Christ is Risen!

He is risen indeed!

Are we really at Easter already? There is a part of me that feels like we just started Lent a few days ago and that time has flown by. However, I’ll admit that my dominant feeling is that Lent has lasted for-ev-er, and that I’m kinda crawling toward the finish line here. I knew that taking up the discipline of daily blogging was going to be challenging, but oh my—hello Easter, I am so glad you are here!

Don’t get me wrong—writing here at The Generative Garden was been a terrific experience. I’ve been stretched to dig deep for words and for things worth writing about. Because of this, I’ve re-learned that inspiration and grace can hide in very small, commonplace, everyday actions, objects, and places. Like blue nail polish, achievement ribbons, hymns, laundromats, planes, buses, and hot cups of tea. I’ve also been reminded of the beautiful power that resides within written prayers, blessings, scripture, and hymns.

I recently read a piece from Jan Richardson that begins this way: “Perhaps what we call mystics are persons who have become thin places within themselves. They live fully open to the things of heaven and the things of earth. In their own being, they have become a place of meeting.” (Sanctuary of Women, pg. 202)

My soul is not yet a balanced place of meeting between the things of heaven and the things of earth. But, through this Lenten journey, I think I’ve come just that much closer to embracing the thin places within myself and within my experiences. And those thin places? They make me want to preach, to point to the good news and grace of God present in my life, your life, our life together. To speak whatever word is given, whether that’s a word of encouragement, of comfort, of calling, of challenge – but always a word of grace.

I have felt a bit like Mary Magdalene, and like the two fellows walking on the road to Emmaus (both are stories that appear in today’s Easter Morning and Easter Evening liturgies). When Jesus appeared to each of these people after his resurrection, none of them recognized him at first. But when they did, they ran to tell the story to others. I have often struggled to notice the divine’s presence in my life, but when I do notice, I want to share the news!

Before Lent began, I wondered to Nelson if one of the things pushing me toward blogging was the desire to create an outlet for the things within me that typically become my preaching. I can now affirm that this feels true. And because the prep for and delivering of my writing through blogging has felt like preaching a lot of the time (I often write how I speak), it has felt simultaneously energizing and exhausting.

And I thank God for strength to complete the task.

And I also thank you – all of you who have been reading. Thanks for hearing me, for traveling along, for holding me accountable to writing, and for offering feedback and encouragement. This whole endeavor would have been so incredibly different had you not joined in on the journey. So, thank you.

Many have asked if The Generative Garden is going away. The answer is no, though I have no concrete plan at the moment for how I will use it in the future. Another writing project needs my attention (aka full-connection/ordination paperwork), though I’m pretty sure some of The Generative Garden material will end up within those pages. : )

Thanks again for joining me here in the garden.

Happy Easter!

“Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Holy Week: Holy Saturday (and Simple Saturday)

{Welcome to the seventh Simple Saturday post. Nothing fancy, minimally-researched, in 300 words or fewer.}

First Reading: Job 14:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16

Second Reading: 1 Peter 4:1-8

Gospel: Matthew 27:57-66

Today’s passage in the gospel of Matthew tells a story of how the chief priests and Pharisees go to see Pilate after Jesus has been buried. “This imposter said he would rise from the dead in three days. It might be smart to have some of your guards make the tomb secure so that his friends don’t try to steal him away and fool everyone twice!” Pilate grants their wishes and sends a few guards to seal the stone that hides Jesus body in the tomb.

Actually, I have a similar recommendation. Don’t steal Jesus out of the tomb today.

It can be difficult to sit with sorrow, with death, with pain. But we must. Yes, we know that Sunday is around the corner. Resurrection is on its way, thank God. But for today, maybe we can imagine the sorrow and confusion felt by the disciples and the women who were close to Jesus. I conceive of them waking up and, like someone who got drunk the day before, or someone who was blindsided by tragedy, asking “…Did that really happen yesterday? What’s real? What now?”

Our celebration tomorrow will be full. But if we move on past death today and go right to new life, skipping the uncomfortableness of suffering and confusion, we miss out honoring that suffering and confusion, and we cheapen the arrival of grace.

Today, you are invited to join me in praying for those whose suffering does not seem to have an end. Maybe this means people suffering from depression, women and children and men caught in abusive relationships, refugees searching for a home they fear they’ll never have again, people who’ve lost a loved one and who aren’t sure the grip of grief will ever let them go. Pray God would join them and sustain them in their suffering, and pray for the hope of new life to make itself known.

Tomorrow, we celebrate. Today, we pray.

{The Generative Garden will NOT be post-free tomorrow! You didn’t think I was going to let Easter arrive without a post, did you? See you then.}

Holy Week: Good Friday

First Reading: Isaiah 52:13—53:12

Psalm: Psalm 22

Second Reading: Hebrews 10:16-25

Gospel: John 18:1—19:42

The Jesus we find in the gospel of John is a Jesus in control. A Jesus in the driver’s seat, if you will. This characterization is seen clearly in today’s passage in John. To name just a few instances of Jesus being in control, we have Jesus knowing everything that is going to happen to him (18:4), Jesus somehow never skipping a beat and simply repeating himself when the guards present to arrest him somehow fall mysteriously to the ground and get back up (18:6-7), any conversation Jesus has with Pilate, Jesus (from the cross) bringing his mother and the beloved disciple into new relationship to one another, and bowing his head and giving up his own spirit at death (19:30).

Jesus is cast as being in control of himself, though not necessarily in control of other people (can I get a woop woop for free will in the house this morning?). He couldn’t get the disciples to stay awake in the garden yesterday, and most of them had definitely made themselves scarce during the trial and crucifixion of Jesus. And I get that—when your trouble-making-for-the-authorities leader gets lynched, it’s probably not good for your own health to hang around and identify with him.

This makes it all the more interesting to me to see who shows up to bury Jesus. It’s Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. John says Joseph was a “secret” disciple of Jesus because he was “afraid of the Jews” (aka afraid of the authorities and leaders…cause Joseph was a Jew himself). The threat of his secret leader now removed, thereby removing the threat of punishment from Joseph’s own head, he shows up to care for Jesus’ body. Nicodemus was a Pharisee (religious leader) who had shown interest in Jesus’ teachings, but also kept pretty quiet about it.

These are the two people who show up to make sure Jesus’ body gets properly laid to rest before the Sabbath comes. Two people who didn’t want to be out-in-the-open associated with Jesus for the longest time, until it seemed he was no longer a threat.

Damn – isn’t that me sometimes?! Not really wanting to put my neck out there for justice, peace, and love in a radical, making-trouble-for-the-authorities kind of way?

And yet, without Jesus controlling them into it, here Joseph and Nicodemus are in the story, showing Jesus care and compassion. Showing up after the fear has died down. When it’s safer. When it’s a little easier. When they’re covered by the shadow of night.

It seems like they were a little late to the party.

But they weren’t.

 

 

 

Holy Week: Maundy Thursday

First Reading: Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

Gospel: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

I had a hard time remembering what “Maundy” means in “Maundy Thursday” until a few years ago. It was my birthday, and my husband (then just a friend) sent me a birthday card from across the country. Well, he sent me a thank you card with the “Thank You” on the front crossed out in pen, and he’d written “Happy Birthday” in below it. (He is thankful I chose to think of this act as expressing frugality and creativity, and not laziness.) Inside he wrote a sweet message of some kind that included something along the lines of, “For your birthday, you should do something fun! Go out! This isn’t a suggestion; this is a command, a mandatum. Fun fact, mandatum is Latin for ‘command,’ which is where we get the name Maundy Thursday from, when Jesus gives a new commandment to the disciples.”

Yes, all written in my birthday card. And now he’s up to his ears studying Latin and teaching all about Maundy Thursday to his students : ) As much as I like to rag on him for writing all this in a birthday card, the meaning of Maundy has been stuck in my head since.

The new commandment is this – to love one another as Jesus has loved us. Jesus demonstrates this love earlier that day by washing the feet of the disciples before their shared meal. This act was something reserved for servants of the household, so when Jesus starts to wrap his robe around his waist like a towel, kneels down, and starts washing everyone’s feet, it’s a little unexpected, to say the least. Peter even refuses to have his feet washed by Jesus until Jesus makes it pretty clear that this is the way things are, if they’re gonna be family.

The kind of love that Jesus shows us is a servant-hearted love, in action. Saviors, messiahs, kings, lords – these people are seated high, the ones being served. But Jesus turns this notion on its head by insisting on being the one doing the serving.

This is the way Jesus loves us, and so it is the way we are commanded to love others – serving them, even those (especially those) whom we think should be serving us, instead.

There’s a hymn “They’ll Know We Are Christians (By Our Love).” Lines of “We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord, and we pray that all unity may one day be restored,” and “We will work with each other, we will work side by side, and we’ll guard each one’s dignity and save each one’s pride,” are bounded by repeated phrases of “and they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love.” I’ve heard some argue that this whole “recognizing someone as a Christian simply by if they are loving or not” is problematic: Lots of people are loving, and many even are loving in the way that Jesus was, but they are not Christians,” is part of the argument. My point is this – the hymn doesn’t say “you are a Christian because you love others like Jesus did (though I think there’s definitely some room for exploring this).” It says that they’ll know that we are Christians because of how well and how often we love others.

Step out on the street and ask someone for some adjectives for Christians. I can assure you, “loving” is not at the top of anyone’s list. Try “hypocritical” or really, essentially “unchristian.”

I’d gladly live in a world where when someone does an act of loving service for another, the assumption is that they might be a Christian. This isn’t to say that I don’t want other religions known as loving, because that would be AMAZING. It’s that if the Church could love people so well that love became our defining perception, we’d be on the right road.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and we do not suddenly become completely servant-hearted lovers overnight. We can, however, pray for God to form us each day just a little more into a people who serve and love others well. Even those, especially those, who the world says ought to be serving us.

This is my prayer this Maundy Thursday. Maybe it’s your prayer, too.

Holy Week: Spy Wednesday

First Reading: Isaiah 50: 4-9a

Psalm: Psalm 70

Second Reading: Hebrews 12: 1-3

Gospel: John 13: 21-32

Disclaimer: You can tell how excited I am about this following subject because of how many exclamation points I use in this post. Really. It’s ridiculous. But the enthusiasm is all real, folks.

—

Y’all I have been looking for a reason to talk about Lent Madness on this blog since day one and IT IS FINALLY HERE!

Yes, you read that correctly – Lent Madness. If you do not already know what this is, I shall now take great pleasure in introducing you to said fabulous Lenten tradition!!!!  (You can also visit this Lent Madness post, where an explanation of the name “Spy Wednesday” is given.)

Lent Madness, a program connected to the Episcopal Church, is essentially a bracket-style competition between saints of the Christian faith (go ahead and think March Madness). A year prior, saints are selected into the bracket, and when Lent begins, it’s on! Two saints go head to head (descriptions of the saints are provided by so called “Celebrity bloggers”…whom I stalk on Twitter because they are so amazing), and the voters choose who advances! There’s the Round of 32, the Saintly Sixteen, the Elite Eight, the Faithful Four, and then….the battle for…yes, wait for it…THE GOLDEN HALO!!!!

It’s magical, people. Trust me.

I’ve been following Lent Madness for about three years or so. I unofficially vote whipped on Twitter for Charles Wesley as he advanced, that’s right, all the way to winning the Golden Halo in 2014. I was so thrilled that this saint so important to the Methodist tradition (and lots of other traditions with all those famous hymns he wrote) had won, I even purchased a Charles Wesley Golden Halo Winner 2014 mug. See?

This photo was taken for LM’s #mugshot competition this year. I didn’t win, but I did manage to get included in one of the Lent Madness videos, have Lent Madness like a slew of my tweets, and gain Lent Madness and one of its creators as Twitter followers so…I did my ecumenical happy dance anyhow!

Tuesday’s second Final Four match up was the most difficult voting decision I had made (for Lent Madness) this Lenten season. Dietrich Bonhoeffer vs. Sojourner Truth. I mean, c’mon! Both of these individuals had such powerful Christian witnesses. Someone named “tonip1” commented on the post about the match-up: “This was particularly difficult because both of them speak so clearly to the troubles of the world today and both of them were tireless in their devotion to living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Whichever of them wins today, we are all winners to have both of these saints as witnesses for our lives and our journey.” Yes.

And this is what I deeply love about Lent Madness. Yes, it’s fun and I get to have lots of neat interactions with church folks (and people just interested in saints) who I normally don’t get to interact with. But I also have the opportunity to learn more about the lives of 32 saints (broadly defined) of the faith and be inspired by them. I get to say a prayer related to each saint during the Round of 32, learn about the way that grace inhabited each other their lives and discern what encouragement or example might continue to live on in them. Lent Madness is in fact fun and games, but it is also an opportunity to expand my faith and gain strength and inspiration from the witness of so many truly great people.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us…” (Hebrews 12:1). Participating in Lent Madness really does invite me to consider the cloud of witnesses in my life and in the Christian life more broadly, and be strengthened to pursue peace, justice, and holiness as modeled by the saints.

It’s not too late to join in! Today is the FINAL DAY of Lent Madness where Julian of Norwich will face off against either Dietrich Bonhoeffer or Sojourner Truth (the results of this match up were not yet available at the time of this posting). If you have a spare moment today, check out the Lent Madness page, read about these saints, and maybe even cast a vote for the winner of the Golden Halo! But more than anything, take time to consider the gift of the lives of the saints—either the official saints of Lent Madness or others who make up the cloud of witnesses around you. May we gain peace, encouragement, and strength from their witness to the light of Christ in the world.

Holy Week: Tuesday

First Reading: Isaiah 49: 1-7

Psalm: Psalm 71: 1-14

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1: 18-31

Gospel: John 12: 20-36

I sometimes have a negative reaction to hearing others say of their accomplishment, “Look at what God did! God did this!” My instinct is to think, “No, you got that Masters degree. You put together that fundraiser. You walked away from X bad situation.”

On the other hand, when someone says, “Look at this amazing thing I accomplished! I did this!”my instinct is to think, “And I’m sure you had some amazing support along the way!”

I’m a little difficult, I know.

I think the reality is that life is both. Even the folks of the highest degree of privilege have to choose to act to accomplish some things. People who are incredibly disadvantaged and who still accomplish things do not do so completely on their own. (And everyone in between.)

This is where my brain first goes when I read Paul’s instruction in 1 Corinthians for anyone who boasts, to boast in the Lord (and not in themselves). However, Paul’s hitting at something a lot deeper.

“Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.” I ask you to, as Paul says, consider your own call, your own life. Maybe you are pretty wise, or perhaps in a position of great power, or were born into the middle or upper classes. Can God use those talents and powers and situations to bring peace and justice to earth, to glorify God’s name? Yes. Talents and strengths and even positions you hold that you had very little to do with can be awesome! They are to be put to use in love for our neighbor.

But do you know what they can’t get you? God’s love. Salvation. Peace that passes understanding. Mercy. Forgiveness.

This is the thing about God’s grace—it doesn’t discriminate. To be a part of God’s family, we are not required to have certain talents or gifts or look a certain way or anything like that. I’d argue that sometimes we can get a big head about the things we are good at and that that actually gets in the way of us living in community with God and with creation (but maybe this is just me). Grace says that we’re welcome as we are. That God already loves us. That we don’t need to do anything to earn love or acceptance.

In Jesus, God shows us that the utter foolishness of a savior living life on earth, trying so desperately to teach us about love, and being put to death on a cross (and also raised to new life) is actually God’s wisdom for us. Through Jesus, God has made a way for all to claim their place in the family of God. A way for you to claim your place in the family of God.

And it doesn’t take wisdom or talent. Just a showing up and a willingness to consider what seems to be foolishness until the foolishness through faith becomes wisdom.

So, no one in the family of God may boast of their place in the family. None of us did anything to earn our membership here. We were simply offered an invitation, the invitation that’s extended to all, and we’ve, through God’s grace, said yes. God’s grace continues with us as we move and live and have our being in the world, growing as followers of Jesus. So if we boast, let us boast of the great love and grace of God that empowers us to do good works in the world. May others see the good fruit of our lives and may it point not solely to us, but also to a God who chooses to work in us and through us for the wholeness and healing of the world.

Holy Week: Monday

For Holy Week (the week leading up to Easter Sunday), I will be using the daily Holy Week lectionary readings for writing prompts. I’ll list the readings for you (they are also linked, if you click) if you’re interested in reading them. Most likely, I will not focus on making connections between each of the readings; I’ll focus on what grabs me. Maybe that’s a weaving of a theme throughout multiple texts, and maybe it’s not. Either way, I’m so glad we’ve journeyed together this far.

I’ll also be praying for you this week. Will you please pray for me?

Monday of Holy Week:

First Reading: Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 36:5-11

Second Reading: Hebrews 9:11-15

Gospel: John 12:1-11

In the gospel passage, we read very briefly about how the chief priests, in their plot to kill Jesus, decide to also try and kill Lazarus. We know that just before this passage, Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, and the scriptures tell us that on account of seeing this miracle, many people are choosing to follow Jesus. The influence that the miracle has on the people is the reason why the chief priests decide it’s not a good idea to have Lazarus keep on keepin’ on. The longer he stays alive, the more opportunity people have to come and see him and be amazed and follow Jesus.

I wonder what it’s like to be a lot of people in this story. I wonder what it’s like to be the chief priests, so concerned with their own safety (and with a lot of other things that involve fear) that they feel the need to kill Jesus AND Lazarus (*Sam actively tries to save her post on political rhetoric for Friday’s blog…*). I wonder what it must have been like to be Mary and Martha, sisters of Lazarus, currently throwing a dinner party at their house for Jesus and the disciples. (It takes a turn, though, as Mary anoints Jesus with a heaping amount of expensive perfume and Judas freaks out.) If the sisters had known that the chief priests were planning on killing their brother, would they have acted differently?

If I imagine myself as Jesus—well, I’ve got a feeling Jesus would say that sometimes the price of being associated with him is that you’ll be hated and endure persecution and suffering, but that God will accompany you the entire way.

And Lazarus—I wonder if he even knew there was a hit out on him.

Miracles (appropriate so, I think) capture us. I also think they remind us of what kind of transformation we also might be capable of sustaining in our own bodies and souls. Whenever I hear a story of someone brought to new life—a new outlook on their own life, a new, more fitting vocation, a breaking free from addiction, a healing, whatever kind of new life it might be—I find that there’s something in me that’s awakened. Pieces of it are empathy, for sure. But part of what is also awakened are portions of me that yearn for a new life of their own. Seeing new life in others calls forward a desire for new life in ourselves.

This is beautiful, and also a little dangerous if you’re not someone who likes new things, or who doesn’t like to see their partner or their community seek new life or new changes. Even the best of us can get scared by the transformation of those around us. Will they now decide they don’t need us in their lives / that they don’t love us / that things will be, well, different? Our desire to protect ourselves from potential pain is immense.

As we read in Isaiah today, God is a God of new life, and God is doing new things. Will we stand in the way of the new things that God wants to grow in our own selves and in the lives of others, or will we co-work with God to water these new aspects of life, trusting that God will be with us all the way on this journey of growth?

Now, Lazarus may not have exactly chosen to be raised to life by Jesus, but he was living with the consequences of this miracle. Whether or not he was outspoken about this miracle and loving the spotlight or most reserved and wishing folks would stop starting, I don’t know. But if I imagine myself as one of the people in the crowd, I want to think that something was stirred inside me. Let us always have courage to choose and/or accept new life, for ourselves, for those we love, for the stranger, and also for our enemies.

Hallowed and Holy in the Ordinary

There have been some days during Lent this year where I open WordPress and stare at a blank screen for a very long time. I review my day, consider my life more generally, ask my husband “What should I blog about?,” drink tea, stare at the screen some more, and then – words come. Sometimes they are structured more coherently than other days, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Each day, though, I feel like I’m able to read the pages of my life and the life around me and somehow see something worth, well, worth writing about.

As I continue to read daily from Jan Richardson’s In the Sanctuary of Women, Thursday’s blessing captured some of my thoughts toward this blog recently:

In the midst of your life;

the daily of it,

the ordinary of it,

the noontime and night of it,

let there be moments

that open to you

the hallowed and holy of it.

-Jan Richardson

Sometimes the holy moments of life capture our attention like a bush burning on the side of the road that somehow remains unconsumed. And sometimes we are offered small openings, small invitations to see the holy in the everyday—in blue nails, in buses, in bookshelves.

And these small things, the simple day-to-day and the evidences of the divine in those small tasks of our hearts and hands, are what make up most of our lives. Be encouraged that even when the openings to the hallowed and holy are hard to see and experience, that the holy surrounds you.

Even when you’re not taking up a discipline of blogging. Even when you ARE blogging and you sit down to write, late at night after the longest, most involved day, and nothing will come.

Even then.

Especially then.

Wisdom sees with eyes of experience and grace

For the one of the few times this Lenten season, I’m writing this blog while my partner also writes! He’s got a fascinating prompt tonight – our visit to a local restaurant Tuesday evening. That’s right, we had out first “secret shopping” dining experience! As in, we were the “secret shoppers,” dining at the restaurant, armed with specific instructions on what to order and what to pay attention to during the course of the evening.

I gotta say, it was pretty fun! Although, anytime someone tells me to eat out on their dime and then also pays me a little bit to do so- I find it difficult to be disappointed.

The idea behind mystery/secret dining is that restaurants contract with hospitality companies to evaluate their service. The hospitality company (we’re signed on with Coyle) sends people to different restaurants to report on a variety of service aspects: cleanliness, vibe, quality of food, timeliness of food, kindness and knowledgeability of staff, etc. I can’t say where we went this evening, but everything was pretty great, and Nelson’s writing a solid report as I type here to you all.

((I invite you to play a little game right now. Can you guess where this post is leading? Take a second and think about it. What would you reflect on? How would you tie this into other experiences you’ve had? How do you anticipate I’ll reflect?))

Occasionally at my congregation, a visitor joins us who no members know. I think we collectively really do give our best to make that person(s) feel welcome, acknowledged, and invited to deeper (or at least continued) engagement with the congregation. A few weeks ago I mentioned one of these visitors to Nelson, and he reminded me of the possibility that they could be possible new pastors to the congregation. Now, my church is not transitioning pastors this year, so I’m not thinking that’s possible at the moment for this congregation, but in general it’s a true statement. It’s always possible (though not likely) that a visitor to a church could be acting in some sort of under cover capacity. Whenever I’m visiting a new church, I see everything with a very critical eye. While I am a participant in the service for sure, I also see myself as some sort of evaluator. What about song choice? The flow of the service in general? The preaching moment – did it connect with and convict the people? And as a visitor – how was I treated?

The obvious turn in this blog post would be to this statement: we’ve got to treat every person who walks through our church doors like Jesus. It’s a good point. An incredibly important point! And well…kind of a true point, like, all of the time if you believe that the image of God is in every person that you meet.

However, I’d like to focus on grace. As the secret shopper tonight, I wanted our server to be awesome. I wanted the food and drink to be excellent. I wanted the ambience to be well-crafted and enjoyable. And if any of these things weren’t stellar, I wanted to give the opportunity for that to be improved or corrected. I wanted to be generous. I wanted to be graceful.

It felt wonderful to take this attitude so intentionally toward another person/establishment. I’d like to say that this is the attitude I walk around with all day, every day. Honestly, I’m a “defender” of people, so the attitude I carry with me is pretty close, but it felt so…freeing to so blatantly desire the best for another person (whom I did not previously know). Experience and wisdom make my judgment sharper and more nuanced, but shouldn’t experience and wisdom also teach me the great value of grace and generosity?

When I think about the people I consider to be most wise, they are always people who are willing to give solid critique/feedback, but who also just quickly offer a word of compelling grace alongside. I deeply desire to be formed into this person. And if secret dining can help me practice this while also offering me free food and nights out on the town with my love, then bring it on.

 

Conviction and [in]action

The other day, I turned to Nelson and said something along the lines of, “If *certain candidate* wins this election, I’m gonna start volunteering more with [rattles off list of marginalized populations].” Almost as soon as those words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Not because I didn’t mean them, because I did. I wanted them back because as I said them, in my imagination, representatives of those groups turned to me and said, somewhat incredulously, “What? You’re gonna wait until it gets worse in order to further involve yourself? That’s a nice place of privilege and comfort from which you speak.”

I know those voices are right. I could go on and on about MLK’s garment of destiny (the success, happiness, and peace of each one of our individual lives is wrapped up in everyone else’s success, happiness, and peace); about Parker Palmer’s (and lotsa other mystics and prayin’ folks’) insistence that in going deep into prayer, into our private lives, we are not drawn further from the world but get closer to the truth that binds all of us together. I really could go on and on, so consider yourself spared. For all my theological knowledge and for all the ways I am apparently paying attention to what is happening in the world around me and the role I play in it, I consistently sense that I could act with much more courage and boldness.

I think of the famous statement by Martin Niemoller, a Protestant pastor in Germany during the 1940’s/50’s:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

-Martin Niemoller

There are lots of things that we put off for lots of reasons, big and small. What I encourage you to do is this: the next time you put something off, consider why. Consider if it might be time to go ahead and act (maybe it’s way past due, but better late than never). I write this fully realizing that just a few days ago there was a blog post here about longing and patience. The situation at hand seems different, though. My inaction has nothing to do with patience, only laziness and some ignorance, and probably some false ideas about busyness and time management thrown in there.

None of us can do everything, but all of us can do something. It doesn’t have to be loud, flashy, well-worded, or incredibly public. It can even be as simple as taking time to educate yourself about a particular challenge, about differences and commonalities among our human family. It can be a small act of love, done for the sake of the other, and ultimately for the benefit of the whole world. And, well, the world is an incredibly beautiful place filled with incredible communities, but there’s also a lot of hurt in the world, and a lot of people perpetuating that hurt. Turning a blind eye to that hurt will not make it go away, it will only exacerbate it. The more we turn a blind eye to the world, the better chance we have at missing how we are participating in that hurt.

So for me personally, I am hoping against all hope that certain leaders don’t get a chance to claim that title, for fear for the well-being of my broader community. But here on this subject, I can no longer just let hope be enough. Hope has got to be put into loving action.

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What are those places for you – places where your hope can no longer be enough, where hope must be given wings and take flight?