Encountering Jesus . . .

Many, many years ago as a young Elder I volunteered to take our youth group to Montreat. After that experience I vowed “never again!” Flash forward about a quarter of a century -- I am now doing my seminary internship when I am told by my supervisor that we’ll chaperone the youth group on their annual mission trip. “No, Brad, you don’t understand I don’t do youth trips.” After Christmas I find myself in the front passenger seat of a van with 15 teenagers heading down to work with the PCUSA Border Ministry in Nuevo Laredo.

It was one of the most amazing experiences . . . not the work . . . there wasn’t much of that as once we got down there they decided we weren’t the construction type . . . we had been scheduled to work on laying the foundation for a new building in the medical compound where we were staying. Instead they scrambled to find us work we could do . . . we were assigned to paint the orphanage in the colonia (neighborhood) where we were staying.

The orphanage wasn’t like those we think of where children who have lost their parents or have been abandoned live until they can, hopefully, be adopted. This orphanage housed many of the children from the colonia; their parents placed them there so they would have a place to sleep, running water, food to eat and could get, at the very least, some education. The colonia was marred by abject poverty -- shacks made out of cardboard, sewage running in the streets. As a social worker who early in my career made home visits to some of the poorest areas of the Mississippi Gulf Coast I thought I knew the face of poverty, but I was shocked. And frankly I was worried about the teens . . . white upper middle class kids who wanted for nothing.

After the first day it became obvious that we weren’t going to get a lot of work out of the teens . . . they had found playmates in the kids of the orphanage . . . so Brad and I painted . . . later we were joined by some of the parents . . . our kids and their kids played and got to know each other, despite the language barrier.

As I write this the tears come back . . . for you see all of us experienced Jesus on that trip in ways that none of us could ever imagine. Our trip ended on Epiphany . . . that’s the big celebration in Mexico . . . it ended with Worship and although my little Spanish wasn’t much help in understanding what was being said in that small chapel with plain wooden benches, a dirt floor and in the cold of winter words weren’t needed . . .

We are all just travelers on this journey called life;
Some walk in darkness, while others follow the Light.
We carry our treasures so close to our heart;
Some we let go of while others never part.
And somewhere on this journey we encounter a King
That will change us forever, to Him our treasures bring.
(Lynn Cooper)

A fellow traveler,
Lydia

Balancing Act . . .

I am not sure where the time goes . . . I checked in on my blog today only to find that it has been almost three weeks since I last posted . . . where has the time gone? My goal was that my blogging would be a spiritual discipline for me . . . when it began it was . . . now, more than often I forget . . . this is OK . . . when I need it, it is here . . . but I fear that it is reflective of my own spiritual life right now . . . catch as catch can . . . I tend to keep "busy" with important church things . . . perhaps I am a little more like Martha than I want or need to be . . . I have often thought were I born at an earlier time I would have been a contemplative . . . yet, it seems that as a friend of mine says I have not learn to either say "no" or "to sit on my hands" . . .

As we move into Advent my prayer is that I will learn to slow down and be more like Mary . . .

If you are tired from carrying heavy burdens, come to me and I will give you rest. Take the yoke I give you. Put it on your shoulders and learn from me. I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest. This yoke is easy to bear, and this burden is light. Matthew 11:28-30

Any advice?

Lydia

Politics of hatred . . .

Recently a member of the congregation here suggested that she had been hearing more racist comments in the last six months that she had in the whole previous year . . . her comment made my ears more sensitive . . . although I hate to I have to agree with her.

Having grown up in the deep south white, middle-class I realize I grew up a child of privilege . . . I don't know the reason that this is my life, but it is and I am thankful . . . but it also means that I have a responsibility . . . a responsibility not only as a child of privilege, but a responsibility as a child of God.

Three are a couple of vivid memories about race that stand out for me:

The first was when I was about six . . . we moved to the small Southern town where I grew up . . . driving along the main drag (Jeff Davis!) we pasted the laundry . . . "Mama why would you bring whites only to wash?" . . . my Mama had to tell me that the sign meant that black people couldn't use the washing machines . . . I remember thinking that this was odd.

The second was about 13 years later when I was attending a small liberal arts church related college . . . primarily white students, but a handful of African-Americans . . . several who were friends . . . I night one of the women in my dorm asked if I would drive her and a couple of her friends (women I didn't know) over to the historically African-American universities in town . . . "sure" . . . for the first time I realized how it felt to be a minority . . . it wasn't a comfortable experience for any of us, but it got better as we talked.

Then while I was doing an internship, again in the South, a co-worker and I went to lunch . . . he was an African American Captain in the USAF . . . the restaurant we chose refused to serve us . . . I was shocked and wanted to protest . . . to speak to the manger . . . he wanted to leave, go somewhere else . . . we did.

With the comments I have been hearing since my ears have perked up I realize that we are still living in a country that is deeply divided . . . along color lines -- not just racial color lines, but red and blue lines . . . economic lines -- the haves and the have-nots . . . and among so many other lines of our own making . . . what does this say about having been made in the Image of God? What does it say about Scripture like the Golden Rule and the Matthew 25 text where the sheep and the goats are divided . . . "Lord, when did we see you . . . Truly, I tell you when you did it to the least of these you did it unto me."

Lydia

Where did the time go?

It is hard to believe that I haven't blogged since September 14th! I am not sure where the time has gone . . . time is flying . . . things are so hectic . . . I barely have time to breathe some days . . . I know this isn't good for me, but there is so much to do on so many fields.

We continue to lose members at the church as more people are choosing to leave this area, especially after this last hurricane season . . . more than this, people are choosing not to move into the area . . . lots of "hiring" signs, lots of "for sale" signs with houses not moving . . . I understand the plants/factories are not able to hire people as people aren't willing to move here. And in the face of this the majority of the congregation seem to be giving up . . . yet, we know that there are many in our community who are not connected with any church.

Things in our governing body are horrendous . . . running out of money . . . probably having to cut back on staff which will mean that local pastors will have to carry more responsibility . . . I am not sure that I can continue at this pace . . . several of us will be on retreat in about two weeks to figure out where our governing body goes from here . . . it is both exciting to see that God may be doing something new here, while it is also scary as we will probably be moving into uncharted waters . . . but, of course, in a way we have been here since Katrina.

After the retreat I will begin two weeks of vacation. Perhaps after vacation I will find balance . . . stop being Martha so much and take time -- more time, to be Mary.

Lydia

Grieving . . .

This was a hard weekend for many folks . . . it was a hard weekend for me . . . although the community where I live received little damage from Ike we were expecting more . . . most of us were on edge . . . amazing the little damage we had since our streets were lined with debris . . . the street in front of my house was six feet high and three feet wide from the remnants of Gustav and the eight trees that my neighbors had count down Thursday . . . the debris was blocking the ditch . . . I feared if we got heavy rains the front yard would start flooding . . . this has never happened.


Folks up north about 7 miles from here didn’t make out as well . . . Their homes are not that well built . . . Many live in trailers . . . many of them are fishermen . . . many homes flooded again . . . two weeks ago Gustav flooded these homes . . . even taking some homes . . . 1500 without power . . . Some won’t get electricity for another week if then with new damage.

South west of us areas hit hard by Rita and Gustav were hit hard again . . . and today a colleague of mine E-mailed to say that up where he is damage was worst than Rita . . . he can’t locate some of the members of the church with which he partners . . . several have lost their homes . . . he hasn’t been able to contact some of the other pastors in the area.

And I can’t imagine what the conditions are in Houston, Galveston and other areas in TX . . . I was glued to the television for much of the weekend . . . I am not sure the obsession . . . I wonder if this is what it was like after Katrina? . . . I had no power so no television . . . I remember when I got power back and began seeing the pictures.

Again, today I hear, “we must be living right!” . . . and my response in my head is a string of questions . . . does this mean that those who suffered the ravages of Ike weren’t living right? . . . what does this say about God? . . . what does it say about what we believe about God? . . . do people really believe that God is some Cosmic Chess Master deciding the moment to moment moves in people’s lives? . . . what happens to free will, even odd as it sounds the free will of nature? I know the answers for me . . . I know that God is no Cosmic Chess Master . . . I know that God is grieving over what so many of His precious children suffered and are suffering in the face of these winds, wind-driven water, and heavy rains, tornadoes and fires . . . God is grieving for those who lost their homes . . . God is grieving for those who lost their lives and for the families who mourn their lost . . . God is grieving for those who are lost and awaiting rescue. God is grieving . . . And so are we.

Now the body is not made up of one part but of many . . . If one part suffers, every part suffers with it. I Corinthians 12: 14, 26a

Lydia

Here we go again . . .

I don't want to make light of what is happening right now or what is to come later to our brothers and sisters to the East of us with Ike . . . I am praying for their safety

Yesterday as I was leaving the church for a hospital visit the winds were whipping up . . . the sky was dark . . . after the visit I am barely out of the parking lot when the heavens opens and the rains come . . . they come hard. Later at Bible Study I learn that school is cancelled for Friday . . . "we're expecting flooding tomorrow" I am told . . . I get a lesson in our pumping system . . . even with heavy rains I have a pool outside my back door . . . only once has it threatened my floors . . . across the Lake I am hearing that there is 7 feet of water already in streets . . . houses there are on stilts . . . this is just the start of the rising waters that Ike is bringing to this area . . . what must it be like in TX? God have mercy.

This morning I woke to the tornado warning . . . I have been up only an hour (day off, sermon done!) and the warning has gone off twice . . . I have my chair in the hall, just in case I hear a train. During Camille (1969) my family stayed at home . . . stupid . . . at one point I asked my Daddy . . . "Daddy, why are the trains running?" . . . "Honey, those aren't trains those are tornadoes." . . . so I am listening for trains . . . FLASH: Highway 90 (26 miles) in South MS from Ocean Springs to Bay St. Louis is closed as water is rising over the highway. God have mercy.

My mother has asked me . . . ministers get these questions . . . as if we have all the answers! . . . "why is all of this happening?" . . . I interpret her question -- "why does God allow this to happen?" . . . how many folks have this question roaming in their heads and spirits? . . . I remind my Mom of what she and my Dad told me about Camille . . . God didn't cause Camille to happen . . . and I remember the conversation I had with my theology professor about this years later . . . "yes, Lydia, God didn't cause Camille but God is responsible as God made nature to work as it works." But now I wonder . . . have we don't something to interfere with God's good creation . . . air pollution, misuse/abuse of the earth, over grazing, coastal erosion, on and on and on. God have mercy.

"God created man in his image, male and female he created them. He blessed them, and said to them, 'Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth. I give you the green plants and every fruit-bearing tree for food.' God looked upon all that he had made, and he saw that it was good." Genesis 1: 27-31

Almighty God, we thank You for calling us to be stewards of the earth. You have made the earth our dwelling place for a while. You fill it with great beauty to remind us that it is Yours. It overflows with bountiful gifts to sustain us and to gladden our hearts.

Yet, we have misused this gift, treating it as if there were nothing we could do to harm it. We see that our misunderstanding of what it means to be good stewards has lead us to neglect this gift you have given us. O God, help us learn to use the earth wisely, to treat it with loving care, to be good stewards for the time we are here. Help us understand that how we treat the earth has real consequences not only for us, but for the generatioins to come. Amen.

Lydia

Coincidence . . .

Monday I was sitting in my office when one of the Elders dropped by . . . "Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't have to work today. I was out running errands and for some reason I decided to drop by the church."

As we are chitchatting the doorbell rings . . . when I am there by myself I keep the door locked . . . we move to the door . . . "Are we having Bible study this morning?" . . . "No, I am sorry nobody called you." (We let a local woman hold her Bible study at our church on Monday mornings . . . in fact, we have about 20 community groups that use our facilities for their meetings) . . . "Girl, where have you been?" . . . this woman had been Elder's daughter first babysitter over two decades ago . . . and then it began to flow . . . this woman was a mess . . . she was still dealing with the murder three years ago (shortly after Katrina) of her son by the police in the town over . . . she feels as if it was never adequately investigated and that she and her family got no justice . . . her husband retired four years ago, a few weeks later he was dxed with leukemia, and a month later they found out that his life insurance company never received the papers they needs and his policy was cancelled . . . her other son had major damage after Katrina . . . he received substantial damage from Gustav . . . she and her husband received damage from Gustav to their fence . . . neither of them are able to work on the fence . . . every agency she has turned to for help has turned her down . . . she has had numerous surgeries in the last three years . . . she was a mess . . . Elder and I held her and prayed . . . Elder took her name and number so our mission team could help repair her fence.

As Elder was leaving . . . "I suppose you are going to tell me there are no coincidences?"

"Yep!"

Lydia