preach something real, for heaven's sake

Matt pointed out to me last night that I haven't written anything interesting in ages, other than vignettes of family life and vacation and this and that. Point well taken. I haven't really had much of a mind for anything lately. At his, Matt's, behest I have tried to lay aside the endless stacks of PG Wodehouse novels (to which I have been devoting myself utterly and completely) and read a book on preaching, expository preaching to be exact. It is actually an excellent book, when I can read more than three lines without falling asleep. So far it varies from my seminary education in one major way-namely, that the preacher's exegetical work should stick out in the text of the sermon, so that everyone can see it, rather than being worked seamlessly into the sermon's own 'narrative'. The author (hang it all, I can't remember his name, and I'm too pudgy to get off the couch at this particular moment and find the book; I'll try and post it later) believes that the hearer of the sermon, over time, should be trained to be able to test and evaluate the preacher's exegesis themselves, because it is evident in the sermon itself. This approach does move the sermon over and out of the camp of 'experiencing a narrative moment' (what I have heard called "The Preach Moment" (if this doesn't alarm you, nothing else I can say will) and into one of 'teaching', which is, frankly, not at all a bad thing given the state of most Episcopal churches in America today. Every Sunday an empty experience that makes the hearer feel like they've been fed, when, in fact, there was nothing there. On the whole I agree entirely and am even determined to finish the book.

However, it saddens me that things have gotten so bad in the church that I would have to let go of my beloved narrative poetical sermon style. I'm good at it, I'll be honest. I love the process of study and writing and the narrative that emerges. I was considered a fantastic preacher in seminary and my ego grew accordingly. It can be a beautiful experience, both to write and to hear a narrative style sermon and I've been fed by the real substantial narrative preaching of some Episcopal priests who were good at this model. However, it really doesn't work in the ordinary life of the parish. Its too wispy. I've become wispy, I think, in my preaching. It can't all be blamed on the style, of course, I keep having babies instead of doing good solid exegesis, but that is certainly part of it. The church needs more substance, and needs to be able to check the preacher's work against the Scriptures, and needs to be involved in the process of the sermon itself. It has reached, practically, crisis proportions.

Never the less, letting that go and moving onto the greater and weightier task of expository preaching, in the wake of Matt who is, frankly, getting to be excellent at it, will be my task once I have regained some serious lung space and gotten some good sleep. I will keep you posted as to how it goes.

Happy Anniversary Again!

Happy 40th Anniversary to Matt's parents, Doug and Shawn Kennedy! Matt informed me today that they have been an exemplary model of a good marriage for him, and he is abundantly grateful for their witness and life together. I have heard that they celebrated at the very restaurant at which Matt pleaded with me to marry him. I agreed, of course, only to put him out of his own misery (just kidding). Anyway, I had quail that night. I think Matt had duck. I am longing to know what Shawn and Doug had. May the next 40 years be even happier than the last!

Happy Anniversary!

I would like to wish my mom and dad a Very Happy 33rd (I think) Wedding Anniversary! They, I am jealous to report, are have a nice few days in Brussels next to the Grand Place and are eating a lot of nice things-Moules, frites, muscadet, chocolate-everything, indeed, that I long for. In honor of them I have just made two loaves of brown bread, one full loaf of white, two small mini loaves and a pan of buns and a large bundt of Monkey Bread. May the next 30 years be even happier than the last!

Babies and Cake

In honor of my birthday, and because I'm really only a few weeks away from delivering this baby, we lugged all the children to the doctor this morning to see the ultra sound. I generally try to go alone to the doctor because I don't like to scare first time mothers with a lot of children. You can see their eyes widening when you walk in with a whole bunch and imagine what they must be thinking--same thing I thought when I was on Baby #1, 'boy, that woman has a lot of kids, she must be exhausted, hope I'm never that tired'. But today we braved it and were duly rewarded by some great shots of this baby's face, chubby cheeks and all, and an excellent looking spine, and all the limbs in the right place. God is so good. And then A, in awe and wonder, taking his finger out of his mouth and gasping, 'I love G so much'. Even R was swept up in the moment, shouting loudly and unintelligibly.

So, the days are flying by, and I have been admonished by the doctor not to imagine that I will make it all the way to the 14th of October, but to plan on the arrival of this baby rather sooner. No complacency for me. So Matt had better high tail it home from the HOB meeting the end of September-It will be such an exciting week for So Many Reasons.

Also, in honor of me, he (Matt) baked his first ever cake. He has mastered food of every kind, but never ventured into baking. He turned out, after much thought and consideration, Nigella Lawson's Dense Chocolate Loaf, covered in whipped cream and baked to absolute perfection. Honestly, the heavenly host of angels probably wishes they could eat this cake. This after setting out sausages and mashed potatoes and peas for dinner (hey, its my favorite, I was born in England). All that was missing was a packet of brown sauce.

And, I was given a sleek new camera, so here is a picture of the cake.

Joy Cometh in the Morning, Blast It

In honor of my birthday tomorrow, I waddled down to the DMV to renew my driver's license. I could have sent in the form a month ago after having had an eye test, but I lost the eye test form and forgot about the date and completely mucked it up. So it occured to me that going in person Before the day it expired might be a good thing, which I did.

I found an out of the way little known DMV in a tiny room of a large city office building inhabited by one extremely competent DMV person and a short line of people. I lumbered in and stood in line for a second and then sat in one of the two available chairs.

A nice friendly gentleman asked me when I was due.
'Mid October' I said.
'You're first?'
'No, this will be my fourth'
He staggered backwards. 'You have more courage than me' he said.
Then another large pregnant woman came in (such a lot of pregnant ladies for such a small space) who there upon made me feel like a wimp by standing while I sat.
Anyway, when it was my turn in line, it took me a total of THREE Minutes to renew my licence! Amazing. I got away in 25 after having paid 2 hours for parking because I figured it would take that long. Happy Birthday to Me!

Which brings me to my first deep Blog reflection about having a birthday. I know, we all have them. For Matt, his birthday is the best day of the year, aside from Christmas. Apparently, in his youth, he ate ice cream all day and opened presents and was perfectly happy (this is his own account of the past). I have never been able to live up to this kind of happiness.

My birthday was always and consistently the day I had to report back to boarding school. Even if I didn't make it back to school on that exact day, it was always within the week, looming like a black depressing cloud over the whole business of getting older. As time went by, I became antagonistic towards the day of my birth and felt that it was the one day, sent by God, to teach me that life is a veil of tears and all flesh is grass and we are but dust and to dust we shall return.

Later, in college, I tried to reclaim a sense of joy about being alive and getting older by celebrating my birthday for the whole month of August, so that the one day wouldn't be the focus of any attention, happy or unhappy.

This practice, however, of celebrating myself for several weeks rather than being distraught for one day, runs contrary to every fiber of the Kennedy being. Matt, his mother, probably all of his sister and his cousins and his aunts, expect that one's birthday is a cause for joy and happiness.

Matt, just now, leaning over, inquired what I would like for breakfast on my birthday. Well, according to my sin nature, I ought to eat oatmeal and then work really hard for the up building of the kingdom. I refuse to get all expectant and happy, no matter what.

However, reviewing the situation from afar, objectively, as it were. I do have every cause to celebrate. I've done an awful lot in a relatively short time. I'm about to have my fourth child. I have two degrees. I am happily married. I have a interesting and rewarding job in the church. I know how to cook and bake. I'm not sick. I have too much stuff. I have lots of family and friends. And, apparently, I'll be having a nice breakfast in the morning. Oh, and my roses are still blooming. And my mother is coming in two weeks. And my cat has forgiven me for going away. And I don't have to share a computer with Matt. Wow, the blessings are wildly abundant.
Anyone want to guess how old I'm going to be?

smatterings

The children are cold, or feigning coldness. After complaining about being too hot for three weeks, they are now too cold in 70 something degree weather. E has dug out an ancient and tiny coat she used to wear (it was her favorite then and appears to be her favorite now) and is wearing it over her sundress. Matt is mowing the lawn in a dedicated and devoted way. I'm supposed to be unpacking, but I can only work for about 10 minutes before I have to sit down and rest for 15. So far I've put away my toothpaste and shampoo, jammed some flowers into a jar, changed all the children's bedding, and read every conceivable blog I can get to. Its going to take me all week to get things put away, sigh.

However, that is really my only unhappiness. We came back to an energized and enthusiastic church yesterday. Amazingly, for the first time in this job, no crises arose in our absence and people did Ministry! Not just keeping the floors clean and toilet paper stocked, they've taken spiritual care of each other and various visitors and guests who came each week. So encouraging. And there are a plethora of ideas floating around for the fall. Along with unpacking this week I'm going to have to sit down and sort through all the options and plan what all we can do.

And our garden grew. So surprising. I've heard that if you put seeds in the ground they come up, but I've never experienced if first hand. I've got to figure out a way to take pictures.

Home Again. Home Again. Jiggidy....

Its nearly 10pm.
We're home in Binghamton. I had no intention of taking such a long break from blogging. My last post was from San Antonio and I had thought to post again the next day in Corpus, but the wireless options were highly limited, such that if I wanted to pilfer a connection from the neighbors I would have had to perch in an odd position in the bathroom-awkward for me in my present physical condition, and awkward for anyone who wanted to be in that particular room. So after a day or so I accepted my wireless computerless fate as one inflicted by God and did other things.

It amazes me that life goes on without the Internet. Amazes Me! I didn't even miss it as much as I thought I would. There were lots of other things to do. I spent some good solid lovely time with Matt's Mom and then later his sister and her kids. We went to the beach for a couple of days. We went on Sunday to a very fine Reformed Episcopal Church (I have notes of the sermon which will be forth coming in a day or so). We went shopping for school clothes and supplies. We watched the baby FINALLY walk (August 13th, 4pm in the afternoon). We watched E and her cousin, J, and A play with Transformers, Super Heroes and a large luxurious doll house all at the same time. And we watched cousin C lustily call for food and help. C, by the way, loves to eat, which is a great gratification for those of us who love to cook.

I would happily sit here and tell you all about it right now, but tomorrow is Sunday, and that means Church, which means getting up early and doing all the work that God has given me to do. So, I will not indulge myself. I will go to bed and tell you all about it tomorrow.

Children and their Shoes

So I've swung from being up far too early to being up far too late. I really can't think straight. I'm sitting in a fabulously comfy chair in my sister in law's house watching these amazing pictures of the bridge in Minnesota going down. Various people are being interviewed about where they were and how they got out. Interesting the number of times I've heard the words 'luck' and 'coincidence'.

While the residents of Minneapolis were coping with this amazing happenstance today, we (by that I mean Matt's Mom, Shawn, and sister, Megan and all the children excepting Rowan who was left miserably home with Matt for the day, since no one really wanted to lug him around) went School Shoe Shopping.

Quite far from luck, really more in the category of Divine Providence, was the playground directly in front of the shoe shop. So we took the kids in one by one to try on shoes instead of everyone going in together spreading chaos and mayhem abroad. And then lunch, and then ice cream, and then home to recover. I was interested in the process of trying on shoes. A went first and was weepingly dubious about having his feet measured. But then recovered and solemnly (the child could have been at the altar rail for all his piety) tried on three pairs of shoes, walking around in each one, finally picking the first pair. All, essentially, without words. E was next and requested to try on all the pink shoes, ended up not liking any of them and finally settled On Her Own on a pair of plain blue sensible Mary Jane type shoes. When asked why she wanted those ones, she replied that she liked them, 'because they are A's favorite color'. Very curious. Then she helped me pick out baby shoes for Rowan-sensible blue.

So now, given that they are all in bed and asleep, and my eyelids are sliding together, and I don't want to see any more of these pictures but would rather go and pray for all those who work or watch or weep this night, I will put this aside and go to bed.

On the Road Again

Meant to get up at 5 to pack so that we could be on the road by 8am. But its now 6:37 and I'm still basically comotose, working through a tepid cup of tea. Really, let's be honest, I blame Matt. For some reason, since a horrible moment in Nashville when the handle broke off one of our two mugs, Matt has felt that I am to have this broken mug every morning, while he has the one with the handle, rather than trading off every other morning. So, at 5 am, when be brought me the broken handle mug full of tea (and let's be honest about that too--I ran out of good tea when we got to Dallas and I've been drinking something that vaguely tastes like dishwater ever since), I just couldn't cope and rolled over and went back to sleep. So, I don't imagine that we will be leaving by 8, particularly since before actually getting up, I have to confess my sins AGAIN and try to be a better person. Of course, I could be grateful that Matt brings me tea at all, but since when is gratitude one's first response in the morning, if we're going to be perfectly honest about it? If its yours, at least wait until this afternoon to let me know, when I'm awake and and holy.

More from San Antonio!

Tuesday Morning

Its far earlier than I ever plan and intend to be up. But I am, and the children are not, and I daren't turn any lights on or do anything to wake them up, which means my only option is being on the computer, being, as it were, a light source.

While the fate of the Network was being mulled over in a nice large room at St. Vincent's Cathedral, yesterday, I was a few steps away in a very nicely equipped nursery, maneuvering my computer into various awkward positions trying to get more than one green bar so that I could get the live stream up and hear what was going on. The children played wildly and impassionedly (having been so long in the car, and in hotel rooms) with all the wonderful new toys. E, particularly, found a large blue plastic elephant which she forthwith named 'Alan' and carried around and sat on and talked to and organized.
'Why is the elephant's name Alan?' I asked her.
'Because', she said condescendingly, 'that's his name.'
Felt very stupid for not getting it. We don't even really know anyone named Alan. Am continuing to wrack my brain.

I DID manage to watch all of Bishop Venebles talk in the afternoon and was so encouraged and moved.

I do think that I, personally, have at various times erred and strayed like a lost sheep throughout this Anglican mess. It has essentially encompassed my whole time in the church-we had been in our job exactly one year when GC2003 hit us all like a train. I was glancing back over my journal of the last four years and realizing how little (if you watched or read Bishop Veneble's talk) I have kept my eyes on Jesus. Oh sure, every now and then I glance at him and ask what to do. But more often I'm plunging headlong into the next crisis or job or idea on my own steam and with my own plans. Not to say that Jesus can't fix it-he has, over and over. And I think over all the work I, and we, have done in the church has been good and is bearing fruit. But I need to let go of the power struggle. And I need to accept the fact of various persecutions that lie ahead, and not try to avoid them. And I need, more than anything, to trust God to sort this out in the long run.

In a cosmically spiritual way, its interesting to be in the noise and chaos of a nursery, surrounded by bright red plastic and shouting children, while important and Godly people, only a few feet away, discuss and confer and take votes and pray. I can watch it going on, in a distracted way, and pray for it, in a distracted way, and hope for the best. But its entirely out of my hands. Its ridiculous to imagine that I had any 'control' over the proceedings. And yet, day by day, I, in my life surrounded by red plastic and shouting children, imagine that I have 'control' over the plans and works of God, who cares for me and can handle everything without my help. So, that is my lesson for today. And a good thing too, because a child has just woken up shouting for MILK and BEAR, which means that everyone will be up now.

Monday Morning

It appears to be 10 in the morning, and E, A, R and I are back in our hotel room, in the cool, being quiet while R has his nap. Matt is in the first session of the Anglican Network Council Meeting, here in Fort Worth.

We managed, miraculously, to get all up and dressed and out the door in time for Morning Prayer and Holy Communion this morning. However, the kiddos only lasted through Morning Prayer before succumbing to the desire to yell loudly in a quiet space. So Matt hauled them off while I sat and enjoyed Bishop Iker’s short talk. After that we wandered around looking for the Press Room, which is conveniently placed far away from any happenings and goings on. If all goes well, we (by that I mean me and all my children) will go back for lunch and then maybe try and stay and play for a bit. But that means the baby getting a good solid nap and me regaining my wits.

It is pervasively and overpoweringly hot outside. One wilts, essentially. So we are not setting our sights too high for going back and forth.

Yesterday we worshiped at Christ Church, Plano. David Roseberry preached one of the best sermons I’ve heard in a long while—best in the sense that it hit me right smack between the eyes. Realized, again, the spiritual weariness of the last few months and how much we need a good rest. Not just a holiday, but a spiritual pause where we (I should probably say I) stop and rest in the grace and mercy and love of God.

So, here we are, for today and tomorrow, and then Wednesday back in the car to go South and to Mimi, for whom we all long.

‘Are we at Mimi’s?’
‘No, A, this is a gas station. We still have three more days before Mimi.’
‘First we have milk, then Mimi?’
‘You may have some milk, if you like.’
‘Can I see Tatchi (another very important person)?’
‘Tatchi is 5 days back in the other direction. Are you sure you want to drive all the way home and not go see Mimi?’
‘I want to see Tatchi and Mimi.’
‘Well, yes, and you will be able to when Jesus comes back.’
‘When we rise again?’
‘Yes’
‘Ok.’

We’ve made it to Dallas!

Amazingly. We had originally planned to stop in Little Rock last night, but then we were just tired of being on the road and wanted to get here.

We spent a very nice afternoon in Nashville, celebrating R’s birthday. We found, without trying, a Cheese Cake Factory, and thinking that it was a sort of relaxed place, sure to have Cake, we herded everyone inside. It turned out Not to be relaxed, but very very Nashville Fancy with painted walls and ceiling and a cohort of Waiters. The food was delicious and some nice person brought R a banana without us even thinking about it. So for his birthday lunch he had banana, bow tie pasta with butter and a Large Straw Berry Short Cake. E picked the desert, since all three of them were going to eat it, and I must say she chose well. It looked very festive and birthday like, all piled up with whipped cream, and R turns out to love strawberries. He stuffed himself until he began to look bilious and we made him stop.

Then we drove around looking for our hotel and ran into what I imagine are the fancy houses of Country Music’s ‘People’, not the actual stars, but the people who make the stars happen. I may be wrong, just my own speculation—very grand houses. We were particularly impressed with the churches in that part of town. There seem to be rich luxurious churches on every corner—Church of Christ, Church of God, Baptist, Methodist etc. (no Episcopalian that we saw), all with perfectly kept grounds, enormous facilities and fancy signs. And so many! There have to be far more churches than people. Matt observed that probably Everybody Has to go to church And give money, whether or not they believe anything at all. Now that’s a lifestyle I like—culturally enforced church attendance and giving. Ha. That I should live to see the day that happens in the northeast. If only we felt God calling us to minister to the needs of the spiritually poor Country Music Star. Well, I say that, but probably it would drive me crazy. There’s nothing like money to muck up the church.

We spent the afternoon swimming and trying to play Pick Up Sticks which turned out to be a bust. Felt bad leaving out baby Who Really Wanted to Play!, especially since it was his birthday. So we just let him mess up the sticks and try to eat them.

Yesterday was long indeed. 10 hours in the car. The children were basically golden. I would only note that a striking difference between E and A presented itself. E loves a public restroom. She wanted to see every bathroom at every stop and try it out, whether or not she really had to go. A would rather die than use a restroom of any kind. We had to plead, cajole, insist and finally bodily carry him in to go. He asked many many times if we couldn’t just go home to Binghamton so that he could go potty, instead of driving further and further away from home. Poor child. It made each stop fraught with emotion on both sides.

Towards the end of the day when everyone was tired, we had the following exchange.
A: (weeping) E called me a bird!
Anne: Are you not a bird?
A: (weeping) I am not a bird. E called me a bird.
Anne: E, did you call him a bird?
E: No. I asked him if he was drawing a bird.
Matt: There, A, E did not call you a bird.
A: (weeping) I am not a bird.
Matt: That’s right. You are not a bird.
A: I’m A.
Matt & Anne: Yes, you’re A.
A: I’m A and I’m a Shinning Armor.
Matt: Yes.
Anne: Shinning Armor?
Matt: Yes, just go with it.
Anne: Oh, Ah.

So now we’re in Dallas, in a nice cool hotel, gazing out at the heat outside its only 8:30 in the morning, but we’re all feeling like its 9:30 because of the hour difference, and there is agitation to go out to the pool. I suppose it’s probably already hot enough. If you need us for any reason, that’s where we’ll be.

Happy Birthday Rowan!

That's right. He's a whole One today, and more of a baby than ever. He says a total of 6 words: mama, daddy, aedan, cookie, gentle and down. Cookie, as you can imagine, is the most easily distinguished, along with 'Aedan'. He's not walking yet, as I mentioned before, but he is enjoying this long car ride pretty well. He sits between Emma and Aedan, hunched down like King Saul, and when he is very angry we turn music on very loud and he sits, subdued and angry, but throwing javelins.

So, in honor of Rowan, we will drive to Nashville and spend the afternoon and evening. Then tomorrow we will go on to Little Rock, and the next day to Dallas.

We've made up special charts by which the kiddos can earn stars for a prize. They get stars for Noticing Things, Asking Interesting Questions, Being Helpful to Baby and a number of other things. So far the incentive for stars is keeping the dreaded, 'are we there yet?' and 'when we will we get there?' at bay.

Two other minor thoughts. One, there are far too many trucks on the road. I say this with all admiration and respect for people who take on the task of trucking. I know they drive impossible hours, in difficult weather and conditions, are away from their families too much, and don't make enough money. All of which to say, there ought to be a way to do something that would allow the economy to continue growing, provide the requisite number of jobs, and make it safer for small cars on the highway. Perhaps by the end of the day I will have thought of something.

And two, though the Anglican Communion unravel before our very eyes, yet Christianity has not. After madly reading the various news on Stand Firm and listening to Matt's thoughts on the issues, discouraging though it all is, I am convinced, in the long run, that it is not ultimately all won or lost by the various leaders around the world. Really the next battle front is in the faith of our children, and whether we pass it on and under gird it and give it substance. Because that's really the problem, isn't it? The American Church has lost a whole generation of Christians and continues to flounder. So, even as we plan consider the real nature of Anglicanism, the questions coming from the back seat of the car are just as, if not more important.

the miles go by

I'm snatching a moment while Matt is away from his computer to give a dinky update on our trip so far.

We left yesterday AMAZINGLY, at 10:00am on the dot (I called it-Matt insisted that we would leave at 9, but I know us better than that). The car is packed to stuffed, as you can imagine. Its so much more complicated, packing for three people that have opinions about what they take, rather than just one. I let Emma and Aedan spend most of Monday negotiating with me not only about the contents of their bags, but which bags they would take. Matt was surprised and unhappy to find that everyone has Their Own Bag. Nobody is sharing. Yesterday evening, apparently, when Matt was piling a cart high with all our stuff to come into the hotel, someone had the audacity to laugh at him. Heh. Sort of wish I'd been there.

We've just spent the night in Lexington, VA. I really want to get off the main road and see the Blue Ridge Mountains, and Matt really doesn't want to back track, so we stopped here instead of going all the way to Roanoke. Although as I look out the window it is pouring rain, so it will be a gray morning in the mountains. I'm bewitched by all the signs for 'Historical District', but Matt says every town in a America has a 'Historical District' and that we must not be suckered in. I guess we'll be choosing our detours carefully.

We have had our mishaps. Thought we only had one car sick child whom we managed, all day, to keep from throwing up (poor child). But it turns out we have two. Aedan managed to keep it together all day, and then threw up everywhere within 5 minutes of being in the hotel room. So we didn't go out to dinner. Matt ran around and find Chinese food (I know, come all the way to Lexington and eat Beef Broccoli, but the children love rice) and everyone had a bath.

This morning the children have watched, to my horror, Higgley Town Heroes, learning that the bridge builders and backhoe operator are Heroes. 'That's not true, Emma', I pointed out, 'You don't get to be a hero for doing your duty'. 'Not everyone is a hero'. Will have to bring it up again in the car. Honestly, the mediocrity, the political correctness, the insipidness of it all.

Anyway, onwards and upwards. The arguing about how far to go must Commence!

Matt's Sermon from This Morning

It is my custom, at this point in pregnancy, to do as little as possible during services on Sunday Morning. I teach Sunday School, shmooze during Coffee Hour, do various jobs in the office, run up and down the stairs lots of times (Those Who Don't Think With Their Heads, Run With Their Feet), and a myriad of other odd jobs. So by the time the last service comes round, I position myself grandly in the rocking chair next to the choir and sit, not usually even getting up for the Peace. I miss preaching and being on the altar and the physical acts of worship, but this time I have really enjoyed sitting and letting it all happen, without having to be in the mix. AND, lucky for me, Matt has hit a groove in his preaching (there's a lot to be said for preaching many Sundays in a row, rather than switching on and off), and I've been able to listen and be fed, which can be hard, when the preacher is your husband. Anyway, this morning, as a result of this very fine sermon, I was able to stop and take inventory of my own work and service in the church, my motivations and intentions, my emotional stake in the whole enterprise, and my own willingness to sit at the feet of Jesus. I hope you all will take a moment to do the same.

Mary and Martha
There are a lot of workers at Good Shepherd. People here are always busy doing something for the church and it’s a wonderful thing to see. I was so impressed at our last work day at the number of people who gave their time and effort. But there are times when service, even in the church, displeases Christ. Our Gospel lesson this morning provides an example of one of these times and a principle that can be applied to everything that we do both in church and in the world. So let’s open our bibles to Luke 10:38-42.

At first Martha does everything right. She’s unwilling to let Jesus pass through her village, Bethany, without “opening her home to him.” She welcomed him. Martha and Mary may already know Jesus. They figure prominently in the gospels as supporters of his ministry. But whether they know him or not, Martha was certainly being hospitable. So far, so good.

But then, in verse 39 we’re introduced to Martha’s sister Mary. Mary we’re told, “sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.” To first century readers of this gospel, Mary’s repose at Jesus feet would have been considered extremely inappropriate.

Jesus having accepted Martha’s hospitality enters her home and begins teaching his disciples. The proper thing at this point would be for the hosts, Martha and Mary, to prepare a meal. This is especially true of Mary since she seems to be the younger sister. Martha, not Mary, “opened her home” which indicates that Martha held authority. So if anyone should be sitting at this point, and really no one ought to be sitting, it should be the elder sister Martha. Instead it is Mary. She’s not serving her guest, her Guest is serving her and she’s letting him. Shockingly inappropriate. By verse 39, 1st century readers would be expecting Jesus to commend Martha and to rebuke Mary.

And my guess is that if some of us had been there we would’ve had the same inclination. Jesus Christ is in the house. If you labor to prepare your home for regular guests, imagine the level of preparation if Jesus were coming or if he were sitting in your living room waiting for dinner. And here’s Mary sitting.

All the while, “Martha,” Luke tells us, “was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.” The Greek word translated here as “preparations” is, in fact, the word for service. So this text literally reads, “Martha was a distracted by all the service.” And she wasn’t just fussing. Sometimes people just fuss around. There’s nothing really that needs to be done but they need to be doing something so they just find things to busy themselves. That’s not what is happening here. Preparations “had” to be made and Martha was making them. She was working her fingers to the bone.

And as she does this and as Mary sits, Martha’s attitude begins to change. We don’t want to read anything into this text that’s not there but if I step into Martha’s shoes for a moment I can imagine two things that may have been going on in her mind because they would have been going on in mine. First, I can imagine her thinking: “Here I am again, doing all the work. If something were to happen to me, this house would fall apart." “If it weren’t for me doing this and if it weren’t for me that then nothing would get done.”

And, no doubt, while it would certainly sound like a complaint if we heard it out loud, there’s also a little vanity, a little pride here as well. Search your heart honestly. In those moments when you’ve said or thought similar things: thinking of yourself as the key person, the hard worker, the one who gets things done, the doer, there’s been a little self-satisfaction there, a little pride. So I imagine there’s some pride here in Martha and that comes out later.

Second, I bet that as Martha worked she assumed that Jesus would notice and appreciate and recognize her service. And the longer she served and the longer Mary sat and the longer Jesus seemed not to care the more frustrated Martha became.

I always know when Anne is getting frustrated with my laziness. I’ll be downstairs on the computer and gradually the noise of pots and pans or whatever it is she’s doing grows perceptively louder until it is obvious that noise is being made purposefully. After 5 years of marriage I’ve learned that this is a signal and it means that I better get up off my duff and go help if I know what’s good for me.

But Jesus not only ignores Martha's work, but he’s just fine with Mary sitting there doing nothing.

Finally, after who knows how long, Martha loses it. She can’t contain herself anymore and out comes this complaint: “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself. Tell her to help me!”

Now, I hope you’ve noticed what’s happened here. It’s subtle but important. Martha has, in her mind, gone from servant, from serving Jesus, to master. Her words are accusatory and commanding. They’re the words of someone who feels entitled.

Martha has used her service as a means to establish her authority and control. People do that in the church all the time. I do this much work, I give this much money, so things better go my way. In Martha’s case, she’s let it go to the point that in her mind, her authority extends even over God’s only Son. “Tell her to help me.” That’s not a request or petition. That's a command.

What Martha has refused to do from the moment Jesus entered her home, is to sit at his feet and listen to his Word. Jesus is not an ordinary guest. The indignation building up in Martha’s heart would be excusable if Jesus were an ordinary guest. But he’s not.

Mary got this. She may have had her faults, but she knew that despite custom, despite tradition, despite what her older sister wanted her to do, this man, this Jesus was different and his words, his teachings far more important than getting the dishes done or the floor swept or the roast in the oven. And she was right.

When I first came to this church some very nice ladies came to me and said, "well we’re a church full of Martha’s not Mary’s so don’t expect to see many people at bible study." And then, later, I was told by a very fine gentleman, "Whatever you do, don’t preach over 10 minutes. There are so many other things to do on a Sunday morning that sit in church." And the idea behind both of these friendly warnings was that some people are workers and get things done in God’s kingdom and others go in for all the religious stuff. We’re the workers. We're the Marthas. Somehow, at some point, work and service in the church had come to serve as a rationale for neglecting the Word of God.

That’s not the lesson of this text. Jesus does not say, "I suppose I should stop teaching so that we can go into the kitchen and help Marth work." Martha is rebuked.

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken from her.”

Service of any sort both in the church and in the world is always secondary in priority to the Word. Our work as believers cannot replace but rather must flow out of our study of Scripture.

Don't get me wrong. Jesus not saying that it's good to sit around on the couch 24/7 reading the bible. He is saying that the Word rather than the work is what is “needed”. Jesus does not need your work and service. He can do anything through anybody. No one is necessary or indispensable in the church. God can use me to preach his word or he can use an ass. I’m unnecessary. He wants to use me and he wants to use you, but he doesn’t need to use me and he doesn't need to use you. And, in fact, in order for us to be useful to the Master we must first know him and know what he says and know what kind of work he wants otherwise we’re running off in 25 different directions like Martha “distracted” by many things while neglecting what is necessary.

Walk into a dying church, and you can find them all around, and you’ll likely see that the few people there are good people, industrious people. You'll find that the grounds and facilities are clean and well cared for, the garden watered, but that the church is dying all the same. Why? More often than not the people have worked their fingers to the bone but ignored or neglected the careful study of God’s Word and obedience to it.

Make no mistake, when the next bake sale or bazaar comes around that church will be abuzz with energy and earnestness. But when the Word of God is preached, the people go to sleep. If the pastor dares start a bible study he finds himself alone staring at empty chairs. The bibles in the parishioners’ homes are thick with dust.

Why?

Being Martha is a lot easier. If you haven’t opened your bible in years; if you’ve never sat at Jesus’ feet and become familiar with his Word, then when it’s taught or read, you feel stupid and a little out of control and no one likes to feel that way so you avoid it and rationalize your avoidance with service. "Oh no, I have no idea what the bible says about this or that. I don’t really go in for that stuff, but I do serve on the ladies auxiliary." "I do take care of the grounds." "I do maintenance." "I vacuum once a month." "I serve as an usher" And meanwhile, the church dies. And all of the industrious work of the church is reduced to the work of an undertaker, making the carcass look good on the outside while inside it’s full of dead bones.

Service, especially in the church, is good and the Lord certainly calls us to it, but only one thing is needed and that is the word of God. Work without a prior commitment and devotion to God’s Word is a recipe for death. The word of God is the Word of life. Bible study is not one ministry among many, it is the necessary ministry that informs and under girds and gives life to worship and fellowship and service. Unless you know the Lord and know what he’s like and what will please him, how can your service be useful? Service means nothing and accomplishes nothing unless it is set under and born out of devotion to and dedication to the Word of God.

So ask yourself this morning. What role does scripture play in my life? Is it your benchmark, your guidebook, your measure, part of your daily walk with Jesus, is it the means of God’s nourishment and encouragement and comfort and conviction in your life as it should be or is it your paperweight? Is it nicely displayed on your mantle but never read? Do you get excited by the thought of Harvest Dinner and bored by the thought of bible study? That is the recipe for spiritual death. There’s no replacement, no exchanging, no excuse for neglecting the word of God. As believers and as a church we must sit at the Lords feet and listen to his word because that is the only way that our work will be pleasing in his sight.

odds and ends

Just wanted Again, to say a huge thank you to all of you who are continuing to comment. I figured out how to have comments directly to my email, and so I've been able to read what you all have been saying, even though I've been too wildy busy to really get on and blog.

Yesterday Matt married a young couple who, though very much taken with each other, were not particularly organized. Heh. I ended up stuffing myself into my black cassock (couldn't quite button it) and waddling back and forth between the Narthex with the bridesmaids, and the library where the groom men were trying to pull it together (whoever knew how complicated it could be to sort out a boutonniere). Anyway, after launching the bride down the aisle I went back to the office and kept hammering out bulletins and inserts and other mundane details. Very nice people periodically brought me large plates of food from the reception downstairs, so I ended up waddling home as well, at about 8pm.

So, I've now ironed various clothes, and am going to lay my hands on some Salt, some Tracing Paper, and some Seeds, for Sunday School. VERY excited about our lesson for this morning--everyone is going to get a little candle holder to paint, and a candle, and a little tiny jar in which to pour salt. I'm working busily on my own box, and as soon as I have a working camera, you will find a long photographed post with all the things we've done.

And finally, one clarification. Matt, after reading my last post, thought I meant, by 'samosas' something alcoholic.
'Why are we going to be drinking in the car?' he asked.
'What?' I said.
'Samosas', he said, 'orange juice and whiskey (or something, can't remember what exactly he said)'.
'What!', We're not taking whiskey in the car.'
Anyway, he wanted me to clarify, that by 'samosa', I mean little Indian pastries filled with potato and spices. This just shows how really I ought to have applied myself better to spelling.

Have a Good Sunday of Worship. Blessings!

The List Gets Shorter

Took baby round for his Well Baby this evening. (Some lovely commenter asked if Baby is a he or she-he's very much a he, a shouting vigourous he.) Have a very interesting pediatrician. He's Russian Orthodox with a long Orthodox beard and a lot of Orthodox children (6, plus one on the way-due at the same time I am). And very pious. Its a pleasure to take the children to see him, because he glances at them, pokes and prods them, and then talks about the church (especially when Matt goes). Tonight, after looking in Rowan's ears and mouth etc. he took me through a maze back to his own computer to show me pictures of the chapel/church he's built in his yard. Its all done on the outside and they're working on doing frescos on the inside. His church/congregation is worshiping there now, so on Sunday's (and every other day-the orthodox are so much more pious than we indolent lax Anglicans) he has only to walk out of his front door and across the lawn to go to church. Noted that Good Shepherd, lovely and beautiful though it is in its own way, looks like a liturgical homeless shelter in comparison.

Anyway, so that's one more thing off my Giant List of Things to Do Before We're Allowed To Go on Vacation. Still remaining are the wretched bulletins I put off doing today, a wedding, sorting out Sunday School, Arguing with Matt about how much stuff we each get to take, and HOPEfully making bread and somosas, if I have time. I probably won't, but wouldn't it be nice to have fresh bread and fresh cold somosas in the car while driving all those many miles? Isn't that what ever Road Trip calls for? Am aiming high.

pastors and their children

I'm supposed to be running around getting bulletins started and cleaning the bedrooms and calling various people (given that I have a few minutes of all the children going off in various directions doing fun things with other people) but I did just want to link to this article--very interesting and insightful, given all the discussion that's gone on in recent days about children, and the church, and the clergy. Hope you enjoy.
If I'm very good and manage to get on top of things this morning, I'm going to allow myself a computer spree this afternoon. But then, things never go the way we plan, do they. So, on verra!

Step Up

Baby just will not take steps for me. He's taken steps in the church nursery, in the other room for Matt when I was just around the corner out of view, and for other various people. But when he sees me, he sits down and refuses to take steps. Even tried the old stand by-Matt holding cookie and moving back to keep baby walking. THIS baby won't walk for a cookie. This baby becomes utterly frantic for cookie and screams so loudly and so longly, that we just give him the cookie. Lay on the floor laughing while baby hyperventilated for the cookie and Matt tried to get him to at least stand up. After two cookies (unearned), baby ate an egg and a handful of Cheerios and part of a banana. Went to bed looking chubby and laden. But no steps. Maybe tomorrow.

On all that has gone before, and what may be to come

Many of you have noticed, perhaps, that it has been a whole week since I posted in this space, and that I have been uniformly silent on other various comment threads (although I will be perfectly honest, I have been unhappily hitting ‘refresh’ over and over on a number of sites, wanting, and Not wanting to see what people are saying). This silence has, for the most part, been self imposed. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before, and I tend to be a touch (though not extraordinarily) headstrong and impulsive. So, for once, I wanted to seriously stand back and survey the landscape and reflect on what happened, what is happening, what it all means and what a proper Christian response might be.

There remains one problem with my strategy in this case. I had hoped that in a matter of a week (a whole week, a long week, you wouldn’t believe how long) this matter would have found some conclusion. Matt and I, the blogoshere, everyone would have discovered the matter resolved and therefore over. This, however, appears to not be the case. Ms. Kaeton, having returned from her missionary endeavors in Belize, apparently feels persecuted.

I have three carefully considered thoughts.

First of all, as I said last week in the thick of shock, I am not angry with Ms. Kaeton for her words with regard to the murder of my children. Matt and I have forgiven her. We bear her no ill will. We all say things that we do not mean or even things that we fully intend but know that we shouldn't. We are all sinners.

Second, we continue to worry for the integrity of our family because Ms. Kaeton has not, up to the time of writing, withdrawn the threat of calling in the authorities to review our home and our children. Should Ms. Kaeton publicly withdraw this threat, it would go a long way toward bringing peace between us. I encourage her to do so and pray that she will.

Third, I will not clutter up this blog space, which I love and enjoy, with any further posts or material concerning this matter. I have, over the last week, been keeping careful account of all that has gone on, as well as all the delightful things that my children are doing, all the regular stress of life, in my private journal (as, indeed, I have always done), and should the moment ever be right, some of that material may find its way here, but not until this is sorted out. I do not know, at this moment, the extent or content of any posting in the days to come. I am trying to spend more time praying than being on the computer.

I want to say, finally, how much I appreciate all of you who read and comment and call me on the phone to tell me you’ve read my posts. This is a new kind of communicating (as so many have noticed). It is dynamic, immediate and interactive. With a few clicks of the mouse, I can let you into my living room and into my life and show you all that is going on—all that God is doing, all my sin, all my joy. And, as we’ve noticed, that dynamism and immediacy brings with it some dangers. For example, anyone can read, anyone can think anything they like, anyone can draw any conclusion, some of those conclusions damaging and bitter. However, for me, and I suspect for many of you, the creativity and delight of this communication far outweighs the dangers and sin. And so, in short order, you will find me back here, inviting you into my kitchen, my atrium, my life.

In the meantime, please continue to pray for me. I rely on your prayers. This has been, with careful measure, the worst week of my life, and I don’t know that the days to come will be any easier. Please hold me in your prayers, my children and Matt as well. God is so great, so good, so loving. In the midst of the darkness of sin and danger, I will praise Him, I will bless Him, I will seek His glory and his triumph and His grace. He is my Rock and my Salvation. He is my Glory and the Lifter of my head. He holds all things in his hand and in his love, and this Thing is not too big for Him to handle. And so, as I rely on Him and trust Him to show me the way through and sustain me, pray for me. Thank You. May the Lord Bless each one of you, even as He is pouring out His blessing on me, moment by moment.

The sun is beginning to set in a haze of heat. All five of us have been holed up in our bedroom, next to the air conditioner, reading all this mess online, catching up on email, the children playing with blocks and games and dressing up and eating Popsicles in an effort to stave off the heat. After a crazy week and a long Sunday, its been nice to have our feet up and have some quiet time, if not quiet for the spirit, at least quiet for the body.

Matt ran out and bought some tubs of Indian vegetable curry and we've heated up some divine samosas (sp?) from our neighbor AND, I'm gazing at a beautiful summery bouquet of flowers from a person who obviously knows what the soul needs on days like these. AND, another knowing person dropped off one of those super fancy cakes you can buy in the bakery section of Wegmans-the really beautiful one with all the fruit carefully arranged on top. I have read stories to the kids and Matt at this moment is praying for them and singing (Jesus Loves Me for Aedan, and the Sanctus for Emma-their choices). As soon as he has done that we are going to very quietly and happily cut into this cake and try to eat it so that no child will hear and interrupt us. And lest you think we're very evil to deny our children cake, that is certainly not the case. They have been sucking on large crab shaped lollipops all afternoon. That's enough sugar to last them through at least until tomorrow.

I wanted, in the closing of the day, one more time to say how thankful I am to all of you for your prayers and thoughts and all the wonderful things you've said about me and Matt. I know there are cries for a proper apology on Stand Firm, and here, but in my heart of hearts it really doesn't make a difference one way or another. I bear Ms. Kaeton no ill will whatsoever. Matt and I have chosen the hard narrow way of the cross with our eyes open. We've made sacrifices, financially, physically, and in a host of other ways, not because we're on some kind of crusade, but because we love the church, we love our kids, and we love the work we're doing. We couldn't fathom doing anything else.

So thank you.

Having said I was going to blog all day, I'm actually going to step back and not post anything for a while until I've had time to think and pray, both for myself and for Ms. Kaeton. I have half a post written about feminism, and some other bits I was working on, but its all going on the back shelf until things have cooled down. Thank you all for your prayers and comments and kind words. This is a very bizarre way to spend a regular Monday off.

Sunday Conversations
Matt: So what did you learn in Sunday school?
Aedan: We learned that the man had a stick and he hit the people with the stick, like this (demonstrates).
Matt: Stick? What stick was that?
Aedan: The man, he had a stick.
Emma: Pharaoh.
Aedan: Yeah. (Waves his hand) Let my people go.
Matt: Oh, so Pharaoh had a stick, and he hit the people?
Emma: Yeah, and then Jesus came and made frogs and locusts and a river of blood.
Anne: Jesus did that?
Emma: Yeah, it was Jesus. And the red river divided.
Matt: River or Sea?
Emma: River.
Aedan: Yeah, hit it with a stick, like this.
Anne: Was there anybody named Moses?
Emma: Moses?
Aedan: Yeah, and you shouldn’t kill the cow.
Matt: What cow?
Aedan: The cow, the cow.
Matt: Was there a mountain?
Emma: Yeah, a big mountain.
Matt: Was it called Mount Sinai.
Aedan: No (sarcastically) that’s silly. It was a big mountain.
Emma and Aedan drift off to do other things. Matt and Anne resolve to read the Exodus with them as a bed time story. I suppose, as I read this, that the cow must have been the golden calf. I’m still somewhat confused.

So I've been gazing back over my various posts from the last few weeks and the comments under each one, as well as the drama from last night and today, and I think there are three main issues that I would like to address.

1. Feminism and Men
2. Feminism and Children
3. Feminism and the Church

I don't propose to write long essays on these three points, and I don't think I have the linear wherewithal to deal with them one by one, but it might help to order my thinking, and perhaps yours, on the current crisis in which we find ourselves.

For example, when I stand next to Matt at the altar and turn the pages over for him as he prays the Eucharistic Prayer, or when I stand and pray the prayer and he rocks back and forth as if he has been rocking a baby all night, and mouths the prayer along with me, I think there are a variety of things going on.

For one thing, Christ is being made present as we raise our hands together in supplication. For another, Matt and I are unified again in our calling and purpose together as ministers of the Gospel. The unity that we experience and model on the altar would not be possible if either of us were arguing all the time about who gets to be in charge.

Break to get all the children Popsicles.

So first off I'd just like to link to a blog I check every day. The larger website is called Large Family Logistics and if you're interested in having lots of children, like the woman on this site, you can find all kinds of helpful information about how to run a household. But more than that, right now, her newest baby is in need (like so many) of much prayer, because he was born many weeks early and is needing very special attention and care. Every morning, after checking my email, Stand Firm and NRO's the Corner, I check to see how this baby is doing and pray for him.

For some reason, Blogger is not allowing me to put titles on Anything. I was wanting to post a big THANK YOU at the top of this, to all of you have commented on here and Stand Firm over the night, for all the prayers and kind words of support. In such situations as these, one doesn't particularly know how to respond, or even If one should do so, and I am very appreciative of the couple of admonitions to let unkind words lie on the ground, rather than to take them up. On the other hand, Ms. Kaeton speaks, in her post, about a variety of subjects that are important to me, and about which I have given much thought.

So, I thought, since I had been planning to have a whole day blogging anyway, that I would post on some of these issues and topics, and at the same time lift Ms. Kaeton up in prayer to God. And I would, also, like to pray for her grand daughter, who has, at such a young age, recognized one of the greatest riches of life-the great abundant rich gift of children.

So stayed tuned.

I am taking the whole day off tomorrow to blog. This week has been a marathon run and I'm going to sleep. But for a taste of upcoming topics, go over to Stand Firm and read this.

the weather's cooling off, I might be able to blog...

The weather is cooler and I am gradually emerging from my funk. Today was downright chilly. I pulled a blanket over my expanding girth for my mid afternoon nap. I am so grateful even for just one day of cool, but it looks like tomorrow and the next day will be rain. So I praise and thank, as it were, the Lord.

And the cool is giving me a chance to think and reflect.
One such reflection is about Emma's recent adventures in dancing, which you can read about here.

Other things are mulling around in my head and hopefully will formulate themselves into posts as the hours, more likely days, go by.
For one thing, I am, in a vague way, trying to put words to answer Susan's questions about the Eucharist (technicality: don't know why all the comments don't show up unless you click on the full post, hmmm). For another, I've been thinking about terrorism and Islam, and this ridiculous Episcopal priest who appears to be confused about a number of things, the creed being one of them. And for another, I've been directing my thoughts back to the Atrium, and the spiritual life of the child, and what draws and sustains a child's relationship with God. I was giving a brief tour of my atrium this weekend and was asked, 'You light candles? In here?' and it hit me like a brick that yes, we do. We light loads of candles, and put them out and light them again. So, I am thinking about all these things, and wondering in a vague way where some paper or other I wrote in college is. It occurs to me that it was very badly written, and that the professor must have been a real drip to give me an A, which she did, and that I ought to go back and work it over and fix it. Just because. But instead of doing that, I will fold laundry, because if I don't do it now, before I go to sleep, all will be lost. ALL.

Don't mess with me, I'm pregnant and its hot

I know I promised to write about more interesting things-like feminism and Women's Ordination, or anything this week. I shouldn't make promises. But instead of doing that I have seriously cleaned my house. Monday, Matt and I completely took apart the play room. We put three bags of toys in the attic (I don't have the energy to actually get rid of stuff, some day I'll have a garage sale) and took down the big ugly shelves and now we have a wide open completely blank empty room. Which meant that Tuesday, Wednesday and today I have redistributed the remaining toys and books into the children's rooms and into various cupboards. Anything that didn't have a proper place got put in the attic. I had intended to take pictures of all the rooms just to prove to you the actual level of cleanliness, but my camera is being picky, so you will just have to believe me that I'm telling the truth. Everything is clean and in order and I'm completely completely wiped out. Its been blazingly hot and all the cleaning and heat has put me in a foul and sinful mood. I have sinned against everyone I can think of, most of all my children and cats, who have wanted to come near and touch me in this ghastly heat (Aedan, of all things, is wearing a sweatshirt and sweat pants and socks to bed) and have been rebuffed in a deeply unchristian manner. I will repent of my sins in the morning, and trust God's mercy to carry me through until then. I'm in too bad of a mood to do it tonight. So, its 9:30, I'm going to get a large bowl of ice cream and I'm going to eat it in bed. And if anyone wants to argue with me about it, well, just try. I will try and get back to other more interesting things tomorrow.

WO continues to rear its ugly head

So I've been laboring through the Women's Ordination thread on Stand Firm for the last two days. I'd seriously put it off because of my fatigue and the basic desire to avoid the issue for now. I don't want to get into the frey over there, however unfair it is to Matt to leave him all alone. For one thing, he's much more clear headed and intelligent than I am, and for another, there's nothing like a hysterical muddle headed woman priest mucking up a theological debate. I'm happy to let them wrestle it out.

I did want to say something about feminism, though. You might notice the Ladies Against Feminism link on the side, and a number of other highly conservative links. I don't agree with everything on these sites. In fact, my husband periodically exercises his headshipply authority and disallows me from reading these sites because I work myself into a froth over them.

It is bewitching, for me, and apparently for so many Continuing Anglicans, the idea that feminism, being a Bad Ting, can be got over by going back to those glorious days before it happened. Those good and honest days when women stayed home and cooked dinner and looked adoringly into the eyes of their husbands and made quilts and wore hats in church. In the good old days, it didn't occur to women to seek orders, it didn't occur to them to try and pray out loud in church, they wouldn't have run for vestry.

And now things are such a mess. Working women busy bodying themselves around, reading in church, distributing wine during communion. And of course me, preaching on occasion, making announcements, teaching Sunday School, organizing various ministries.

Thing is, I'm not a feminist. I think feminism, in its present strident form is a destroyer of many things-boys, homes, churches even, where men have run for cover and women unhappily run the show. Feminism, as so many 'isms' has shown itself essentially to be a lie. Any ideology that elevates the human being over God is doomed to fail.

But while I'm not a feminist, I can't go back to that premodern, pre enlightenment, prefeminist age of glory (if indeed it was an age of glory), any more than the church can really go back to preKantian theology. We can't go back, we have to find a way to fix the problem where it is now. Many women are creatively doing this, finding ways to stay home with children, making educated decisions about work and family life, trying to rebuild a place in a church that has been hollowed out and corrupted by the very ideology/theology that purported to help and serve them.

I don't have any solutions to this problem tonight. Its been a long day of church. But I hope to return to this thought in the days to come. This WO debate comes at a delicate and unhappy moment in the life of the church, when there are so many problems, and so many errors that sorting them out and finding their root causes is primary on everyone's mind. But reading through the thread and trying to stave off the headache caused thereby, I get the sense that, as with the communion itself, we have the choice to either fling ourselves into the past and bury the issue in the sand, or fling ourselves off a cliff into further error, or deal creatively, honestly, realistically and scripturally with what we have in hand.

The Week in Review

This has been an unexpected blog post free week. I looked at the date and realized how many days have gone by since last Sunday, the same number as always between Sunday's, but they slipped through my fingers faster than I had time to notice.

Several things have happened this week.

First, I got my nursery cleaned out. Its now the bright cheery room it was meant to be, and the children can play in there again. I may now turn my attention to the play room and begin to sort and purge toys, trying to get back down to a manageable number.

Second, My mother celebrated her birthday, far away in Kenya where it is cool enough now to need to eat meals in front of the fireplace, so she tells me. I wish her a Happy and Glorious Birthday and thank God for her, and wish she was here. Emma and I will be making Strawberry Shortcake in honor of her tomorrow.

Third, I have collapsed under the weight of my own sin and inadequacy and have turned my eyes back onto Jesus, not realizing that I had taken them off and gone wandering into the Land of Anxiety. I had no idea how completely and totally exhausted I am physically, how dry I am spiritually, how depleted I am emotionally. I came unglued several times during the week and found myself complaining to God, echoing, even, the words of Amy Carmichael.

The son said, I am nothing. His Father said, Did I ever tell thee that thou wert something? The son said, But I do not feel fit for this that is given to me to do. His Father said, Canst thou not trust Me to make thee fit? The son said, But I am not successful. His Father said, At the end of the day will My word be, Come, thou good and successful servant? If only thou wilt walk humbly with thy God it will be, Come, thou good and faithful servant. The son said, But I do not care for what I have to do. His Father answered, At last thou hast touched the root of the matter. Did thy Saviour "care for" Calvary? Then the Eternal Spirit opened to him those terrible Scriptures which show Gethsemane and Calvary, till all his paltry "Buts" were shrivelled as withered leaves in the fire. And he saw Him whom he followed as He set His face like a flint; and he was utterly confounded and ashamed.
His thoughts said... His Father said...

I realized that all my praying lately has been a shouting complaint, and not really prayer, not simply and reasonably asking for those things I need, and being thankful for those things I have. Thursday evening I spent an hour with a young lady who is in a desperately sad place and in being with her, and bearing, for a few minutes, her burden with her and helping her to lay it at the cross, I was able to lay down my own as well. And so for the last few days I have been resting and tired. Which leads me to

Fourth, my exceptionally fabulous idea for Summer Sunday School. Matt insists on teaching adult ed through the summer (Well, he doesn't really insist, its just that everyone keeps coming and expecting a class, so he just keeps on teaching), and so summer after summer we have to scramble to think of something to occupy the children. I have resolutely set my face against Catechesis through the summer. The catechists need a break, the children need a difference of routine etc. etc. So This Year (instead of reading a Narnia book, bad Idea, or reading Judges and acting it out, Bad Idea, or pawning them off on some unsuspecting parishioner, Bad Idea) This Year, I went out and gathered all kinds of interesting things to put in boxes. This first week we will decorate and paint the boxes. And then each week after we will learn a verse and paint an object to go in the box, on subjects ranging from the Bible to the Cross, to Communion, to Evangelism, (all of which is meant to review the Solemn Communion experience). All by which I mean to achieve some level of continuity, some level of fun and mess, some level of scripture knowledge, and some way to get through the hour without being too hot and exhausted. My only difficulty now is coming up with some cool name for these boxes. I have until tomorrow morning at 9am.

And Fifth, I finished of Terry Pratchett's The Truth (lent to me by commenter 'R'-how are you? safely arrived? happy in love?). And, for your Saturday evening amusement, I offer you this tidbit from this fabulous novel:

'I never worry about that -ing stuff.'
'Never?'
'Never -ing give it a thought. I've got my potato.'
Then Mr. Tulip found that he'd walked a few feet alone, because Mr. Pin had stopped dead.
'Potato?'
'Oh, yeah. Keep it on a string round my neck.'
Mr. Tulip tapped his huge chest.
'And that's religious?'
'Well, yeah. If you've got your potato when you die, everything will be okay.'...'Yep. You're allowed to come back and have another life.'...'We-ell, it's okay so long as you're really -ing sorry about it.'

Just so you know, I'm not leaving anything out by writing -ing. You've got to read the book, that's the way Mr. Tulip talks. So Funny.

And now, I must go to sleep, because in the morning I've got to three kids dressed and ready for church, do the bulletin insert for church, collect paints and boxes, and be out the door by 7:15. If I don't go to sleep now, I won't be able to cope tomorrow.
Good Night.
Oh, and all week long, for those of you who are longing for a theological fight, Matt's been debating the merits of Women's Ordination over on Stand Firm. I'm sure you can find the link and the article if you're interested. I just finished reading the second thread this evening and its given me a headache. Enjoy!

Sunday Conversations

On reviewing our knowledge of the Ten Commandments.
Matt: What's the shema?
Emma: The Lord your God, the Lord is....
Matt: yes?
Emma: Special. The Lord is special.

On the Way to the Church Picnic.
Anne: Did you remember your sermon?
Matt: I think so.
Emma: Are we there yet?
Anne: Yes, Emma, we're there. Are you having a good time running around?
Emma: Heh.
Aedan: I'm going to kill the bad guys with a sword.
Emma: or a gun.
Aedan: or a gun. I'm going to kill them and save the birds.
Matt: What birds?
Aedan: The black birds. I'm going to save them with my sword.
Emma: And the robbins eggs.
Aedan: Yeah, I'm going to save them.

A little something about my Father

I would like to wish my Dad a completely happy and fabulous Father's Day. In honor of him I have made a rhubarb tart, from Nigella's How to Eat. And since Matt is so disciplined and thin, I'm going to eat it all by myself and think of all the debts I owe him, my father that is.

Out of curiosity, I googled his name (Robert Carlson) and organization (SIL) and came up with these highlights, a little light reading for a Saturday Evening:

Contributions to the Ethnologue
Wikipedia
Lots of Information about Senefou
A Recent Paper

I must also say that it is partly my father's fault that we are having so many children we don't know what to do. He, my father, preached at our wedding and placed a series of blessings on us, the critical one (and obviously the one that stuck) being for us to have, a la Senefou, a dirty marriage. By which he desired that we would have so many children our house would never be clean and ordered. Some time I'm going to take pictures of the inside of our house and post them, just so you will know the chaos we live in and know who brought it upon us. Happy Father's Day.

Another Primate Steps Up

At 11:00pm last night, just as I was getting drowsy, Matt said, 'They're going to consecrate another bishop', and then went to sleep before I could find out what he was talking about. Of course this morning all became clear. And I must say, I'm completely delighted. And I will remain delighted, despite all the pessimism and complaining that abounds.

I'm delighted because essentially what's being created, on American soil, is a festive banquet for orthodox Anglicans.

First of all, there are orthodox believing Anglicans in America, just as there are around the world. And they are worshiping God and ordering their lives communally around truth and faithfulness. This truth and faithfulness has led to the organization and creation of various ecclesial structures-the Network, CANA, AMiA, 7th Convocation-each with their own flavor, focus, meatiness, and mission. This latest structure adds to the rich dimension and flavor of Anglicanism in North America.

I have only two other thoughts about this. First, that politically this is such a good move. It takes the heat off of Akinola and spreads it around the Anglican world-all these primates are stepping to pick up the pieces and take responsibility for orthodox believers when they, frankly, don't have to be bothered. Also, the ordaining of bishops for America provides much needed access to the episcopal office, and unity in being under Godly bishops. That they are doing this now is also so excellent. The sheer unmitigated insult of Rowan William's issuing invitations so soon, and to so many bishops who should be under a cloud, has clearly not gone by unnoticed. The premature issue of invitations is being wisely met with structural plans for orthodox Anglicans. There's no reason to wait around until some magic deadline. No more magic, no more deadlines. The global south is getting on with life.

Second, the continual broadening of an evangelically minded, African infused, unencumbered Anglican Christianity is a Good Thing. I don't at all share the pessimistic vision that Anglicans can't evangelize and grow. Why can't they? Christianity is growing everywhere else in the world. Of course, it won't grow if we don't try. It will become fragmented and divided if we don't cooperate.

How hard is it? Just go tell someone about Jesus and invite them to come to church. They might say no, they might say yes. Either way, keep asking. And there is no real impediment to a sensible purpose and vision to coorperate and worship together, other than insisitng over and over that it is impossible. It is not impossible. God is not that small. God is not that merciless. The church is supposed to grow. The church is supposed to seek unity. Otherwise, we wasting our time.

The global south understands this. And part of their work is waking all of us up to the real mission of the church. So far, I get the feeling we're being too snotty and snobbish to accept the lesson. We've wrecked everything else, we might as well buckle down and learn.

So, I say, Amen. Come consecrate some bishops and give us the kick we need. And let the world moan and wail in the face of something Actually Being Done.

Confessions

I have a cat perched on my shoulder. I'm propped on the couch with various pillows carefully placed, trying to make my back feel bearable, and a large hot cat has come and draped himself on me so as to keep me from getting cool.

I have a deep dark confession to make. Last week I was so tired and stressed that whenever I was home and trying to have some peace and quiet, I got Drudge up and read the latest about Paris Hilton. It was the perfect distraction. For those of you who haven't been up on the latest, Paris Hilton is a socialite of some sort, and from what I've gathered up, she was caught driving a car after having drunk much too much, and then violated her parole and made the judge so angry that he sent her to jail. Paris dutifully checked in at the jail and it was fairly easy to find minute by minute speculations and updates about how she was doing. She was going to keep a journal. She was doing fine. She was doing horribly. And then after 3 days in jail the Sheriff released her due to "overcrowding" and some medical condition. Forthwith the angry judge got her back in court and sent her back to jail, where she now remains.

Wonderfully, after following this ridiculous story all week, I was able to continue to read article after article on my cell phone on the floor of the Events Center while waiting for the music and festivities to rev up during the Festival. Surprisingly, it is perfectly culturally acceptable to read stuff on your cell phone, even junk, but had I pulled out a book (which I did once but then put awkwardly away), it invites conversation and speculation about what you are reading and why. Of course, Of Course I could have been reading my bible, and ought to have been. But with the volume and the number of people and the level of exhaustion, I must say, Paris Hilton was just the ticket.

All that said, I feel very bad for Paris. This poor girl has been given everything she could possibly ask for and more, and the poor creature is resultingly unable to deal with adversity of any kind, let alone normal consequences for bad behavior. I've been praying that a capable, forthright and fairly pushy female chaplain will get a hold of her and tell her about Jesus. Don't know what the chances of that are, legally, but I'm going to pray for it anyway.

Summatious Thoughts

Its nearly 10:30. I'm perching my computer precariously on my round girth and growing increasingly hot. I am now too big to turn laps off in the corners of my kitchen, and to properly photocopy anything at church. I've been vaguely thinking over the weekend's events all day and trying to think what to write about them. And given that I'm still rather overly tired, I have only a few disjointed thoughts, and hopefully a fuller account later.

First, it occured to me very late last night, lying on the couch limply after the final festival meeting, that the only Event that has ever come off Perfectly and Flawlessly and Gloriously in my whole life (thus far) is my own wedding. Since being at Good Shepherd I have planned and prepared for a lot of events-4 Christmas Pageants, Five full years of Sunday Liturgical Worship, our Ordination, several weddings (other peoples) and Two Solemn Communions, plus a lot of others that I forget. This Festival was Two Years in the making and I played a small unimportant role. But as with all the others, save my wedding, the process of preparation was extremely important, and the Event, for me, takes some serious analysis to sort out what I think about it.

Second, God is good. Many many people came forward with a desire to know God and be embraced by him. I was down on the floor each night and Saturday morning as a supervisor, helping Councelors and making sure everyone had a pen and that kind of thing. The first night I was moved to see a very old man come forward. He could barely stand but did, through the prayer and then a long talk with a councellor. Sunday night I watched a teenage girl come forward while her father watched from his seat, clearly pleased. And many many others. I've been a Christian essentially my whole life, and I've never seen so many people publically desire to be Christian, all at once. To the depths of my being, I'm impressed.

Third, I'm an old foggy. Or, to put it another way, I'm an Anglican. Every evening on the way home from the Event's Center I searched the radio desperately for something classical and church like and was relieved and delighted to be back at Good Shepherd on Sunday morning, listening to the various hymns and music Micah so graciously and calmly led us in. I realized, half way through the weekend, that each event was essentially a church service, such as I have been used to growing up-an hour of music, an offering, a sermon, and altar call.

Fourth, I'm so grateful that God is bigger than me and that he let us participate in this whole process and let us serve and gave us the strength to do it. And I'm so grateful for the riches of his grace and mercy, among them: the pitch perfect rhubarb tart I made this afternoon (after being out of the kitchen for a whole week), three beautiful forgiviing children who were happy to have a normal day off after a week of chaos, some really glorious fruit from Wegmans (succulent cherries, grapes and four fat peaches), and a husband, who, though very tired, went outside and dug up a large flower bed so that we could finally lay in some flowers and hopefully see some color in the back yard this summer, and who also then grilled a rack of lamb to glory (marinated in garlic, olive oil, mustard, vinager, salt, fresh thyme and paprika).

So, on that note of gratitude and in the hope of future glories (I fully intend to make bread tomorrow after having taken a week off), I will post this and go to sleep. A thousand thanks for your prayers. God moved us all into place and did his work and there's more of it to do tomorrow. Good Night.

Odds and Ends

Anne, quashed between Emma and Aedan, 'Let's play the still quiet game. Be as still and quiet as possible.'
Emma is quiet but continues to wiggle.
Aedan is still but sings loudly, 'Precious jewels, precious jewels, he loves Cinderella. All the children, all the children, Cinderella, Cinderella.'
Nobody won.

The NYPENN Franklin Graham Festival is finally here and so posting will be erratic over the next three days, depending on what's going on and how much time I have. Matt has to be to each event three hours early, which leaves precious little time for coming home and doing anything.

Please pray for the NYPENN area and for many people to come and respond to the Gospel. And please pray that we won't drop the ball on those that do. And please, especially pray for me to have stamina and extra grace to stay the course. I'm generally short of breath and faint after standing more than a few minutes, and my blood sugar tends to fall very quickly leaving me a mess if I'm hungry. So I covet your prayers. I want to be able to do my job well and effectively and not miss anything exciting (but also still be alive when its all over). And it would probably be a good idea to pray for everyone else as well, who have far more important jobs and will be working very hard to make this come off well. Matt will be directing supervisor/counselling traffic at every event and I will be a regular supervisor. So that means we both have to know what's going on and be able to help people who need it. Thanks, in advance, for the prayers, and hopefully I'll be alive to tell you all about it.

balance

It looks very much like baby number four is a....Girl!
Which makes things very symetrical. I think this is God's special grace to us. Matt and I are always striving for symmetry, mostly spacially, but in many other ways as well.

In a fit of passion, early in our engagement Matt said, "that's why I fell in love with you."
"What? Why did you fall in love with me?"
"Because your face is so symmetrical."
I'm sure there are other reasons, but that one seems to come up more often. So, for the time being, things remain symetrically balanced, and we are completely delighted.

Jonah

I've been trying to marshal my thoughts for several days about the state of the Anglican Communion. Mostly as a result of Matt's two latest articles on Stand Firm and the various ACI takes on what's been going on.

Several thoughts have come together for me. The first as a result of rereading Jonah with my Women's Bible Study. Like so many before, we were surprised by two things. First, Jonah's complete lack of compassion for the lost (not just the Ninevites but the ship's sailors) and two, his desire to be with God, worshiping in the Temple, while neglecting the fact that God is with him, where he is, even in the depths of sheol. And really, it is the overall unconcern and lack of compassion for the nations around Israel, as well as the neglect of God at home that brings Israel so much grief and ultimately leads to their loss of the temple and their inability to recognize its replacement in the person of Jesus Christ.

Which led me to consider (in the abstracted and scattered context of my daily life) the tension between the importance of the Temple, after all God did choose to live there and invest it with his presence, and on the omnipresence of God, he can be everywhere and is, and any attempt on our part to limit him will only bring about our own grief.

This general feeling was intensified after doing some supply work in some very small yoked parishes. I generally take these jobs when they come up (even though I never get called unless I'm pregnant) out of a desire to be helpful and wanting to take any opportunity to preach the gospel that arises. But preaching an 'everyone should come to Jesus and be saved, even those who are really nasty and depraved' sermon in these small Episcopal situations is really too little too late. The idea that Jesus is alive and well and loves them enough to die for them and bring them out of death into life, well, it seems the average Episcopalian is completely inoculated against this idea through a lifetime of half truth and 'tolerance'.

This last Sunday I came away from my service profoundly depressed and more firmly convinced than ever that the communion will not hold together. Don't misunderstand me, I wish that it would. I in no way wish or pray for a Communion wide split. But I don't see how it can be avoided. For one thing, I think the continued defiance and arrogance of the American church and Canterbury's refusal to deal theologically, mean that God is going to continue to frustrate our attempts to solve this in a conciliar fashion. I don't really know what God is doing but none of this can make him happy. And as long as we choose place over faithfulness, or own agenda over evangelism, well, it can't possibly look good.

On the other hand, God is provident and faithful and this will turn out the way he wants it to, in spite of our best efforts. In the meantime, I am grieved over my own sins and my continued membership and participation in such an unfaithful situation. I long for God to lead me out into a safer place.

So we kicked off a new discipleship program this evening at Good Shepherd. And, you guessed it, twelve people showed up. Heh.

My unedited sermon for this morning

As many of you have noticed, I haven’t been out of seminary that long, maybe about 5 years. I’ve lost count. But my last year of school I got to go to a preaching seminar. Everyone attending had to write a sermon that was going to be preached, it couldn’t just be for the seminar. And of course, the next sermon I was slated to preach was on these texts, for Trinity Sunday, in a church I had never been to before. I was going there to spend a few weeks preaching every Sunday and basically getting some much needed ‘experience’. And of course, my hero in the preaching world, a priest out in Oregon, was at this seminar, and I was assigned to her group, and I had to preach to her about the Trinity. It was horrible. I didn’t sleep for about a month before hand, my palms sweated when I got up to talk, I nearly threw up. Horrible. I don’t recommend it as a fun thing to do, ever.

But I did ok. I preached ok, that is. And afterwards everyone gathered around to pick apart my sermon. My hero said, ‘well, Anne, that was very good. Some beautiful writing’, I had laid the scene of the upper room—the hot night, the enclosed space, the oil lamps adding more heat to an already breathless situation—it was almost like, she said, a beautifully painted canvas, except with a large piece of construction paper pasted on the middle. The construction paper was my careful theological explanation of the Trinity. I looked at my text and found the rough coarseness of the construction paper. It wasn’t even the same color—the painting was in muted and mellow and beautiful tones, and the construction paper was orange, or maybe hot pink. It just didn’t go.

But that’s usually what we end up with, any of us, when we try to wrap our minds and hearts around something like the Trinity. We have the canvas of our lives, in whatever state it’s in. Maybe some parts of it are beautifully worked out, symmetrical, it makes sense to the eye, it’s a pleasure to look at. And doubtless other parts of the canvass are a total mess, clearly under construction. You might have something sketched out but the final product is nowhere in view. And maybe the middle section is sort of clear, but the colors really need some perking up and the underlying sketch needs some redoing. But its you, you’re the canvas. And then, in an effort to be good and faithful, we apply various things to this canvas, trying to finish the picture—maybe a new routine, or some helpful book, or the advice of a friend, or a new relationship, OR, as is the case this morning, some theological or doctrinal point, like the dual natures of Christ (you know, that Jesus is fully God and fully Man, right? And that it has a practical application to your life? Well it does), or the locus of authority in the church (is it Scripture? Tradition? Both? How much of which?), or, in this case, The Trinity.

I have a lot of newly churched kids in my Sunday School Class. They’ve never heard of the Trinity before.
‘So,’ said one of my little girls, ‘Jesus is God.’
‘That’s right,’ I said.
‘And the Father is God.’
‘HmmHmm,’ I said.
‘Then who is the Holy Spirit?’
‘God’ I said.
‘So there are three Gods.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘One. Hear O child, the Lord your God, the Lord is One, and you shall love the Lord your God with every fiber of your being.’
‘I love Jesus,’ she said.
‘Good, excellent, and he loves you.’

Our brains began to feel tight in our skulls, the room, hot, rather like the upper room with Jesus, as the disciples are all trying to make sense of what he is saying.

‘So,’ Jesus, ‘you’re going away.’
‘That’s right’
‘Can we go with you?’
‘No, but I will send someone to comfort you, an Advocate.’ says Jesus.
‘Well, than at least show us the Father’
‘If you see me, you see the Father’
A ‘yeah, but’ is on everyone’s lips.

The temptation is to take this wildly foreign and difficult concept and put it up in the corner of the picture and forget about it while you go on with the rest of your canvas. Yeah, I believe in the Trinity. It has no practical application to anything, but there it is, apparently relevant.

Well, it is, even though it is very hard.
It matters because it’s about the nature and form and being of God. And if anything matters in our lives, anything at all, it should be God, right? He made you. He formed you. He has a plan and a purpose for you. And so his Nature and Being matter to your Nature and Being.

To begin with, God is One. There is perfect unity in God. We can say this out loud but we don’t even really know what it means, because we don’t even have unity in our own beings. Our minds and bodies and hearts are constantly at war with themselves. Take me for example. I have a lot on my mind. I would like, I have the will, to get up every day and clean my house, and cook interesting things, and connect with various people on the telephone, and be available to my children. If it was just my mind, my will, there would be no problem. BUT, my body is also involved. And it is at war with my mind and my will. My body says, No. You’re not getting up. I’m very tired and this extra convectionizing heating element says that its better to lie here and stay cool. And then my body, even though my mind says NO, my body says, let’s make a large chocolate cake and eat it very quietly in the kitchen with no lights on after everyone has gone to bed. My body and my mind are at war with each other. Now, of course, I have an excuse, but I know from experience, that even without the excuse, my body and mind are at war with each other. Add in the element of my heart, and you’ve got a real mess. So already within the human person, before you bring in extra human people, in the form of relationships and even just running into people at random, you have division, disunity.

That’s not the case with God. God is completely at unity with himself. One. The Son doesn’t say to the Father, I want to do this today, and the Father doesn’t say to the Son, no I want to do this. They are unified.

They are unified first in love. The are bound together perfectly in love. They love each other so much that each holds nothing back from the others. The Father gives himself completely to the Son, the Son completely to the Father, the Holy Spirit completely to the Father and the Son, the love overflows.

They are unified in purpose. They purposed to create, and they did. They purposed to save and redeem, and they did. They purpose to judge, and they will.

And they are unified in Being. God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is One Being.
Three persons, three distinct recognizable persons—we know the face of Jesus from the Scriptures, we know the moving and work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, minds and bodies, and we know the face of the Father in creation, in the scriptures, in our conscience, One Being.

Why is this hard?
Because you’re one person in one being.
And you’re one person in one being.
And I’m one’ person in one being, albeit divided and disunified against myself.

So God is One. And because God is One in love, purpose and being, but distinct in person, God is close. This is where the rubber meets the road for your daily life.
When the Philip, two chapters back in John, says to Jesus, ‘show us the Father and that will be enough for us’ he doesn’t understand that he is looking at the perfection of God, in Christ. That when you look at Jesus, when you love Jesus, when you surrender to Jesus and accept the work he has done on your behalf—the work of dying on the cross, of rising again, of ascending into heaven—when you accept that and surrender your heart and mind to him, you are not just In Christ, you are In the Father. At that moment the Holy Spirit comes to live in you, to renew, restore, strengthen and forgive you. At that moment you have free clear access to the Father, to communicate, to relate, to love, to know him. When you look at Jesus, you see the fullness of God the Father. You’re not missing anything, you’re not being gypped. When you believe in and confess Jesus as your Savior and Lord, you are brought into the fullness of God’s own life. That love that I talked about before—the overflowing love of the Father, Son and Spirit for each other—that love now pours into you, completely.

Your canvas, your life, is now no longer yours to paint and sort out on your own. You are In Christ. He becomes the painter, the sorter out. And when Jesus is the one who organizes and directs, you don’t end up with any disunified, unsightly construction paper pasted in the middle of your life. When Jesus is painting, everything comes together as a unified and beautiful whole.

But you have to be in Christ.

Now, I know it’s a shocking thought, but its possible to sit all your life in church and never fully submit to Christ and accept his sacrifice and his love. Its possible to sit in your pew, Sunday after Sunday and still call the shots and be the arranger of your life. But if that’s you, than you’re not experiencing the fullness of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. So, if you haven’t committed yourself fully to Christ today, do so. Ask him to come into your heart and make you new and clean. Ask him to forgive you of your sins. Ask him to give you the Holy Spirit. Ask him to pour out his love on you and in you.

And if you do this now or this is a new thing for you, let me know now, or at the altar rail, and I will help you pray, or pray for you, that’s what I’m here for.
Jesus loves you, very much. And he wants to give you everything he has. All you have to do is ask him.
Amen.

Weekend Odds and Ends

Its a Saturday evening. And, as was yesterday, and the day before, it is very hot. Sultry. Just resign yourselves, I'm going to be providing exhaustive weather reports as the weather gets hotter. Was appalled to run into someone who felt that the temperature was 'just right'. There's no accounting for taste.

I'm going to try and get up and go pull some weeds in the front. And then try and finish a sermon for tomorrow. Matt and I both have to preach, him in one place, and me in another. If both our sermons are fabulous, I will post them. Matt is preaching on verse 2 of Acts 2 (he covered verse 1 last week), and I am going to muddle my way through the Trinity.

And just a couple thoughts from Emma:
"Aedan, that's not true. That's not my trueff."
My relativism radar flew up. But I think she meant to say that Aedan was not telling the truth and she was. Still, an interesting way to put it.

And then, in the store, trying on a swimsuit, yelling, as it were,
"Did God make this swimsuit to fit little girls?"
Me, whispering, "yes, and so did the manufacturer."
Emma, yelling, "WHY?"
Me, whispering, "because if it fits you, you'll buy it, and they'll make money."
Emma, yelling, "God?"
Me, whispering, "No, the manufacturer."
Emma, "Oh."