Life

Querido Jesús: 2 Corintios 8:7-15

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

«Ya conocen la gracia de nuestro Señor Jesucristo, quien era rico y por causa de ustedes se hizo pobre, para que mediante su pobreza ustedes llegaran a ser ricos» 2 Corintios 8:9, NVI

Querido Jesús, ya conoces mi espíritu a veces es pobre y débil. Quiero ser rico en gracia y fe, pero mis pies caminí en fango y aguas residuale ayer. Estoy derramando cosas sucias sobre los sitios a donde ya me limpiaste.

Las personas que frustaron mi pensamiento y sueñas no son las personas que deciden mis acciones hoy. Como los Corintios en el pasado, necesito hacer lo que necesito hacer. Soy responsable de mi vida y necesito decidir adonde seré caminar. Como los Corintios en el pasado, a veces no me gustan mis vecinos especialmente cuando me molestan y me mienten. Especialmente cuando estoy enojado, necesito decidir mis acciones cuidadoso y vivir con tu amor.

Sin ti, no es fácil vivir con integridad. Con ti, no es muy facil pero es posible. Tu yugo es ligero pero la reja del arado es densa y pesada. Ayudame como lo ayudaste los Corintios en el pasado. En tu nombre robusto, mi Salvador y mi Redentor. Amén

“You already know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who was rich and for your sakes. He became poor and through that poverty, you became rich.” 2 Corinthians 8:9, translated from NVI

Dear Jesus, you already know my spirit is sometimes poor and weak. I want to be rich in grace and faith, but my feet walked in mud and sewage yesterday. I am spilling dirty things on the places where you already cleaned me.

The people who frustrated my thinking and dreams are not the people who decide my actions today. Like the Corinthians of old, I need to do what I need to do. I am responsible for my life and I need to decide where I will walk. Like the Corinthians in the past, sometimes I don’t like my neighbors, especially when they bother me and lie to me. Especially when I am angry, I need to decide my actions carefully and live with your love.

Without you, it is not easy to live with integrity. With you, it is not very easy, but it is possible. Your yoke is light, but the plowshare is dense and heavy. Help me as you helped the Corinthians in the past. In your mighty name, my Savior and my Redeemer. Amen.

Telling our Stories again (and again)

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“I’m convinced that they told this story about Peter because Peter himself insisted on telling it over and over again. It became so associated with Peter and his ministry that not to tell the story would have been a great disservice.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

I have become utterly convinced, like Rev. Hamilton, that the best stories I have ever shared have been stories of weakness on my own behalf. Two days ago, we shared the story about how the foolishness of God is greater than the wisdom of the world. I have to admit that my story is a foolish story.

I am a minister in recovery from alcoholism who is divorced. I struggle to communicate with my former partner and I rarely see my kids. I have a lot of struggles in my life and I am really open about all of them, but I don’t share because I want pity. I share because the stories show the Way I have found a path out of the darkness. The stories are an invitation to life.

How? Jesus works through my weakness. To borrow from the epistles, I have this treasure in a jar of clay. I share these stories because the power of God doesn’t come from me. It comes from God.

When I share communion I share about the unfermented fruit of the vine because everyone should come to the table. There is rarely a person who walks through the doors of our church who does not understand that God can and will heal them even from the hardest of situations. I have become an advocate for the addicted, the brokenhearted, the lonely, and the grieving. My strongest advocacy comes through sharing my story with all of the failures within it.

Peter knew what he was doing. I seek to do the same.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Joy as a Subterranean Spring

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“True joy is not a thing of moods, not a capricious emotion, tied to fluctuating experiences It is a state and condition of the soul. It survives through pain and sorrow and, like a subterranean spring, waters the whole life. It is intimately allied and bound up with love and goodness, and so is deeply rooted in the life of God. Joy is the most perfect and complete mark and sign of immortal wealth, because it indicates that the soul is living by love and by goodness, and is very rich in God.”

Quaker theologian Rufus Jones, “The Inner Life”, 1916

Today I returned two of my three kids to their mother after too short a visit. My ride home was marked by tears and a blessing as it was the first time in years I had not ridden alone. Upon reaching our destination I still had to wash off saline streaks from my face, but it was an improvement.

Jones wrote about joy filling our lives like a subterranean stream. Such watering keeps the soil moist even through moments where everything is dried out under the harsh light of sadness. I want to feel such joy in my life. I do feel such joy even if it feels fleeting at times.

God, grant me your joy.
Even as the harsh winds howl, 
soak arid taproots
and keep green in me the hope
by which my core first sprouted.

Walking in the dark

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Tonight I took a long walk for the first time in a week. I have been working a lot this week. I haven’t really had the time on nice days to be outside between a funeral and some ongoing issues with work situations.

I could have turned around earlier and made it back to the car before dark, but I kept going. I was almost halfway through the walk when the sun went behind the hills. I walked nearly an hour and a half after the sunset without a flashlight.

It is strange how familiar the paths have become over the past few years. I used to stumble and trip even in the middle of the day. I walked over three miles in the darkness without a light and my feet walked firmly even as I couldn’t see everything in front of me.

I remembered as I walked. I thought about writing poems about hiking in the snow in one space and took a picture of beautiful leaves in the sun\set in another place. I remembered where my dog drank water in one place and remembered the lightning crashing in another place. I walked with firm steps. FitBit informed me at one point that I had shaved a couple seconds off of my average mile split. I walked faster in the darkness than I used to walk in the light.

Why? You can see in the darkness once your eyes adapt. You can see in the darkness once the moon comes out. You can see in the darkness when you have enough time in a space. You can do a lot with over a year of practice walking in a space.

This reality applies to other parts of life as well. You can walk in the darkness after you have spent time living alone. You can walk in the darkness when the phone doesn’t ring and your children don’t reach out. You can walk in the darkness when you face challenges because you know the sort of person you have become.

I owe a lot to the practice I have done. Some would even say I have a discipline built from making choices. That discipline teaches me to be who I am today and I am grateful both for the lessons I have learned and the confidence that comes from doing the next right thing time and time again.

Different ways of walking

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“There is no one exclusive ‘way’ either to the supreme realities or to the loftiest experiences of life. The ‘way’ which we individuals select and proclaim as the only highway of the soul back to its true home turns out to be a revelation of our own private selves fully as much as it is a revelation of a via sacra to the one goal of all human striving. Life is a very rich and complex affair and it forever floods over and inundates any feature which we pick out as essential or as pivotal to its consummation. God so completely overarches all that is and He is so genuinely the fulfillment of all which appears incomplete and potential that we cannot conceivably insist that there shall be only one way of approach from the multiplicity of the life which we know to the infinite Being whom we seek.”

Quaker Scholar Rufus Jones, “The Inner Life” (1916)

I took a day trip with someone very close to me yesterday to the Zoo. I shared my love of trying to eat slippery Chinese food with chopsticks on the way up to Syracuse and we enjoyed a fish fry on the way back. We had lots of time to talk, to ponder life, and to enjoy the animals. It is amazing how much fun it can be to go to the zoo even when you’re not pursuing a small child. We finished the night decorating the Christmas tree I have not put up since 2020.

Towards the end of the evening, we were talking about some of the challenges that come with trying to recover from a divorce. Both of us have had difficult circumstances in our lives and we both have things we did similarly and things we have done differently.

For me, a lot of the journey has revolved around physical ways of pursuing wellness. Recovery from the trauma that led to my divorce included a lot of physical wellness activities as I tried to respond to the stress, fears, and painful sorrows by doing the next right thing in my life. I reinforced my sobriety practices by sticking close to people who had been through difficult times in their programs, worked the twelve steps, and continued to regularly go the therapy and my doctor to make certain everything in the background was running well so I wouldn’t trip over inconsistencies within my own body and mind.

Beyond sobriety, I adopted old spiritual practices that were impractical with kids around to complicate certain activities. I’m pescatarian on Wednesdays and Fridays as a partial fast in the pattern of the Orthodox and in the pattern of early Methodists of fasting on those days. I write out my gratitudes every night and effectively do a version of the Examen blended with a tenth-step inventory. I journal every day.

Also, I walked thousands of miles and began to work my muscles by weightlifting. I dropped over 160 pounds so far! I took my sorrow and I put it in the furnace. I walked through sleet and snow burning through my anger like coal. I did everything I could to take the broken sorrowful parts and to use them as fuel for a self-improving fire to forge a new self instead of turning that anger and sorrow on anyone else, especially avoiding bringing that frustration anywhere near my former partner. There’s a reason there are giant holes in my blog and why I’m not on social media. Heck, I avoid emails in part because it is too easy to let my anger out.

I have done all of these things and I am grateful for all of them. Also, the person I spent time with yesterday did things very differently than me. They handled their sorrow for a longer time and have used their experiences to forge someone I hold dear without some of the tools I have used. Their circumstances were different but similar. As a result of some of those variations, our paths look different and honestly, there are some ways in which the other path looks great. That path looks fantastic when you see what’s beyond the surface of the cheerful things I wrote above.

My shoulders hurt constantly. My body dysmorphia makes it feel like I’m larger than I am and sometimes I reach up to my shoulders and it feels like the bones just beneath my skin shouldn’t be there. It feels like I’m more skeleton than man some days. I sometimes feel incredibly self-conscious and even my muscles aren’t enough to sometimes make me feel safe. Those great phone calls and good friendships in my life are the converse of the grief which threatened to bust down the door if I didn’t get out there and connect with others. It has not been easy.

Sitting with someone who has been through similar things yesterday I heard an invitation to not only be vulnerable but to tell the truth about the fact that my bones ache, my shoulders are sore, and my back is so tight it feels like I have two plates of armor between my shoulder blades and my hips. A lot of things hurt and sometimes it feels as if the pain will never cease.

I have worked so hard to carve my way out of my sorrows and it has been wonderful in so many ways. It also is not the only way forward. I can live a life where my bones hurt less and my shoulders ache less constantly. As a new year dawns, I can set a different goal for something gentler on my body like swimming or rowing. I am not forced to walk this one way. My friend has a different path and their way is worthy of emulating in many ways. Perhaps I need to be slow enough to see where the path diverts and runs slightly askew in the same direction.

“Tumbling Rocks”

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Some friends recently blessed me with a rock tumbler. Although it seems strange, it was quite thoughtful. I wander around in the wilderness often these days. You do not need a full wallet to enjoy the forest. You do not need a credit card to walk on stone covered beaches. Living in a space with gorges and wilderness means there are plenty of places to search for rocks.

Today the first stage of tumbling came to an end: rocks gathered on New Year’s have spent a week tumbling together through the new possibilities. I have checked on them as they tumbled through the days: rotating over and over, first visible but then swallowed in the slurry of grit and water. In time, even bits of themselves joined in the chaotic tumbling. Washed, dried, and looked over, each rock is the same yet different. With reluctance, they are tumbling again with finer grit. There is a lot of tumbling in their future.

I sympathize with a rock for the first time in my life. I journey in shoes that have walked down long roads. My feet have grown calloused only through painful blisters and my legs have known spasming muscles waking me from the deepest slumber. My heart and soul have wounds to match as the days have not been nearly as beautiful as I once imagined. There are pieces of me that I will never have back and there are edges rounded off of my heart through night after night of tumbling through life’s grit-filled wasteland. Aye, there is beauty, but that beauty has come at a great cost.

Tumbled and jostled
through the dark days and cold nights
as life grinds it all

“The Wild Woods”

/ Robert D / 5 Comments

As January dawns, the year behind has finally ended. There were bleak nights, broken dreams, and tears aplenty. While there was beauty, there was often grief and loss. It hurt to think of all that had been and all that would never come again.

In the woods by an isolated lake, scant days before continuing the uphill climb through my forties, an elderly dog and I meandered through the branches. January snow was unseasonably absent and there were shocks of green moss and patches of red berries everywhere. A fallen trunk shattered open to reveal the mystery born forth into the world from a single seed left behind by oblivious critters in the woods. The space is sacred and thin as I walk in lands where the natural transcends mere words.

For a while, the woods were all there was in this world. Thoughts of loss waited in the car, but in the woods there was beauty to be found, wonder to behold, and even the simple challenge of not letting the canine drag us into another bog while seeking an errant smell. For a brief hour or two, the world shrank down to a world where the brown trunks swayed only gently as the wind found only bare branches to tickle. In the wild woods, a broken heart could be whole for the eternal but brief moment where two souls simply wandered together.

The wild woods reach out:
I almost look for "fair folk"
as my heart finds peace.

My first entry in a long time with the D’verse Poets Pub. The challenge of the week is a haibun about the changing of years or what you are doing during this early part of January.

Remembering a rough year

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What is freedom when life begins again?
How does one measure the ways one lives life
after all you have loved is burned in strife?
Where are the sprouted seeds in the ashes?
Is life renewed when one walks down the path
through sleet, snow, rain, thunder, and burning sun?
Is it renewed when you start to have fun?
If so, perhaps the pain was a herald.
Does the heart revive as one strikes the bag
as thuds echo and skin begins to break
while blood, sweat, and tears fall as shoulders quake?
Was it life throbbing beneath the blisters?
Is it in awe from looking at one's work
and seeing hundreds of moments you cared
writing letters from the good heart you've bared
even as it mended from shattering?
Does life grow as the shutter shares moments
where eyes opened to see good in the world?
Even as the bad news whooshed, howled, and swirled
visions of goodness just kept giving life.
Is it in sermons, poems, or rambles?
Is life found in meetings, coffee, or work?
Is it where I laughed and shared a small smirk?
Is life found in all of these good places?
Okay, it was a hard year, but not bad.
I bent and swayed: my good soul did not break
through all of the storms I stretched out to take
a bit of my soul back from the abyss.
Now a new year is about to break forth
over a good land where I will survive
and at times even slowly start to thrive
as this phoenix rises on hopeful wings

Icy Poem

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Treading over these icy paths 
I feel these steps are familiar 
and none strike me as peculiar 
as I balance my weight. 

Life itself requires close watching 
as one connects as through the ice
to ground oneself in world less nice
requires careful balance. 

Still, the path waits for bold and brave:
Neither under the summer sun
nor after Jack Frost's cruel fun
are things ever perfect. 

One foot, one step, one day, move on. 
Keep moving through the winter's cold
and face the heat with a heart bold
as you keep your balance

Dedicated to the two people riding bikes past me. Now that’s dedication and bravery. Also, one of them apparently thought it was just as ludicrous as I did by the panic and joy in her eyes.

Meeting Poetry

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These haiku/tanka-formatted poems have come out of long meetings with difficult conversations around the church community. I write poetry to express feelings and thoughts that might disrupt or aggravate during meetings. I share them later, without context, for they continue to inspire me to consider what words I use, what notions I carry, and that I, too, might have blind spots.

Problematic words:
dividing with our notions
and cutting our ties
"We" "Ours" "I" "My" "Mine"
There is a space between us
that is shown in words
The apple and tree:
growing in their own spaces
but sharing some roots.
Hubris, pride, self-righteousness:
can't you see the path ahead?

Old boots

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I have an old pair of boots that need to be resoled or replaced. Any minute now I’ll lace them up and walk the half an hour to church. Any minute now I’ll shake off these dismal thoughts about how Thanksgiving ruined my weight loss streak and finally convince myself that I don’t need to starve myself with a fast to hurry things along. Any minute now I’ll remember that I walked over nine miles yesterday and that my body needs time to process nutrients and expel waste before that shows. Any minute now sane thoughts will lace these boots. Any minute now…

Lace up your old boots:
draw tight both your loops and will.
Trudge that you might walk
down the road in warmer times 
when all is finally well

Under the Weather

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I received my booster shot yesterday. I’m trying my best to take it easy after feeling unwell while walking my dog last night. Today my arm aches and I feel more tired than usual.

When I was married I saw our vows as promising that I would care for her when she was unwell and she would care for me when I was unwell. I was naïve to think that we both understood that commitment to each other when we were twenty five.

Today I’m alone. My attorney called to give me an update about working towards finalizing my divorce yesterday. I’m grieving that loss today while remembering how it felt to believe I could rely on someone.

Nobody is here to help me feel better today, but nobody is here tearing me down either.

If I were to give someone advice in similar circumstances i would relay to them the truth that there are lonely days when seeking peace and safety. It is possible to get through them and even to thrive because of them. I would tell them to have patience with the process.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

What do we do with nightmares?

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I woke up yesterday morning with an aching knee. The few days before Sunday were full of Annual Conference business. Annual Conference is both the name of the regional body of churches that I serve within as a United Methodist and an exact description of how often the whole of that body meets to do business. Normally Annual Conference for us in the Upper New York Annual Conference is in the late spring just before summer, but this year our session was held virtually in the fall due to COVID concerns.

My knee ached because I have been walking all over the place during the past few days. As I write this entry on Sunday night, my knee will probably hurt once again tonight as I walked into town to reach the church, stood through church,, walked across town for lunch after church, participated in the CROP Walk after lunch, and then walked back home from town. My knee will probably ache tonight, but it likely will be a far more peaceful night than last night.

Why? I am not certain if it was the change in diet, lengthy Conference activity, or stress levels over the past few days, but I honestly had a terrible nightmare coming into Sunday morning. I dreamed a horrible dream that woke me up in panic and covered with sweat.

What was the dream about last night? To be blunt for the sake of this post, the dream was a dream where everything terrible I heard over the years came true. In the dream I was called and acted pathetic, was broke and unable to care for what needed to be cared for, and was run out of my job for not being good enough for my role as a minister. Everyone I met in the dream was angry with me, frustrated with me, or full of scorn for me. It was frankly terrifying to wake up feeling awful about myself.

So, what did I do after waking up with a hurting knee and a tortured spirit? I got up, took a shower, strapped on my boots, and went back to work. I walked to work, which I was able to do quite nicely despite my knee’s complaints the night before. I led Sunday School where we had a great conversation and then led worship which led to people coming up to me that were engaged in the message connecting scripture, theology, and the problem of domestic violence.. After a nice salad from the nearby deli, I then walked around town with church members raising money for world hunger and having some great conversations. When that was done I walked home, had a quick dinner, and then went out to grab a cup of coffee and milk to make my yogurt for the week ahead.

In other words, all those terrible things I heard in the dream didn’t stop me from doing what I had to do today. I stood up, laced my boots, and faced my fears, which turned out to be nothing important at all. I am thoroughly proud with myself for moving past my fears and nightmares into a healthier place tonight.

As the day draws to a close, I don’t know what’s ahead of me tonight, but I know one thing to be true: all the terrible things that I once heard from my abuser do not define who I am today. I don’t need to be ashamed of who I am as a person. I don’t need to seek the approval and love of a person who tore my spirit and soul down violently. I can choose to face today no matter what my abuser believes. I will live and I will do so in a way that makes me proud to be me.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

Oakdale Mall Poem

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I had an eye appointment in Johnson City and went to a store where I used to take my children to look for Christmas presents and winter coats. I wanted a coat as I have been losing weight. It is closing and so many places where I took my children for six years stand empty, closed, or closing. I wrote this poem

Some days I wander,
walking past empty storefronts 
Where family walked
looking for nice and warm clothes
to bundle up family

Now its always cold
and the memories burn low
Time changes faces
as old sweaters keep fraying
and worn sneakers still trudge on

Ramen Reflections

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Ramen noodles soak
Mushrooms and veggies draw in
more than flavored broth:
they draw in hope for today
and give strength for tomorrow.

This morning started off well: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a tall glass of water before biking down to the church. The wonderful thing about biking to work is that you get to save gas money and help to care for the planet. Hours later, the crew leaves the church from the spring cleanup day. I head into my office and begin to work on cards thanking people for their service to the church today and for their service in helping to cleanup at Casowasco last Saturday.

After everyone has come and gone, the time for lunch draws near. I put a package of ramen, four dehydrated mushrooms, and a quarter cup of dehydrated veggies underneath the coffee maker’s spout. Twenty minutes later, I have Keurig Ramen, a common meal these days.

It isn’t the church’s fault that I’m not eating steak today. While I’d love to blame my former partner, it is not completely her fault either. It certainly is not the fault of the three blessings that I love with all of my heart and soul. We live in a broken world and after I am done voluntarily supporting my children who live across the state against my desires, I honestly have less in my bank account than I had when I served a church in seminary. I definitely did not see this place on my journey coming: I would have spent more time learning to cook better foods for fewer people for less.

For lunch today, my ramen looks back at me. I wrote a tanka about the ramen as I contemplated my lunch. I still wonder, what does the ramen see?

I hope it sees someone who is grateful for a good meal. I hope it sees someone who is grateful for what he has been given instead of someone who spends all of his time lamenting what is not right here. Actually, let me reword that: “I hope it sees someone who is working to be more grateful for what he has been given and to be less focused on what is lacking.” The intention is important, for I know I have a role in choosing how I react to these moments.

We don’t always get to choose what comes our way in this life. When we slow down and listen to the Spirit, we can be given a choice about how we react. I choose to react to these moments with hope.

“Here” and Life

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The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day Prompt for today is “here.”

This has been a really rough week for me. I have had more than one wise individual in my life point out that it was likely always going to end this way. One friend with a long history in the legal profession said “If you were the mother, things would probably be very different. Nobody wants to be the judge who gets a reputation for separating kids from their mothers.”

So, I have fewer rights and will see my kids less. The system is broken and there’s nothing I can do about it but pray. What’s my consolation today?

I weep, Jesus weeps, but we’ll laugh.
I feel impoverished, Jesus is sacrificing, but we’ll be rich.
I am empty, Jesus is emptying himself, and we’ll be full again.
I had to choose my religious profession or more visitation, Jesus faced persecution, but there’ll be blessing.

Also, those who laugh will mourn.
Those who feel rich will be impoverished.
Those who are full will be emptied.
Those who have everyone speak well of them will go the same way as the false prophets.

In the end, it is going to be okay. Justice is in the hands of a just God who sees what has happened. My attorney tried to lighten the mood by asking if lightning bolts or karma would strike first, but that’s far above my paygrade. Another friend later chimed in that karma may make me spend the rest of my days wondering if God answers prayers, but it isn’t really about that kind of thinking for me either.

Maybe they’ll repent someday? Maybe they’ll seek forgiveness and make amends for their sins? I have no idea, but their sins are in the hands of God, not mine. I don’t need to be vengeful as God is still God. I don’t need to threaten anyone with wrath, because the wrath of the New Testament falls on people who choose to bring it into their lives. What comes out of the lips comes from the heart, regardless of whether those are words of blessings or empty accusations. In the meantime, I’ve texted my kids that I love them and now am choosing a picture.

When everything was in the hole Tuesday after a sleepless Monday night, I knew where I could go to find solace, peace, and safety. I went to church. Sometimes I go and meet with my lawyer on Grand Island, and I pull into my home church’s parking lot to just be near the place where so many holy things took place over the years. On Tuesday, I went to the church to work. As I worked, I was drawn into a world bigger than myself. By the time we had Council, we were having discussions about how the church was a blessing to us and how we can share that blessing with others. Being at the church transformed my day, my attitude, and my hope. The church truly is a a place where we can just be “here.”

“With,” tears, and a thirsty dog.

/ Robert D / 2 Comments

The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt for today is the word “with.” As it is Monday, our devotional has us reading the Beatitudes from Luke again. This week we ask what it means to shift our understanding of tears and laughter.

My picture for today is of my dog on a hike last summer. Lily and I were in the middle of the nearby Finger Lakes National Forest when Lily decided to get a drink in the creek we were fording together.

At first, I was aghast. The water was unclean! It had not been boiled, had not been purified, and could make the dog really sick. On the other hand, have you ever tried to stop a dog from drinking? By the time I would have reached the dog, the damage was already done.Also, this is a dog we’re talking about. While she drinks plenty of clean water at home, let’s not pretend she understands the five second rule.

We often look at things in the world with one set of eyes. We see tears and they are rarely tears of joy. Often, the tears we see are tears of sadness, grief, and loss. How can such a thing be a blessing?

Have you ever tried to hold back tears? How well did that work out for you? We assume that all (non-joyous) tears are bad, but Jesus seems to invite us to consider that everything is not as it seems. As is always the case during this season, I invite you to be surprised by the journey this week.

“Living” and Hunger

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The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt for today is “Living.” Throughout this week we have been looking at hunger and fullness in our devotional, but I wanted to take a moment to note that there is more than one type of hunger.

Last fall I spent a lot of time walking and praying. One place I went for an extended walk was in Chenango Valley State Park. If you spend enough time in Chenango Valley State Park, you will realize that there are definitely places where a lot of people travel and places where few people travel.

During my first few visits to the park, I spent a lot of time walking around the large loop which surrounds one of the lakes and crosses over what could be called the isthmus between the two lakes. As I continued to visit over the years, I found various walking paths down near the edges of the lakes, but there was one path that always tempted me. It just sort of went off into nowhere from behind a picnic shelter.

I wondered what might be back behind that picnic shelter visit after visit until I was so hungry to know what was back there that my dog and I went out exploring. We hiked, hiked, and hiked some more. Eventually we came out of one section of the path and found ourselves at the top of a hill looking over Chenango Valley. The view was breathtaking and there was this cute bench setup for people to rest and look down upon the valley.

An overlook in Chenango Valley State Park

This photo has little to nothing to do with actual hunger, but it does have a lot to say about how hunger for knowledge, love, or even food can affect the way we think. When we find ourselves hungry, our priorities can change, our limits can be stretched, and occasionally we realize that God is out there beyond the realm of where we are full and “happy” with the things around us.

I invite you to ask yourself if there is a place in your life where you are hungry. Is the hunger meant to teach you something or stretch you beyond the places where you are safe and comfortable?

“Awake” and seeing around us

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

On a spring day of last year, I was out and about with my camera when I noticed something in the nearby woods. It was May and the weather was beginning to warm up. Life was blossoming everywhere and it seemed like everyone (including the animals) had places to go and things to do.

Cars drove by, birds flew overhead, and this deer ran down the side of the road. As I contemplate the #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt of the word “Awake,” I wonder if this is the only image of this deer in existence. Does anyone think of this particular deer today? If I hadn’t opened my eyes to see the world around me, would there even be a trace of this one deer in the world?

If still wandering the roads, I hope this deer is doing well. If not, then I pray what was good and holy in this deer is kept safe and well in the hands of the One who brought it into being. As I cannot know, I am simply grateful that I was awake enough to see when this momentary blessing came to pass when our two paths through this world crossed.

In our devotional today, while reading Luke 21:1-4, we see that Jesus was also a fan of being awake enough to notice the world around. As Jesus sat in the temple, a widow with two small coins gave all of the coins that she had to live on to the temple treasury. She had only two coins to live upon and she had the audacity to give both of them for God’s work.

Jesus noticed this moment when a woman with very little put everything into the offering plate. When we read this story in church, I often think about those words from the Beatitudes. Blessed are the poor, for they will have the kingdom of heaven. I pray that those words are true because of faithful people like this widow that offer everything to God out of a place of poverty.

As a clergy person, I have to say that it humbles me to think that some people give their last coins to God and I live off of a salary drawn from those offerings. It is humbling and challenging to think that I have food because of someone’s offering. Such offerings made to God certainly cause me to think twice about how I spend my paycheck. If Christ was awake enough to notice the two coins offered by this widow, I cannot imagine ever being comfortable abusing or misusing my paycheck.

I think clergy, especially clergy with any amount of affluence, should see such stories and understand the phrase “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

“Protect” and the Withered Hand

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt for today is “Protect.” The scripture reading in our devotional today is a story (found in Luke 6:6-11) of Jesus healing a man on the Sabbath. The individual had a hand that is described in the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible as being “withered.”

While the daily prompts have generally fit nicely with our devotional, today’s prompt is a bit challenging. I do not always do yoga, but I have been known to stretch ideas when necessary. Hopefully I will not stretch the idea of protecting too far.

What an interesting thing it is to see Jesus love someone and have compassion despite the fact that other people did not see his actions as being holy or righteous. The healing Christ performed on the Sabbath may have been fine on another day, but to violate the Sabbath commandments to avoid work seemingly struck them as a violation of the law.

At one level, I have to admit that I find the reaction of the religious leaders to be an understandable reaction. Their reaction might even be seen as admirable if you consider the extent of their commitment to their faith. While their heart was clearly in a different place than Jesus’ heart, it is understandable that there might be a push towards a very strict faith. The people in our story were living in a world that seemingly had turned against the people of God through the powerful forces of foreign empires and armies. They believed fiercely in their faith because they were likely concerned about losing their way if they loosened their grasp.

Still, as admirable as their tenacity was in such circumstances, they still missed the point. Jesus saw an individual who was hurt and who needed compassion. The people were so focused on the rules that they lost their perspective. I wish I could say that this was a problem that has disappeared over the centuries, but the modern church has often struggled with compassion and love when confronted with hurt people who are easily labeled as “sinners.”

Lily the Dog watching over us

In choosing a photo to portray this point, I went through my old photos and found a picture of my dog Lily standing underneath the trees in one of our favorite spots on the Interloken trail in the Finger Lakes National Forest. Lily looked so noble while looking around to make certain that everything was safe and that we were alone in the fields.

I still do not know how to tell a dog that we are sitting in the middle of a pasture that is fenced in on every side. There are no predators in the field. On that particular day, there weren’t even any cattle in sight. We were in an empty field and there was no reason to be anxious.

I have noticed over the years that we often get our hackles up and prepare to defend ourselves and our faith from threats that really aren’t threats. At the best of those times, we look like Lily being overprotective in an empty field. At the worst of times, we end up causing or threatening real harm to people who have done nothing more than have a withered hand on the Sabbath.

Personally, I plan to spend some time today thinking about the fact that there may be places in my life where I am dead set on protecting something and possibly missing the forest for the trees. I know that my dog isn’t the only silly creature in my home.

“Alone” and Compassion

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt for today is “alone.” What a word for contemplation, especially for a father in the midst of working his way through a separation! “Alone” is a word that I have pondered many times over the past few months.

A phrase stands out in our devotional reading for today: “Even when put in a challenging place, Jesus responds to challenge with compassion.” If we are called to become more like Jesus during this journey towards the cross, then what does it look like when we seek to respond to our challenges with compassion?

When writing this section of the devotional, my life was in a far more different place. As I work through this devotional alongside the members of my church, it is with a sense of wonder. Who was the person who wrote these words? I remember the hours working on this devotional, but now see the passages with different eyes and definitely answer the questions differently than I would have when I wrote this devotional.

In selecting a photo for today, I wanted to think about what it means to truly be alone. At the beginning of this oddly horrifying and challenging set of circumstances, I found myself filled with grief over the quiet house, the silent bedrooms, and the challenges of cooking for fewer people. Now, I find myself often coming across beautiful and wonderful things that are bitterly sweet.

Black Diamond Trail in Trumansburg, NY

I took this photo on a cold winter’s day while walking with my dog down a nearby trail. The path was empty of anyone, although there was clearly evidence that I was not the first person to enter the woods. For the entirety of the journey, I was alone with my dog. The wind blew through the branches, the dog snuffled through snow drifts and marked the snow, but it was otherwise silent.

It was beautifully still and silent. A world of icy stillness and solitude for just my dog and me. The sunlight shone through the branches and the snow sparkled underneath golden beams. It was truly amazing that I was able to see such beauty and it felt like that moment was for me and me alone. In the beauty and quiet, I felt as if God was walking right there with me.

It was sweet to know that I still matter enough that God draws near to me in such still spaces. It was sweet to know that God loves me deeply and truly despite the challenges of the past few months. It was also bitter to realize that I might have shared such a moment with my children a year ago.

How do I respond to these challenging moments with compassion? How do I love the people who have broken my heart through either their choices or simply doing their work? These are thoughts for my journal and not my blog, but I can state that this is where the journey for me begins today.