by Sue Duby
I love morning quiet in my comfy chair. Chilly toes buried in a soft blanket. Shutters set just so for a perfect view of Spring’s magic explosion of life in the backyard. Favorite flowered china coffee cup in hand. A moment to exhale. Be still. Wait for a new whisper nugget for the day from Him.
Along the way, I dutifully grab my church-wide Bible reading list. Days behind, slightly guilt-ridden, I quickly begin flipping pages and skimming verses. More to scribble check marks down the page, than to ponder or listen attentively along the way. Suddenly, in the frenzied “doing”, I saw it… just a few words, but they jumped out, blurring all other words on the page… “Peace be with you”.
With Holy week reflection and Easter “Halleluiahs” now past, I’ve never pondered much how to navigate the “after”… the next steps following Easter Sunday Spirit-laced worship, heart-bursting gratitude for His resurrection and a sense of breaking through to the “other side” of Good Friday grief. And yet, Jesus reminds us that our journey with Him has truly just begun… and that we are not alone.
After washing His disciples’ feet (humble service) and sharing a last Passover meal (sweet fellowship), Jesus fills remaining precious moments with a summary teaching (loving encouragement and exhortation). In the midst, these words… “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27 NIV). A gift… His peace. A reminder… the world’s peace is not the same. A call to obey… don’t allow your hearts to hold fear. A seed planted for the future. Jesus likely sensed their unease. He knew what anxious times lay ahead. A simple reminder, with greater depth of truth than the disciples then understood.
Fast forward a few days. Triumph over the crucifixion by an empty tomb. Though Mary testified of the miracle, the disciples gathered together… “with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders” (John 20:19 NIV). Then, in the midst, Jesus appears and speaks 4 simple words… “Peace be with you”. Not “Here I am!”. Not “The tomb is truly empty!”. Not: “I am who I said I was”. Not “Why did you not believe Me?”.
Rather, with His deep heart of affection, grace and mercy, just a simple “Peace be with you”. With all that Jesus may have desired to share, His focus zeroed in on his disciples. Knowing their human frame. Understanding that fear blocks understanding, ability to move forward and capacity to process truth. With compassion, He addresses their hearts first.
Curious that Jesus does not reprimand them for their fear. No stern “Why are you afraid? Don’t you know….”. Instead, a first statement of blessing upon them in their weakness. “Peace be with you”. A demonstration once again that He is FOR them and with them. Still present, still speaking, still encouraging.
As we journey this unpredictable, unknown, sustained season of pandemic, l so identify with the disciples. Hunkered down, experiencing varied measures of fear, so very aware of my own humanness and longing to taste His peace in full measure.
Like Jesus did for the disciples, He’s reminded me more times than I can count that He is, indeed, the God of Peace. That He is able to calm stormy waters in my heart. That He is present “in the midst of”… always.
And like the disciples, I need to hear it again… over and over… from His heart… “Peace be with you”. Whether fear over health, finances, continued isolation or unanswered questions, His love wins. He’s offering. I choose to receive the gift with joy and gratitude. “Peace be with you”… now and always.
by Tom Sine
As we celebrate the 50th Anniversary of EARTH DAY this week, I am deeply grateful for all the groups in all our countries that are working aggressively dealing with not just climate change, but now we are dealing with what is now a CLIMATE CRISIS.
In 2020s Foresight: Three Vital Practices for Thriving in a Decade of Accelerating Change, Dwight Friesen and I argue that the turbulent 2020s is the make or break decade!
If we are convinced that if we don’t turn around the amount of garbage we are putting in our air, and our waterways and God’s good earth in the 2020s… then quite frankly, our children and grandchildren will not have a future that will be sustainable.
While many mainline Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox Christians are not only concerned about the climate crisis but many are actively involved in work for climate change. That is not the case for many evangelical Christians. I am deeply troubled that so many older American evangelicals seem content to bequest a deeply polluted planet to their offspring and all those in the next generation.
However, thank God that recently some younger evangelicals decided to take decisive action in addressing the climate crisis and launched “Young Evangelicals for Climate Action”. Whatever your religious affiliation, they would welcome your support. Even though my roots are in the evangelical tradition, these days Christine and I find our home in COTA, a mainline church in Seattle, with many active young leaders.
As we celebrate the anniversary of the first Earth Day 50 years ago, it brings back very compelling memories for me because it was quite literally “my second conversion experience”!
On that first Earth Day, I was the Dean of Students at Maui Community College in Hawaii. James Dator, a Political Science professor, was invited to speak to a group of about 40 of us, primarily comprised of students.
I attended mostly out of curiosity. In my early 30s, I had prided myself on keeping up on what we used to call “current events”. However, I had no idea that our world was changing or that we were facing daunting environmental challenges. Dr. Dator’s presentation literally “turned my comfortable world upside down”.
My first response was to join 30 students in collecting over 50 huge plastic trash bags after the presentation. Then I followed them as we walked to a motel that was three blocks from the community college. I was surprised to view what attracted these students. The motel was located on the beach. As we walked around, there was an enormous mountain of the motel’s garbage from the past week. One of the student leaders explained that this was the regular pattern at this motel so the ocean could take it away.
I joined the students in the filling of those 50 bags and then they brought them into the lobby, which infuriated the motel manager. However, the students were resolute and by the end of the day, the manager caved in. He agreed to have the local garbage service to pick up the weeks waste in the future. The students applauded and were clearly delighted. In the coming months, they discovered other ways to become environmental activists.
For me, that first Earth Day was not only a “conversion” experience discovering my faith called to not only care for others, but God’s good creation as well. More than that, it was also a vocational call. It was a call to enable church leaders to learn from environmental planners, urban designers and business innovators to learn to anticipate the incoming waves of change….before they start planning.
Within three months, I moved to Seattle and began a doctoral degree in history at the University of Washington. But my advisor allowed me to create a minor in strategic foresight to enable evangelical, mainline and Catholic leaders to learn not only to anticipate environmental and societal change, but to learn to create innovative ways to respond to these new challenges in our lives, churches and communities that reflect the ways of Jesus.
If you want to catch up on not only the disruptive changes we are facing today, as well as new ones that await us in the turbulent 2020s, check out the new book by Tom Sine and Dwight Friesen called 2020s Foresight: Three Vital Practices for Thriving in a Decade of Accelerating Change that will be released in September 2020 by Fortress Press.
See other related posts on newchangemakers.com
by Christine Valters Paintner, PhD
Practicing Resurrection with All of Creation
Lent is a powerful season of transformation. Forty days in the desert, stripped of our comforts, and buoyed by our commitment to daily practice so that we might arrive at the celebration of Easter deepened and renewed. And yet this year, we were challenged to a much more severe Lenten experience, where many of our daily securities have been stripped away.
How do we then approach the glorious season of resurrection, and celebrate not just for that one day, but for the full span of 50 days. How do we savor joy in the midst of so much grief and heartbreak. Easter is a span of time when days grow longer in the northern hemisphere, blossoms burst forth, and we are called to consider how we might practice this resurrection in our daily lives.
My new book, Earth, Our Original Monastery, is rooted in my love of monastic tradition and practice: the gifts of silence and solitude, hospitality, daily rhythms, slowness, soulful companionship, and presence to the holiness of everything are gifts our world is hungry for. Over time, I began to discover the ways that Earth herself teaches us these practices. In the Celtic tradition it is said there are two books of revelation – the big book of Nature and the small book of the scriptures. Nature is experienced as the original scripture.
Thomas Merton, the 20th century Trappist monk who was such a genius at translating contemplative wisdom for a contemporary world often found his experiences in creation as some of the most profound spiritually. He writes, “How necessary it is for the monks to work in the fields, in the sun, in the mud, in the clay, in the wind: These are our spiritual directors and our novice masters.” For Merton, the elements of water, wind, earth, and fire are our original soul friends.
The monastic tradition is also filled with stories of the kinship between saints and animals as a sign of their holiness. The desert and Celtic traditions in particular have many of these stories, such as St. Cuthbert who would emerge from the sea each morning after prayer and otters would come to dry him off and warm his feet or St. Brigid who had a white cow as a companion who would give endless milk.
And of course, the great tradition of the creation psalms gives us a window into a worldview that sees all of nature singing praise together in the original liturgy.
How do we find resurrection in a season when many will die from this pandemic? How so we practice a deep sense of hope in the midst of economic uncertainty? What might happen if we let Earth teach us a new way of being?
Imagine if, during the Easter season, we each took on practices like these:
- Allow time and space each day to grieve fully, to release the river of tears we try to hold back so carefully. Listen to the elements and see what wisdom they offer to you for this sorrow and for how to endure.
- As our movements are limited, make a commitment to move slowly through the world, resisting the demand for speed and productivity that is tearing our bodies apart and wearing them down to exhaustion.
- Reject compulsive “busyness” as a badge of pride and see it for what it is—a way of staying asleep to your own deep longings and those of the world around you. Allow time to be present to birdsong and to notice the way creation is awakening through green leaf and pink bud.
- Pause regularly. Breathe deeply. Reject multitasking. Savor one thing in this moment right now. Discover a portal into joy and delight in your body through fragrance, texture, shimmering light, song, or sweetness.
- Roll around on the grass, the way dogs do with abandon. Release worries about getting muddy or cold or looking foolish. Or dance with a tree in the wind, letting its branches guide you. Don’t hold yourself back.
- Every day, at least once, say thank you for the gift of being alive. Every day, at least once, remember the One who crafted you and all of creation and exclaimed, “That is so very good.”
- Allow a day to follow the rhythms of your body. Notice when you are tired, and sleep. When you are hungry, eat. When your energy feels stagnant, go for a long walk. See what you discover when you try to attune to your natural rhythms.
Easter is a season of new life, which does not mean we deny the reality of death. Indeed nature requires the death of old matter to generate nourishment for growth. Make space for the sorrow and make space to listen for the rumblings of spring erupting around you.
Christine Valters Paintner, PhD is a Benedictine oblate and the online Abbess at Abbey of the Arts, a virtual monastery and global community integrating contemplative practice and creative expression. She is the author of 14 books on the gifts of monastic wisdom including her newest Earth, Our Original Monastery and her forthcoming second collection of poems The Wisdom of Wild Grace.
Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE, OblSB
Author of 14 books including two new titles in 2020:
“Earth, Our Original Monastery is a love song–a sacred ecstatic chant in a language we somehow know.” –Janet Conner, author
“The Wisdom of Wild Grace: Poems is a GLORIOUS collection! An inspiring, luscious, deep delve into Earth Wisdom and lively tales of Christian saints; a spirited and intimate re-seeing of the desert mystics and beloved St Francis and Julian of Norwich, offering their transcendent wisdom through beautifully crafted poems.” — Judyth Hill, poet
AbbeyoftheArts.com: Transformative Living through Contemplative and Expressive Arts
by Lisa DeRosa
Celebrating Earth Week!
As you know, Wednesday is the 50th celebration of Earth Day and we had hoped to be able to get together and celebrate but COVID-19 changed all that. However, even though we are physically distant, we can still celebrate.
First, we can get out and walk in God’s good creation, enjoying the sights, here in the Northern Hemisphere of spring blossoming all around, in the Southern Hemisphere of autumn colours and the slow approach of winter. Even for those who live in densely urban areas, there are still opportunities to enjoy the beauty of what is around you – the freshness of a landscape with little pollution, the delight of weeds pushing up through concrete and creating gardens. So get outside, take some deep breaths and enjoy.
Second, we can join one of the virtual celebrations going on around the world. On Sunday, we entered into both the celebration and lament of Earth Day this year by watching this inspiring interfaith celebration at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. You can check out some of the possibilities for Wednesday on Earth Day.
Here on Godspace, we want to help you enter into the celebrations too.
You can check out our growing array of Creation Care and Earth Day resources. And this week, we have several inspiring posts on Godspace for you to read so I hope that you will check back each day to enjoy those.
Earth Week Sales in the Godspace store!
The Gift of Wonder Retreat!
Don’t miss out on the webinars that connect paid enrolled retreaters! We will begin these sessions in two weeks time, so please sign up and pay for the retreat to receive the updates about the retreat webinars. Please note, if you are just previewing the course, you will not be enrolled in the webinars.
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A Prayer
Prayer is our armour,
peace a shield,
Your presence is a guard
against the night.
Great Mother,
we drink from your breast.
Great Father,
we fall into your deep well
of all sufficient love.
Like the woman who asked for the water
that would forever satisfy,
so she would not have to venture out,
we ask for water over our heads,
baptising,
pouring from our limbs,
our skin.
Silence is an eye in a storm.
Silence is the deep powerful centre,
the engine room of energy,
of quiet power.
In your silent presence is our peace
and grace,
our prayer forged shield.
And from your endless sustenance we drink
to the depth of our need,
and fill our water jars to overflowing.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
March 2020
I will wade out till my thighs are steeped
In burning flowers
I will take the sun into my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
alive
with closed eyes
~ ee cummings
‘Sir,” the woman replied, “You have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where then will You get this living water? Are You greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock?”
Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a fount of water springing up to eternal life.”
The woman said to Him, “Sir, give me this water so that I will not get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”’
John 4:11-15
by Christine Sine
Did you know that we are still in the Easter season – it extends all the way to Pentecost as we celebrate with joy and praise the wonder of the Risen Christ.
This weekend I realized something startling but profound – we don’t come to Jesus, Jesus comes to us.
So often we talk about “coming to Jesus” as though we are the ones in control of what happens. But we aren’t. Jesus comes to us. The work of resurrection, revelation and transformation lies squarely on his shoulders. And he knows what I need. Nothing is asked of us except a willingness to listen and be willing to walk with him on a new journey into a new way of life.
As I have read the accounts of Jesus post resurrection appearances this week I was stunned by the messages that I can so often and so easily gloss over. Messages that seem so appropriate for the COVID-19 world in which live.
I look at the disciples and Jesus followers and and I am reminded that Jesus comes to us, the presence of love comes to us, when we are in the place of grief and despair and draws us into the light of a bright and shining day. It doesn’t mean that life is the way it was before, but does mean that change and transformation are possible because Jesus is still with us.
Jesus comes in resurrection glory:
- When I grieve and am full of despair
- WhenI am full of fear
- When I am confused
- WhenI am filled with guilt
- When I doubt
- When I have lost my faith
- When my hopes have been shattered.
- When I feel lost and alone
- When I do not understand
Jesus comes in unexpected places and to unexpected people:
- he come to us when we weep in the garden
- he waits in the empty tomb when all our hopes and expectations have been turned upside down
- he comes to those whom no one will believe
- to those who walk on a journey of confusion and bewilderment
- he penetrates beyond the locked doors of our hearts
- he meets us on the beach when we are going about our ordinary everyday work and asks us to start a new journey
Where has Jesus come to you this week? What are you struggling with in this turbulent situation in which we all find ourselves that you need to feel the presence of Jesus in your life?
Close your eyes. Take some deep breaths in and out and Allow Jesus to enter into your soul.
Sit still,
Let the presence of Almighty God
Embrace you.
Breathe deeply
Allow the love of the Glorious One
To still the turmoil of your soul.
Listen carefully with an open heart.
Hear the words of eternal truth.
Let them bring you life
In the midst of chaos.
(Christine Sine April 2020)
by Christine Sine
Last week I was sent a copy of Abba:Meditations Based on the Lord’s Prayer by Evelyn Underhill, with the expectation that I would read it and discuss it with a few friends – Alan Hirsch, Mandy Smith, Tom Herrick, and Cheryl McCarthy. I had not read this document before and was profoundly impacted by its depth and insightfulness. Too much to assimilate in one session so we are planning another discuss to follow. However I thought that I would not just share this link to a document that I heartily recommend to everyone who has been reading the series on Unpacking the Lord’s Prayer with delight, but also share a couple of the quotes in the first part of the document that most impacted me and a prayer/ poem that bubbled up out of my reflections.
It is too often supposed that when our Lord said, “In this manner pray ye,” He meant not “these are the right dispositions and longings, the fundamental acts of every soul that prays,” but “this is the form of words which, above all others, Christians are required to repeat.” As a consequence this is the prayer in which, with an almost incredible stupidity, they have found the material of those vain repetitions which He has specially condemned. Again and again in public and private devotion the Lord’s Prayer is taken on hurried lips, and recited at a pace which makes impossible any realization of its tremendous claims and profound demands. Far better than this cheapening of the awful power of prayer was the practice of the old woman described by St. Teresa, who spent an hour over the first two words, absorbed in reverence and love.
It is true, of course, that this pattern in its verbal form, its obvious and surface meaning, is far too familiar to us. Rapid and frequent repetition has reduced it to a formula. We are no longer conscious of its mysterious beauty and easily assume that we have long ago exhausted its inexhaustible significance. The result of this persistent error has been to limit our understanding of the great linked truths which are here given to us; to harden their edges, and turn an instruction which sets up a standard for each of the seven elements of prayer, and was intended to govern our whole life towards God, into a set form of universal obligation.
It is so true – how many of us really read the Lord’s Prayer with the intent of entering into the truth of it, not as a formula but as a way of life.
In those rare glimpses of Christ’s own life of prayer which the Gospels vouchsafe to us, we always notice the perpetual reference to the unseen Father; so much more vividly present to Him than anything that is seen. Behind that daily life into which He entered so generously, filled as it was with constant appeals to His practical pity and help, there is ever the sense of that strong and tranquil Presence, ordering all things and bringing them to their appointed end; not with a rigid and mechanical precision, but with the freedom of a living, creative, cherishing thought and love. Throughout His life, the secret, utterly obedient conversation of Jesus with His Father goes on. He always snatches opportunities for it, and at every crisis He returns to it as the unique source of confidence and strength; the right and reasonable relation between the soul and its Source.
I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about the unseen Father and realized how little attentionI give this God because I have learned to refer to God with gender neutral words. Yet we need to know the tender, all loving perfect Abba Father:
Our Father, which art in heaven, yet present here and now in and with our struggling lives; on whom we depend utterly, as children of the Eternal Perfect whose nature and whose name is Love.
God, who stands so decisively over against our life, the Source of all splendour and all joy, is yet in closest and most cherishing contact with us; and draws us, beyond all splendour and all joy, into Truth. He has created in us such a craving for Himself alone, that even the brief flashes of Eternity which sometimes visit us make all else seem dust and ashes, lifeless and unreal. Hence there should be no situation in our life, no attitude, no pre-occupation or relationship, from which we cannot look up to this God of absolute Truth and say, “Our Father” of ourselves and of all other souls involved. Our inheritance is God, our Father and Home. We recognize Him, says St. John of the Cross, because we already carry in our hearts a rough sketch of the beloved countenance. Looking into those deeps, as into a quiet pool in the dark forest, we there find looking back at us the Face we implicitly long for and already know. It is set in another world, another light: yet it is here. As we realize this, our prayer widens until it embraces the extremes of awestruck adoration and confident love and fuses them in one.
And the prayer that bubbled up within me:
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