass on Sundays, but as I felt more and more unsettled, I went to Mass more frequently until I was going almost daily. The liturgy put me back on solid footing. The structure, the prayers, the format were all known to me. And although it took me a while to be able to fully participate in German, I could always walk up to the alter during communion, hold out my hands and say Amen. It made me feel as if I was part of something larger than myself.  

The most basic definition of liturgy is the order of corporate worship services. It is a time to join as a community in praise to God. We learn about Christ’s teaching and how to engage with our faith to deepen our relationship with God and each other.  

As I sat in Mass this past Sunday, I realized I didn’t need liturgy. I needed ministry. In the Greek language used in the New Testament, ministry always centers on acts of service to others. It is listening to the needs of others and being the hands and feet of God to attend to those needs. Christ calls us to watch over, lift up, and strengthen those around us.

While liturgy is ritualistic in nature, Pope Francis, in an apostolic letter, Desiderio Desideravi, stated that “a celebration that does not evangelize is not authentic.”  And he has cautioned against “putting the rite before what it expresses”. My interpretation, Pope Francis is telling us to not just go through the motions or follow the rules because the institutional church says so.  We need to approach liturgy with a sense of wonder and awe. We need to make it come alive and most importantly, meet the needs of the people gathered. In other words, minister through the liturgy.

Liturgy provides the comfort of the known and is grounding. Ministry helps us navigate what is unknown and provides companionship as we walk forward into uncharted waters. We need both.

I find my scale is tipping toward needing more ministry. Not only do I need more ministry for myself, but I also need to discern how God wants me to minister to others. My fledging spiritual direction practice is one path, and I wonder in these times when hatred is becoming accepted and even normalized, how can I do the opposite and show more tenderness, love, compassion, and mercy?

I may not be able to practice ministry on a grand scale, and yet, I am not powerless. I can do so on a daily basis – with the staff, my friends, my family and to every person I encounter. Kindness, mercy, grace can have ripple effects. I need to deepen my faith and trust my simple acts of ministry will spread into the larger waters and be passed along to others.

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Stepping in

I’ve been on a purging, cleaning, and organizing kick. Recently, I took everything out of my kitchen cabinets, wiped down every shelf, reorganized and donated four boxes. In one of those boxes was a full set of champagne flutes and a full set of wine glasses. These glasses were nothing spectacular. Simple, plain clear, glasses. I didn’t buy them on a trip to Europe or Asia. I bought them at Target about five years after college when I moved into my first home.

I reflected on the young woman who purchased those glasses. She was on the cusp of finishing her MBA, had floated and changed jobs every 18-36 months and she wasn’t settled in her soul. Buying those glasses made her feel “grown up.” She was living on her own in a simple townhouse, had landed a full-time job, and finally had benefits. (She had gone without healthcare for 3 years. This was pre-ACA, and she was booted off her parents’ health insurance at 22. She couldn’t afford healthcare until she was a grad student and could leverage the university health care services.) Those glasses were a luxury item to her. She opened the box, washed each glass with care and poured a glass of wine to celebrate her independence. She felt she had arrived.

As I held those glasses, I realized it was time to let them go. I was no longer the naïve 20-something who walked the line between self-doubt and confidence. I didn’t need the basic glasses from Target. I have a beautiful set of Bohemian crystal champagne flutes from the Czech Republic and multiple sets of wine glasses for different types of wine. It was time to carefully box them up and pass them along to the next person. In a very Marie Kondo way, I thanked them for the joy they brought me and let them go.

In the last five years I have grown more personally and professionally than in any other period except those initial post-undergraduate days. My mind was stretched with major initiatives implemented at work and expanded responsibilities. I experienced several types of metaphorical deaths and new beginnings. And, my soul was nourished and healed through my formation as a spiritual director. I have been frustrated, grateful, angry, and filled with joy – all the feels. As I let go of those glasses and the 20-something young woman, I realized it was time for something else.

For close to 35 years, I have set an intention for each year. Unlike a resolution, my intention is a theme I carry with me through the year. It isn’t something I do, rather it is a way of being. I struggled to find my intention for 2025 – how did I want to show up this year. I cycled through many words and phrases. Then, as I was writing a year-end message to my staff, I wrote about each of us stepping in.

Stepping in isn’t the same as stepping up. To me, stepping up connotes ideas that one isn’t sufficient or good enough. Stepping in sees you as you are – wonderfully and fearfully made (Psalm 139: 14). Wonderfully translated from Hebrew means “unique” or “set apart.” Fearfully translates from Hebrew as “with great reverence, heartfelt interest, and respect” – not scared or afraid. In other words, you were molded and crafted from great love with an attention to detail so you can be distinctive, one of kind. Stepping in honors the person you are becoming and called to be. And creating space for others to do the same.

2025 will be a year of stepping in for me. What that means is yet to unfold. But through prayer, faith, and hope, I await with an open heart and mind for the graces ahead. And my prayer for my staff – and for you – is in 2025 we call can step in.

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Sabbatical

When we think of sabbaticals, we may only think in terms of academics or an extended period away from a job or responsibilities, often six months to a year. I want to offer a different perspective. When we think of sabbatical simply as a time of rest, or as Webster’s dictionary states, “a break or change from a normal routine,” it opens up a world of options and possibilities.

This summer, after I finished my formation as a spiritual director, I went on a retreat. It was an extended silent retreat where I detached from the world in a lovely setting of woods, critters, and prayer. It calmed my soul and gave me time to think about, “what’s next?” I had completed this three year formation and was wondering what to do with my newly acquired certificate.

I had hoped when I emerged from the weekend I would have clarity about my next step, the next right thing to do – do I advertise, post in church bulletins, network… not unlike I would do for other jobs? What I found was the next right step, but it wasn’t what I thought. It was to go on sabbatical.

I didn’t quit my day job, but I did relax or cease to participate in other activities I had in the past. I paused singing in my church choir or other ministries. I let go of some of my community involvement work and even suspended some travel plans. Instead, I have been taking the time this fall to, “break from my normal routine.”

I created space to listen to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit in whatever way the spirit reveals itself – through friends, family, colleagues, seasons changing, my kitties or even in a movie or TV show. I don’t have any answers or clear path forward, but I am opening myself up to the possibilities.

Sitting in this time of sabbatical isn’t easy. For someone who is always thinking of what I should be doing, this is work. It is hard not to fill the space with decluttering, exercise, or my day job. Yet, I realize it is something I need to do as I continue this path of discernment and living my calling.

How do you define what a sabbatical is for you.? What is that break from your normal routine? Is it 60 minutes or 60 days? Where can you create the space from your routine to allow for the movement of the spirit. The wisdom doesn’t always come as a burning bush, more often it is the whisper. Yet, you know the stirring in your heart is real. You can feel as the prophet Isaiah said, “And your ears shall hear a word behind you: This is the way; walk in it.”

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Roll Away the Stone

Today is what my choir friends and I call Roll Away the Stone Sunday, named after the song by Tom Conry. The gospel is John 11: 1-45 in which Jesus travels to Martha and Mary’s because Lazarus has died.

The first time we sang this song, we repeated the refrain many times. We were captured in the moment and it felt right, spirit led to sing those words over and over, “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.” It was as if our voices were willing the stone to move. It wasn’t forceful, it was faith-full. As we repeated the refrain again and again, out of seemingly nowhere, we hear our soloist cry out, “Lazarus, come out!” It was one of those powerful moments when chills run down your back and the hairs on your arms stand up. Even as I write this, I remember the sensation of that moment.

We haven’t been able to recreate that specific moment, but we relive it every time we hear that scripture reading and sing this piece. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”

As we are staying home to protect others and ourselves during this COVID-19 pandemic, I was reflecting on this song. “Roll away the stone.” It isn’t a huge leap to start to wonder, what stones has God rolled away in my life and allowed me to see the glory of God?

To cover them all – the stones, the pebbles or rocks – is a long winding road. Many have heard the stories, some are part of those tales. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) there is not a stone in my life that God hasn’t removed, allowing me to not only see but to deeply experience God’s glory in miraculous as well as tiny, every day ways.

Each year, I pick a theme rather than make resolutions. I have been doing this long before it was cool and trendy. My theme for 2020 is Glorious Unfolding, from the song by Steven Curtis Chapman (yes, music is a theme in my life). The song speaks to allowing God to unfold wonders in my life, just to trust in the journey. It calls me to stop doing what I am well known for doing – planning and being freakishly efficient and organized. Lately, I have found myself drifting back into that pattern, especially amid the stay at home order. I make my lists, I cross off items and continue to feel that sense of accomplishment.

Yet, despite the fear and unknown of this virus, I feel called to slow down. And, that is a blessing. I’ve been moving very fast for about the last five years. But now that I have settled into my home office and adjusted to the temporary moment of physical distancing, I am called to be still, to take in and to see the Glory of God.

I will miss singing this powerful song this weekend with my friends, my spiritual family. Yet, not singing has forced me to pause, to relive in my heart a powerful moment and remember the stones God has rolled away – not just for me, but for those around me. Now I ask God to reveal to me what I have yet to learn as I take this time to pause. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”