Thursday, August 30, 2007

Gathering Storm

It feels like its a hundred degrees, even though apparently it is only 80 something. We're waiting for a storm to come in but it seems to be taking its own sweet time. We're all at angles and corners. A spit part of his lunch out and so, in consequence, is sitting in front of his bowl, still. He could have gotten up without eating it all but the spitting ruined that option for him. He is moaning. E carefully hid our nice Alphabet Flash Cards, presumably for some game or other, and so she is not doing anything fun this afternoon, but is wandering around looking for the last five.

'Look in the places where you hid them' I've said 36 times.
'Oh' she says each time.

If she finds them maybe she'll have some chocolate milk, but at this rate it will be tomorrow before that happens.
And the baby is hot and cranky. He's crawling around, his hair completely on end, exhausted because he woke up at 2am and then his nap was interrupted by his siblings shouting about something.

In all this moaning and shouting, I've been keeping a distracted glance on the Anglican TV live stream of the consecrations in Kenya. I've seen pictures of the cathedral from my mother who has gotten to sing there on occasion. My parents don't go often, I think, because traffic and crime are prohibitive (its no accident that the litany included something or other about safe driving).

I'm strengthened and encouraged by what I've seen, even the Kum Ba Ya (heh-reminds me of the strange experience of hearing a fancy Ivorian choir sing 'Allelu, Allelu, Allelu, Alleluia, Gloire au Seigneur'-Praise ye the Lord, fully expected them to stand up and sit down, but they just stood, at the Basilica in Yamasoukro, but that's another story). The storm continues to build ahead of September 30, and Lambeth and beyond, but these men (and women, shocked to see so many women clergy) are walking headlong into the thunder and lightning, their faces set.

I'm encouraged to keep going myself. I will admit. I've been anxious. I don't want the whole communion to come unglued. I don't want, potentially, to have to walk away from our church building, this house, this neighborhood (God willing, we won't have to). I don't want to deal, any more, with an apostate and heretical "church" flinging itself headlong into spiritual death. But I've got to keep walking forward, into the storm, even though I don't want to. I've got to and I can, with God's help. That Africa, and other parts of the world, in the face of slander, racism, condescension and loss should continue to chart a way forward, should continue to trust in God and do the hard work of spreading the gospel, should be able to stand up to the west and its lies, well, I can pull it together and stop moaning myself. God is in charge. He has a solution to this whole mess. He is on the other side of the storm. For heaven's sake, he is in the storm.

6 comments:

Kerry said...

Anne, really enjoyed this post. We are so think in the middle of a storm at our parish right now, it is hard to imagine that the sun will come back out again. It is also easy to get so focused on the wind and rain and lightening bolts that we (I) forget to look for Him in the middle of this storm.

Thank you for the reminder. I've forwarded this on to some friends. I hope they'll come read and leave comments!

Kerry said...

We are so THICK in the middle of a storm...not "think" in the middle of a storm. Yeesh.

Rich said...

"no accident that the litany included something or other about safe driving"

priceless!

"hearing a fancy Ivorian choir sing 'Allelu, Allelu, Allelu, Alleluia, Gloire au Seigneur'-Praise ye the Lord, fully expected them to stand up and sit down"
To those who have ears to hear, ROFL!


At the end of a vestry meeting this evening on the subject of the gathering storm, I shared Heb. 12:1-3 -- the great cloud of witnesses (martyrs) that surrounds us (all those folks who were mocked, flogged, imprisoned, stoned, etc.) is there, cheering us on, even though the junk we face is small potatoes by comparison. Perhaps(!) this is the cruciform life Jesus calls us to. Knowing that the call comes with the gifts to respond is a great encouragement.

Jane R said...

Dear Anne,

We are in different places in the current Episcopal/Anglican brouhaha --though both pained by the events and certainly both sharing a Trinitarian, sacramental, and incarnational faith, which I do not think the ECUSA has lost (the word "apostate" is not something with which I would agree)-- but I wanted to write and say hello as your sister in Christ since I pop in and read you now and again.

I also wanted to let you know of a blog you might enjoy called "99% wife and mom, 1% everything else," which has some wonderful stories of family life and the blog writer's two boys. She has a great sense of humor, and among the many conversations with her children which she recounts, had a recent faith-related one (short, though).

http://donditiples.blogspot.com/

Dondi writes from the Philippines, and her sons are Woog and Eli.

Our bishop in the diocese of North Carolina preached a wonderful Convention Address last January about Jesus and the storm and part of what he said, among many other things, was that the storm was a given. The storms have always been there. We will always have to respond to the call of Jesus Christ in the storm.

I pray that we who have differing views and responses will find ways to stay in communion with one another, and that we will trust in the Spirit, who is always at work in the world and in the church. I pray that we will all be signs and instruments of the healing presence of Christ in a suffering world.

Be well, and take good care of yourself. Mothering and ministry are both very hard work.

At A Hen's Pace said...

Anne,

So nice to hear from you!

It is indeed a storm--and I agree with you that it is so exciting to see Africa leading the way out.

The Lord is at work in this, for sure!

Jeanne

Abri said...

Anne,

I've been reading your blog for a while (found through Stand Firm), but I just had to say that this post blessed me so much. I am a college student who attends The Falls Church when at home, with my family. Many of my professors at school are Episcopalian, and there is no Anglican church in the area. One is even a close friend and former schoolmate of Bishop Lee. They joke around with me that I am now "the bad guy" and keep asking how the lawsuits are coming, of course they think they do it in jest.

I, too, want to see reconciliation, but it is so hard to see how that can happen when so many are opposed to it. It's a comfort to know that others are in the fire and that God has it under control. We just have to keep standing firm in Him.

In Christ,
Abri