Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (24 of 24)

Uncovering Joy - Whatever 

“For I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was it taught it, but I received it though a revelation of Jesus Christ. You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the tradition of my ancestors. But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.” (Galatians 1:11-17) 

Joy is a gift. It all comes to be in the middle of everything that is going on around us. Therefore, it is not difficult to uncover joy. In fact, joy is just waiting to burst into the room and take everyone to a new realm of being - the Reign of God. There is one problem. The room can be so full of our agendas, egos, desires, and expectations that joy cannot be seen or heard. We can be so consumed by creating the life we want for ourselves that we miss the presence of the joy of the Reign of God even when it is standing in the same room with us. 

Again and again I have said that I am not a person of great discipline when it comes to practicing meditation or a life of prayer. And yet, God doesn’t let people like me miss out on the party that is available through contemplation. I truly believe that God’s Spirit of Life has a way of backing into us and bumping us and making a bit of unwanted noise so that we will turn - even if just for a brief moment - and lose control of everything we claim to control. I’m sure it happens to all of us. In fact I would go so far as to say this Spirit of Life is always throwing things into the day to help us see God’s Reign a bit more clearly - even if just for moments at a time. 

When I am presiding at worship in our congregation - even though we practice what some have called a joyfully-low, high liturgy - I am the one wearing a robe and the stole of my ordination. Even a visitor would have a way of knowing that I must be a leader in the community - liturgical garb has that poke-me-in-the-eye presence. As a presiding minister in worship I try hard to keep the flow of our historical liturgy moving in a way that is respectful and yet down-to-earth. Too often, liturgy can create an atmosphere of inhospitality simply by the way it is led and the way we carry ourselves. Having said that, I find that there is a wide open area between being too loose and too rigid in the liturgy. 

Sometimes what we do and how we do it is all about the individual leader. I would contend that both the informal leader and the formal leader of worship can play around in the world of individual egos more than in the realm of inviting the gathered community to play around in the world of praise and promise that is worship. Some might say that I can be a bit of a control freak when it comes to how we move through the liturgy. Other people may say I can be a bit too relaxed and irreverent. I tend to agree - with both. However the story is told, gifts have been given to me that shake me and stir me and remind me that I am not in control - nor will I ever be able to be in control. 

There is a woman named Amy. She has been in the congregation well before I arrived almost thirty years ago. Her parents are dear and devote saints within the congregation. Amy has Down’s syndrome. Her father and mother have always taught her to be polite, respectful, considerate, and they helped her learn the patterns of regular community life. Over the years, Amy has preferred to eliminate my title when she refers to me. It is not Pastor Debelak. It is not even Pastor Al. It has always been ‘Al’ or ‘Allan.’ Therefore a greeting will be ‘Hi Al.’ For years her father has tried to encourage her simply to call me Pastor. In the face of all the years of faithful, parental coaching, it is always  Al or Allan.

Through the years, Amy has talked to me about my daughter and continues to ask how she is doing even years after my daughter went away to college and then into her career. When my mother was ill she would ask about her. When my mother died, Amy would tell me how sorry she was about my mother’s death - for years. After my divorce she made sure she was there for me with a few comments and a pat on my back. Within all of her repetition I have found that I am renewed. I chuckle. I beam. I find that my heart becomes open to more than what I have ever expected. She is a gift 

This brings me back to the liturgy and being surprised and having joy spring right into the midst of things. Most Sundays, when the gospel is about to be read, the congregation stands as the gospel acclamation is sung by the people. The crucifer leads the gospel procession out into the middle of the gathered community. As the Presiding minister, I am last in line with the Assisting minister holding the lesson book for the reading. Once we are in position for the reading, I step back from the book and make this kind of announcement: “The Gospel according to Luke.” Within seconds, the congregation responds with: “Glory to you O Lord.” 

Now, let me step back for just a moment. For years we have tried to teach the congregation that simple Gospel Acclamation along with the one that follows the conclusion of the reading: “Praise to you O Christ.” Who knows why these kinds of responses take time to become a natural part of our worship life. And yet - in time - it has worked out. Now we have the announcement of the gospel and then - with that short pause - the response. Yes! 

Just when I can feel so good about having something “work” as the worship team has planned, joy is uncovered and it is called Amy. Within that pause - that very short pause - there comes a voice that breaks through the formality. For all who hear that voice, there is a corporate smile that stretches across the nave. In that moment - in that pause - in that slight bit of silence - in what some see as a solemn moment - in those fleeting seconds when I wonder if the “official” response to the announcement of the gospel will take place - we are all reminded of the essence of all that we do and say. Amy offers her own response to the announcement of the Gospel. It is an uncensored and uninhibited: “Whatever Allan.” The first time I heard it, I came quite close to losing it. I had to take a deep breath and settle back into the pages of that big lesson book being held by the Assisting minister whose eyebrows rose and eyes opened wide with joy.

“Whatever Allan” is a blessed reminder to consider the flowers of the field and the birds of the air. I am reminded of the power of the Holy Spirit that can and does spill out the power of God’s creative wind at any time and in any place so that we do not become consumed by our egos or patterns or lists of things that must be this way and not that way. That which is about to be shared is the reading of the Good News within the gospel lesson. All else is simply “Whatever Allan.” This gospel lesson is the power of the day that transforms lives and lifts us into visions of the Reign of God in Scripture. It is a word that spreads out through the congregation even as the words are being spoken. The congregation is standing to honor the reading in the midst of the community and all eyes are turned toward the cross that marks the place of the reading. Amy’s response cuts to the reason for our focused attention. It is not the robes, the procession, the processional cross, or the formal announcement of the lesson, it is the Good News. All else is simply “Whatever Allan.” 

There are moments when I am so caught off guard by this weekly response that I have come close to tears. In that moment so close to the reading of the gospel and in the middle of all the gathered saints, we are reminded of the joy that is not only about to be uncovered in the Scripture - but also the joy that God makes incarnate in, with, and under all that is ordinary among us. Those tears stir up deep emotions - long-held emotions. Amy’s voice cracks open the shell I use to keep myself safe from them. There, in that innocent response, it is as though the Reigning Lord, Jesus, is really present. The tears are, for me, like the plea: “Come, Lord, Jesus. Come!” Come and open up my heart. Come and let me have a glimpse of the life of your Reign. Come let these words be like seeds planted in my heart that your love and mercy and grace and forgiveness will burst forth within my life. 

When I look at all the work being done within our congregation and out in the community by the followers of Jesus among us, I am overwhelmed with joy. When I look around and see the compassion and acts of mercy and kindness and mutual consolation that takes place among us, I am overwhelmed with joy. When I see people walking through barriers and biases and across boundaries for the sake of others, I am overwhelmed with joy. And then, in the middle of all the Sunday morning worship that follows a wonderful historic pattern and provides the words and music and visuals that are meant to linger with us and shape us throughout the week, joy is available within a solo voice that makes us vulnerable to the word of God’s Reign that is our life: “Whatever Allan.” 

The day may come when I will be at Amy’s funeral or she will be at mine. In my faithful imagination, I hope that the congregation - upon hearing the announcement of the gospel lesson - will boldly insert “Whatever ____!” It is most certain that joy - overwhelming joy will fill our hearts and our lives. We are so enriched by the simplicity of sainthood. We are so in need of those voices that appropriately poke us with such truthfulness, it creates laughter and tears. Long-winded narratives of what we have or have not been able to do are nothing more than rubbish. We are people who are always in the presence of joy being uncovered without having to leave the ordinary and common and the life that is at hand.

TRRR

Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (22 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – Transfiguration 

“Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” – not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.” (Luke 9:28-36) 

It was supposed to be a short stop for some quick work. It was to be as it often was: cup of coffee, a bagel, and open up the computer before I was on my way to a meeting. The coffee shop was unusually crowded with people working at laptops. It was quiet and orderly and intense. As I was about to turn the corner and approach the table I usually try to grab to do some work, there they were. The three of them were standing on the cushion of the bench surrounding the table on which their muffins were scattered like seeds from a biblical story. 

I didn’t know who they were – but they were making sure that their presence was known. The Glory of the Lord shown all around them and I don’t think anyone was taking much note of it. All three of them were wearing hooded sweatshirts – or was it some kind of dazzling apparel?! One was in pink, one was in blue, the other was in red – and they were all clothed in life that was making the room glow from their little enclave in the coffee shop. What faces! What spirit! 

My order was place and payment was made and now I walked to the pick-up area to wait for my bagel to be toasted. It was then that I realized I was in the presence of the fullness of our humanity. Were these the three kings (actually two kings and a queen) bringing the treasure of our humanity right into the midst of this common place of people who have other things to do? I leaned against the shelves filled with newspapers and advertisements, crossed my arms over my chest, and watch the glory unfold. They were going about their business – laughing business, funny business, mischievous business, you’re-only-young-once business. I could only smile and keep watching. There was nothing else needed for the rest of the day. This was enough to sustain me and make me think of what was not - but could be. 

Well, as I stood there watching the glory shine, one of the three looked up to see me looking at them. Big smile – big eyes – I just had to give a wave. It was reciprocated. Worlds blended for a moment. Then they were back at being a team of humanity making much of little and singing out with voices that I could not understand but it was really quite an uplifting piece. Sometimes, we need only be in a distant place to receive the overflowing glory of God’s people when they are at play in the garden of life that can be so utterly full of wonder. 

These kind of divine displays often allow us to enter them and come closer and see things through another perspective. Sure enough, carrying my coffee and bagel back to my table I had to pass right by this small gathering of saints. Being cordial, I gave a simple “Hi!” I have learned over the years that a man with a beard can frighten children of this age so I make it as short as possible. They all look at me and one smiled, grabbed my attention, and said “Hi!” after which the other chimed in and then the other...and then, even after I had passed by, their “Hi!” was repeated as though it was the word of the day as I drifted off out of sight. 

So, is this a passing event? Am I making much of nothing? Was the tenor of my day one in which I was ripe for such a greeting from this realm of glory? Now that it has passed, what good was it and how will it be a part of my day as I continue on through all the rest of the ordinary stuff through which we all move each and every day? I can’t say. Then again, for a moment and in the moments that followed, I saw something amazing – something I too often look past so that I can go along to join in that which I have somehow deemed more worth my time. Even now, within this simple reflection, I realized that those three spilled life all over me. 

Special moments come even when we do not expect anything but the common to appear. On another day and in another mood or within an agenda that would not settle for such an extravagant experience, I may have moved on down the road toward whatever was next on my “to do” list. I know that happens quite a bit – maybe too often. Unfortunately, the training within our adventures in life does not let us take advantage of what is put in front of us. Coming across those three was like standing on a lawn and having someone turn on the sprinkler that is just a few feet away. Wham! Be present...be alive...be joy-filled, and be ready to have the Reign of God draw us out of ourselves and introduce a bit of glory – ordinary glory. 

I don’t expect that I will ever have an experience like the one of the Transfiguration that are shared with us by some of the gospel writers. Unfortunately, when I think like that, I am already saying something that eliminates opportunities filled with surprise and wonder and imagination. As people who are beloved by God, the most common of places and times can be and will be transfigured in order to bring us in touch with the whole story of God’s ongoing creative power. Like Peter and John and James, we may feel as though we just want to go to sleep even during the unfolding of God’s glory. And yet, even as we go to sleep, the glory still shines. We do not have any control over how much and how often the glory of God will brilliantly shining and make a scene among us. In those moments, nothing is demanded of us. We can look on and be overwhelmed and have nothing to say but mere babbling. Isn’t that a form of prayer – being so caught up in the presence of God that we do not even need or have words that fit the event? 

Laughter is not too far away from crying...or is it the other way around? Wouldn’t a full experience of the glory of life be those in which such apparent opposites crash in on one another? Well those glorious three in the coffee shop settled down into a bit of whining and crying. It was time to go and they were not ready to step down from that table bench. It took a few minutes of transforming those wide smiles into floor-dragging frowns before they were ready to be led out the door. How could I not look up from my work as the parade passed by! The smiles were gone and my initial wave to the leader of the pack went unacknowledged as though he was saying – “what are you smiling about buddy?” The final moments of eye-to-eye contact with the last one reminded me that our days can indeed move from one place to another in a matter of moments and then - it is as though they vanish.

It is in the telling of these simple stories that we can remind ourselves to look up again. I don’t care if you are a big-picture person or a detail person, the details can stretch us out into the big picture and the big picture can bring us into the fullness of life within a few details. What is most important is that we are willing to venture out of our picture and seen more than what we have let ourselves see. It will be those moments that move us to see and hear and be present in the glory of God’s Reign among us. More and more, when joy spills out into the room, it never ruins the day. Rather, we may well be shaken or stirred up so that we become open to how God is always spilling out life that will revolutionize our ordinary vision. 

Those disciples who came down off the mountaintop had an experience that was “way out there.” It would not be the norm within what was the ordinary of their peasant lives – at least not for awhile. After time passes, they will learn to see the glory of God all around them even when Jesus is dead and gone. We know that they will become the church that continues to shine just as those three heroes of old on the mountaintop. They would see the possibility of life full of joy and spilling out around them and being spilled out by them. We all need to find ways to be at home within the glory of God that we are told is so available we may walk right by it on our way to what we think are bigger and better things. 

Can laughing children – crying children – be a passageway leading to the Lord of all Hopefulness? I would say yes. More than that, I would bet that we – despite our desires and needs – are having the Reign of God spilled on us through our lives and we most often…don't even realize it is taking place. Unlike Peter, remember that we are invited to simply take it in and learn a bit about the Glory of God. There needs to be no outcome – no monument erected. We are invited to take that glory and continue to see it over and over again. 

TRRR

Uncovering Joy - Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (21 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – A Turn in the Road 

“When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made will, and live.” So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his cloak, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, „Who touched me?‟” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” (Mark 4:21-35) 

There was a light fog scattered over lawns throughout the neighborhood. It was as though there was not enough weight to the cloud-like formations to let the fog really settle in. I made sure that as I walked on the street I needed to be facing oncoming traffic. I knew that I would need to be very aware of the need to jump up onto the curb and then a lawn as a vehicle approached. The wisps of fog were enough to conceal activity. I’m sure a driver could be surprised by running into a sudden cloud of fog after a bit of morning clarity – and completely miss my presence on the road. That scenario would be amplified by a cup of coffee in hand or a cell phone conversation. I was moving among clouds – we all were. 

I’m not one who likes the images of people up in the clouds. For me, these are the images of cartoons. These are images of angels and the saints-long-gone now overlooking the adventures of those who still are a part of the community of saints – that is, those of us alive and moving from moment to moment wondering about what will come next and who we will be in the mist of what is considered “next.” 

One image that grabs me about those angels and saints looking over the edge of clouds is that they are completely aware of the action “down here.” But down here, where we are walking and living and experiencing both joy and pain - life is unfolding for the first time. We are not spectators ready to see what will come next. Here and now is the unknown that may come about by chance. Here is the quagmire of bias and prejudice. Here is the unbounded laughter. Here is the deep despair that can overwhelm and lead some to go home – forever. Here is the joy of being found and knowing what it means to be welcome and safe. Here is the utter disconnect that happens when we forget about them and those who are not a part of our group. Here is now - without knowing what is about to be. 

The fog reminds me that there is no separation between “up there” and “down here.” The saints of God walk together through all time and every place. We are a part of more than what we are able to call our own little world. And yet, there are no puppeteers steering us toward this and away from that. Rather, when we walk through the fog, we are handed a vision of how the Reign of God is at hand. It is no surprise that deep foggy days must have been quite an experience to ancient civilizations as though the heavens were here at hand. In our biblical storytelling, the clouds that lingered on the mountaintops were so often associated with the presence of God. Those clouds were “up there” and yet “up there” were places we from “down here” could go at times - like Moses at Sinai. Then again, those clouds “up there” often visited with us “down here” - fog changing our ability to see even what is so familiar. 

Great storytelling goes on and on about the mix between “up there” and “down here” or, you could say, the mix between heaven and earth. They can be epic stories or simple stories of daily adventures. In that early morning fog of my walk, I must admit that I wondered about what will come in the middle of my wandering through the early-morning world that looks a bit like the stereotypical notions of a here that also carries with it a bit of there. 

A quick turn around a corner brought me out of my preoccupation with fast-walking, doing my push-ups, and making sure I was safe from passing vehicles. There in the fog - barely visible through the darkness of early morning and the silent movement of those earth hovering clouds – a woman was helping a little boy into the backseat of a car that was parked in a line of other cars outside a small apartment building. 

Let me pause here. It takes me all I can do to get myself out of bed and go out onto the streets of our neighborhood to walk and exercise for forty to fifty minutes. Some days, I blow it off...because I am able to do that. I reset the alarm and rest in bed for another hour. On other days, I make plans to walk at another time or tell myself that the day will be busy enough and I will be doing plenty of moving around within the day’s routine. There are so many different worlds spinning within the fog that covers over us. In the fog of that day I happened to walk through a few moments of a life so different from my own. 

When we are given the opportunity to walk through the times and lives of others, we are given times of prayerful contemplation. This is another part of what I label as urban spirituality. Within the ordinary as I know it – was the ordinary of another world. The simple seeing of that which is not me can be enough to pull me beyond myself and learn to appreciate the wideness of this reality where heaven and earth merge within what often looks as mysterious as fog. 

The woman with her young son was obviously a healthcare worker. We all know the dress. Though the colors and patterns vary it is still a familiar uniform in our society. These are blessed folks who go off to be with the most vulnerable in our society – the ill - the dying - the frightened - the lonely - the recovering - the beloved who are wounded in body or spirit. The first shift would be starting soon and she was on her way in the fog. Sticking in my mind and embedded in my heart was the little boy – waiting patiently as he stood by the car ready to be picked up from the street and put into the car seat already in place for him in the back seat. There is always more to life than that in which I see myself. 

I wanted to speculate about their life. As much as I quite naturally do that, it would have been a luxury. Instead, I carry this encounter with me as a reminder. As we move along in the fog of life, each turn in the road makes available to us the “something more” of life and the diversity within our journeys. Moving along the way, I may have many concerns racing through my head and occupying my mind and actions - but my life is not all of life. Sometimes I think this is how we become more and more aware of that which is beyond us. We may find ourselves hit by oncoming events that we cannot avoid - and they change us. Then again, it will also be those sudden and unexpected glances that pull us out of ourselves so that we may be blessed by the mere presence of the stranger and another part of God’s unfolding presence among us. 

This moment in the fog reminds me of the woman in Mark's gospel who was always nearby but never allowed to be fully present. She was pushed off into a dense fog so no one would see her. But just as the fog moves and we begin to see clearly here and there, we are thrust into more than we anticipated. The woman who came busting onto the scene in order to reach out and touch the opportunity for healing as Jesus was walking though the mass of people pressing in on him, didn’t even get a hearing. Jesus was on his way to saving a young girl and attempting to make his way through the crowd when there was a turn in the road – a surprise - a simple touch. We are not told what happened in and around that scene. We don’t know what was the “word in the crowd” when the movement of the day was turned to take note of this silent woman in the midst of this merging of heaven and earth – the Reign of God. 

In my faithful imagination I wonder about the next days of that woman’s life - healed after twelve years of being hidden away – walked past by others – having to get out of the way of others. I wonder too about the next days of those from that village. How do you continue on the way when you begin to see a part of life that is not your own story - filled with your own concern? How do we make our worlds merge together so that they can be one? Do we simply pass by or can we – in the simple act of passing by – come to see life in a way that changes how we engage the world around us? 

I expect that within my life I will make wrong turns along the way. I expect that when I go around a corner, there may be something I had not anticipated. There is something about turning a corner in life that can be frightening - so frightening it can keep us hanging back rather than moving forward. Just this morning - as I was once again walking through the neighborhood - I found myself caught up in all the action and motion and living that was going on as I turned each corner and pressed on down each street in the middle of the morning darkness. Most of it was predictable...the same house lights turned on - the bends in the roads - the shadows from the streetlights. But then, as I passed through an intersection there appeared to be a pack of dogs gathering as the base of a dip in the road. My heart dropped. With each step my pace slowed until I was at a complete stop. Panic. And then, a head turned – a deer. Urban deer! There were eight to ten deer who calmly but readily trotted off away from me. A turn in the road and there a young family begins the day - a woman reaches out to touch Jesus - a band of deer venture onto the asphalt road and well-mowed lawns. What’s next – the Reign of God!? 

TRRR

Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (20 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – With Laughter 

“God said to Abraham, “As for Sarah your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said to himself, „Can a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Can Sarah who is ninety years old, bear a child.” 

A good laugh is jarring. Most often it is not anticipated. It bursts out. It can become utterly uncontrollable. It can become so deep and thorough it hurts and feels as though we might die. Laughter is a reminder that we are not in control of the day. It is not only a good reminder - it is the truth. It is my opinion that laughter is the work of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of God has a way of reaching in and tickling us right when we are so sure of ourselves that our lives are being consumed by our certainty. The Spirit breaks our controlled spinning so that our lives become a bit unraveled and we are given the opportunity to re-view our grand plans and wonderful ideas. 

I find it odd that some people try so hard to be in control of what they do and what people around them do. I am also willing to say that I write about myself here as much as I write about others. We all need to be tickled and burst open with life that is so full it expands our lungs as much as it expands our awareness of being alive. The roar of laughter that abruptly fills a room changes the character of the people who are touched by its sound and its chaos and its apparent foolishness. The change is not always for the best. A table full of people unable to contain their laughter while visiting a “nice” restaurant will often bring with it glances of intolerance from others. Then again, laughter ignited at one table can be a trigger event that can lighten up the whole room. Strangers begin to smile at one another and – I would suggest – other people may be set free to let loose. Joy is uncovered. Laughter once isolated to one table may become a common part of the ambiance created throughout the room. 

I remember a regular trip to the confessional on a Saturday afternoon. This was a discipline that went with being Roman Catholic. As I grew older, several of us – all teens – would go to confession together. This was usually as we were on our way to what really mattered to us that day. As you might expect, a bunch of teenage boys streaming out of the confessional and doing our penance was like a hillside of dry brush during the hot, dry, days of summer in southern California. One spark...one brisk wind...one bit of fuel, and there was a fire ready to be whipped up for all to see and hear. The laugher would become unstoppable. It would be more powerful than the looks of distracted and devotional saints who were probably praying for us to get up and leave the sanctuary. 

In that laughter that split our guts and made us blow streams of snot from our noses and grab our chests because we thought we were about to die - that gathering of obnoxious teens now reminds me of the Spirit of Life that is a gift to all the saints. Laughter that rolls or bursts from our guts is the kind of laughter that is uncontrollable. The more we tried to stop laughing we realized that more laughter would come – any moment. What is remarkable to me as I am writing this is that it would not take much at all for me to burst into laughter. Even now - even so far from the pews of St. Theresa Church - even with strangers around me - once we have been tickled and have erupted into uncontrollable laughter, it is always a present possibility. 

The Spirit of our God delights us and reminds us that anything may drop into our lives and we may quite simply burst wide open with a touch of life – unexpected life. Laugher is downright embarrassing. We laugh and we quickly cover it up. Our mouths are thrown open. Our voices burst forth with sounds that are out of character. Our bodies thrash about. Our eyes appear like sauces brim full with tears. And yet, it comes to an end and the day feels like a day that rises out of a prolong thundershower full of wind and pounding rain. Laugher brings clarity. Sarah and Abraham both had their time to laugh in the presence of God. I think it must have been a roaring sound – embarrassing but uncontrollable. Within their laughter came an understanding of the possibilities within the day that previously would not be considered – at all. 

When I am with groups of pastors and we are attempting to be under some control and in some way be presentable in our conversations, I like to remind myself that laughter is only a breath away. I don’t mean that I’m constantly trying to come up with a “turn of a phrase” or a twisted remark – though I do that at times. Rather, I try to remember the sheer humanity of who we are. It is the time when our shells are cracked open – from the inside. Something may be said or something is done or something is seen and the laughter of years spills forth. It is in this gushing that we become so vulnerable and available to one another that bonds are formed – even if we forget the reason for the laughter or the event that brought forth the laughter. 

At one of our meetings of pastoral colleagues, we shared a bit of the lessons for the upcoming Sunday. We talked about how things were going in our congregations. There are ups and downs in those conversations. Most of us were pastors in smaller urban congregations and amid the joys there were also struggles. It was in that venue that I pulled out something that was given to me by another colleague the day before our meeting. It was called “The Poopie Sheet.” I asked if people wanted me to read the list. I thought some of it was pretty funny and sensed that a little levity would be good for us. 

Well, it would not be an exaggeration to say that the room cracked. One colleague who was able to pull off a very professional and pastoral image was standing near a table with a cup of coffee in her hand. There was a burst of initial laughter. It was somewhat contained but very present and ready to be released. I read another piece from the sheet and the curtain that attempts to contain us ripped wide open. The professionally dress colleague in a business suit and Episcopal collar roar onto the table – almost rolling off of it. She could not contain herself. None of us were able to breathe because our laughter was so grand we were sucking the air from that room and the only thing left to take in was the air and spirit of more laughter. 

Who knows why things spilled out that day and filled the room with such intensity? It may have been the words on that list we read. Then again, it may have been the need – the deep need – to be free and open and exposed and have that all happen in the middle of a community of trusting people. I would propose that we need to be able to fall off this cliff of laughter and not worry about the free-falling nature of such a time. To fall off that cliff with others expands the experience. It cannot be enforced. It cannot be planned. Then again, we can be prayerfully aware of how we each need to be a part of community that is not too afraid to drift off the edge and have our lungs be filled with a spirit of release that really does set captives free. 

When the Spirit of life spills over into our lives, it may not be in the form of our own laughter. During a recent attempt to focus and write the devotion for our weekday blog, I was reading and writing and trying to make some connection to the offering from the book at hand. That is not always easy. It is a good exercise – a good devotional act for me. In the middle of that time by myself, I heard one of the baristas laugh. It was so full and bright and loud and crisp and over-the-top, I expected that it was a simple outburst that can take place when a joke is told or we see or do something totally inappropriate – a laughter that rushes in and then quickly subsides. I could hear the laughter above the music trickling in through my earplugs and took a deep breath because it was such a wonderful distraction. 

The laughter didn’t stop. The intensity of laughter didn’t stop. I started to wonder what could possibly bring about such a fullness of laughter that the room was completely captivated by the sound. You could not hide in a corner away from it...you could not cover your ears to dampen its power...you could not focus so much on the work at hand that the laughter would go unnoticed. That’s when I took off my earplugs and told myself that this was a gift. She continued to roar. There would be a break and then again, laughter gushed...gushed...and gushed some more. I didn’t join in the laughter, I sat there and listened. I was whisked away to unnamed places and times when this kind of comic relief filled my life and sent me tumbling into moments of vulnerability that were quite uncontrollable. I looked around and others were sitting with faces interrupted by huge smiles. 

In her laughter was a reminder that there can be more to the moment at hand than the work and agenda I place upon myself. The length of her laughter could have been distracting to some. If I needed to “get things done,” I may have moved outside or gone to another place. It is becoming more and more apparent to me that these laughter-filled interruptions remind us to breathe – to hear the explosion and know that there is this Spirit of life that can and will erupt and offer us a package of wonder and a taste of something more – even if we cannot put a name to what that “more” might be. 

When we laugh, life is born anew - joy is uncovered. The deep breath that must be taken in to help the fullness of our laughter explode into the world is like that first breath at birth. The traditional picture of a doctor slapping the newborn on the butt to pull out that cry that signals that life is at hand is a powerful image for me. For when we laugh, it is that same breath. It can and is the beginning of life that is not ours to control but ours to enter as a gift. It is also a reminder of the breath of life that sustains us even when we are aging like Sarah and Abraham and think that we are at the end rather than another beginning. This Spirit of God never ceases to tickle us and make us look again at whose we are and who we are called to be with at this very moment.
TRRR

Uncovering Joy - Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (19 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – Within Darkness 

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, „You shall not murder‟; and „whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.‟ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother of sister, you will be liable to judgment; and it you insult a brother of sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, „You fool,‟ you will be liable to the hell of fire...” (Matthew 4:21 - 22) 

“You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.‟ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as you heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43-48) 

There are times when darkness prevails. As difficult as it might be to see the underside of life come to the surface and be displayed in the news or on the pages of newspapers, we can push that off onto others. The underbelly of life happens out there – or so we think. We can distance ourselves from evil and its many antics by isolating ourselves in places we think will keep us away from such realities. To do that, we move into other neighborhoods...we avoid that part of the city...we keep our circle of people small and well-groomed to our wants and needs...we do not allow anyone to care for our children unless they are family. The list can go on and on. These are simply some personal ways of dealing with the sides of life we would like to avoid. 

Evil and the power of darkness have ways of spilling over just like unbounded joy and spontaneous laughter. It enters swiftly without much warning. I find the power of such actions to be unbelievably powerful. When we read about one incidence of a robbery in the neighborhood, people begin to take a second look at others passing through or simply by the neighborhood. If another robbery occurs – even months later – people start talking about security systems and block watch. From there, it only takes a news story about the presence of evil in a distant neighborhood or another section of town to make folks consider moving to a place that might not be “this close” to those kinds of people. Remember, nothing terrible or harmful has happened to us - we simply let it have power over us. Just the smell of evil or a comment made about that which could happen here and to us is enough to cause people to recoil and want something else – something more in control. 

When darkness spills over into our lives, it is not always coming from “out there.” The stories and fear and anxieties are often more manufactured from within us than coming from outside. The news of the day or the interpretation of the news of the day gets whipped up and it all too quickly becomes something knocking at our door. Yes, there are some awful things that go on in the world and in our neighborhoods – but we each do quite a bit of spinning. We then must add onto this spin - the spin of the marketplace. One bit of reinforcement to our internal spinning accentuates our spinning. When this comes from an outside person or group that seems to have some authority - our low level fear or anxiety ignites into full-blown panic. This is one way we manufacture the need for warfare. Many times there is no need for war and all its many promises of security. Unfortunately when we sense a threat and that threat is amplified by powers around us - look out. 

I want to step back though. Like that glass of water that spills over at the dinner table and creates a stir in our lives so that we might see the Reign of God around us and experience the joy of its presence, I find that darkness can spill over just as easily. I would suggest that as it spills over, it has the power to subvert any and all desire we have to be people who call ourselves followers of Jesus. Just as quickly as my mind moves from one thought to another, I can be overcome by my own brokenness. As that happens, I act out of that internal reality and let go of hopefulness and compassion and mercy and joy and loving kindness. In some way, you could say that in those instances the darkness that spills out into the room is the darkness within me and not that of the world around me. 

The darkness that spills out into the day may be a part of me I never see. Darkness can be so much a part of me and the life situations from which I come that I don’t even consider the fact that I am a part of the brokenness that perpetuates unrest and fighting among us. It is in these situations that there is the great need for the stories of our faith communities. These are stories that never let us stand alone with the voices of fear and anxiety that seek to turn us onto their path through life. Yes, “love your enemy” is as real as “take up your arms.” And yet, we are more likely to arm ourselves against one another than we are able to extend ourselves as instruments of loving kindness. The stories that have been generated within the community of Jesus’ followers are stories that seek to keep bringing us home. This home is a place where we are out of control - a place of utter freedom, unending security, and joy - a peaceable Reign. 

For me, the notion of urban spirituality is the discipline of knowing that we are constantly being dumped on by the powers of life around us and we do not need to be a part of the darkness that is so readily mixed in with that dumping. And yet, we do not move out or away from this often fear-filled and anxiety producing context. Rather, we stay put and we deliberately bring into our context the gift of the Good News of the Reign of God - the joy that fills the songs of angels. This is easier said than done. Then again, we are not a part of a mere intellectual discipline. Our spirituality is all tied up within a life that is being wooed into the peace of God’s Reign even as we are being urged to go to war with life around us. 

This is not a “get it right” way of moving through the day. That would be impossible and it would produce nothing but frustration and discouragement. As we attempt to “get it right,” and fall short again and again, it is so easy to fall into the trap of speaking more loudly about “getting it right” and yet remaining part of the powers of darkness. Rather, as we face the day and the many ways the darkness of the world spills over onto us or is spilling out of us, the storytelling of our faith allows us room to re-view and re-engage re-form our humanity.

Once darkness has overwhelmed us or we have been an overwhelming presence of darkness for those around us, we can return home to what we often call the way of Jesus. We can explore how the Reign of God is a part of the reality at hand. The exploration happens by doing. In this moment – in the middle of everything going on around us and in us - darkness can be confronted and transformation can take place. We are able to turn around and distance ourselves from the darkness that can so easily become us. That is a part of the promise of the Holy Spirit. 

This power for new life – this Spirit - is always acting...pulling...inviting us to face the promises of our God. Again and again, we are given opportunities to use darkness as a place to be a part of the light that will not stop making itself know among us even when it appear to be a small light. That light, that Good News, is forever available and forever enough to carry us through the darkest days with promises that present us with new ways to see and hear and speak and touch.

TRRR

Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (18 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – A Touch 

“Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Beloved if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him. And this is the commandment that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.” 1 John 3:18-24 

When God‟s Reign spills over into our day, it may not be within a grand avalanche of experiences that simply overwhelms us. One of the reasons some people venture out of the ordinary flow of the day – a flow that can appear and feel quite hectic and filled to the point of boiling over – is the need for space. This space and the quiet gives us time to settle in and reacquaint ourselves with ourselves. 

A walk in the woods can help our eyes heal. We begin to see the trees with all their diversity...the leaves and how they shout out with distinct faces...the ground and how it is firm under foot as we go along the path but soft and spring-like as we move away from the path. That same walk – out away from the movement of the ordinary and common – reminds us of how our world blossoms with textures that so often go unnoticed and are often unrecognizable. Out there, away from the pavement and that building and the other people, it is like we begin to appreciate the smell of nothing-at-all. Then again, we are realizing that there is a smell to this nothing-at- all. It can change from one turn in the path to another. It can be sweet to our senses and then downright repulsive. The smells are simply not what embrace us as we move through the spaces we already know so well. 

I’m not an outdoors person at all. I love being outside but I’m not a great camper. Having said that, one of my most sensuous experiences in my life came on a camping trip I took with a handful of students back in college. There was a small river, canoes, and no pressure to be anywhere. At one point of our weekend, I laid down in the water. It was just barely deep enough and moving enough to keep me afloat as floated down stream. I was lost. Lost is really, really, good sometimes. I was lost in the soundlessness of having my ears under the water and the fullness of the sky as clouds went by and branches were reaching across the water from both sides of the river. 

When I need to relax and want to find a way to pick myself up and be put down into another place and time that might help me to that, I go back to the river – I float. And yet, as I think back to that time of being a floatation device along that small river, it is a time spilling over with stimulation. On so many fronts of that contemplative moment, stuff is going on and on and on. It could be that the stimulation was so intense and varied that for a short time I was knocked senseless. For a moment in time there was no time and there was no need and there was no urgent work that was attempting to pull me back to the real world and there was nothing that I judged as being out of place. I know my wife, Karen, wonders how I can fall asleep so quickly. Sometimes...I‟m just floating. 

I don’t often have experiences of floating along a stream...really floating – wet, chilled, and weightless. Most often, I am moving within a stream of life within the city. There are rapids and bends and straight sections – but I’m moving...always moving. From one task within the day to the next, there is purpose to the movements and a need to be deliberate about where I go, how long I stop, and what will take place when I do stop. Out in the woods and back in that river I was being touched again and again by a life giving movement that would not let me go. It was like many newborn children who never have to worry about whether or not someone is nearby within arm’s reach. There is touch after precious touch, ready to be given and always ready to be received. 

In a society that is very worried about touch, it can be difficult to be drenched in touch that helps to bring a sense of security and warmth and peace. There are plenty of handshakes. That is part of a ritual. Most often touch like that is almost as though there is no touch. It is mandated. It is such a commonplace action that it often is more of an expectation than an act of bringing people together for a time of conversation and fellowship. Even the “passing of the peace” in worship is often less than the kind of touch that is able to help us re-create and re-image. Sometimes it seems as though the most hand-shaking congregations share more of an agenda of what must be done than a simple, wide-open, greeting of peace. 

As an adult I have not had to stay in the hospital for any extended time. For a number of years, I would go to the emergency room for what seemed to be heart problems. Over three years, we discovered it was something completely unrelated to my heart. At most I would spend a night in a holding area of the emergency room. Even when each of my Achilles tendons ruptured over a nine year span of time, I was in and out. Like the linens and the folded back- less garb that we are handed as patients, everything is usually quite crisp and hygienic. Touch takes place with purpose behind it. This needle must be put in that arm. The nurse’s hand on the wrist is to catch a pulse. This is not meant to be critical of hospital procedures. I actually find it quite comforting to know that things are being done and someone is keeping watch. This, I guess, is institutional care that seeks to heal and make whole. 

In the mix of hospital protocol where curtains are pulled open and pulled closed and staff is darting from here to there to make sure that everyone is receiving appropriate care, I try to go back to that stream of water – retreating away from all the hospital movement. That simple retreat can really work to calm some of my anxieties and thus some of the physical aspects produced by being in the hospital as a patient. During one of my brief hospital stays I found something quite available and powerful. As I was on the bed waiting for whatever was to come next, the nurse who was there to follow through on one of the tasks of her day put her hand on my shoulder, rested it there for a moment, and told me that “everything is going to be alright.” I went limp. I was in the river. I was floating. A simple touch and a word of promise were delivered by the stream of life that was moving by me. I did not remember who she was. There was no name that I could recall. There was that touch – a touch without a hospital agenda or a liturgical rite – a touch that is able to wash away the cares of the world...my world. 

This can happen here - joy uncovered and utterly present. Spilling over into our lives come the opportunities in which we are soothed by the touch of other and we also may become that touch for the welfare of another. Within the days we think move along under our own power and influence and control, we face opportunities to be connected. The time at hand is always open to the Reign of God to be made known. The love that bridges our differences and our divisions and our structures and our patterns is able to make itself known. No - it must make itself known - and it will. The nurse’s touch was more than likely something she did with every patient under her care. But in that moment of fear and anxiety that I know I don’t let out enough so that it can be readily seen by others, she took the risk to touch and speak and – beyond her knowledge – calm me so that I could float. Without her, I would not be writing this. 

Too often we do not let ourselves spill over into the lives of those passing around us. What a mistake! What an abuse of our presence! Have you ever hand someone take your hand with both of their hands...to greet you...to emphasize a point...to offer a deeper thanks or more deliberate peace? Or what of an intentional reach of a hand that moves through the spaces between us that usually serve to keep us separate and yet this hand comes to rest on your shoulder to offer thanks or offer support or share in a moment of grief – joy – surprise? 

Could it be that the stream is among us? Rather than retreating to another place to find rest and security and peace, we become a part of the engaging manner of peace that seeks to open up the wideness of God’s love that is eternally communal? I’m an introvert and I like my space away and alone. In the meantime, though, I whither and begin to die when I am not liberated to float under the touch of others who may not even know that they can make people like me float and rest and come alive and be assured of life...now and here. 

As a pastor, when I make hospital calls and calls at home, I have been taught that touch is a vital part of the way we share the abiding peace and love that is available among us. Hands placed on the head of a person in a hospital bed. The prayer doesn’t have to be well-crafted. It is the touch. It is the action of separate ones becoming one within a touch and a word that reminds us of the peaceable Reign of our God. The touch of others need not be threatening. It can be a gift that amazes and liberates and spills out into the rest of the day. Within the Rite of Healing, hands placed on heads and shoulders can seem manufactured. Then again, it is a deliberate touch that is sustained and directed and without condition. One of the blessed parts about being touched even in such a ritualized moment is that we can never be sure of how that touch will drench us again with a love that is swirling around us and is now, quite literally, at hand. 

TRRR

Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (17 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – The Face of What Will Come 

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder's den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:1-9) 

When we gather as a congregation to celebrate and take part in the baptism of an infant or a young child, the faces of the congregation tends to brighten. Everyone in the room knows what will take place. Soon, the infant’s head will be gently supported as the baby is held over the large, ceramic bowl. Soon the baptized who stand around the font watching will hear the water being poured over the baby’s head and splashing back into the bowl. Soon the words that shape the water and the moment will envelope the whole gathering. Soon the fullness of our God - the Trinitarian language that reminds us of the fullness of God’s eagerness to be with us and for us - will be answered with the Amen of the congregation. Soon there will be wailing or simple fascination or wild squirming. Soon there will be oil and a cross traced on the child‟s forehead. Soon the baptismal candle will be handed to the sponsors or parents. Soon a bit of salt will tickle the lips of the baptized. Soon and very soon, the reality of our world will touch the wonder of this blessed moment in time. 

When it comes to the children of our congregation, it doesn’t take much to move me. It doesn’t take much to bring a smile that pulls at my lips and cheeks. It doesn’t take much to remind me how to be foolish and free. It doesn’t take much for me to let loose with a roaring bit of laughter. I am always convinced that nothing can go wrong when we bring a sister or brother into the baptized community. I have skipped the Prayers of the Congregation as I was caught up in the thrill and water of the moment. I have stumbled over a name. I have forgotten to address sponsors. I have stumbled over the prayer over the water in that grand storytelling of God’s work in, with, and under the waters of history. And yet, the story of our life within God’s Reign presses on. 

In the middle of all this action at the font there are two parts of this rite that will often overwhelm me. When we turn to the parents and remind them of their responsibilities, I realize that we have no control over what will happen next. We must take the parents at their word. We must know the importance of letting go. We must also remember that the whole community is now responsible to the newly baptized and these parents. They will be the future of what we hold so dearly in the present. We are insisting that everyone take part in the shaping of the future that is in front of us as this babe. This kind of promise is made even when the toddler about to be baptized is so engaged by what is happening and so ready to go running about the nave that she steps her foot into the font and then finding that it brings a chuckle from the people in the pew – does it again...just to make her presence know. Oh my...what will the future be – sheer joy, I bet. 

Then again, we also pray over our children. We pray for God’s Spirit to come – just as promised. It is a prayer for wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and the fear of the Lord. It is a prayer with such potential we may not want it to be fulfilled. It is a calling forth of the promises of God upon God’s people. It is general and it is specific. Do we understand what we are calling forth upon this child? The face of innocence looks at me or looks around or writhes about wondering what is happening. Well, our beloved, you are being handed over to death and new life. 

Within the cascading movement of the day, when life seems to move by more quickly than we would like, it is easy to miss that which can ignite our hearts with hopefulness. That does not mean they are not there bidding us good day. After a long day of what seemed to be busy work that leaves me unfulfilled and wondering what it is that I bring to the world, I was riding my scooter through the neighborhood. All I wanted for now was to sit and have a glass of wine and let the day come to its end. I try to be very aware of my surroundings when I’m on the scooter. People in cars don’t often pay attention to motor bikes and every intersection can carry a bit of danger. Glancing to the left to check out the roadway a few blocks from home, I noticed a family of three coming toward me. The girl was riding a small bike with training wheels, the boy was pushing along on a traditional scooter, and the father was walking right behind them. I was ready for wine and home. And then, as I drew closer, the boy stopped his movement and pointed at me, smiled, and seemed quite enthralled with the scooter. 

Joy breaks into small moments...moments that can pass by without notice...moments that often receive nothing more than a nod or a minor gesture. But that boy...that boy was thrilled at what he was seeing. The joy that he triggered was a bright sky. He introduced me to an opening into the joy that surrounds us all when life in all of its simplicity touches us. I slowed my scooter, pulled back my visor, pointed at him, and as I passed by said, “Wow, what a neat scooter.” I don't know who was more empowered by that moment...I didn’t know which scooter rider was more playfully joyous. It was enough. It was enough to turn the end of the day into a reminder of how we are always being guided into the beginning of the joy of God’s Reign. 

I must have been having a couple of difficult days because the very next day in the cool of the evening I turned onto our street with only a hundred feet before scooting up our driveway and calling it a day. Again, a family of three interrupted the last moments of my ride. Facing oncoming traffic, the mother was walking at the curb, the father was walking closest to the traffic, and their little girl with helmet secure and training wheels allowing just enough of a wiggle to keep her from tumbling was between them. Moments before I was to pass by, there came a tinkling sound. In the middle of her pedal pushing and under the guide of her parents, she was ringing her bicycle bell to grab my attention. O my, little girl...you are like a bright sun to me...you ring with joy...you smile and I am healed. How do you ride past such joy being announced even though you are not ready for joyous ringing? Again, visor went up, the gas was released, and I could only sing out to her about the beauty of her bell and add a simple “thank you.” 

At the end of the driveway as I dismounted the scooter that evening and before I entered my routine of opening the garage door and pushing the scooter into place, I paused and the smile that broke across my face as I passed by that child became a wonder-filled moment of joy wrapped in a few tears and a passing fresh pulse of life. Good grief, is this stuff – this joy – always present within the mix of down days and rigid routines? I think it is - a stream of life that is continuously washing over us. Joy doesn’t always wait to be uncovered - it simply gushes. 

God is constantly pulling back the veil that appears to cover the joy of life even as we drive by on our way to shape the world as we want it. It is not magic. It is not miraculous in the sense that God is right now intervening out there on the street. Rather it is that our God continues to invite us into God’s Reign even as we walk by or drive by or attempt to make our plans rule our lives. We need only open our eyes and ears and give thanks – again and again. 

Contemplation is a living adventure that is the life of the day at hand. When what we see and hear becomes, at that moment, the profound experience of the meaning of life within God's Reign – joy uncovered – there is no more profound contemplation. We are instantly brought within the grand tent where promise and hopefulness and refreshment will abound. 

On another scooter ride in the neighborhood, I noticed that the parking lot at church was unusually crowded. Not only were both of the church's basketball courts full; there were others standing alongside the courts waiting to play. In addition, folks were standing and sitting on and around the parked cars. I was there with my camera so that I could catch some action shots of the players before I had to close the courts for the night. I was darting between the games and completely absorbed in the images I was catching. Now and then I would greet some of the people who were watching the games and simply enjoying a night out. 

I must admit, these courts can become burdensome as I am put in the position of bringing the activity on the courts to an end each night. That burden was beginning to press in on me even as I was interacting with the players and showing them some of the photos I had taken of their action and play. It is wonderful to see the joy in the player’s eyes when they see themselves on film. A still picture of a shot taken or a move made can bring out a smile from the face of someone who usually doesn’t let that show. 

All of a sudden at my side was a boy about six years old. He had his shirt off and wanted to make sure that I took a picture of him. He didn’t need it to be an action shot. He simply wanted me to turn the camera to him and shoot. I did. I then showed him the picture and it was as though the sun was shining down on this precious stone. His smile stretched across to his ears and his eyes filled the rest of his face. I stepped back to take another picture. He leaned against the blue plastic recycling can and let the smile stream. 

We are one people caught up in this constant stream of joy that will not stop or be diverted to another place. It burst into the day right now as we sit in the middle of other things and our agendas and our fears. That smile not only remains in my camera and on the computer, it is here as I write so that I can bring it to mind and smile onto what is about to come. 

The faces of our children shall lead us. They have the power to uncover the hopefulness of the Reign of God, deliver us into that which we cannot anticipate, walk us through that which may be bringing us down, and offer us joy as we see the image of God sparkling in unknown faces. Most of all, these faces of infants and children present us with a promise that need not wait until we have time to consider it. Available in the next passing glance is a reminder of whose we are and how we are a people called to engage the world as though God is utterly apparent and present. 

TRRR

Uncovering Joy: Tales of Everyday Urban Spirituality (16 of 25)

Uncovering Joy – Out of Control 

(Jesus) also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.” 

Mark 4:26-29 

There are so many ways I try to maintain some kind of control in my life. It can be quite fun to catch myself in the act of trying to control the universe – at least a part of it. Here‟s an example of a bit of control within the routine of the day...the week...the year. 

Most days I have oatmeal for breakfast. You might simply say, “Hey, that‟s a healthy way to start the day!” It is. And yet, within that window in time that is the start of the day, oh my...what a control-freak I am. Coffee is started – of course! Then there is the daily pattern of putting out the plate for the fruit and the bowl for the oatmeal. The fruit that will go into the bowl of oatmeal is prepared after I have fixed the fresh fruit plate. Milk and orange juice are taken out of the refrigerator. Juice is poured and then the juice glass and the fruit plate are put on my placemat at the table - juice on the far right corner and the fruit just to the left of the juice. The cloth napkin is placed to the right of the placemat – this is where I will place my vitamins and my fork. The oatmeal is put into the bowl with the “oatmeal fruit” and stirred together. Coffee is poured into a mug and I undo the alarm on the house and pick up the paper off the front stoop. Finally, milk is added to the coffee and to the oatmeal. The coffee mug is placed on the right of the placemat right in front of the juice. The bowl of oatmeal is put to rest in the center of the placemat and the vitamins are brought over from their containers on the microwave. By the way, the placemat set up is done so that I can unfold and read the paper while eating without having anything spill or get wet. 

Everything...has to be - just so. No surprises. The day my wife brought home a rice cooker that also cooks oatmeal - I didn’t know what to do. Can I use this thing? How will I have to reorder my morning rituals? This is not merely a moment of anxiety for a person who can be a bit too controlling; this is a part of the spiritual crisis of life that attempts to have its way with me – every morning. 

Knowing that I can be like this from the very get-go of the morning, I also know that I must allow myself to fall into moments of the day that will surprise me. I find that other people will be that surprise time and time again. It may be in what they say or how they look or the unpredictable manner in which our paths cross. This kind of change and surprise stretches me and becomes a source of great joy. The surprises of the day can also be that which creates anxiety. And yet, if anxiety stops us from being surprised, having our heads turn, and entering life we have not yet experienced, then we will miss the joy of God‟s Reign that is eternally available to us. 

One of the routines of the summer is to ride my motor scooter or car over to the church building and close the two basketball courts on the church parking lot. It is a routine. And yet, I never know who will be there or how things will go when I announce to the dozen or two players that the courts must be emptied. Most often the players are very respectful and go along with the closure because they understand the wishes of the neighbors who live right alongside the courts. This is not always the case. 

As you would expect, there can be the one or two players who are new to the courts or do not know that I am the person who does this most days. There have been some challenges and some incidences that I did not anticipate. In other words, there are times when I am out of control. I have a history of avoiding such times. This goes way back. It is part of my growing up history – my family story – my way of coping. Therefore, I have often had to face my controlling demons that prohibit me from being open to experiences of potential joy. 

I have come to see that I often forget to breathe when my routine is interrupted or I am entering a situation over which I am not in control. So, as I have noted previously, I breathe – deeply...fully...inhale and exhale. On my way to the courts, my breathing is a reminder that each person on that blacktop is beloved. I am not there to control anyone. I am there to be a part of a larger community and that means things will not always go my way. So...I breathe. The breathing reshapes my experience and my interactions. Rather than being a rigid and enforcing presence, I’m free to engage the players with the simple question about the score and letting the closing time be stretched to meet the few remaining points. It may also manifest itself in giving a very brief history as to why I show up to do what I do. The breathing also may give space to one of the many players to step up and do the teaching to the new person. So, in real time, in the uncontrollable moment – I breathe. 

I often say that I am not the bravest soul in the world. To be quite honest, I‟m a bit of a coward. Those basketball courts have taught me that when I breathe and enter the moment with some integrity about who I am and honor others, I am willing to invite in and bring up the needs of the larger community, and I am able to walk into that which is not my preferred situation. The well-being of life in something as simple as a basketball court takes place when the need to control passes by like a breath exhaled. It is in those moments that I am free to be surprised by joy. It doesn’t take much to let anxious moments flow through us when we trust that out God is present in those moments we think we can control. Most often, God becomes visible as we face what is at hand and how God’s image of wholeness and shalom takes shape in ways I had not anticipated – in ways I cannot control. 

One night the courts were full and before I left the house I took our camera and thought I would take some pictures of the action on the courts. I went out a bit early so I would have time to mingle before announcing the closing of the courts for the night. There were a number of new players and as I parked my motor scooter I had to remember to breath and let go so that I could more fully take in the moment at hand. To my surprise, that simple camera and a few action shots brought some of the new players within reach...and maybe I came into reach of them. I was freed up to laugh and enjoy the action without spending my time attempting to control my time and theirs. 

Some of the best avenues of contemplation take place when the wind of life moves among us when we are doing nothing more than riding on a scooter or walking out onto the parking lot. It involves an awful lot of letting go and taking hold. When we practice something as simple as intentional breathing it begins to offer us space to let go. Breathing is natural – we’re all doing it right now – no effort for most of us. Then again, as the situations around us change and they conflict or interrupt what we expected to be able to control, it is very easy to give up our breath. It is not easy to notice when our breathing changes, but it can make a big difference as to how we see what is right in front of us. 

Contemplation in the middle of things enables us to transform how we live within the middle of things. I don‟t think we are called out of the world to engage the world that is right at hand. We are invited to be present within that which is forever changing and inviting us to see beyond our own controlling ways. Like the parable of the Kingdom of God in which there is a person who scatters seeds, the Reign of God comes no matter how we breathe. Yet, when we experience the changing of the face of God‟s Reign growing up among us, the discipline of breathing opens us to what way come next – even that which is out of our control. 

TRRR