By Lilly Lewin
When I need to process things, it helps me to draw/sketch and color.
I drew the picture above a couple of days ago & it’s inviting me to pay attention & take notice of what I am feeling in the middle of all that is this pandemic.
Also, this drawing sparks many questions for me to ponder and talk to Jesus about as I imagine the treasure chest, the ocean, the seashore, etc.
Maybe some of these questions can help you slow down & notice too.
In the midst of #covid19, what are you experiencing in these strange new seas we are navigating?
What are the hidden treasures you are discovering during this crazy season?
What are you learning about yourself during quarantine?
Are you swimming or treading water?
What have you discovered buried, but now surfacing?
What are the sharks that have circled you?
What have been the beautiful fish to enjoy?
What “shells” have you collected along the way?
What treasures have you found?
Could you find some treasure buried in the depth of the ocean of uncertainty?
Could the treasure chest of gifts be bigger than the fears, frustrations, and uncertainties beneath the waves?
Ask Jesus to show you.
This reminds me that
where your treasure is, there will your heart be too.
I’m reminded that
Jesus walked on water
Jesus calmed the stormy seas
Jesus provided an abundance of fish for his friends after they’d fished all night and not caught anything.
And Jesus already has the breakfast cooked on the beach ready for you and me to receive.
What does this sketch say to you today?
What images are speaking to you in the midst of covid19?
Why not get your crayons or markers out and do some coloring this weekend and invite the Holy Spirit to inspire you!
©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com
by Tom Sine
I celebrated the “good news that a huge number in both…Gen Y & Z want to make a difference in our troubled times”…in my last book, Live Like You Give a Damn!: Join the Changemaking Celebration.
While most pastors are aware that Pew Researchers tell us that Gen Y and Z are the “nones and the dones”, the generations that are increasingly choosing not to affiliate with the church, few seem to be aware of the good news they bring to this daunting time.
Because Gen Y and Z are the first digital generations, they are much more aware and concerned about environmental, racial and economic justice and a very high percentage of them really do “give a damn!”. I am convinced if we invited their desire to work for constructive change in our neighborhoods they might find our churches more interesting.
However, I am experiencing a growing sense of alarm for the future of Gen Y & Z as they are facing not only the Corona Pandemic but increasingly a global economic recession as well. Millennials launched their lives during the recession of 2008-2009 and there are many of them in their 40s that are still struggling to get their lives started. Numbers of them postponed getting married, starting families, going to college and purchasing homes.
This recession is likely to be much worse. It will continue to make it tough for millennials…headed into their 40s to get started. It could be even worse for Gen Z, numbers of whom will be graduating from college into a decade where employment is going to very hard to find. For those that didn’t go to college, it is going to be even tougher finding work and getting their lives started.
“We Need National Service. Now.”, declares David Brooks in his recent New York Times article. He makes a very compelling case for needing to influence the Republicans and Democrats in the Senate to put them to work in a national service program to help our country to recover from the twin crises of our most destructive pandemic and what could become our worst recession.
“Dr. Tom Friedman, former head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, said we will need some 300,000 contact tracers alone. Senator Chris Coons has a bill working its way through the Senate that would double the number of AmeriCorps from 75,000 to 150,000.” They are providing a living wage and are trained in community empowerment. For example, a number of them are trained in educational empowerment and tutor in inner city schools.
Also, for students or recent grads looking for an opportunity to make a difference during the summer, there are a number of Christian opportunities. For example, InterVarsity Justice and Mission has summer opportunities. Responding as followers of Jesus to COVID-19, there are opportunities in the US and internationally that students or recent grads need to check out at InterVarsity’s Justice and Missions Program’s Response.
As we all learn to compassionately deal with the range of daunting challenges impacting us and our neighbors, it is urgently important that we we don’t forget Generation Next. A very high percentage of both Gen Y and Z would welcome the opportunity to be invited to groups like AmeirCorps or groups like Intervarsity to use their lives and gifts to make a little difference in times like these. Let’s all find ways to help them launch lives of compassionate changemaking in response to these turbulent times.
New book by Tom Sine and Dwight Friesen called 2020s Foresight: Three Vital Practices for Thriving in a Decade of Accelerating Change will be released in September 2020 by Fortress Press.
by James Amadon
One welcome blessing in the midst of the current coronavirus disruption is that I am not racing through the early morning to get the kids out of bed, out the door, and into school. These days the older two sleep in, rolling out of bed and into the first online learning session of the day in one fluid motion. My youngest, at six years old, is incapable of sleeping in; he and I are usually the first ones downstairs. One such morning in early March, we decided to grab a few blankets, step out the front door, and sit in the two red Adirondack chairs that grace our front porch.
We now do this on most mornings, and have given the practice a name: “Red Chair Time.” It involves sliding into our chairs, arranging blankets to keep us warm, and watching the day emerge as we sip our coffee and orange juice. Conversation is in whispers as we notice which birds are singing loudly, count how many bunnies emerge from the underbrush, and debate what color the sky most resembles. We also talk about dinosaurs and tell knock-knock jokes, both of which add to the sacredness of the moment. Occasionally we talk about what is going on in the wider world and who we might pray for that day. Mostly we just sit and take it all in.
At some point schools will open and the kids will go back. The morning race will start again. I will be sad to let go of Red Chair Time, and hope that there will be opportunities to come back to it in the future. For now, though, I receive it as a gift that invites the two of us to greet these strange days with wonder and gratitude.
Question to ponder:
- Have you found something similar to “Red Chair Time?”
by Kathy Escobar
In 2014 I wrote a book called Faith Shift: Finding Your Way Forward When Everything You Believe is Coming Apart for people who were experiencing a faith deconstruction and were trying to find life on the other side of all they once knew. Earlier this year in February, two weeks before realities of COVID-19 whirled through the United States and upending life as we—and people across the globe–knew it, I released a new book called Practicing: Changing Yourself to Change the World. I decided to combine both of these together today because I think they fit together into the space we are living in right now as human beings on a planet experiencing a major disruption.
Many of us are feeling disoriented, confused, overwhelmed, lost.
A lot of folks who are resourced are experiencing what it’s like to be un-resourced, to see up close and personal the disparities of a broken health care system, the lack of safety nets, and the realities of survival.
Two months into this churn, there’s a restlessness among most of us in different ways and a desire to “get back to normal” again. It’s a natural reaction, and I have it, too. But I truly believe that one of the biggest parts of our work in the upcoming weeks and months is to become far more honest about this critical reality—there is no going back to “normal.”
Before the pandemic hit, some of us have had life experiences where everything changed– faith unravelings, trauma, and a painful loss of people, jobs, health, or dreams where we can never go back to what was before. Rather, what we can do is find our way forward into something new. There aren’t clear formulas or steps to follow, but there are some things that we can do to anchor our hearts, our souls, our feet, our faith into a new season of our story.
That’s where Practicing comes in. The book is centered on 10 practices to engage with to embody a healthier way of moving in the world that not only changes us personally but has a ripple effect into our families, neighborhoods, churches, communities, the wider world. These 10 practices are: Healing, Listening, Loving, Including, Equalizing, Advocating, Mourning, Failing, Resting, and Celebrating. Practicing is packed with practices, stories, reflection questions, and ways to be transformed, and I hope that people and groups will use it as a tool in the upcoming months and year as we look for ways to heal, grow, embody hope.
It’s built on the centering ideas that change always starts with us and faith is a verb.
In considering Godspace and the beautiful work that happens here, I thought it would be good to touch very briefly on some questions and thoughts to ponder over each of these 10 practices related specifically to the pandemic. My hope is that each of us glean just one or two from this list to reflect and consider as part of our work in finding our way forward in our own unique contexts.
Healing. What are some of our relational patterns that have become more illuminated during this season–maybe it’s control, people-pleasing, insecurity, isolation or other things we do to cope? Maybe it’s ways we’re living out what we’ve learned in therapy or spiritual direction in a more healthy way. How can we be more honest about them with ourselves and others?
Listening. The pandemic has magnified the destructive polarization in our current culture in all kinds of brutal ways. How can we hold space for others who see the pandemic differently from us even though we vehemently disagree? Even if we can’t find common ground, what are ways we can listen for understanding, ask questions instead of only make statements?
Loving. Loving our neighbors requires skin in the game. How can we meet needs in tangible ways, share resources, and sacrifice our comfort for the sake of others? Who is on our hearts that needs connection and support? How are we considering the most vulnerable?
Including. So many are getting left behind in the realities of #pandemicprivilege. Who’s missing in the transition to the online environment? Who is being excluded because of lack of resources or abilities? How can we “make room at the table” (even though we can’t sit freely around real ones right not) to include, reach out, listen to, and learn from?
Equalizing. The pandemic is revealing the ravages of unjust systems and disparate power. Whose voices and perspectives do we need to listen to more carefully right now and honor their wisdom, stories, and perspectives despite our discomfort? What actions are we being challenged to take that we might be dismissing because of our privilege?
Advocating. We need people of presence to hold these hard things–individuals and groups who are willing to hear what the real needs are, come alongside, and help break down barriers to access resources. What is on our heart to advocate for? What’s a way we can use our voice, power, resources on others’ behalf?
Mourning. So many are grieving right now and loss of people, freedoms, jobs, and a pile of other things is weaved through every part of this pandemic. What have we lost? What feelings are surfacing? How can we let our feelings be our feelings, period, instead of trying to spiritualize, minimize or do-whatever-we-can-do to soften them? How can we hold others’ grief and not try to fix the pain?
Failing. I have yet to talk to a person who said they were rocking the pandemic. We’re all disoriented in different ways, not measuring up to false ideals of how we’re supposed to make it through this time. Parents who are thrust into homeschooling kids have an extra measure of pressure from all sides, and the feelings of failure can be so brutal. How can we be more gentle with ourselves, let go of expectations, and honor not only our humanness but others as well?
Resting. Rest? Now? That’s easy say and hard to do when our bodies and souls are all being rocked with such radical change, but the practice of resting is critical to survival. How can we find time to rest our weary minds? What are things we can do, no matter how small, to make space for taking care of our souls so we can last? How can we help someone else rest in a creative way?
Celebrating. It’s hard to “celebrate” when there’s so much pain and loss in every direction, but it’ll help us make it. What’s something good—no matter how small–in the middle of the hard? What are we grateful for? Where are we seeing God’s beauty, hope, love, kindness, mercy in the middle of the muck? How can we honor and acknowledge it?
Which of these questions and ideas are you wrestling with, pondering, trying to integrate into your reality right now?
How can you reflect on even just one of them more deeply and practice what emerges?
A core idea that keeps emerging for me is that embedded into every part of this season is the need to practice living in the in-between. We are still at the very beginning of this; a long and hard road is ahead and our human desire to “figure this out” and “get back to normal” is going to come on strong. I feel it deeply, too, but I keep reminding myself: There is no going back.
There is no going back to normal.
There’s only finding our way forward–practicing, trying, stumbling, bumbling toward our new reality, remembering that God’s somehow with us, and faith is a verb, meant to be practiced.
by Christine Sine
It is tomato planting season here in Seattle and a couple of days ago, when I posted a tomato photo, novice gardeners had lots of questions for me. As I reflected on this yesterday I realized that some of my advice is probably also good advice for us as we think about reopening our churches now that COVID19 restrictions are being slowly removed. Some of you know that I am a fan of tomato theology and so it is not surprising that now too I am drawing on my tomatoes for advice.
Planting tomato seeds
DON’T PLANT TOO SOON
We all get impatient to get our tomatoes in the ground too early. Plant nurseries in Seattle make a lot of money in May from impatient gardeners who plant too early and regret it.
Are we in danger of doing the same thing with our churches I wonder? Are we so impatient to get back to the old ways of gathering that we we are likely to open too soon and regret it, finding’s that we are spreading the virus before it is contained. Are our plants (congregational members) likely to die just as those early planted tomatoes do because of it?
Hardening off slowly
DON’T PLANT TOO FAST
Tomato plants that have been inside for a long time need to be hardened over several days before they are exposed to the full day of sunshine – otherwise they will get sunburnt or scorched and their growth will be stunted because they are not used to the cold new environment. I move them outside for a couple of hours for the first few days, then 4 for the next few, then six and finally for the whole day.
What about in our churches, are we likely to give our congregations “sunburn” by exposing them too quickly to the light? Do we need the same kind of approach as I have with my tomatoes – small group gatherings for a short period of time to start with, then larger gatherings if everything seems OK and then finally the whole congregations with thenevessary precautions still being taken.
DON’T PLANT TOO SHALLOW
When you finally get to plant those tomatoes you don’t just put the part of the tomato in the ground that was moved by soil in the pot, you put as much in the ground as possible because the part that has been exposed will grow new roots and give you a much sturdier plant. We usually place them on the side and cover the first few inches with soil. Your plant may not look as big but it will be much happier and healthier.
So what is the equivalent in our churches you may wonder? Well I think that we need to “plant” congregational members in such a way that they are able to put down strong and supportive roots in the new soil. The world that we are all emerging into is different from the world we left behind. How much of the “old growth” in our lives needs to be buried so that the new plants that emerge can grow healthy and strong?
Growing well
SUPPORT WELL FROM THE START.
We put up tomato hoops whenever we plant our tomatoes. Wait even a week and they are hard to get around your plants. We also put down a watering system. We have learned from experience that this too is much harder to thread through our tomato patch if we don’t put it down on planting day.
Maybe it is something we need to consider in our churches too. What kinds of support will your congregations need – support for dealing with anxieties, PTD, ongoing fear and the loss of loved ones as well as the economic realities of lost jobs and investments, new dynamics in the work place and the possibility a deep recession? Do you have health care workers and hospital cleaners, grocery staff, farmers or delivery people in congregation who may have special needs? What kind of support will church leaders need? We will not be the same either. We will need support, healing and encouragement as we move forward.
WHILE YOU ARE WAITING BUILD UP THE SOIL.
Novice gardeners think that all they need is a good bag of potting soil, some compost and some fertilizer, all put together on the same day they plant. And there is some truth in this, but the tomatoes will be much healthier if the soil has been built up over a period of time. Tomatoes like rich soil with lots of compost. Make sure you use the right fertilizer though. Too much nitrogen means lots of great green growth but it could mean much less fruit. There are other things we need think about too. Tomatoes need bees to pollinate them – less bees mean less tomatoes, so we don’t just need to work to build up the soil that we are planting them in, we also need to build up the surrounding garden which hopefully has lots of flowers that attract the bees that will pollinate your tomatoes.
Wow, now this topic I could talk about for ages when I think of our churches. This is not just the time for streaming worship services on Sunday, it is a time for “building up the soil”, the community in which each person is planted and for adding plants or connecting to other congregations that can provide the pollinators that will be needed for the future.
Part of what our church response to COVID-19 has forced many of us to do is to form collaborations with other churches and organizations that have resources and “pollenators” that we lack. This is a good time to identify these and to nurture and strengthen the relationships that you will need in the future.
Anticipate the harvest
WHAT IS YOUR RESPONSE?
As I write this for you to prayerfully consider, I must remind you (full disclosure!) that I am not a pastor, though I do interact with people from a lot of churches and am concerned that our approaches to reopening will cause casualties, not just because we try to bring people together too close too quickly, but also because we forget that our people are not the same as they were before this all began.
So what is your response?
- What kind of preparation do you think is necessary before we reopen our churches – for you and for your congregation?
- What special needs are members of your congregation likely to have?
- What kinds of ongoing discipleship and faith formation do you think will be most effective in the months ahead?
Up until a month ago, I rarely walked near my house. Because I work in a city ten miles away from my home, and our local traffic is congested, I have developed the habit of leaving for work when the traffic is lighter, an hour ahead of time, driving to a park near my workplace, and walking there each morning. For five years, it has been a good system. I love the park trails I rotate between, but when we were told to stay home a little over a month ago, that pattern, along with many of the other lifestyle patterns I had formed, was thrown into disarray.
photo by Louise
Besides the convenience of walking near my workplace, there were other reasons I haven’t made a habit of walking near my home. The first reason is the big hill. Our house backs up to a trail and green space owned by the power company, but the first thing you encounter when you reach it from our backyard is long, steep hill. The view from the top is beautiful—the Cascades in one direction and, after a little more hill and a little more walking, the Olympics become visible in the other direction. When we first moved here, I pictured myself walking up that hill every day—maybe twice a day even— to see the sunrise and sunset. That daily habit never developed. The hill was too strenuous, not conducive to a leisurely morning walk. It was more of a workout. And then, a month ago, we found ourselves in the middle of a pandemic, with staying at home the moral and loving choice.
I was wedded to my morning walks by this time. It has become a meditative time for me, a form of quiet time with God on the days I walk alone and a time of connection with friends on days I walk with others. But, this was all changed now. Driving somewhere to walk might be allowable, but it wasn’t ideal. I looked at what my neighborhood had to offer. Our immediate neighborhood is a cul-de-sac that empties onto a rather uninteresting thoroughfare. So, for me, the most appealing choice by far was the trail up the hill. One morning, early, I headed out the back door toward the great, energy-draining, intimidating incline. Too often I had climbed that hill with those whose legs were longer and whose pace was quicker than mine. This day, I told myself a leisurely walk up the hill was okay. And it was. If I started to gasp for air, I slowed down. I gave myself permission to notice the ferns, the rabbits, the mountains, the trees. And when I got to the top of the hill, I had enough energy and motivation to inch a little way down the steep backside of the hill…and discovered trails I had never been on before. I have lived in this neighborhood for 16 years and had never even known they existed. They meandered through trees, bleeding heart, ferns, huckleberries. From a couple of spots, there was a peekaboo view of the Olympics. The longest trail traversed the ridge for two miles. Down below, there were houses in view, but there was also a surprising seclusion and peace in this place. And it was literally out my back door.
It has made me rethink of how often I go off somewhere else to find something that I never think to look for closer to home. What relationships, resources, and beauties right in front of me am I ignoring as I pursue ones further afield that seem more exotic? How far do I go find something that a bit of work would yield right in my backyard? I won’t quit driving to the mountains to get my fill of alpine flowers and wilderness trails, but what about where I live? What is there that I never see because it isn’t exactly what I think I am looking for. What hills seem unsurmountable or at least not worth the effort to climb? And if I make the effort to look, what surprises might I find?
Once again I am posting the Taize contemplative service and morning prayer from Saint Andrews Episcopal church in Seattle. I continue to find these enriching and nourishing and am pleased to see how many of you do too. I encourage you to visit their YouTube channel and check out the other resources for prayer and worship they provide
Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
Permission to web stream or podcast music in this service is granted under One License number A-710-756. www.saintandrewsseattle.org.
For bulletin click here.
Morning Prayer, Sunday May 10th, 2020, St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with licence #A-710-756.
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