guest post by Gary Heard
It’s a nuisance when Easter eggs appear as temperatures reach the 30Cs – having to consume all the chocolate before it melts! ‘Tis a sad waste of a wonderful delicacy to wash it away with soap… Yet this is a minor inconvenience when celebrating Easter away from the emerging spring, so woven into the traditional celebration of Easter inherited from our northern cousins. As Hedley Beare expressed recently (Faith 23/2), fourth-century Christians found it uncannily expedient to attach celebrations of the death and resurrection of Jesus to an earlier pagan festival marking the commencement of spring: themes of new life, rebirth and renewal already irresistibly embodied in the festival, waiting to be impregnated with Christian meaning. The emergence of new life in creation as trees and plants begin regeneration and new growth was a powerful symbol to reflect upon in light of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
But does springtime fully embody the meaning of events surrounding the passion of Jesus? Are we in the Antipodes somehow deprived of a full appreciation of the Easter miracle? Or does this almost exclusive focus on new life mask something more profound about the life and teaching of Jesus?
In Australia Easter comes as trees shed their leaves, and fading light yields to increased darkness. The autumnal equinox marks the shift from days where light is the greater part of the day. Daylight saving’s end creates the impression of a sudden darkness as evening abruptly falls much earlier. The next three months brings days shorter, colder, somehow more alienating. We witness creation in throes of deconstruction: animals begin to hibernate, some birds spread their wings for warmer climes, many flowering plants shut down production, and deciduous trees shed their leaves, ultimately lending a more sober and subdued, even dreary hue to the landscape. While we feel some relief at the passing of scorching heat (although less so this year), there appears little to celebrate, little sign of the new life integral to the Easter story.
The Australian context has yet to find its expression in this Christian celebration. Alongside borrowed Christmas symbols of snow and holly, our Easter celebration strikes a discordant note with the landscape, creation somehow out of sync with the Creator. Either we need to move the celebration of Easter to a more appropriate time of year, or seek themes and messages more consistent with creation’s voice. If an authentic and relevant spirituality reflects and shapes the rhythms of life, how can we ground the Christian message in experiences and symbols common to our setting, as it seems to have been practised by the early church? Is this possible with Easter?
My discomfort with the way Easter – particularly Good Friday – is celebrated in many churches extends beyond its dissonance with the surrounding landscape. Easter within the church reflects society’s broader reluctance to grapple with any sense of pain and loss. Rarely have I sat in a Good Friday service without hearing a strong proclamation of the resurrection: a thought not echoed in the experience of Jesus’ disciples, who were enveloped in despair as they watched Jesus die, the shadow deepened by their complicity in his death through either denial or abandonment in his time of need. In Jesus’ death they saw their hope die. The dream Jesus instilled in them dissipated at the cross.
Yet rarely have I experienced this in a Good Friday service. Jesus’ death seems trivialised against the backdrop of the resurrection, the disciples’ struggle and pain is glossed over, their sense of loss dismissed. Standing on this side of the resurrection makes it difficult to appreciate the emptiness they felt, yet in the journey of faith we must endeavour to enter that same space today.
Contemporary celebrations of Easter often overlook how this new life emerged. An all-pervading gloom marks the Easter story, as critical events occurred under cover of darkness: Jesus’ betrayal, arrest and trial, Peter’s denial; even Jesus’ death took place in darkness. The resurrection hope only emerged through the despairing death of Jesus – the one Christians call the Son of God. Jesus’ disciples, Jews, and Roman authorities clearly could not reconcile the two, as Jesus’ death appeared as conclusive evidence against his claims.
When our primary focus falls on the resurrection without contemplating the circumstances that made it necessary, we merely echo a motivational message that failure is not the end, merely an opportunity to learn and grow. Easter is no tale of persistence through tragedy. But for God raising Jesus from the dead, Jesus’ death was the end. The resurrection was the sole source of light in an otherwise dark tale, and yet an overwhelming source of hope. Jesus’ death flowed from his submission to God’s purposes. In an act of obedience and surrender, Jesus embodied his teaching that the way to life was to lose it, surrendering to the purposes of God. Not seeking to preserve his own life for his own sake, Jesus gave it up for a greater purpose.
Creation at autumn echoes that truth, as flora and fauna ‘die off’ for months, a necessary prelude to new spring growth. Symbols of death surround us: autumn leaves dancing their finale across the streets; lengthening sunsets and cooler evenings driving us into shelter earlier, just as much of the animal world retreats to cosier places; the cries of summer birds slowly silenced; creation slows its pace. As winter dawns, and winter blues cast their shadow, we may despair of ever experiencing summer sun once more. Yet this is part of creation’s rhythm, clearing away the old in preparation for the new. Only as these sights and sounds die can they be born afresh.
New life – springtime – stands now only as promise, just as resurrection was Jesus’ promise to the disciples, just as new life is promise to all who would follow Jesus. Born out of death, resurrected from the demise of the present, new life comes. It is a way to life few choose, preferring to trust in their own strength than to surrender into the hands of another, to hold on rather than let go. To truly live, we must be prepared to die.
Gary Heard is a Baptist Minister and senior lecturer in Pastoral and Ministry Studies in the University of Divinity. He is married to Evelyn and has three adult children.
Photo by Maddi Bazzocco on Unsplash
It is the Easter Season! Lasting from Easter into Pentecost, it is a time to celebrate and heal! This free download will help you find the joy in the season and includes practical suggestions for celebrating in a Covid-19 world as well.
The Earth’s elements and seasons are among my favorite spiritual guides. My prayer life, my relationships with friends and family, the rich traditions of both the Church and culture(s) also offer me guidance. Yet, recently, sacred signs of Earth and Spirit are inviting me to discover my own rhythm of how to live authentically.
It is early spring in the Pacific Northwest. Where I live, winter and spring often overlap. On one day we can have both seasons; donning wool hats and gloves, shorts and sandals. In early spring the landscapes, particularly on the beaches, are chaotic. High winds and king tides cause havoc washing out footbridges and hiding trails with logs washing ashore.
Forests and gardens are also not quite the same place as they were previously. The land is no longer covered with winter’s comforting cold. Frozen ground is now muddy. The plants are gray and brown and to my eye do not look hopeful at all. Early spring seems to last forever. Winter is not finished and the greening power of God has not yet begun.
For me, the spiritual guidance of spring is an invitation to practice patience and to trust the Creator and the natural cycles of the Earth. I learn that nature is in charge and that she does not operate on the same schedule as our human-made calendars. Spring teaches me to surrender and accept “what is.” And “what is” is constant change and transition. Everything is pending and nothing is resolved. I confess that I find that challenging!
Early spring coincides with Lent. For me, Lent is the season to nourish my heart, the ground of my being. This year I had a daily ritual of looking for something beautiful every day; writing it in a beauty journal. Beauty was discovered in surprising and varied places. Some were in nature, but I also found beauty in my prayer, books, as well as in my personal relationships. This practice helped to counter my impatience with dark days, enabling me to live in the present moment. I cherish my journal with its list of forty days of beauty that I continue to appreciate.
Health challenges were part of my Lenten journey this year. A terrible chest cold kept me away from corporate worship and visiting grandchildren for over two weeks. Despite my beauty list there was one day in particular when I found myself slipping into self-pity and depression. I prayed and hit a wall of silence.
The sun was out and beckoned me to come outdoors. The wind was wild so I wrapped myself in a blanket and sat in a chair on my deck and tried praying again. I asked the Holy Spirit, who rides on the breath of the wind, to sweep me out and cleanse my body, mind and heart. I addressed Brother Wind and asked for his wisdom and guidance. I was presented with healing images of Mother Mary and changing images of Christ. I was also shown images of water which I interpreted as an invitation to go to the beach. There I practiced a ritual of letting go, by finding and releasing stones back into the water. Love, peace and joy flooded my being. The next morning, I awoke in much better health. There is no question in my mind that God used the elements of wind, water and the Spirit’s love to heal me.
Five days later I experienced a fall and fractured my elbow and arm. I spent Holy Week in pain and missed the special services. I am still in a sling waiting for healing with the hope of avoiding a surgical intervention. I cannot drive and have learned how to dictate since I cannot type. I continue to pray and wonder what I am to learn from this experience. My world has become very small having only the use of one arm. I miss my field trips to the beach and forests.
On Easter Day, I was determined to bring nature and a symbol of resurrection into my home. In some Christian churches baptismal fonts are drained and baptisms are not performed during Lent. On the night before Easter Day, at the Vigil, water is the centerpiece of the first celebration of the Easter Eucharist. The font is filled again with an invitation to people to remember their own baptisms and renew their covenant with God and the church.
On my home altar for this season of Easter, I am keeping a bowl of water there to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, the renewal of the Earth and my own resurrection in the new life of the Spirit. I have a morning and evening ritual when I dip my fingers into the water and make a sign of the cross with my wet fingers on my forehead and say these words, “Remember who you are. You are marked as Christ’s own forever.”
My bowl of water not only reminds me of the water of baptism but also of the water of life. My bowl of water is the font of the Christian Church but also the well of life for all people. It is a solemn reminder to me to visit my own well within, daily, that place where the Holy Spirit is always welling up inside all of us, calling us to drink from the living waters.
As Jesus cried out, “Let everyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me, drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” (John 7:37,38)
They say that April showers bring May flowers. May is just days away and spring seems to have sprung and shaken off the grip of winter. Blooms and greening finally illustrate the Earth’s season of renewal. The landscape of my wintry heart is continuing to thaw and green.
My passage through this challenging early spring has been guided by God the Creator, by spring’s unique rhythms and by the elements of wind and water. It continues to prepare me to experience God’s promise of meeting the Risen Christ and to embrace my own personal resurrection. Alleluia!
Beneath the tree, purple plum
leaves pool; beauty’s farewell to
a season well spent.
–EHB
It’s here! Christine Sine’s new book is now ready for purchase! Journey along with Christine as she walks you through contemplative container gardening. Reviews are coming in:
“Digging Deeper is a beautiful companion for anyone who is looking for a mindful and sacred way of connecting their bodies to their souls, and their prayers to actions. All you need is a bowl, some dirt, this lovely book, and the desire to slow down and dig deep. – Jerusalem Jackson Greer, author of At Home in this Life: Finding Peace at the Crossroads of Unraveled Dreams and Beautiful Surprises”
Editor’s Note: We are delighted to share this excerpt from Rev. Dr. Randy Woodley’s newest book Becoming Rooted: One Hundred Days of Reconnecting With Sacred Earth.
What does it mean to be rooted in the land? How are we shaped by being from somewhere, some place, some land in particular? How do we become rooted?
Indigenous people are those who originate naturally from a certain land, who have dwelled there for a long period of time. To be Indigenous is to be rooted: to be part of a community or ethnic group with historic continuity. Indigenous people understand how to live with the land.
We are all indigenous to some place. We are all from somewhere. I repeat: we are all indigenous, from somewhere. Allow that phrase to sink deep into your being. Now begin to open yourself up to the reality embedded deep within your own DNA, your very own identity. Each human being is a finely crafted amalgamation of various ethnicities, each originating from a particular place on Earth. Your ancestors were, at one time, all indigenous. Might we regain a bit of our ancestors’ indigeneity, much of which has likely been lost through time and travel? Your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents who lived and breathed and experienced life before you—they are now living through you. From manifold generations back, they looked forward, sometimes even on their deathbeds, to your life. They and their indigeneity matter because you are here now, as their living hope.
Why does indigeneity matter? Because people who have lived on their own land from time immemorial have worked out their relationship with the plants, animals, weather, and mountains. Those relationships grew and matured over time until there were balance and harmony between the people indigenous to that place and the rest of the community of creation. In order to live in harmony and balance on the land, we all need to recover or discover truly Indigenous values.
We are all indigenous to some place. We are all from somewhere. This is not to say we should all claim to be capital-I Indigenous. Most of us have settler ancestors: those who moved onto land not their own and displaced its original inhabitants. Others of us descend from people who did live somewhere in the world, for generations—people who once belonged to the land. We can all become more lowercase-i indigenous on the land. So perhaps we should all be asking the question, Who were we all before we were colonized or modernized or urbanized or westernized? Like most people of nations composed of immigrant peoples, I am a finely crafted mix of various ethnic streams—and so, likely, are you. I was raised near Detroit, Michigan, and I am a Cherokee descendant recognized by the Keetoowah Band of Cherokee. This gives me no special rights or claims; it simply is. I have very little Indian ancestry, and as you will discover in this book, I was not raised much around Native American culture.
Although being Indian was a significant part of my identity growing up, I only began practicing a more traditionally oriented Indigenous lifestyle and way of thinking in my twenties. I have learned, over many years, to think differently than the dominant culture—the more I learned about an Indigenous way of viewing the world, the more natural it felt. I also realized that seeing all life as sacred and spiritual was what I had already learned while growing up: from my parents, grandparents, aunties, and uncles. I discovered that even though most of my family had been assimilated into Western society for generations, they still retained some Indigenous values. Perhaps the same is true for you. Besides my limited Native American DNA, I also carry in my body the ancestry of numerous other nations from several continents. At one time, each of those peoples was indigenous to somewhere. They lived in a particular place, and they understood that distinct land and their place within it very well. Worldviews can be changed. Yes, true indigeneity is something earned over thousands of years. Yet if we try, we can all learn to adopt indigenous values into our lives—both from our own ancestry and, if we are very fortunate, from the Indigenous people who live with the land upon which we now live.
Planting your roots on the land in which you live is the only way to restore harmony and balance on Earth. The alternative is extremely bleak. If we fail to connect with the land in a very real and tangible way, we might still have a good life. But why miss out on the fullest of what life has to offer? Why miss out on learning from the greatest teacher, the Earth herself? Why miss seeing the beauty that awaits us in a renewed and fruitful relationship of mutual caring?
Becoming Rooted contains one hundred short meditations, or observances, to help us all become better Earth relatives. Like relatives, we are connected to one another whether we like it or not. The Earth and the whole community of creation live with us in a reciprocal relationship. What we do to the Earth and her creatures affects us. Without a strong relationship to the land, we will continue to flow with the dominant cultural view, objectifying the Earth and all her creatures: extracting, developing, and polluting without deep remorse. The Earth will not allow us to continue in this way. Even now, we are experiencing the “natural” disasters that could dominate our future.
I am inviting you on a one-hundred-day journey with creation. This journey will take you deeper into your own particular place— your own original somewhere. Becoming Rooted will help you encounter the particular place that makes you someone. The journey will help you get in touch with your own roots: with the land on which you now live and with the people who lived on that land for thousands of years prior to your arrival.
I hope you will allow these daily reflections, as seen through my particular Indigenous experience, to call you back to yours. I invite you not to mimic my experience but to integrate your own experiences, rooted in your sense of self and your own developing indigeneity. The book is for those recently indigenous to this land; Native Americans; and those who are many generations removed from their own indigeneity, which includes all immigrants. We all need to remember—or not forget in the first place—how to live with the Earth.
This journey is your personal invitation into a different kind of relationship with nature—or, as I like to say, with the whole community of creation. It is also an invitation into a different kind of relationship with Creator, however you understand Creator to be present in your own life and within everything—as God, as Great Mystery, as a higher power, or as the universe.
In these pages, I will intermix terms like nature and creation. I will talk about Creator, or Great Mystery, or God. As you read, feel free to substitute your own sense of the force you believe animates the universe. I come out of a Christian experience, so some of my references will be connected to that tradition. Your own spiritual or religious experience may be different from mine, be it Buddhism, Paganism, Daoism, Islam, Sikhism, or no formal religion whatsoever. Having taught world religions in graduate school for over a decade, I know that nearly every sacred tradition has within it an admiration for the natural world. The approach we will be taking on this journey goes deeper than any one religion. Our journey will embrace the commonality of our humanity as our spirituality. We are on this journey together. We all have the Earth in common, no matter where we are from. Everyone in the whole community of creation has common cause to live well together on the Earth and to care for nature. But please make no mistake: nature can be unforgiving. I have noticed that each of us feels a deep and primal longing both to experience nature and to protect ourselves from its harsh realities.
This balance has been the plight of humanity for as long as we have inhabited the Earth. Despite our fear of the natural world, our fascination with the beauty of creation and her creatures—the whole community of creation, of which we are a part—never ceases. On one hand, we wrap ourselves in the most concrete and blacktopped urban world imaginable. We cheer on the most philosophical of claims, the most rigorous of academic theories, and the most mechanistic of contraptions. On the other hand, a simple tree on the horizon, a hummingbird sipping its nectar, a rainbow, or freshly fallen snow still awakens our deepest sense of awe. In the process of protecting ourselves from the harshest realities in nature, we may not realize that most of the world has drifted far from our state of natural wonderment. Deep inside, though, often without realizing it, we miss nature’s beauty and the sense of her inspiration.
Eloheh (pronounced “ay-luh-HAY”) is a Cherokee word meaning “harmony,” “wholeness,” “abundance,” “fullness,” “peace,” and much more. The vision for the nonprofit organization that my wife and I co-sustain came from a sacred and powerful dream I had in 1998. The results of that vision have come, after years of many joys and heartaches along the way. Located on ten acres, in the foothills of the Oregon Coastal Mountain Range, is the place we call home: Eloheh Indigenous Center for Earth Justice and Eloheh Farm & Seeds.
Our goal at Eloheh is to live in harmony with the land by using traditional Indigenous North American knowledge, wisdom, and practices as a guiding model that embodies educating our whole selves. At Eloheh my wife, Edith—who is an Eastern Shoshone tribal member—and I develop, implement, and teach sustainable and regenerative Earth practices. Eloheh Farm is a model of regenerative agriculture, animal husbandry, and wild-tending systems that support human needs while improving the land and all creation inhabiting the web of life here. We regularly hold schools, cohorts, and summits that teach these skills to others. More importantly, we hope to help others love the land on which they live. To accept our place as simple human beings—beings who share a world with every seen and unseen creature in this vast community of creation—is to embrace our deepest spirituality. The journey we will take through these one hundred days will lead us away from the values and priorities of the “American dream”—or what I call an indigenous nightmare—toward a better understanding of what can be called “the harmony way.” The harmony way is a universal set of values that I observed among many Indigenous peoples years prior to my PhD dissertation work, where I investigated the construct in a more in-depth way. The values within a harmony way framework have sustained many of the Indigenous people in the world over millennia. The values of the harmony way are the values that will sustain us well into the future. We are all indigenous to some place. We are all from somewhere. We can all become rooted in the land that sustains us. I invite you on the journey.
We must all get together as a race and render our contribution to mankind.
—Redbird Smith, Keetoowah Cherokee, 1918
For more from Randy Woodley listen to this great podcast interview https://www.circlewood.online/podcastepisodes/episode/4bcc5cdc/becoming-rooted-randy-woodley-on-his-new-book-of-daily-reflections
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TOMORROW! Wednesday, May 4th at our regular time of 9 am PT, join Christine Sine and Melissa Taft for a discussion on Restoring Rhythms and Seasons. Live on Facebook in the Godspace Light Community Group. Can’t join us live? Catch it later on youtube!
What are the rhythms and rituals that hold your life together? What do you do to sustain them?
You have probably figured out that this is one of my favourite topics to talk about, especially at the moment when there seems to be so much that is destabilizing the rhythm of our lives and the world in which we live. It is also a theme that I continue to grow in my understanding of every year. I first talked about it in my book Godspace and then again in Return to Our Senses, and now I am working on another book that will further express what I have learned.
My growing understanding connects to my increasing rootlessness in the earth and my concern for creation. As I said in my Meditation Monday last week, we all need “symbols and rituals of hope that connect us to the earth and the rhythm of life.” So now we need to explore what those symbols and rituals could look like and how they reinforce our connections between worship and creation.
What makes for resilient spirituality? How do we maintain and grow our faith through the ups and downs of life while growing the roots that go deep into our ever-changing understanding of who God is?
I still draw from my book Godspace, (originally called Sacred Rhythms) and the helpful concept of two types of rituals – those of restoration and of transformation that anthropologist Paul Hiebert wrote about in his book Anthropological Insights for Missionaries.
Taize style worship – photo Christine Sine
Rituals of Restoration
These are the practices that reinforce our faith in the beliefs that order our lives and anchor us in the religious communities in which these beliefs are expressed. Restorative practices are highly structured and do not change from day to day or year to year. They reaffirm our sense of order and meaning in the universe, our community & our own lives. Most importantly, they intentionally connect our daily activities to the life, death and resurrection of Christ.
Possibilities include daily prayer, sabbath practices, regular church gathering, taking communion, following the liturgical calendar and the use of liturgical symbols like the sign of the cross, candles, and incense. I even find that writing my weekly blog post can be a stabilizing and restorative ritual. Creation-based rituals are the main place in which these have changed for me. In the last couple of years, I added creation-based rituals and rhythms to these; working and walking in the garden – and my awe and wonder walks around the neighborhood – are tremendously powerful restorative practices.
Generally speaking, it is the creation of rhythms rather than the actual practices that are important. The practices may change but I love to have a regular rhythm to the day, week and year. In fact the breaking of this rhythm is one thing I find destabilizing. Praying each day is an essential part of my faith practice but what those prayers look like can change from day to day and week to week.
What are the restorative rituals that anchor your beliefs and reinforce connections between creation and your faith?
Rituals of Transformation
These are characterized by a high degree of creativity with little repetitive structure. Their goal is to upend the established way of doing things and restore a measure of flexibility and personal intimacy. They stop our restorative practices from becoming boring and our faith from becoming stagnant. They encourage our faith to grow and change, enabling us to adapt to the passages of life and changes in our culture. In the liturgical calendar, Advent & Lent were specifically designed with this intention. Prayer retreats, conferences and workshops can also accomplish this – though these days it seems that such events are more geared towards reinforcing the status quo than changing it. Pilgrimage, Biblically and culturally based celebrations like Easter and Earth Day can also accomplish this. Prayer walks, and even walking the labyrinth are all practices that maintain this type of flexibility.
When I was on the Mercy Ship Anastasis, and the ship was ready to sail to a new port, we held what was called a moving of the ark ceremony, harkening back to the fact that the Israelites would only break camp and move when the cloud over the ark of the covenant moved. We celebrated with a special worship service, sharing the good things that had happened in the port we were leaving, sharing communion and then learning a little about the new port we were heading towards as a time of preparation.
I don’t live on a ship that moves every few weeks anymore but I know the importance of marking milestones in my life journey in similar ways. Acknowledging transitions, looking back with gratitude and forward with anticipation is a wonderful, faith-building exercise that all of us should practice on a regular basis.
What are the practices that provide both stability and flexibility in your spiritual life? What are transformative habits that shape your faith?
No matter the time of year, it’s important to pause and take time to reset and restore. An excellent way to do that? Take a personal retreat. Building a retreat into the rhythm of your life is a spiritual practice often lost in our helter-skelter, busyness-is-next-to-godliness world. This booklet is based on the most popular posts about spiritual retreats published on Godspacelight.com over the last few years and provides resources for taking a spiritual retreat either on your own or with a friend or spouse. Check it out in our shop!
by Melissa Taft
#ICYMI – a handy acronym for In Case You Missed It. There has been plenty going on here on Godspace – here are some highlights!
Godspace Light Community Group on Facebook
With nearly 2k members and growing, our little spot of community on Facebook is a lively place to be! Whether joining us for a Facebook Live, for a daily reflection from one of our members, or for a welcoming community sharing a wide variety of interesting topics, there is a little something for everyone. It’s a good way to keep up with all things Godspace and Christine Sine – events and upcoming releases, news from Christine and others, and even giveaways! You can find us at Godspace Light Community under groups on Facebook.
#ICYMI…the latest FB Live can be found uploaded a day or two later on Christine’s YouTube Channel as well as the group. The most recent one with Tom Sine on the topic of Earth Day was quite popular!
Socials
Of course, Facebook is not the only place you can find Christine. As I mentioned, if you’d like to watch the current Facebook Live but can’t participate live (or don’t have a Facebook account), you can always keep an eye on Christine’s YouTube channel. You can also find Godspace on Instagram, and Christine on LinkedIn, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram.
#ICYMI: Christine posted a hint at something very exciting on her Instagram!
Resources
Godspace continues to be a resource for many of you. Our Stations of the Cross post was one of the most popular over the past month – we pray it brought inspiration and blessing. Understandably, Ukraine is on our hearts and lips. Many of you found your way to this beautiful visual liturgy for Ukraine. In the past week, this Litany for Mother’s Day has captured attention. Just over a week away in the US – now is a good time to reflect and prepare.
ICYMI: Another popular post this week, Christine’s Meditation Monday: A Well Watered Garden hints of our current theme on Godspace Light and of things to come!
On Wednesday, May 4th at our regular time of 9 am PT, join Christine Sine and Melissa Taft for a discussion on Restoring Rhythms and Seasons. Live on Facebook in the Godspace Light Community Group. Can’t join us live? Catch it later on youtube!
by Lilly Lewin and Kara K. Root
I am on the road for the next few weeks and will have some friends writing freerange Friday posts for me! Some of my favorite people, who are writers and creatives – and if you don’t know them you need to know them! First friend is Pastor and Spiritual Director Kara Root. I have learned many things from Kara over the years, but probably the biggest lesson is about practicing SABBATH. Her entire congregation practices Sabbath together! They gather for regular Sunday worship twice a month, and the other weekends they gather on Saturday night for more contemplative time, and then on Sunday they practice Sabbath on their own! If there is a fifth Sunday in the month they often go serve someone together. I think that if every church would start this practice, we’d have a lot less burned-out pastors and a lot more peace-filled people!
Kara has an amazing new book about her experience living out her faith in community with Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church.
The Deepest Belonging: A Story about Discovering Where God Meets Us Paperback
“Are you tired? Worn out? Weighed down by heaviness? Come to me. Get away withme and you will recover your life. I will show you how to take a real rest. Walk with meand work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you will learn to live
freely and lightly.” (Mt. 11:28–30 adapted from The Message)
My grandfather was famous in our family for being able to “fit 10 lbs in a 5 lb box.” I inherited and honed this trait, and for much of my teenage and adult life I was a proud multitasker. I knew how to pack more things into less time, to wow people with my ability to accomplish.
But I slowly began to discover that while I could competently fit 10 lbs in a 5 lb box, I didn’t know how to fit 5 lbs. in a 5 lb. box. And 4 lbs. would have been impossible. I didn’t have any margins, any room, any rest. I could do many things at once but I could not do one thing. Or nothing. I was trying to be more than one human being, live more than the one human life. I was ignoring the perimeters, boundaries and limits God has given me. I was packing so much into my life and moving so fast, that I was not receiving my life as a gift to receive and enjoy, but turning my life into a task to accomplish.
For the past fifteen years, as a person, a parent, and a pastor, I have been learning about and practicing Sabbath. Sabbath is time dedicated on purpose for no activity other than to dwell in our own lives and let God meet us there. Sabbath reorients us to reality. When God led the Israelites in the wilderness, God gave them the Ten Words, or what we know as the Ten Commandments. These are descriptions of life of a free people with God in charge instead an enslaved people under Pharaoh. Hinged between the Words that describe belonging to God (the first three commandments) and the Words describing belonging to each other (the last five commandments) comes the longest and most detailed Word: “Keep the Sabbath.”
One day in seven, God says, you stop all work. You do this because you are not to be defined by your output or measured by your productivity. One day in seven everyone rests, and all distinctions that you erect to define your value and quantify your worth disappear. Old, young, rich, poor, slave, free, citizen, foreigner—you are all simply and completely human beings, alongside one another, all beloved children of God. This is the hardest lesson to absorb, so we have to practice it regularly, God tells us. We have to regularly step out of the mindset and activity of the world around us, the measuring, comparing, competing, striving, producing, and consuming. We have to regularly stop doing and practice just being. As all the other creatures and the earth itself already do, we must surrender to the cycles of rest and renewal that God built into the fabric of existence, which we are passionately determined to circumvent.
One day in seven, this Word says, those who belong to God on purpose remember that we are not God. And God’s people on purpose remember that we are neither better nor worse than anyone around us, but connected in a mutual belonging to God and each other. This is what it means to be human. This is what it means to be free. By stopping every week on purpose, we acknowledge that there is nothing we can’t set down and step away from. In fact, the urgency and control that keeps us constantly in the driver’s seat is a lie. Life is about something other than doing work and measuring our worth. So we stop. On purpose. Ready or not, sabbath interrupts and takes over. We don’t start Sabbath after all the work is done, the house is clean, the thank–you notes are written, and the gutters are cleared. The day arrives and we surrender our uniforms and go off the clock. The phone goes off, the screens go dark, the work is put down, and the only thing left is human beings being human, in the presence of God, who was there all along.
A Sabbath day is for listening to our souls, our bodies, our hearts. What do I need now to feel my freedom and belovedness in God? Sleep? Play? Nature? Connection? Movement? Creativity? After 14 years of practice, a Sabbath day still often feels like a bonus day in the week, a step out of time itself. It’s surprising in its expansiveness. It is gentle and open, and things bubble up and surprise us within it, like an impromptu board game or picnic, a guilt–free sinking deeply into a novel. A meal prepared slowly and together. A long, meandering, purposeless walk away from the usual paths.
In stark contrast to the world around us—the relentless pace, the endless self–gratification, the frantic climbing, and urgent, nonstop work—here is a gift of rest and perspective that is already part of our faith, just not one most Christians pay much attention to. Sabbath is one of God’s big ten, right up there with not murdering, because unless we regularly stop, we forget. We forget that we are creatures—with bodies and minds and hearts that need tending. We forget we are dependent on the love and care of a creator who is ready to meet us when we stop moving long enough to be met. We forget that we are in this together, alongside everyone else, and that we need one another because life isn’t meant to be done alone and against. And human beings who forget their humanity are arguably the most destructive force in the universe. Rest is not a reward to be earned. It’s the starting point. And because of how we live in today’s fast-paced world, resting is uncomfortable and strange. We are trained to measure the worth of a day by what we accomplish.
So it’s a challenge to spend a day with the express goal of accomplishing nothing, just being. I’ve learned to expect restlessness, and often tears. I receive both as reminders to me of how unaccustomed I have become to being present to my own basic humanity, and I let the agitation and unexpected emotion lead me back to gratitude for this one precious life I’ve been given. Practicing Sabbath has given me a greater capacity to set boundaries and make hard choices with joy. It has taught my children to honor their capacities and their own and others’ need for rest and renewal. It has deepened my congregation’s trust in God and love for the world.
Sabbath reminds me what’s real: I am a person cared for by God and deeply connected to others. I forget this when I don’t stop and rest. When I do stop and rest, I remember.
Kara K Root a writer, spiritual director, workshop leader, and the Pastor of Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis, MN, a Christian community that shapes its life around worship, hospitality and Sabbath rest.
By Kara Root
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words and pictures by June Friesen
This year, spring in the desert of Arizona has been such a blessing. I have gathered a few of my photos from gardens I have visited and trails that I have walked in the past couple of months. As we have been challenged here in Godspace to consider finding beauty in, through and out of ashes the past couple of months, my mind has wandered over the past couple of years as we have tried to make a weekly hiking trip part of our time not to be housebound. This first photo holds a few photos from spring adventures to three different venues. This next photo holds irises in one of our favorite gardens. This area was devastated by a horrendous flood last year in a downpour. The devastation resulted from an area where a large fire had burned over several hundred acres of mountainside. Then a huge rain caused slides of the burned debris to slide down the mountain and block bridges. This required many human hours of cleanup. There was much debris that needed to be removed and of course along with that much of the flower and shrub vegetation was either destroyed and/or compromised in an Arboretum. The irises seemed to be the plant that survived this devastation the best; the daffodils and many other spring shrubs have not yet fully recovered. And so, it may seem or be in our lives – we too may feel as if there has been a mountain slide of unwanted debris. Of course, the most recent worldwide slide of debris was Covid. This brought with it many challenges and times of consideration – what is next? What can I or should I do now? Am I safe? One may even ponder back over ‘life before Covid’ as I have done recently wondering how/when/if life will ever recover to what I enjoyed before such as freedom to travel when, where and how often I want. As I pondered this, I thought of one of my favorite passages of Scripture, Psalm 19.
PSALM 19: 7-14 (The Message)
The revelation of God is whole and pulls our lives together.
The signposts of God are clear and point out the right road.
The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy.
The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes.
God’s reputation is twenty-four-carat gold, with a lifetime guarantee.
The decisions of God are accurate down to the nth degree.10 God’s Word is better than a diamond, better than a diamond set between emeralds.
You’ll like it better than strawberries in spring, better than red, ripe strawberries.11-14 There’s more: God’s Word warns us of danger and directs us to hidden treasure.
Otherwise how will we find our way? Or know when we play the fool?
Clean the slate, God, so we can start the day fresh!
Keep me from stupid sins, from thinking I can take over your work;
Then I can start this day sun-washed, scrubbed clean of the grime of sin.
These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray.
Accept them when I place them on the morning altar,
O God, my Altar-Rock, God, Priest-of-My-Altar.
As I was reading and pondering these verses, I could not help but be reminded of how involved in our lives God is even though many times and probably most of the time we forget that God is present. The truth of these verses is relevant not only in creation and nature but also in our spiritual lives. Today I find myself challenged as I look at the beauty that nature restores over time. I also find myself challenged in regards to what God desires to now restore, renew and/or rebirth in my spiritual life after this struggle of the past two years.
In this writing I am going to concentrate on verse 10 – likely there will be at least one or more follow-up writings from this theme. “10 God’s Word is better than a diamond, better than a diamond set between emeralds.
You’ll like it better than strawberries in spring, better than red, ripe strawberries.”
NEW BIRTH AFTER DEVASTATION
What will I do?
Where will I go?
Who will help – or will anyone help?
Where is God – they said He would care for me?
Everything that I treasured has been compromised in some way –
My home was flooded with water –
O, it is standing and they say it can be restored –
But can it really be restored – will it ever be the same again?
My fields and garden are covered in debris –
How will I ever be able to plant them again?
Oh, and then the seed I was planning to use –
It too has been destroyed –
Wet, sprouting, molding, and also a fire hazard –
What is ever going to be possible Dear God?
God, my whole life is compromised –
Not just my home, my livelihood, my garden,
But God my whole family is affected in some way –
And so, I have been reminded today that You will help me –
You will help me find an answer –
You, O God, will give me direction –
But then I have to ask – ‘How in the world is any recovery possible?
I am trusting You O God –
I am trusting You also in the devastation I feel in my spirit today –
I am trusting You for the devastation I feel because of so many limitations –
I am trusting You for healing, O God –
I am trusting You for healing in my spirit today –
I am trusting You for healing in all spiritual communities today –
I am trusting You for healing in families today –
I am trusting You for healing in the lives of those broken by situations that could never have been prepared for –
I am trusting You for new beginnings –
New beginnings as I open my spirit to You God for renewal –
New beginnings for others as I allow You to work in and through me –
New beginnings for spiritual communities as creative ways for gatherings and reaching out are considered and implemented –
New beginnings in families as forgiveness is granted and acceptance of recent challenges are faced –
New beginnings in our broken, broken world –
A world that sometimes seems to be without any ray of hope –
Let this new beginning begin in me, O God –
In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit,
Amen and Amen.
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