Sabbatical Coming

A couple weeks ago the church council discussed sending me on sabbatical. I thought to myself, 'Good idea, boy could I use it.' Then I said (contrary to my thinking), "That is an expensive proposition. We don't have the money for it, and neither does the church."

Of course the council knew this bit of information. Ever since our ouster from our former denomination - or perhaps I should start calling it our liberation from our former oppressors ;-) - the church has been running tight, and we are just making it by from month to month.

But, then Jeff was already in gear with a fund-raising plan, and was not going to take no for an answer.

So that brings me to our current state. I will be going to Wales with a missions team on August 3rd. When they return from the mission on August 16th, I will stay in the U.K. Some point shortly after that Bev will join me in the U.K., and we will travel to Taize, France to join the prayer, chanting, and spiritual retreat which has been going on there for the last 35 years or more.

It was decided that since I was already going to be in the U.K., that Bev joining me there was just a cheap as doing something here in states. With the friends we have on the other side of the pond this is probably true. So, off to Taize we go. Bev is hoping I will spend some days at a Welsh Language intensive in North Wales, which I would love to do, but then again methinks money, and waits and sees on that issue.

Finding Grace in Those So Different Than Ourselves

This is a picture of a kissing gate. I may have passed through this same gate with my wife on a walk through Wales about 4 years ago around this same time. It is called a kissing gate, because only one person can pass through at a time, and the man can demand a kiss before letting the girl pass through. Somehow it reminds me of the interactions of fellowship which randomly occur in life. We have our moments of passing into true fellowship, and they surprise us like the demand of a kiss at the kissing gate.

Some of the recent interactions of deeper connection, and grace have occured with people whom I might not have expected such freedom of relationship (if I were thinking like a typical Evangelical): a gay Pagan man whom I knew did not quite trust me but somehow we came to new appreciation of one another, an Occultist with a tough exterior who showed a gentle heart which surprised me, a middle-aged female Witch whose seeking led her to spend all afternoon asking about our church, an extremely liberal female pastor with a foot in cast and heart for mission, a liberal pastor whose primary interest was saving the planet, and an evangelical pastor who played 40 questions with my life and made it feel like a game between friends.

I wonder if Jesus found comfort spending time with people who were remarkably different from Himself? He speaks of His discussion with the Samaritan woman, and says, "I have food to eat of which you do not know." Was there something about that interaction which fed His soul? Did he find the dialogue comforting like a good meal with friends? Or should I assume that He was fed merely by the fact that He served God? Was there no satisfaction in the relational interaction with the woman at the well?

This Samaritan woman wasn't a well studied theologian, or a deeply prayed-up disciple. She was a common sinner - a spiritual ragamuffin. She was a seeker, but a clumsy one at best.

I have been finding myself less comforted by those who speak the typical language of the churched, and more drawn to and "fed" by those who question church as we know it today, and so I ask myself this question: Am I sensing the "food to eat of which you do not know" as Jesus spoke of it, or is something else going on in my heart?

Having to forge new relationships is the nature of the season I am living in, and strangely, ministers whose theology is dramatically different than my own, and seekers whose ideas of religion are only remotely similar to my own at best often offer a deeper refreshing than preachers whose theologies are most like mine. Does this mean I am finding new food for the soul? I am not sure, but it's worth a thought. What do you think? Can we find refreshing in mission itself?

It's a bird. It's a plane! It's a frog. A Frog? No...

American heros are often come from behind, you were given no chance to make it type of characters. Well that used to be the case, but it seems that the romanticism of overcoming all odds to make it is being replaced by trash talking sports stars, cocky musicians, and mean spirited businessmen who like to fire people.

I suppose I am old fashioned in this respect. I still like the underdog, and I am hoping that underdogs still have a chance to make it in today's world.

My three-legged buddy Forrest is coming along just fine, and so it looks like we'll have a real superhero dog in the house.

I am sure that part of the process of moving from tragedy to triumph is believing that there is a God who likes underdogs too. Perhaps its time for some of us to start purchasing cool Underdog paraphenalia.

Total Silence, Complete Dark

I like total silence. Early in the morning I like it best. No distant cars with their gently purring engines, and the swish of tires on the roadway. No hum of computers, or appliances singing through the house. No birds chirping, or voices whispering. Total silence.

To find this soundless universe I sometimes just cover my ears, but even here the sounds of my own breathing, occasionally the beating of my own heart, and the movement of my hands against the cartilage of my ears invade the noiseless universe; but these self generated sounds at least give the sense that I am alone.

I realize that evangelists and theologians have theorized that man's lonliness is one of the factors drawing the human heart towards God. This sense of lonliness in the universe is a cause for anxiety, and creates my deeper search for meaning I am told. Yet somehow I am drawn toward the silence. In a portion of every day I just want to be alone.

"Alone with God?" you ask.

No, just alone.

Perhaps this is a mild version of Job's regret that he was ever born. Maybe it is just my brief encounter with running away without having to go anywhere.

Avoidance is a major characteristic of my seasons of stress. I wonder how many people like me cover their ears just to hear the silence? If you do this go ahead and leave me a comment so that I will know that I am not alone in my little universe of loneness. Darn....there goes my theory that I really want to be totally alone.


I like complete dark too. Sometimes when my eyes are tired late at night, and bedroom still has enough light to give that gentle glow through my closed eyelids which tells me that the deep night has not come to its fullness, I cover my eyes with my hands. My eyes relax with relief in this lightless universe I create. No pinpoints of light coming through my fingers like the night stars. No barely perceptible glow like distant cities on the horizon. No deep grays, browns, or blues. I wait for the impressions of color upon my retina leaving their subtle watermark in my vision to fade away. Total dark.

Perhaps like silence, I've never met the complete dark. I visited the mighty Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, and while beneath the earth, the lights were turned off for a minute to experience complete darkness. I could not see my hands in front of my face. Was this really complete darkness, or is there something darker?

Christianity does not generally gravitate toward darkness. We compare light and darkness with truth and lies. We speak of the spirit of darkness, and the children of darkness, and contrast that to ourselves being the children of light. I realize that darkness is not a popular subject among Christian leaders through the ages. But I like the darkness.

You ask, "Are you drawing near to God in the thick darkness as Moses did?"

No, just plain darkness is what I am looking for.

Perhaps at some point I've just seen enough. Maybe this is my way of saying that I've had enough of searching for answers why, and receiving information which only deepens the mystery; and enough of seeing blessings which do not appear to match the depth of misery experienced in this world.

Perhaps this too is my brief encounter with running away at the end of the day. Do I have a gentle deathwish prodding me toward the dark and final sleep? Theologians and Psychologists say I have an innate fear of the dark sleep of death. Yet I love complete dark.

Avoidance fills my senses I suppose. I just like to be alone. Seeing no one smile. Seeing no one cry. Does anyone else cover their eyes to block out the gentle glow of light at night? Does anyone else like complete dark and search for it before sleep? If you like to be completely alone occasionally, leave a comment. Perhaps there is a twilight zone episode we can create together.

Manic Joys of Stressful Seasons

So we are now into our fourth week of watching Forrest 24 hours a day. He was hit by a car on Halloween morning, had to have a leg amputated, and had surgery on his other back leg. For the first week, his liver almost failed, and he was on his deathbed, then on the second week, he snapped out of it, and became his same old silly self.

After he came home, with the price tag of a new car, I have watched him for most of the 24 hours each day. He had to have a second surgery on his one back leg because the sutures didn't stay after the first day of recovery. So now he has a bigger cast, and it has a rounded bottom, which makes him shakey on it. Every time he goes out, we need to keep him on a sling to keep him from bouncing too hard on his back leg. So each time he stirs in the night, I am up to see how he is doing. Since Forrest has always stirred a lot at night - so do I.

Tonight April came to visit. April was the first person to help Forrest when he was hit by a car. Somehow he got up with his seriously mangled leg, and hopped to her. She was two cars behind the car which hit Forrest. She drives a trash truck, and stopped to help him. She held him, and used her hand to stop the bleeding until I arrived on the scene. She probably saved his life. In all the furious action to get Forrest to the Vet Hospital, we never actually met April, nor did we hear the story until tonight. Somehow she tracked him down at the Vet, and then found us, and wanted to come visit him.

In the midst of a series of stresses, and tragedies over the last year, meeting April seemed to bring joy to the house.

Of course, I question myself and wonder: Will the joy last for an evening, and dissipate quickly to the bland feeling which comes with discouragement? or will it prove to be one of those steps up toward normality?" (Perhaps I should have used the word normalcy, because normalcy wasn't a word until a President used it in a speech, and as we know normal doesn't exist.) Is this just the manic up of a bi-polar swing?

Over the last three weeks I have slept few hours each night working my doggy-nursing position. I am sure sleep deprivation, added to stress helps create a sense of having bi-polar disorder. Dog accidents, sickness in the family, financial stress, and naughty Christian leaders can help create stress which leads to sleep deprivation - we know here at 7 Upham Street.

I saw Elijah go from slow to happy yesterday as well. He was feeling terrible - which is common as his kidneys are failing, but he found out that it was primarily because his blood pressure was so low. That means that he had to stop taking one of his meds which is supposed to bring his blood pressure down. That was something like mildly good news, so he was happier when he came home from his Nephrologist visit. Up, down, up, down we go in this house lately.

I've never been bi-polar, although I've experienced the swings from mania to depression which mark its presence over this season of stress. I am hoping that mania, and depression are fading away into the stability of simple joy. April's visit may be a simple return to joy, but perhaps it is a mild manic swing. I'll let you know. But right now, we're smiling here at 7 Upham Street, and we are not even taking any happy meds.