This last weekend Tom and I visited Camano Island where the cross beams on our first Mustard Seed Village building is being installed. It is another small but exciting milestone but progress seems so slow. Yet because of that slowness it is all the more valuable and the unexpected rewards of new friends, new vision and new possibilities is amazing.
We live in a world that tells us fast paced action is the only way to go, yet slow is often better. We now have slow food movements, slow parenting movements, slow church movements and slow money movements. Chris Smith, commented in an article for Sojourner’s magazine last year:
Slow movements are beginning to recover what we have lost in our relentless pursuit of efficiency. Many Christians have been challenged by these Slow movements to consider the ways in which our faith has begun to move too fast as we make sacrifices to the gods of efficiency.
This quest has sparked a renewed interest in the joys of sharing life together in local congregations and has intensified into a growing conversation—rather than a movement—called Slow Church. Slowness itself is not a cardinal virtue of Slow Church, but rather a means of resisting the present-day powers of speed in order to be faithful church communities.
The psalmist too reminds us: Be still and know that I am God (psalm 46:10). Part of what I am learning in this season of slow building and slow transition is to do just that. I need to slow down, to take notice and to respond to the God who longs for my full attention. I encourage all of us to think about how we can do this as we head into the busy Advent and Christmas seasons.
Ask yourself: What am I doing to resist the present day powers of speed? What am I doing to prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ and the longed for coming of God’s eternal world?
These are questions I will probably challenge us with frequently in the next couple of weeks because I think this is an urgent need for all of us. I meet too many stressed out over indulgent Christmas celebrators who wished they knew how to unplug the Christmas machine.
Tom and I are preparing by going on one of quarterly prayer retreats next week. In November I will facilitate two retreats here in Seattle that offer opportunity for slow down and reflection. Exploring the Impact of Simple Living for the Overflow Project and Stop the Madness: Return to Our Senses in Advent. If you cannot attend one of these consider going on your own retreat. Or perhaps there is another way you plan to prepare – I would love to hear from you.
I don’t usually upload two posts in a day but this is an exception – tomorrow’s post is being uploaded early because tomorrow my blog is moving and I will not be able to add content. Hopefully those of you who visit the blog will not notice any changes – except that by the end of the day there should no longer be advertisements at the end of the posts. If you do have problems please bear with us – we hope that the change will make it easier to expand the resources available on the site and give us more freedom in what types of files we are able to upload. The url will change to https://godspacelight.com but if traffic will continue to be redirected from the old site. So with that preamble….
Yesterday morning I shared about spirituality and gardening in a class at Seattle School of Theology and Psychology. It was a beautiful morning and we were able to wander in the local pea patch for part of the time. Beautiful dahlias are still in bloom and the fragrance of roses wafted on the air. Rosemary, thyme and oregano waited to be crushed in hands to share their fragrance as well. But in the midst of the beauty there was also brokenness and death. Giant thistle seed heads ready to blow away on the wind. Piles of dead leaves, and much to our disgust dirty syringes and broken bottles.
Our instinct was to pull out the dying plants, deadhead the summer blooms and “tidy up”. We don’t like untidy spaces and we like even less, the brokenness it sometimes uncovers. We wanted to throw away the syringes and pretend that the brokenness of the city had not invaded this tranquil space.
But is that really what we should be doing? Evidently those untidy and seemingly dead flowers are an important source of nourishment for the birds over the winter. And the corners full of dead leaves provide warm hiding places for insects, frogs and other garden animals.
Maybe the brokenness of our world has a purpose too we speculated. Perhaps as the birds find nourishment from the seemingly dead flowers, we too find nourishment in the midst of the death and brokenness of our souls. And maybe those “dead leaves” are good places for us to hide too so that we can be protected from the wounds still too painful to bear. If we clean them up too quickly before they have done their winter work maybe our lives will suffer.
We grow closer to God in times of sorrow and heartache then we do when everything is going well. We find healing more rapidly when we recognize and face our pains and brokenness then we do in the height of “summer” when everything in our lives seems as sunny as the weather.
This wander in the garden provided some encouraging and challenging lessons for me. I know there are still broken areas in my life that I would love to tidy away right now. And as I look at my loved ones and my friends I see places in their lives I would like to tidy up as well. But God says be patient, make sure you nourish and protect them until God says it is time to tidy up.
Thinking about All Saints Day has, not surprisingly brought back memories of my mother. This morning images of her last illness flooded in, triggered by looking at my rock collection, which I often use as a focus for prayer. My hands moved unwaveringly to my rock of remembrance. Running my fingers over its bands of light and dark bound seamlessly together into a solid whole, made me think – joy and sorrow intertwining in my life to make me whole.
Recalling memories like this is important for our own health and healing. I see myself again back in the hospital beside her bed – laughing and crying with her, telling her I love her, reading to her about Scotland the home of her ancestors, reminiscing about our childhood, sharing photos, praying and just sitting quietly beside her my heart aching as she journeys through these last challenging days.
Other events triggered memories this last week too. At the St Francis Day celebrations at our church the vicar prayed for stuffed animals, not something I would ever have thought important. However this time it had me in tears. One of my nephews had given my mother a stuffed dog – Spot – for a previous hospital trip and Spot provided amazing comfort through her final illness. She died with it in her hands.
Memories of those we love and those who have impacted our lives last forever. We can never replace what has been lost, but as we make new connections and new meaningful relationships, these memories help shape us into a new reality. Instead of denying our feelings, our memories help us listen, change and grow into the future.
Celebrations like All Saints Day are important times not just to remember those that have gone whom we loved and who shaped our lives, but also to reflect on how they continue to shape and grow us.
All Saints Day can convert memories into sacred memorials, markers along the way of our own journey. They encourage us to remember the acts of God in our past and the intimate moments of love we have shared. This is one important way that we connect to the acts of God in the present and learn to trust and hope for the promises of God in the future.This is a good time to ask yourself: Am I living true to the character and integrity of those who challenged, mentored and shaped us? What new ways might God prompt me to change as a result of their influence?
This post is out of date. Check out the updated version here.
Many hands have gone before
All Saints Day is November 1st but many churches will celebrate on Sunday November 3rd. Remembering those who impact our lives, those who have gone before and those who are still with us is an important part of our faith.
The Episcopal Church website explains:
We step aside from the flow of the propers and celebrate all the saints. We stop. We notice, We are surrounded by a flock of witnesses in our midst – many who have gone before us, some we are just now releasing, and still more with a full life ahead of them.
I love the Anglican tradition of renewing our baptismal vows on this day. Reminding ourselves of the journey we have taken personally is a good place to start in remembering the saints of God. In this tradition, all baptized Christians, living and dead known and unknown are considered saints of God. This means everyone including ourselves.
So as you get ready for All Saints Day think about your own faith journey. Remember the faithfulness of God in your past. Notice the movement of God in the present. Think about your hopes and dreams for the future. Get ready to celebrate all that you are as a saint of God.
But don’t stop there. This is a special day for celebrating. Here are some suggestions:
St Aidan’s Episcopal church on Camano Island where we worshipped yesterday is planning a special “remembering” table that will be set up in the nave. The congregation is invited to bring photos or small memorabilia of dear ones who have gone before us and place them on the table. During the worship on All Saint’s Day there will be a special blessing of the photos and memories.
Hold an All Saints’ Day party – a great alternative to Halloween. Get everyone to dress as their favourite saint, or to bring a picture of this saint. During the festivities get everyone to share a story about their saint and the impact he or she has had on their lives. Or you might like to get participants to guess who each person represents.
Plan a family heritage party. Invite people to do some work beforehand researching their family history and particularly the Christian saints who were a part of it. Ask them to bring photos and stories to share. Finish with a time of prayer for all those that have gone before us.
Several years ago when my youngest brother went to Greece where my father comes from he found out that it is possible that our family name Aroney comes from the name Aaron and that our family probably originated in Jerusalem many centuries ago. It is probable that one of the reason they began the journey out of Jerusalem first to Constantinople then to Rhodes and finally to the tiny island of Kithera at the bottom of the Peloponnese mountains is because they became Christians. There are a number of Greek orthodox priests in my father’s family history and my Aunt Mary was a very devout Greek Orthodox Christian. I know less about my mother’s family history but would love to find out where her family too has had profound encounters with God.
Plan an All Saints Day pilgrimage. Again this might require some before time research. Explore the Christian heritage of your community. Where did the first Christians come from? How did they interact with the native peoples? Where was the first church established? Who were some of the early Christians who impacted your community. Plan a pilgrimage walk to the site of the first Christian community and if possible have a time of prayer and possibly even a eucharistic celebration to remember those who have gone before.
What are your ideas for celebrating All Saints Day this year? It is a great alternative to Halloween and we would love to hear what you are doing.
Here are some other posts I have written on All Saints Day that you might enjoy.
Coming Home for All Saints Day
Freeing the Saints from Their Hallmark Holidays
Surrounded by Prophetic Voices – Clouds of Witnesses that Call Us Out of Numbness
This morning was garden morning at the Mustard Seed House. Unfortunately none of my usual helpers were able to come, but as this was my first time out in the garden for a week I was still eager to get out there.
First I wandered round our side garden where an amazing variety of greens – zen, mizuna, arugula, bok choy, spinach, collards and some that I think may have cross pollinated – have self seeded from last year’s compost. Yes I know that means it doesn’t get hot enough but to be honest I kind of like this unexpected bonus and they tend to be the healthiest greens in the garden at this season.
Then I explored the front garden where I planted pansies last week. This too is thriving. The leeks and chard are the best we have ever grown, and thanks to Kristin Carrrocino’s encouragement we have a new crop of cauliflowers, broccoli, kale and spinach slowly moving towards harvest.
Last I headed to the back garden where I planned to plant garlic. It almost didn’t get done because I was inspired by the unexpected surprises of autumn colours, not just in the leaves but in the beautiful changes the hydrangeas have undergone in the last few days. I soon had my camera out exploring all the amazing and surprising changes in the garden. Not all of them are good unfortunately, the slugs have had a hey day in the hostas and the morning glory is taking over but these surprises seemed trivial compared to the awe inspiring sense of entering int the presence of God I experienced.
last week I wrote this prayer about pausing to look and see God in the moment. I was reminded of it this morning as I too paused to breathe in the presence of God around me.
Lord Jesus Christ,
May we pause to look
and see you in this moment.
Mountains red and white with morning sun,
Quiet gaps between traffic flow,
Smiling faces welcoming the day.
Lord jesus Christ,
May we draw breath,
and reflect on your presence,
enlivening all things,
sustaining all things,
transforming all things.
Lord Jesus Christ,
May this moment call me to respond
with just living,
generous giving,
grateful actions.
My unexpected surprises were not finished there though. Having planted my garlic I wandered inside for a cup of coffee and my attention was caught by this amazing orchid.
It is at least 10 years old and every year I tell myself – I must repot it, it is so pot bound that there is no way it will flower this year. Yet it does. This year 16 flower spikes so far and still counting. This too is an unexpected blessing from God, a surprise that I almost missed because I was eager to move on to my next task.
How often do I miss the unexpected surprises of God because I am too busy, too distracted, too focused on work? How often do I fail to pause and breathe in the presence of God they reveal? And how often do I fail to respond with praise, with thanksgiving and with generosity towards others out of those blessings?
Gardening is always a good reminder to me of my need to pause and enter the presence of God. What provides that much needed prompting in your life?
Today’s post is by Kimberlee Conway Ireton, author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year and a newly released memoir, Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis.
A friend tells me she has no words left. I get it. Oh, do I get it. She tells me she doesn’t even have words to pray. I get that, too. I’ve been there more times than I can remember, when the words just won’t come, when I stare out the window at the blue or the gray or the black sky, wanting to pray, and I have no words.
I’m there now.
I sit at my computer, staring out the café window at the blue awning of Ken’s Market and the yellowing birch trees beyond it and the clouded sky beyond them, and I’m supposed to be writing a post about prayer, and I have no words. I spent them all on my book.
What do you do when words fail you? What do you do when you can’t pray?
My friend who’s run out of words tells me that for the better part of a year, her prayer life consisted of reading Streams in the Desert day after day after day.
And I realize that I do that, too—turn to others’ words when I don’t have my own. It’s why I’m such an avid reader, and why I own so many prayer books. When I can’t generate words of my own, I simply read the words of someone else. If I have enough energy, I ingest them. These days, I don’t have enough energy. So I just murmur the words on my lips or send them silently from my eyes to my brain. It feels so…not enough.
But I’ve been here before, so I’m learning that this weary wordlessness will pass and that keeping the faith is not a matter of generating anything at all, not emotions, not passion, not desire, not even words. It’s a matter of faithfulness. Hence, faith.
So I open Daily Strength for Daily Needs, and I read these words of Julian of Norwich:
He showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazel-nut, lying in the palm of my hand, as meseemed, and it was as round as a ball. I looked thereon with the eye of my understanding, and thought, “What may this be?” and it was answered generally thus, “It is all that is made.”
I marveled how it might last; for methought it might suddenly have fallen to naught for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding, “It lasteth, and ever shall: For God loveth it. And so hath all things being by the love of God.”
In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is, that God made it. The second is, that God loveth it. The third is, that God keepeth it.
For this is the cause which we be not all in ease of heart and soul: for we seek here rest in this thing which is so little, where no rest is in: and we know not our God that is all Mighty, all Wise, and all God, for He is very rest. God wills to be known, and it pleaseth Him that we rest us in Him. For all that is beneath Him, sufficeth not us.
And I trust (sort of) that God will hear these words on my lips and know that I want to believe them, want to ingest them, want to make them mine, even though I’m feeling listless and stale and oh so tired. I want to find my rest in God. I do. Because I am that tired. I want to know God loves me. Because I am that vulnerable and small right now, a mere hazel-nut of a human being. I want to believe that God made me. Because the voice of materialism hisses in my ears, trying to tell me that I am dust, no more, no less, and certainly not God-breathed.
And so I read Mother Julian’s words, again and again and again. I have no words of my own. But I have hers. And since we are both in Christ, we are the same body. Her words are my words, the cry of my heart, the longing of my soul, the prayer on my lips.
For anyone who finds no words to pray, there is a wealth of riches in our heritage as Christians. I highly recommend Daily Strength for Daily Needs and Streams in the Desert as well as The Book of Common Prayer and Phyllis Tickle’s three-book series The Divine Hours. All have Scripture, prayers, poetry, and prose to feed your starving soul during those times of spiritual drought that we all encounter from time to time.
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