Reflections

Ash Wednesday marks the entrance into Lent. Typically, we’d participate in a worship service filled with time for reflection, repentance, and experience the imposition of ashes.

As a pastor, some of the most powerful ministry moments happen on occasions such as this. Reminding folks that they’re God’s beloved dust, knowing that you may officiate at their funeral, hear their hurts, baptize their babes, or sit with them in silence as they come to terms with life stuff. All of it. And marking a baby with an ashen cross? Whoa. Cuts right to the heart.

Post-imposition, the presider’s eye view reveals the stark sea of ashen foreheads. The ash penetrating the skin of our pastor thumbs, wedged into cuticle space, sticking with us long after the sending hymn. Humanity. Frailty. Finitude. In constant need of God’s grace, love, and mercy. Dust and all.

Why do you ash? What if you can’t get your ash in church or haven’t set foot in a church for much longer than a pandemic? God’s got you.

This year, consider other reminders of your dusty, broken, belovedness. Read Psalm 51 in a different version of the Bible than your usual go to. Spend extended time in prayer, conversing with the Creator. Take a walk. Observe your surroundings. What’s speaking to you?

My reminder today was road salt:

Salt spreaders scatter salt to keep the roads safe and clear.
God is clearing your path and protecting you along the way.

The salt makes a mess of my vehicle.
You are dusty just like that Honda, sister.

The windshield…I can’t see. No amount of washer fluid is going to fix this.
You see through your life experience filters. All will be revealed in God’s way and time. Besides, you have all the fluid you need: the waters into which you were baptized.

And now I’ve got salt all over my coat because I accidentally rubbed against my car.
You are dust, my beloved.
You are the salt of the earth.
You traveled in and exited the vehicle safely.
I called you. I claimed you. I named you beloved.
I’ve got you, now and forever.

Thanks for the reminder, God. Also thanks for car washes and constant care. Now let’s do Lent.

“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight, for a very long time, of the shore.” – Andre Gide

Inspirational quotes such as this one sound so pleasing to the ears when we first encounter them. Perhaps in reading the quote you envisioned sailing gently away from the shore on a yacht, cruise ship or even a sailboat as I did. Smooth seas. Sunny day. Not a care in the world. Back to reality. Mind you, I have roughly zero boat piloting skills. Other than rowing or paddling, I likely wouldn’t venture far from the shore. Navigation? No problem. I can read a map with the brightest and best of them. Actual steering and driving the boat? Another story for another time.

Pondering the quote on a deeper level proves more challenging. Think about it. Leaving the safety and familiarity of the shore behind, we venture forward. Whether we simply drift away from the coastline or embark full speed ahead, fear of the unknown sneaks in when we find ourselves in uncharted, unfamiliar surroundings. Discovering new lands sounds great until the shoreline sinks into the horizon.

When lost asea with no sight of the shore, how do we respond? Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me comes to mind. Seriously. Trusting God through the ebbs and flows and currents, we float with hope. God’s grace carries us until we land on those distant shores. Shore not in sight? No worries. God’s eyes are on you. Through every stormy night. Through calm or unbridled seas. Through it all. God has you. New lands await.

The earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. – Genesis 1:2

A formless void. That’s what initiating this website feels like to me. You see, I’ve got a bad case of content discontent. I’m prone to posting heartdumps and other ponderings. While posting those things may be therapeutic for me, what do they offer anyone happening upon this site? Is the content meaningful or inspirational? Am I offering the world anything new or unique? Hmmm.

Does it really matter?

Here goes nothing. Look at me, overcoming an emotional hurdle. I have a gift to share. Whatever shape the content takes will be just fine. Let’s do this.

Well, you have to start somewhere! This is to let you know that I am here and working on some new content.

A few days ago, a spoken prayer on a morning prayer CD that I listen to caught my ear.  I don’t recall the exact words but the gist of the prayer was to be mindful of God’s presence throughout the day, especially in the stranger.

That afternoon I did encounter Jesus, at the hair salon, in the form of a young woman who was clearly and admittedly struggling with some addiction issues. I confess that my discomfort almost got the best of me. Even with training and practice, some situations prove more challenging than others. This was one of them.

Comfort zones are exactly that: comfortable and difficult to step out of!  At a loss for words, I simply prayed silently and listened as she shared her struggles. There was Jesus, amidst this woman’s tale of stolen property, hard times, regret, broken relationships and frustration. Our encounter ended with a few brief words and an awkward, nervous laugh.

Had I not heard that prayer that morning…had I not stepped out of my comfort zone…I may not have noticed the holy in the lowly: my own discomfort and lowliness, the lowliness which I perceive in others and the lowliness of God.  May my eyes be opened to the holy lowly every day. 

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Without a doubt, I love a good road trip. The idea of leaving home with a full tank of gas, some road snacks, a music playlist and a few audiobooks with an open itinerary thrills me. Alas, it seems that such opportunities are becoming less and less frequent as my life progresses. And the daily commute doesn’t offer quite the same level of adventure as the open road does. For now, this free spirit will settle for an occasional family vacation and enjoy the drive time.

My deep desire to hit the road makes me wonder: Am I driving or being driven? Why do I prefer to be behind the wheel? What compels me to traverse the unknown hills, highways and hazards?

This could be a good segue into Jesus Take the Wheel. Cue the music…. Nope. Not going there.

Consider the road trip. The driver is in command of the vehicle. Passengers go along for the ride. Do the ones being driven (passengers) backseat drive? Do they notice the scenery along the way? Do they see the signposts? Do they help navigate? Do they sleep? All of the above?

Being driven requires us to put complete trust in the driver.  Imagine that you call for an Uber and Jesus shows up. Hang on for the ride! When life feels like you’re going full speed ahead, you wonder if Uber driver Jesus has given YOU the wheel as he needed to adjust his sandal. Panic sets in. You can’t do that! Help me, Uber driver Jesus! But he’s there all along to assist. (Remember that he slept in the boat during the middle of the storm?)  It seems it takes situations like this for us to admit the true source of our strength and our complete reliance on the driver.

But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. (James 1:6) Driving or driven? Driven and tossed by the wind of the Spirit, trust the driver. Be alert. Take notice of the scenery. Marvel at the master’s handiwork. Watch for those signposts, markers on the faith journey. Go with God.

My first blog post ever (ten years ago) was titled Returning, so it’s only fitting that my first post on this blog should be titled likewise. As I was moving across the country some years ago, a good friend reminded me, “You’re only moving back to a place you once lived. You’re not the same person you once were.” And so I return to the blogosphere. A place I once lived. Not the same person I once was. God’s cool like that: transforming, healing and renewing. Let’s journey together, shall we?