The Well

Day 26 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: The Practice of Saying No

2012-01-26T08:55:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm a few days short of the finish line. I set out on this blogging journey thinking I'd blog every day for the whole month of January, and I've just run out of steam. Or, maybe a better way to say it is this: I've decided to say "no" to this project, so I can really focus my time and energy on some other things that really need my attention right now. So I can really say "yes" to those things, and make that "yes" count. I'll still be doing my own spiritual practice work on a daily basis, but not blog every day.

I will still get to some of the questions you all have left, and will no doubt include further reflections on such things as "eating as a spiritual practice..." I actually think our relationship to food, and food and table fellowship especially, are worthy of multiple blog posts.

Anyway, thanks to all of you who were regular readers. I hope your own spiritual practice has been deepened in some way, or you've begun a new spiritual practice. Thanks the those of you jumped in with comments and questions. Reading your comments and thoughts made this meaningful and fun.

This Sunday, we wrap our "Living Resolutions" sermon series, with a sermon called, "Losing Weight: Casting Out Demons." Come find out what that's all about. We worship at 9:30 and 11:15. I hope to see some of you there.

Blessings,
Justin

Day 25 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: The Practice of a Good Goodbye

2012-01-25T07:55:00.000-08:00

This morning, I'm thinking about the spiritual practice of saying goodbye (and related to it, the practice of saying hello).

If you're a part of the First Universalist faith community, you know that our Associate Minister, Rev. Kate Tucker (who has served First Universalist for 15 years), will be completing her ministry with us in June. Her leaving is a significant transition in the life of our congregation, a significant "goodbye" that we'll saying together.

And as we're saying goodbye to Kate, we'll be looking forward to August 1, as we prepare to welcome the Rev. Jennifer Crow (and her family) as our new Minister of Program Life. (Jen Crow will have oversight of the Program Life of the Church, including responsibility for Congregational Care. Some of her portfolio will be the same as Kate's, but with an overall focus on Program Life and Unitarian Universalist Faith Formation in the church.)

All of this has got me thinking. Done well, goodbyes can be part of a meaningful spiritual practice. A good goodbye, although hard and perhaps similar to a miniature "death," can help us stop and see the whole of what we’ve experienced, lifting to the surface what’s been important and meaningful, how the relationship has touched and changed us. A good goodbye gives us the chance to name the joy and gratitude (or even shared heartbreak) we've experienced - to reflect upon and name what we've learned and appreciated because of the relationship.

Learning how to do endings well, in a meaningful, healthy way (whatever the ending may be: the loss of a dream, moving to a new house, leaving a job, losing a favorite pet, saying goodbye to children leaving for college, the death of a loved one), helps prepare us for the ultimate ending - our own death. In some sense, every goodbye - and how well we do it - is a practice run before our own final goodbye.

It makes me think we should practice saying goodbye more often – monthly, weekly, daily - to the things and people we love. Like in the children's story, “Goodnight, Moon,” when we go to bed, we should say goodnight and goodbye to everything in the room, and everything we love - because there’s no guarantee of a new day.

Thus, a heartfelt, loving goodbye, for the day we’ve had, for the people we’ve spent time with, for whatever it might be, gives us room to let go – and then to greet the new day, the new job, the new house, whatever it is, with a friendly “Hello.”

Done well, goodbyes and hellos put us directly in touch with our own mortality and the truth that all life is change - a dance of gently holding on, gently letting go, gently holding on, gently letting go. As the poet Mary Oliver says, “To live in this world you must be able to do three things: “To love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; And, when the times comes to let it go, to let it go.”

I'm sad that Kate is leaving; she has been an incredible colleague to work with. I've been touched and shaped by her deep and playful spirit. I am grateful she has faithfully served First Universalist for 15 years, and that we've been able to work together for three of those years. I am excited for her as she begins to imagine what the next chapters of her life might look like. And I'm looking forward to saying "Hello" to Jen Crow in August, as she and I begin our new ministry together, serving the First Universalist Universalist.

I'm wondering: What are you saying goodbye to in your life? How well do you "do" goodbyes? What makes a goodbye good for you? What are you learning about the goodbye process? And finally, what are you saying hello to in your life?

Day 24 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Some invitations to Give (Or: Giving as a spiritual practice)

2012-01-24T04:55:00.000-08:00

Back in October, during our "Mapping a Life" worship series, I said this about gratitude and generosity:

“All that we have is a loan from life itself…. The world doesn’t owe us anything…. We owe the world and its abundant miracles…our gratitude, our praise…. The spirit map suggests that we live with humility and gratitude at the center of our lives.

Gratitude opens the heart to generosity. When we’re really grounded in gratitude, we can remember that it’s all on loan. We don't get to take it with us; it’s not ours to keep—it’s not our to begin with—so we might as well share the blessings; we might as well become generous.” (You can listen to the whole sermon here.)

For the past five years, I have been focusing on truly living from a place of gratitude and generosity. It's not always easy, but as I've written about before, almost every morning, when I write, reflect, and spend some time in prayer, I try to identify at least three things in my life that I'm grateful for. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's hard. But living from this place of gratitude changes my inner life and how I am in the world. Gratitude invites me to give back, to serve the world. As a faith community, we strive to practice giving, gratitude, and generosity. Here are a few of the ways we do that:

If you're a part of the First Universalist community, I hope you'll join us for our Day of Service, Feb 4. We have over 30 different projects going on that day, as we serve (give back) to the wider community. We've challenged ourselves to give 2000 hours of service to the community on Feb. 4, and we've got service projects for families, youth, and people of all ages. If you're in the Twin Cities, I hope you'll sign up and participate. And feel free to invite a friend to join you, too! (It's worth noting that many of these Day of Service groups continue to work and give together throughout the year, so it's not just a one time event.)

The Day of Service is part of First Universalist's Annual Giving Campaign (our Pledge Campaign). During the month of February, not only are we invited to give our time and energy to the wider community, via the Day of Service, but we're also invited to give generously to the church (3-5% of our income) to support its mission and work in the world.

Finally, each Sunday, as a faith community, we have a chance to practice giving and generosity, as we give away the majority of our Sunday offering. This past year, as a faith community, we've given away over $60,000 to non-profits and organizations in the wider community.

(And I haven't even mentioned the hundreds of congregants who give their time and energy to serve on the Board or as Small Group Facilitators, or Religious Education Teachers, or Strategic Plan Working Group Facilitators, or ushers, greeters, or coffee servers...)

Ultimately, none of the numbers truly matter; what matters is the story behind the numbers: how our hearts are changed, opened, and stretched by gratitude, giving, and generosity. What matters is how the church helps us become "Love's People," grounded in gratitude and generosity.

How has your heart been opened/expanded by gratitude, giving, or generosity? How can you imagine deepening your practice of giving, of generosity?

Day 23 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: What new practice are you engaging in the new year?

2012-01-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

I really appreciated Scott Marshall's comment from yesterday's blog post:

I'm inspired by the "practicing" theme that has run through January's sermons. This month the same message has come through my work to be a better writer - something else I think I'm working on. Thinking about writing and now about my spirituality, I realize how little "practicing" I do these days (and the dearth of practice isn't limited to spirituality and writing unfortunately!).

I'm going to put those two things together and commit to/set aside time to practice writing about faith, God, Spirit, church in a reflective, wandering way. Four times a week for 30 minutes.

Looking forward to the adventure...

I love that Scott's committing to a practice of intentional writing and reflection four times a week for 30 minutes. That's a huge commitment, but I suspect it will pay meaningful dividends.

I'm curious, readers, First Universalist members, and frequently blog visitors: what new practices are talking shape in your own life? What new practices (or old practices resurrected) are you moving into the new year with? I'd love to know - feel free to leave a comment! Or have you been engaging in a particular practice for the past week or two? How is that going?

P.S. It was great to meet Scott yesterday at church. I've so enjoyed making virtual connections with folks (via this blog and Twitter) and then meeting them at First Universalist. If you're a frequent reader and visitor at First Universalist and we haven't met yet, please do introduce yourself one of these Sundays.

P.P.S. I've got a few ideas for the final posts in January, but I'm curious if there are topics you'd like to see addressed? Let me know.

P.P.P.S. Following up from the resource list of Day 21, I highly recommend Sharon Salzberg's book, Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience. Also, Love and Death, by Unitarian Universalist Minister Forrest Church is quite good.

Day 22 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Making Time

2012-01-22T04:06:00.000-08:00

I know, humans can't really make or destroy time, but we use that language all of the time. "I need to make time..." or "There's isn't enough time..." or "I've run out of time..." or "When I have some time in my life, then I'll do that."

It's been a few Sundays since I've walked into church. I was doing it very regularly right up until the holiday season, but I haven't done it yet in the new year. I'm going to do it today, because despite the preparation work I still need to do for today's sermon, I know I'll be more grounded, centered, and grateful if I walk to church today. So I'm "making" time to walk into church today, rewriting the narrative that says "I don't have enough time."

What would you like to make time for in your life? What is an easy first step you can take to make this happen?

P.S. Today is the last day to sign up for Small Groups at First Universalist for the winter/spring semester. We have groups for newcomers (folks who have been at the church less than a year), groups for parents with young children, two men's group, a group for parent's of teens, and many groups open to everyone. I blogged about this here, and you can learn more at the church's website, here.

Day 21 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: What does Spiritual Practice Mean?

2012-01-22T03:55:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, Nancy Jones left this comment:

...I'm wondering how you're defining "spiritual practices?"

I probably should have defined this back on day one, when I launched this month of blogging. But better late than never. Roughly, here's how I understand spiritual practices and spiritual disciplines:

More than anything else, spiritual practice has to do with a particular kind of attention and awareness. It has to do with how we're showing up in the world and how present we are. I return again and again to this quote from Mary Oliver: "The first, wildest, and wisest thing I know is this: that the soul exists, and it is made entirely of attention." Spiritual practices/disciplines are about growing the soul, about paying attention in such a way that the "soul" expands. Spiritual practices are about noticing the ways our inner lives, the world, and something larger than ourselves are woven together.
With this understanding, parenting young children (any age, really, but especially young children) can be seen and understood as a spiritual practice. Gardening can be understood as a spiritual practice. Prayer can be understood as a spiritual practice. Any of these things can be vehicles that help us see a bigger picture, that help us subdue the ego, that locate us in mystery, wonder, and awe.
A spiritual practice/discipline often has a deeply reflective component. So tap dancing (to take an example from the previous post) could become a spiritual practice, if one understood "God "or the "Spirit of Life" to be found in the dancing itself, in that playful, noise-making, rhythm making, dancing...and understood, through tap dancing, that one could participate in something larger than one's self, then that could become a spiritual practice.

These are just some early morning thoughts...I'm sure I've missed dozens of things.

Dear readers: How do you define and understand "spiritual practice/spiritual discipline?"

Day 20 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Resources and More

2012-01-20T13:10:00.000-08:00

Several of you have asked me to share resources about spiritual practices, both people and books/poems, etc. that I return to again and again. (And if you're new to the blog, visit this post to see what I'm doing this month.)

So here's a short list with a few words of explanation:

1) An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, by Barbara Brown Taylor. Incredible book. Each chapter is about a spiritual practice/discipline. Taylor is compelling and easy to engage with. This is an outstanding book.
2) Mary Oliver; her poetry book, Thirst is great, as if her book of collected poems. Anything by her generally speaks to me.
3) I've been returning to the Psalms, trying to read one a day. I'm using this book: The Complete Psalms: The Book of Prayer Songs in a New Translation.
4) I love Rachel Naomi Remen's books. Powerful stories about listening, healing, and love. She understands medicine and healing as a kind of spiritual practice and discipline.
5) John O'Donahue's book, To Bless the Space Between Us.
6) Risking Everything, 110 Poems of Love and Revelation
7) And I love Parker Palmer's book, Let Your Life Speak.
8) I'm also in a Small Group at church (made of staff); this helps center and ground my life. If you're at First Universalist, I hope you'll join a group - you can sign up right now.

There's a lot of Unitarian Universalist authors and ministers I turn to, as well...and back in the post about prayer, there is a great resources by Erik Wikstrom, a Unitarian Universalist minister and author...

Day 19 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection:Inhabiting the Body

2012-01-19T04:19:00.000-08:00

Astute readers might have noticed that I haven't posted much about spiritual practices and the body. I've posted a lot about practices of reflection, of contemplation, and of writing, but my practice life doesn't include much "body practice." That is to say, I rarely do yoga, tai chi, chi gong, or something else more deeply rooted in the body.

This morning, though, I did about 10 minutes of yoga. I'm a complete and total novice, so it was just some simple stuff that I know my body likes - sun salutation, pigeon pose, tree, and some downward dog. I loved closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing as I did the sun salutations. It was grounding, the in-out, in-out, as my breath found a rhythm in my body.

I'd like to do more of this - make it a more regular part of my practice.

I'm curious - in what ways do you inhabit your body as a spiritual practice? What spiritual practices connect you with your body and your breath? Do you walk a labyrinth on a regular basis? (We have a fabulous one at First Universalist, if you're ever interested.) Do you do walking meditation? Yoga? How is body awareness part of your practice or discipline?

Day 18 of Spiritual Practice and Reflection: Walking with Death, Part II

2012-01-18T03:56:00.000-08:00

Way back on day three of this month of blogging, I wrote about walking with death. I'm returning to the topic of death and end of life for today's post.

I just read this little piece in the Christian Century's "Century Marks" section:

Bonnie Ware has long worked in palliative care, spending time with the dying during the final weeks of their lives. Over the years she's heard the same regrets from the dying. They wish they had had the courage to be themselves, rather than trying to meet expectations. They say they should not have worked so hard - a lament heard especially from the older generation of males. They regret not having had the courage to express their feelings, even if doing so would have caused others pain. They say they should have stayed in touch with their friends and given more time to nurturing friendships (Activist Post, November 30).

This piece really resonates with me, really prompts me, in little ways, to make some adjustments in my day to day living. I don't feel too far off course; reflecting on this piece can help keep it that way.

As you move into this new year, what courage would you like to summon? In what ways can you cut back on work, if you're working too much? What friendships can you nurture or re-engage in? How can you do more of what truly feeds you and brings you joy?

Thinking about the end of life can be a powerful vehicle to help us occupy our lives in new and transforming ways. (If you're looking for additional resources, last March we had a whole sermon series on Death and Endings. Here's one of the sermons I preached.)

Day 17 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Why Love Matters (or: "Why Marriage Equality is a Religious Issue")

2012-01-17T04:43:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday, I gathered with other Unitarian Universalist clergy to learn about the marriage amendment (that defines marriage as being between one man and one woman) that will be on the ballot in November, and ways that we can work together to defeat this amendment as we celebrate love, families of all configurations, and loving, committed relationships.

It was a good training, and what really became clear to me during the hour was this: I didn't get married for the rights that marriage brings (although the rights are terribly important). I got married because love opened my heart in the deepest way I've ever known. I got married because I wanted to journey through life with someone who was a true partner, who helped me be the best person I can be (and who I helped as well), through thick and thin. I got married because of love, not because of the rights. Again, the rights matter, in this training it became clear to me that it's the bigger framing of this issue, as one of love, commitment, and growing old with someone, that really changes people's minds around this issue. As the website of Minnesotans United for all Families says,

We believe marriage and family are about love and commitment, working together, bettering the community, raising children, and growing old together. We believe in a Minnesota that values and supports strong families and creates a welcoming environment for all Minnesota

That's why marriage equality matters.

I'm curious, if you're married: why did you get married? What caused you to take that leap of faith? Was it love? Was it because your partner felt like a soul mate? Why did you get married? Was it for the rights?

And as I think about working to defeat the marriage amendment, and all that is ahead of us in the coming months, it's clear to me that this is not a "head" argument. This is a "heart" argument. As people of faith, who believe that love matters can be at the center of all we do (we're Universalists for heaven's sake!), we need to tell the story of love, the stories from our hearts - so we can move beyond the "rights" argument (as important as that is), and understand that this is a "love argument." And the spiritual practice then, is to tell our story, to talk about why love matters and how love has shaped and formed us. The practice is to have the courage and discipline to do this, dozens and dozens of times before next November's vote, so we engage in "heart" conversations with our friends, families, and neighbors...and talk about why marriage matters and why love matters. (And if you're looking for some inspiration about love, try this from Kathleen Norris: "Here's the gospel is seven words: God is love; this is no joke.")

If you'd like to join us, congregants of First Universalist Church will be gathering on Wednesday, Jan 18th, at 7pm, to explore the role that we have, as people of faith, in celebrating love and defeating this amendment.

Day 16 of Spiritual Practice and Reflection: Taking a Day of Sabbath

2012-01-17T03:54:00.000-08:00

Turns out, I really needed a "sabbath" day yesterday, a day of rest. Early on Sunday night, I could tell that I needed an "unplug day," a "sabbath" day. So on Monday, I didn't go online, I didn't check email, I didn't write up a new blog post. The internet and the online world whirled on without me for a day

Yesterday, I took a long walk. I journaled for over an hour. I read poetry. I had some prayer time. I reflected on the life and ministry of Dr. King. I spent time with my family, doing lots of puzzles with our son. And it was exactly what I needed.

(And if you're interested in learning more about sabbath time, you might enjoy a sermon I preached several years ago on "Living a Sustainable Life.")

Day 15 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Pick One, and Stick with it

2012-01-15T02:44:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm offering lots of spiritual practices and ideas on this blog, I invite you to pick one, stick with it for a while, go deep with it. Practice praying for the month. (Imagine the fun you'll have when people ask, "How are you? What have you been up to?" and you can answer, "I've been practicing prayer.")

Or really dig into lectio divina for a while. Sit with a poem or scripture for a couple of mornings. Really let it speak to you. Let it come alive in your heart and body. Or start a daily gratitude journal, or send a letter of gratitude to someone every day. Or go back to the opening post in this series, and re-read the article about our Unitarian Transcendentalist forebears, and how they engaged in many of these practices, as a way to grow and cultivate their souls. Get inspired by them, and pick a practice. Stick with it. Go deep.

I'm curious - what are you practicing? What's your discipline? How's it going?

Day 14 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Serving others (or: "It's not all about you")

2012-01-14T07:21:00.000-08:00

On Feb 4, 2012, First Universalist will hold its 2nd annual day of service. Last year, during our day of service, over 400 congregants helped contribute 1500 hours to our community. We served with Habitat for Humanity, Simpson Shelter, Ascension Place, Harriet Tubman Center, and dozens of other places. It was a remarkable experience, as we came together to serve the wider community.

Here's a video, made by a youth team in our church, that invites members and friends to participate in this year's Feb 4th day of service:

Rachel Naomi Remen, medical doctor and author, says this about service:

Serving makes us aware of our wholeness and its power. The wholeness in us serves the wholeness in others and the wholeness in life. The wholeness in you is the same as the wholeness in me. Service is a relationship between equals: our service strengthens us as well as others...service is renewing. When we serve, our work itself will renew us...in serving we find a sense of gratitude.

Serving is a way of being in the world, a practice. It's not about us or our needs; it's about wholeness, relationships, partnering with others, and it changes our orientation in the world. It's about getting outside of ourselves and entering the larger current of life. And when we serve together, I think we understand ourselves as a faith community in new and powerful ways. I'll never forget last year, on the Sunday after the day of service, when we invited everyone who had served on the day of service to stand up - and more than half the congregation stood. It was remarkable, the joy, energy, and gratitude we all felt.

In what ways do you serve in your life? How has serving changed your life? Do you regularly make time to serve others, in ways large and small? How do you feel when you are served by another? Are you able to receive their gifts, their loving service?

If you're in town, I hope you'll join us for our day of service on Feb 4, 2012. Invite a friend! And if you're willing to be a point person for a project on the day of service, please let me know.

Day 13 of Spiritual Practice and Reflection: Learning to Pray

2012-01-13T11:44:00.000-08:00

Do you pray? Have you ever prayed? Does the idea of praying terrify you, or fill you with calm? Do you pray by yourself or with others? Outloud or silently?

Does prayer have to be directed toward someone or something, or can you simply pray? And what do you imagine prayer is for, anyway?

In Mary Oliver's short poem, Praying, she writes:

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

In my experience, this is exactly right on. For me, prayer is about paying attention, noticing what's happening around me, with other people, even in my own heart. It's about naming, and saying outloud those things that I'm noticing and feeling. It's about being in relationship with the world in a particular way. When I pray, it's hardly ever perfect, but it's not supposed to be. It's just a doorway into thanks, into a deeper place, into silence, where another voice might speak.

When do I pray? I almost always say a short prayer before I preach...holding in a prayerful way the people who are gathering in the sanctuary and praying that I be a conduit for something larger than myself. In this way, prayer serves as a reminder...I am reminded that worship is not, ever, about me...I am reminded that people carrying hopes, dreams, and broken hearts are arriving...and they're hoping to hear something that speaks to them.

Why do I pray? Because it centers, grounds, and holds me. There's something remarkably powerful about praying with other people.

Does prayer change anything? It changes me, the one who is praying. It changes my awareness, opens my heart, helps me move toward a posture of gratitude.

Who do I pray to? Life, God, the Spirit of Life, the Source of Life, the Big Mystery...sometimes I don't address anything or anyone...I just pray words of gratitude. Prayer is not a contest and there's no right way to do it. (If you're looking for a good resource on prayer, check out Erik Wikstrom's book, Simply Pray, or listen to this sermon I preached a while back: "All About Prayer: The Lord's, Yours and Mine."

Today, I invite you to patch together a few words of prayer...they don't have to be fancy or perfect...just pay attention...and give yourself a chance to step through the doorway into thanks. And if you're up for it, dear readers, I invite you to leave your prayer or prayer requests in the comments sections.

I'll see some of you in church this Sunday, 9:30 and 11:15.

Day 12 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Joy in my own life

2012-01-12T03:41:00.000-08:00

So here's what truth: it's hard to post every day. It's a discipline. This "post a day" exercise has really become my morning practice. I still make a bit of time for prayer and writing, but these posts get most of my attention right now.

I love that so many of you are commenting and reflecting on these posts. I feel like I'm getting to know some of you in deeper and different ways. Reading your comments, and imagining you at your computer, or on a laptop in a coffee shop, or thumbing away on your cell phone - well, that has brought me joy.

This morning, simple things are filling me with joy: my morning routine, fresh coffee, time to sit, think, and get grounded.

But the biggest surge of joy I've felt recently? We were in Durham, NC, over the winter break. The weather was mild. One afternoon, I want for a walk. The sun was out, warming my face. A gentle breeze was blowing. I didn't have a destination; I was walking because it felt good and I wanted to. And I felt profoundly happy, joyful, even, to be alive, to have a chance to spend some time on this earth. And as I walking, the idea to blog during the month of January came to me. I felt a pull to write about some of the spiritual practices I'm doing, to explore new ones, and to see if I could actually post once a day for a month. And in that 45 minute walk, about ten different posts began to write themselves in my head, as I breathed in fresh air, watched birds circle overhead, and felt my body in motion on a warm December day.

I don't quite know why I was so "joy-filled" during this walk - perhaps because the moment felt timeless, or because I was in a creative mindset, or because I wasn't needed anywhere else other than right where I was, or because I let the problems of the world fade away for a moment...but something happen, and joy took up residence in my body. .

Day 11 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Making room for joy

2012-01-11T03:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I wrote about leaning into those things that help us come alive. Today, I want to build on that notion, as I share some thoughts about making room for joy in our lives.

So: a short story, a poem, and then the question...

The story: This past halloween, our son went trick or treating for the first time. We had explained the basics of how it would work. He'd wear a costume, knock on people's doors, say trick or treat, and then get some candy. He should say "thank you," and then move on to the next house. He seemed to understand the essential concept, but when we actually went trick or treating that night, and he got his first piece of candy dropped into his plastic pumpkin container, it all came together. After saying "thank you" he turned around, on fire with joy, and dashed off to the next house, happily shouting, "Candy! I got Candy!" I've never seen such joy or happiness. He embodied "living joy" that night. (Of his joy filled both my wife and I with a deep joy, as well.)

The poem: "From Blossoms"

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

- Li-Young Lee

Question: When do you live as if death is nowhere in the background? When has joy bubbled up within you, blossoming in unexpected ways? Has there been a time when you ate a piece of fruit, and it opened you up to the orchard, the shade, the days?...and something close to joy burst into your life? When and where and how do you experience joy in your life? How can you make room for more joy in your life?

Day 10 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: What makes you come alive?

2012-01-10T04:00:00.000-08:00

Howard Thurman

According to Wikipedia, "Howard Thurman, (1899 – April 10, 1981) was an influential American author, philosopher, theologian, educator, and civil rights leader. He was Dean of Theology and the chapels at Harvard University and Boston University for more than two decades, wrote 21 books, and in 1944 helped found a multicultural church."

Thurman also wrote a number of books and meditations. One of his well known quotes is,

"Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Today's reflection question is simple: What makes you come alive? What makes you feel full of purpose and meaning? Or, to take another approach to this: When have you felt most alive, doing something that really aligned with you in a deep way? How can you do more of that in your life? (Another resource to help dig into this question is Parker Palmer's short book, Let Your Life Speak. I highly recommend it.)

Day 9 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Naming the good news of Unitarian Universalism

2012-01-09T19:16:00.000-08:00

There are some good comments posted on Day 8, about the good news of Unitarian Universalism. I hope you'll check them out, if you haven't already.

Here are a few pieces of the good news of Unitarian Universalism that really jump out at me:

*Revelation is not sealed. A particular piece of wisdom/truth/insight, is not final. There is not one truth in one book somewhere, sealed up, beyond new interpretation. Instead, Unitarian Universalists suggest that revelation is unfolding, is continuous. God/the Spirit of Life/Love is still speaking in the world, through nature, poetry, sacred scripture, other human beings, music, and so much more. We believe that truth and wisdom continue to emerge in all sorts of places and is not limited to a particular book or teaching...and that's good news.

*The Universalist notion that we're enough, and that we're loved. When I really, truly let this reality into my heart, it is a stunning feeling, a mind blowing experience. In many ways, I'm still leaning how to live into this truth because we live in a culture that says we're not enough unless we make X amount of money, or look a certain way, or have a certain job, etc. etc. Universalism says none of that stuff matters. Universalism says "you're loved, beyond anyone you've done or failed to do." That is stunning, powerful, mind blowing good news. And as I glimpse that reality, it calls me (us) to love the world in a similar way. (Clearly, I'm drawn to this; if you missed my post on, "What exactly is the Universalist spirit of love and hope?" you can catch it here.) The saving message here is that we're held in a love greater than we can imagine.

*Belief that the individual is an authentic source of religious knowing. Another way to say this: We trust in our own religious experiences. I don't mean to suggest it's all about the individual and individual experience. It's not. We need a practicing faith community to be a part of, to hold us accountable, to challenge and shape us. And we need to be in conversation with sacred scripture and traditions that have deep roots, as well. But the good news, the saving message, is that the individual's religious experience matters...it's an authentic source of knowing (as opposed to saying the only authentic religious source is a sacred scripture, or the words of a religious person.)

I'm curious - what else do you see as the good news of our faith, the saving message, if you will?

Day 8 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Claiming the good news of Unitarian Universalism

2012-01-08T15:02:00.000-08:00

I'm a lifer. That is to say I've been a Unitarian Universalist for almost all of my life. I love this faith tradition and its history and stories. I love how our faith evolved, as our Unitarian and Universalist ancestors wrestled with doctrine, dogma, knowing and unknowing.

Essentially, this is where they landed:

We can follow the teachings of Jesus because they are deep, powerful, and transformative teachings, and they show us a new way to be human, to care for one another, and those outside our "tribe," whether they're man or woman, young or old, Jew or gentile, immigrant, exile, or outcast. We can follow Jesus (and his teachings) for this reason, not because he is God, and not because we must believe in his death and resurrection for our salvation. (This is the essential Unitarian claim. And of course, we're invited to follow the teachings of others, as well, as they help us live into our full humanity.)

We can trust that "God" loves the whole creation. Everyone is held in that love. We don't have to prove anything to be worthy of that love. And in turn, because we are loved, we are called to love fiercely, to persist in love, to turn love into justice in this world. Ultimately, love wins. (This is the essential Universalist claim.)

It's continued to evolve, of course, but these claims essentially boil down to these one liners:

"We believe in the idea of one God (Unitarianism) and no one left behind (Universalism)."
"We believe in a love beyond belief." (Love trumps every boundary, barrier, or ideology that human beings construct.)
"We don't have to think alike to love alike." (This is from Frances David, a 16th century Unitarian.)
Or simply: Love wins. (Love transforms us, and calls us into new ways of being, that nothing else does. At the end of the day, love is more powerful than fear, or even death.)

So here's the reflection question for today: "If you identify as a Unitarian Universalist, how do you name the good news of our faith? What is the good, saving news, of our Unitarian Universalist tradition?"

I'm looking for something deeper than, "It's the community," or "You can believe whatever you want (not true!)," or "It's the social justice work..." Lots of places have community and do social justice work. In your own words, what is the good theological news of Unitarian Universalism?

...I almost shared my list of what I think some of the good news is, but I've decided to wait, to see what shows up in the comments section, and then I'll add my two cents worth.

Day 7 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: The Practice of Attending to Your Soul (or Why Small Groups Matter)

2012-01-07T05:53:00.000-08:00

(If you're new to the blog, welcome! For some context, check out this post, which explains why I'm blogging every day for the month of January.)

I recently came across this quote from the poet, Mary Oliver:

"This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists, and that it is built entirely out of attention."

"The souls exists...and it is built entirely out of attention." This seems like the perfect quote as far as it relates to spiritual practices and disciplines. All of the spiritual disciplines, whatever they are, are about paying attention, being mindful, being present - in short, they are about building/growing one's soul as we pay attention in different and deeper ways.

At First Universalist, one of the best places to "attend to your soul" is our Small Group program. (I've blogged about this before.) In Small Groups, with 8 to 10 other people, congregants engage in the discipline of deep listening to one another (and themselves) as they share the stories, questions, and growing edges of their lives and faith. It's the kind of listening that is not about fixing or advising another human being, or interrupting to tell a better story. It is the kind of deep, attentive listening that can help the soul show up...that can help the soul grow and speak its deepest truth.

Small Groups are a place where we can be known and know others at a deep level. Check out this video to hear from church members who have found great meaning in their Small Group experience:

Signs ups for Small Groups begin Jan 9, 2012. We're offering a variety of different groups. You can learn more here. If you're not already in a Small Group, I hope you'll join one. It just might change your life.

In this new year, how are you attending to your soul?

Day 6 of Spiritual Practices and Spiritual Reflection: What's at the Center of Your Life?

2012-01-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

This is a question I ask myself again and again, on a regular basis: "What's at the center of my life? Does it belong there? Is it worthy of my ultimate loyalty? Have I put the wrong things at the center of my life?"

For me, this is a "God," question, it's a "what are my priorities?" question, and it's a question about idols. Wikipedia defines idol as "an image or other material object representing a deity to which religious worship is addressed or any person or thing regarded with blind admiration, adoration, or devotion." Take a second to read that again. Money, alcohol (any addiction), the internet, ego, self, a job, anger, a title, an expectation, just plain busyness - these can all become idols, they can all land in the center of our lives with remarkable ease. And they don't really belong there - they're not worthy of the best of who we are or can be.

So I'm curious, what's at the center of your life? What have you put there? Does it belong there? Is it worthy of your deepest loyalty?

I've had all sorts of crazy things at the center of my life over the years and it's only by continually asking this question that I can begin to put the right things into the center of my life - things like awe, wonder, God/the Holy, Love, spiritual practice, gratitude, and family. Those are the things worthy of my ultimate loyalty.

What's at the center of your life? What doesn't belong there? What would you like to add?

Day 5 of Spiritual Practices: Engaging in Lectio Divina (Holy Reading)

2012-01-05T04:16:00.000-08:00

What the heck is lectio divina?!

In Latin, it means, 'divine reading.' It's a way to engage a reading (a poem, scripture, etc), not as a text to be studied, but as a living thing, that can speak and move and come alive in us, if we let it. Lectio divina is not about learning the text, it is about experiencing the text in a new way.

There are all sorts of variations on how to do lectio divina, but the most common way I know is to read a piece (a poem, a short piece of scripture) three times through, slowly, and to let the words wash over you.

Pay attention. What phrase comes alive in you? What new thing do you notice in the 2nd or 3rd reading that you didn't notice before? After you've read the piece three times, the idea is to sit in quiet meditation for a while, letting yourself and the text be together, allowing a new insight to be born, to open your heart to the experience. After this, there's often a chance to write or reflect on the experience. If you're in a group, you might share reflections with one another. Finally, you end with silence again, held by the words, the Spirit of Life, and the space.

This process of lectio divina might sound dry or even boring, but it's actually a powerful way to experience the text in a new way (At the bottom of this post, I included a poem I used this morning, as part of my practice...and for what it's worth, the part that really spoke to me was the first two lines; I imagined hope watching over my wife, son, and I, "hovering in the dark corners," as we slept last night...)

If you're in the Twin Cities, and interested in practicing lectio divina or learning more, Ruth MacKenzie, our Director of Worship Arts, writes in our January church newsletter (on page 5):

In this month of Living Resolutions, join me after the second service (at 12:15 p.m. in room 203) to experience lectio divina, an ancient practice of spiritual reading: Jan 15, 22, or 29. This practice is a meditative approach to the written word, where we allow ourselves to move deeply into a text, and let that text move deeply in us. No sign up is necessary, just a willingness to practice.

Hope

It hovers in dark corners
before the lights are turned on,
it shakes sleep from its eyes
and drops from mushroom gills,
it explodes in the starry heads
of dandelions turned sages,
it sticks to the wings of green angels
that sail from the tops of maples.

It sprouts in each occluded eye
of the many-eyed potato,
it lives in each earthworm segment
surviving cruelty,
it is the motion that runs the tail of a dog,
it is the mouth that inflates the lungs
of the child that has just been born.

It is the singular gift
we cannot destroy in ourselves,
the argument that refutes death,
the genius that invents the future,
all we know of God.

It is the serum which makes us swear
not to betray one another;
it is in this poem, trying to speak.

~ Lisel Mueller ~

Day 4 of Spiritual Practices and Reflection: Giving Thanks

2012-01-04T04:15:00.000-08:00

The Mission Statement of First Universalist Church is:

In the Universalist Spirit of love and hope, we give, receive, and grow.

I've blogged about the "Give" part of this Mission Statement before (here: "The Best Gift Ever?") It's a deceptively simple Mission Statement, and the "Give" part especially. As a faith community, we're being called to give our attention, to pay attention, in new and different ways. Giving our full attention, to ourselves, to others, to the Spirit of Life/the Holy, opens us up, changes us, and allows us to get clear about what matters and what other gifts we might have to give the world.

Paying attention (giving our attention) can allow us to see our lives differently, to notice and give thanks for the gifts, people, and experiences that fill our lives....all of which can be invisible unless we're paying attention.

So today's reflection question is this: "What have you noticed in the past 24 hours that you are thankful for, that you don't want to forget? What blessing or moment of grace landed in your life yesterday? What experience, or conversation, out of the hundreds you had yesterday, stands out to you? What happened in the past 24 hours that you are deeply thankful for? And how might you express that gratitude? Is there someone to call? A note to write? A journal entry to make? A way you can pay this gratitude forward?"

As I look back over the past 24 hours of my life, my heart opens in gratitude for the time yesterday the church Management Team spent reflection on the question, "What is saving your life right now?" Our emerging practice, as a Management Team, is to spend the first part of our meeting doing some kind of spiritual reflection/spiritual direction work together, before we dig into our "work" agenda. I was deeply moved by the depth of what was shared yesterday. Thank you, management team.

Poem In Thanks

Lord Whoever, thank you for this air

I'm about to in- and exhale, this hutch

in the woods, the wood for fire,

the light - both lamp and the natural stuff

of leaf - back, fern and wing,

For the Piano, the shovel

for ashes, the moth-gnawed

blankets, the stone-cold water

stone cold: thank you.

Thank you, Lord, coming for

to carry me here -- where I'll gnash

it out, Lord, where I'll calm

and work, Lord, thank you

for the goddamn birds singing!

-Thomas Lux

If you're a new reader of this blog, and in the Twin Cities, you're welcome to come worship with us on Sundays, at 9:30 and 11:15, as we continue our "Living Resolutions" sermon series. More information here.

Day 3 of Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Walking with Death

2012-01-03T04:11:00.000-08:00

Over the Holiday break, I had the chance to walk through a small cemetery. I spent time reading the headstones, imagining the lives of the people who were buried there. Some had served our country, some had died young, some had been dead a long time.

Being among the dead, on a bright sunny day, I once again felt the impermanence of my life. I was aware of my mortality, of the mortality of those I love. I intentionally brought to mind many of the names and faces of those I've known and loved, who are no longer alive. And I was able to imagine myself near death, as well, my own body failing.

"Walking with death" in this way, I felt a renewed understanding of what a gift it is to be alive at all. I felt thankful to serve the faith community of First Universalist, as we journey together. I was reminded, as Rev. Forrest Church so often said, that death doesn't take everything from us; death cannot take away the love, time, attention, we've shared and given away to others.

There's nothing quite like walking in a cemetery...to bring you back to life, to what matters. In fact, as a Unitarian Universalist, my focus is on living this life as well and as deeply as I am able, so that when I come to the end of my days, I am not filled with regret or anger, but gratitude for the life I've had.

In this New Year, I hope you will spend time reflection on death, so that you might answer questions like these: How can I best serve and bless the world with my life? What is truly important in my life? What can I give away (or do) that will last beyond my life, that death can't take away?

------
Perhaps many of you have seen this poem. It's worth sharing again:

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Day 2: Spiritual Practices and Reflections: Befriending Grief

2012-01-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

This poem, by Denise Levertov, is one that I return to again and again:

Talking to Grief

Ah, Grief, I should not treat you

like a homeless dog

who comes to the back door
for a crust, for a meatless bone.
I should trust you.

I should coax you
into the house and give you
your own corner,
a worn mat to lie on,
your own water dish.

You think I don't know you've been living
under my porch.
You long for your real place to be readied
before winter comes. You need
your name,
your collar and tag. You need
the right to warn off intruders,
to consider
my house your own
and me your person
and yourself my own dog.

So often, in my own life, behind my anger or anxiety, there is simply grief that has not been expressed, that I have not befriended, that I have not fully welcomed into my life.

As a culture we seem to fear tears (especially from men) and the sense of vulnerability that grief can bring.

But our grief is not a homeless dog. It is real. It is about loss, both small and large, dreams that have died, and much more. Grief is not something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. We should trust our grief, name it, and befriend it, as best we can.

In this New Year, how are you befriending your grief?

Kicking off a Month of Spiritual Reflection and Spiritual Practices: Jan 1, 2012

2012-01-02T08:42:00.000-08:00

(I wrote this post in my mind yesterday...but didn't have time to get it online.)

This month at First Universalist our sermon series is about spiritual practices. We're focusing on spiritual practices and disciplines that can live at the center of our lives, helping us become more grounded people, aware of the gifts we've been blessed with, and the many ways we might bless the world. (Over at NotHellButHope you can Heidi Mastrud's great take on this.)

Every day, for the month of January, I intend to post about one of the practices or reflection questions that I'm currently exploring in my own life. (And in doing this, I understand myself to be continuing a practice that our Transcendentalist forebears engaged in, as they reflected on their lives through contemplation, meditation, journal writing, and conversation. You can read more about the practices of the Transcendentalists in this great article, "The Roots of Unitarian Universalist Spirituality in New England Transcendentalists," by Rev. Barry Andrews.)

The spiritual question I want to kick things off with is this one:

"What is saving your life right now?"

This question comes from the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, who I've blogged about before. Early in her ministry, she was asked to come and guest preach in a pulpit not far from the one she served. She wondered if she would have anything to say to a congregation she didn't know and that didn't know her.

"What would be helpful for me to preach about?" she asked the minister of the church she was going to preach at.

"Tell us what is saving your life right now," the minister responded. "That's what we need to hear. Tell us what is saving your life right now."

This story strikes a deep cord in me. Indeed, what is it in my life, right now, that is "saving me?" Amidst the ups and downs, the blur of endless "to-do's," the piles of books to read, meetings to attend, what is grounding, centering, holding, and "saving my life right now?"

Here's one of the things that is "saving my life" right now:

Putting our son down for nap.

Crazy, right?! Maybe you're wondering: "How is this life saving, exactly?"

Here's the story: I've had some time off between Christmas and the New Year. This has meant that I've home during the day, and thus able to put our son down for his afternoon nap. (I rarely am home during the day, so it's something I have the chance to do.) Our son is not a big fan of the nap, but he absolutely needs it, or else he's a wreck by 6pm. And the best way for me to get him down is to hold and rock him, sitting on the edge of the bed or in a chair. He fights pretty hard for the first 10 minutes or so, kicking, crying, telling me he's hungry, or needs to get down to "go for a walk," or to go "get some exercise outside."

It's an intense experience, gently restraining him as he struggles, being clear that it is nap time, and that I love him (that's my mantra, "I love you, and, it's nap time.") After a little while, he settles down in my arms, still awake, but not struggling. His breathing deepens. He lets me rest my face in his hair. He smells like sweat, and shampoo, and something beautiful I can't even begin to describe, and the warmth and smell of his head touches something deep inside me.

As he relaxes in my arms, and moves toward sleep, I feel deeply grounded in the present moment, my arms gently holding my three year old son. From where my head rests, I can watch his eyes slowly close. After he falls asleep, I hold him a bit longer, then tuck him into bed.

-----

So when I asked myself yesterday, "What is saving my life right now?" and scanned back through the past week, this is where I landed. I didn't know it in the moment; it's only looking back that I can say, "Yes, putting our son down for nap is saving my life right now."

It's saving my life because it's a reminder that things won't always be this way. Soon, I won't be able to hold and cradle him. Soon, he'll stop taking naps. Soon, he'll be at school most of the day. So be present, Justin, be present.

It's saving my life, because it brings my son and I together in a way that nothing else does. There's a deep intimacy, connection, and vulnerability that we share together in those nap time moment. There's a trust and a comfort that is beyond words. (If you've ever fallen asleep in the arms of someone else, you know what I mean.)

It's saving my life because these nap time moments puts me in place where I can imagine how my parents might have held me in such a way; it opens up the past in a different way for me, opening up a new sense of connection with my parents, imagining their arms wrapped around me.

It's saving my life because it's giving me new insight, meaning, and connection. It's saving my life because it helps me feel whole.

What is saving your life right now?

Trusting the Gift: Some Advent Reflections

2011-12-20T08:08:00.000-08:00

(NOTE: This is a longish post...a modified version of the message I delivered on Dec 4, 2011. You can listen to the whole message here, if you'd prefer.)

The Suspicions of Joseph - by Rainer Maria Rilke

And the Angel spoke, not without carefully hearing
This man who stood there with his fists tightened.
“But isn’t it clear from the very fold of her dress
That she is as cool as the morning mist?”

The man however looked at him with suspicion
And said, “I want to know how this happened.”
The Angel spoke louder: “You woodworker,
Don’t you see any mark of God at all in this?

“Just because you know how to make planks
Out of tree trunks, are you unable to imagine
One who can bring forth leaves
And pregnant buds out of the same wood?”

He got it. And the instant he lifted
His deeply shocked eyes to the Angel,
The Angel was gone. He took hold of his cap
And pulled it off slowly. And what he sang was a hymn.

What happened to Joseph? What could Joseph have been thinking and feeling after this exchange with the angel? Whatever it was, his only response was to sing a hymn of praise.

Please don’t tune out just because I’m talking about angels! Don’t tune out, because this story doesn’t pass the logic test. Don’t tune out, because I promise there is a deeper truth here, one we all need to hear.

We’re in the middle of Advent. As you know, Advent, in the Western Christian Tradition, is the four weeks before Christmas. It a time of anticipation, waiting, slowing down, getting clear about what really matters --- as people prepare their hearts for the birth of Jesus into the world, the promise of a hope coming back into a dark world.

“This Advent season,” as John Buchanan recently wrote in the Christian Century, “plays out against the backdrop of a materialist culture at its gaudiest, most materialistic, most vulgar…Advent responds by reminding us that a child will be born in the midst of a world and a time very much like our own, that the reconciliation and redemption his birth promises is not separate from the world, and that he will call us to follow him (or her) and be his (or her) people in this same sad, greedy, vulgar and beautiful world. His (her) birth, which dark Advent anticipates, will be a light in the darkness that darkness will not overcome.”

During this time, many turn to Mary and Joseph, as they wait with them for the arrival of their baby. Thus, the “The Suspicions of Joseph.”

This poem invites us to imagine what Joseph was going through when he got the news. We’re invited to really land in that place of suspicion, doubt, and uncertainty. And if you’ve long ago dismissed this story as “not real,” I invite you to look again, below the surface.

In the poem, it’s clear that Joseph has ran straight into a wall of unknowing. All of his worldly knowledge can’t explain what’s happening. What he knows is that his wife is pregnant and he is pretty darn sure he’s not the father. And he’s a little steamed, with a lot of questions.

And the angel carefully listens to this man who stands there with his fists tightened, asking, “I want to know how this happened,” And this angel says to him:

“Just because you know how to make planks
Out of tree trunks, are you unable to imagine
One who can bring forth leaves
And pregnant buds out of the same wood?”

And Joseph gets it. Something beyond words happens to him. A mystery. His deeply shocked eyes look for the angel, but the angel is gone. And he begins to sing a hymn.

So I think of Joseph and I wonder if maybe, somehow, in that moment with the Angel, Joseph gave up his illusion of control over life’s events. I wonder if in that moment, he was filled with holy wonder and fear, and understood on some deep level that the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Life, was with him and with Mary…was at work in the world…even if he couldn’t understand all the details?

I wonder.

And Mary, dear Mary. She’s not in this poem, but we know from the Biblical text, as author Kathleen Norris writes, that “Mary proceeds – as we all must do in life – making her commitment without knowing much about what it will entail or where it will lead.”

Both Mary and Joseph “get it,” they trust that something greater than themselves moves with them, and they say yes, without knowing where it will lead.

And really, isn’t this what any committed partnership or marriage is like? We say, “I do, I promise, I will…,” but what do those promises really entail, and where will they lead? We do it; we trust that something beyond our knowing can emerge from such a partnership.

And isn’t this also what having children is like? Or seeking to adopt? We move forward in some sort of faith. We set off down a path, we make a commitment, say “yes,” not knowing where it will lead us. Perhaps there’s joy and wonder at the arrival of a new life, or heart break that things didn’t work out the way we thought they would. And yet, would we undo the original yes?

And isn’t this what moving a loved one into hospice care is all about, too? You face the reality of what is, not knowing exactly what it entails, but trusting that you can walk that path.

And then there’s the death of a loved one, and the questions. How will I move forward? How can I go on? And yet, we do, carried by something we can barely name.

In every case - marriage, birth, children, death - the illusion of control, of sure knowing, dissolves; our knowledge fails us…and we are swept up in awe and terror and wonder. And perhaps, out of that place, we sing like Joseph did.

Let me come at this from another direction. If you’ve ever been to one of First Universalist’s Solstice services, you know that the central part of the service is when all the lights in the Sanctuary go out, and we sit in the darkness together. For me, something happens in that darkness, as we sit together, something beyond knowledge, words, rational mind. As the drum in that service sounds out a human heart beat, I feel myself cast into a timeless space, a womb of darkness, a space of awe, terror, wonder.

My name loses its meaning, all the ways I maintain the illusion of control in my life, they collapse. And the darkness comes bearing gifts that cannot be explained. Emmanuel. God is with us. The Source of Life is with us. The Heartbeat of Life is with us, in the darkness – as we face the eternal mystery.

I think of these lines from a Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem:

“I had a vision of infinity I never told you about.
I was ten, on our trip to the farm – a sow was in labor.
You were all keeping vigil in the barn.
By myself I walked back to the house.
A television was on, no one watching it, just on.
I sat on the couch. For a moment between programs
The screen swirled an outer-space landscape,
Stars and galaxies, dazzling miracles of light.
Suddenly something dropped –
It was the first moment I knew I would die.
I would not always be healthy, brown, breathing easy inside my skin.
And then I fell farther, I lost my name, the month,
I traveled deeper than I had ever gone,
Back behind the point where I began,
Before I became someone knowing herself as someone.
I became that endless black beyond the stars,
Knowing nothing, not knowing what it had not known,
And realized it was where I was going,
Just as it was where I had been.
For seconds, Mother, or maybe minutes,
I was no longer your child or anything human.
And then the screen changed and Walt Disney took over and I switched it off and wandered out into the dark.”

We have such moments in our lives, moments that no textbook or curriculum can prepare us for, moments when it becomes clear that all we thought we knew is simply inadequate to explain the mystery at the heart of things. These moments, terrifying, heart stopping, amazing as they may be, are like a gift, but not a gift we thought to ask for. Instead of suspicion, clenched fists, and anger, may we embrace the gift. May we trust that God/Love/Life is with us in those moments, in the darkness, in the mystery, and if we speak, may we speak only awe, singing, “Hallelujah.”

Waiting for a Baby: Advent Thoughts from Three Years Ago

2011-12-10T18:12:00.000-08:00

Our son was born almost three years ago. Here's what I wrote in my journal, December 10, 2008, addressing our unborn child:

We're in Advent, little baby. It's a time of waiting. And we're waiting because you could come any day. We don't know when, so we wait. The waiting is so crazy. I want to fill up the time with something: watch Westwing, cook, sort through stuff and organize it to prepare for your arrival. But all there is to do is wait. Wait in stillness and silence.

I'm ready to meet you, little one. I'm so ready to meet you. Everyone is ready to meet you. Your grandma is coming out soon. Your other grandparents, my parents, are coming out soon, too. They can't wait to meet you. And yet, we're all waiting.

When you're ready, you can come. I want you to have a blessed entry into this world. I want you to connect with your mom; I want to tell you that this is an incredible world, and that so many people have come before us that helped us get to this point. Of course, you have your own life and desires and dreams that you will live into...and you will no doubt help me touch my own dreams in deeper ways.

I wonder who you are and who you will become? Before you grew in your mom's belly, you were just an idea, a dream of love and possibility.

And now you are flesh and blood, about to enter the world. We'll wait for you; we'll wait for your laughter and tears. We'll wait.

The waiting is pregnant with possibility.

What's at the Center of a Vibrant Faith Community?

2011-12-05T10:13:00.000-08:00

I recently read this piece by the Rev. Tony Lorenzen, called, "Out of this Stillness: Spiritual Direction, Discernment, and Mission in Liberal Congregation." (It's a bit long, but worth reading; read it and then come back here.)

Tony's paper helped me understand why I feel such a deep commitment and passion for Small Group Ministry. Small Groups, or similar environments based on deep listening and spiritual reflection, truly seem to be the fertile ground that can create a mission-driven, relevant, engaged faith community that understands what "saves them" and then wants to live that out in the world. We're still tinkering with our Small Group model, but we're clear that some environment like this really matters.

Just this morning, I read this piece by the Alban Institute, "Rational Functionalism," by N. Graham Standish, which dovetails nicely with Lorenzen's piece. Here's an excerpt that really spoke to me:

What I have consistently noticed in almost all thriving congregations, however, is that what makes the difference is the extent to which the community is open to God at its core. Many churches simply aren't open to God. They let the will, ego, and purpose of the dominant voices in their congregation, whether the pastor's or that of a few strong members, drive the agenda. Instead of seeking God's call and purpose, they argue over who is right and wrong. Declining churches tend not to be open to God's presence.

First Universalist Church feels like a "thriving congregation," (and by many metrics, we are) but after I read this piece, I had to stop and pause. If Standish is right, and if Tony Lorenzo is right (and I think, in general, they both are), then we have a lot of really important spiritual work to do at First Universalist. We have definitely started down the right road, and as a body, we're beginning to seriously reflect on the question, "What is Love/Life/God calling us to now?" This deep reflection and listening will be especially important as we move into our Strategic Planning Process in the coming months.

But it's not easy. As Unitarian Universalists, we can get hung up on the language of God or God's Presence. We can get focused on the functional task in front of us, and fail to step back and listen and reflect. And speaking from personal experience, it can be a challenging, scary (and life giving!) process to truly listen to Love's call (God's call) on your life, or the life of your community.

But it's critical we do this, and continue to do it, because the core of the work is about getting our egos out of the way, and truly discerning how we and First Universalist can be instruments of healing love in the life of our community.

And I think both these articles point to ways that can happen.

If you can't tell, all of this has stirred me up! So dear readers, First Universalist members and others, please chime in, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Daily Spiritual Practice: Gratitude

2011-12-05T09:10:00.000-08:00

A few posts ago, I blogged about the spiritual practice of keeping a "daily gratitude journal." I have a regular spiritual practice of writing, praying, and reflecting on gratitude - and I thought I'd share what that looks like for me:

Dec 5, 2011

"I thank You God for most this amazing day..." Thank You for the walk to church yesterday, in the fresh fallen snow. It was still dark out when I began my walk, but I was warmed by thoughts of who I'd encounter at church, and by the hot cup of coffee I carried in my mug. The streets were empty. The sky held the faintest hints of the morning sun, but it was still mostly dark. As I walked down the silent, beautiful streets and sidewalks, I reminded myself that the world doesn't owe me anything: not my health, or the hot coffee (which I did not grow, harvest, roast, or pack), or anything else, for that matter. I reminded myself that I am utterly dependent on those around me, and so many that I do not know. As I walked, I gave thanks for a body that mostly works; for family and friends that hold and support me; for the faith community I am blessed to serve. I try to take none of this for granted, because things won't always be this way.

"I thank You God for most this amazing day..." Thank You for the powerful, healing conversations that took place at church yesterday. I was surprised and delighted by the interactions I had with long time members and guests. I was deeply touched and reminded of how important a faith community is and can be. (And thanks, also, for a worship hour filled with moving and soul stirring music.)

"I thank You God for most this amazing day..." Thank you for the walk home from church...and the chance to unwind...and for the call from my Amicus friend, and for the chance to put my son to bed, to rock him and sing him "silly songs" before he fell asleep...

And thank You for the ongoing, creative, spirit filled work of the Occupy Movement, here in the Twin Cities and around the country, who continue to highlight the troubling economic disparities in this country, and call out the ways that money corrupts our democracy...I am with them in spirit.

There's more, of course, but it's of a more personal nature, and not something I feel comfortable putting on a blog...but you get the basic gist of one of my core practices and what it looks like.

What daily spiritual practices help ground and orient your life?

Advent Practices

2011-12-03T13:39:00.000-08:00

Advent is a time of waiting, of slowing down, of expectation and anticipation. And while Advent is certainly about preparing oneself for the birth of Jesus, it is so much more than that.

It is about preparing for the birth of hope, love, light, and possibility in our own lives. It is about getting caught up in a vision and a story bigger than our little piddly, ego-driven, non-sense story that focuses way too much on the "Kingdom of me."

It is about letting something be born anew in our hearts...something that calls us to align ourselves with God's vision/Love's vision for the world and its people.

If you're interested in digging more deeply into Advent, check out these folks and resources:

I'm particularly enjoying and challenged by Rev Matt Tittle's daily Advent Tweets. You can follow Matt at @reverendmatt.

@Occupyadvent and the the Occupy Advent blog are good, too, and they link to lots of other good Advent sources.

Finally, be sure to check out @HeidiMastrud's blog, and her recent post about Advent.

Reflections on an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service

2011-11-29T07:37:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday, I participated in the annual Minneapolis Downtown Clergy Interfaith Thanksgiving Service. I've just recently joined this group, so this was the first time I've been a part of the service.

As a Unitarian Universalist, interfaith services are not new to me, but none-the-less, this service was a powerful experience, as Jews, Christians, Muslims, Unitarian Universalists and people from all walks of life worshiped together at Plymouth Congregational Church.

If every there was a day for an interfaith service, Thanksgiving is that day. What united us during that service was not a set dogma, or doctrine, but gratitude, praise, and awe. (Things near and dear to my heart; I've blogged about gratitude here, and here.) What united us, beyond belief, was love - love for the creation/creator, love for our neighbors - known and yet to be known - love for the lives we have been blessed with, and the people who nourish and support our lives.

Gratitude, praise, awe, and love - a solid foundation for a meaningful, grounded life in any faith tradition.

Thanks to Plymouth for hosting; thanks to all who came and worshiped together; thanks to my colleagues for their tireless efforts to create bridges, meaningful connections and relationships among the various faith communities in the Twin Cities. I'm honored to be a part of this group, and can't wait until the service next year.

====

During the service I shared a poem/meditation, by the Rev. Max Coots, a deceased Unitarian Universalist minister. Many of you have requested a copy of this poem, "A Prayer of Thanksgiving." Here it is:

Let us give thanks...

For generous friends...with hearts as big as hubbards
and smiles as bright as their blossoms;

For feisty friends as tart as apples;

For continuous friends, who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us we had them;

For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;

For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn -- and the others -- as plain as potatoes, and so good for you.

For funny friends, who are as silly as brussels sprouts and as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes, and serious friends as complex as cauliflowers and as intricate as onions;

For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini, and who -- like parsnips -- can be counted on to see you through the long winter;

For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time, and young friends coming on as fast as radishes;

For loving friends, who wind around as like tendrils, and hold us despite our blights, wilts, and witherings;

And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past, that have been harvested - but who fed us in their times that we might have life thereafter;

For all these we give thanks.

Amen.

Mapping a Life: Greed or Gratitude? PART 2

2011-11-22T08:24:00.000-08:00

It’s easy to say, "gratitude matters." but without a regular practice of gratitude, I believe we’ll drift back toward greed. So, in that spirit, I offer two practices of gratitude, that I use in my own life:

1) Keep a daily gratitude journal. Maybe this might sounds ridiculous, but try it. Each day, in your journal, or Word document, or wherever, lift up three things out of the landscape of your life that you are thankful for. Three things – people, experiences, music, food.

Here’s how this works in my life: I regularly journal and pray early in the morning. I begin with this line from e.e. cummings: “I think you god for the most this amazing day…” And then I prayerfully list what I am thankful for:

“I thank you god for my family.

For the people I serve.

For bringing me to this moment, despite hardship and heartbreak.

This practice changes me. And I’ll tell you, giving thanks doesn’t deny the hard moments, the loss, the grief, the despair we feel. Gratitude does not mean we ignore those things.

In fact, the Reverend Peter Gomes, former minister of Harvard’s Memorial Chapel, during a Thanksgiving Sermon, encouraged his congregation to,

"think of your worst moments, your sorrows, your losses, your sadness and then remember that you are here, able to remember them...you got through the worst day of your life...you got through the trauma, the trial, you survived the bad relationship, you're making your way out of the darkness...remember these things...then look to see where you are."

And if you are in a dark, troubled place right now, know – beyond your rational mind - that you won’t remain there forever.

The first practice is to keep a gratitude journal. If you’re not into journaling, write some thank you notes on a regular basis. Surely there are people in your life who deserve your thanks.

2) Make it a practice to tell a spouse, partner or friend something you appreciate about them every day. Author Arlie Hochschild writes, "When couples struggle, it is seldom over who does what. Far more often, it is over the giving and receiving of gratitude. The struggle in the contemporary context is the struggle to cultivate gratitude between any two committed partners."

Dr. John Gottman, a national known relationship counselor, says that he can predict, often after only three minutes of observation, which marriages/partnerships are likely to flourish and which are likely to flounder.

The basic formula is that for every negative expression (a complaint, or a put-down, or getting angry with one another) there needs to be about five positive ones (smiles, compliments, laughter, expressions of appreciation and gratitude). 5 to 1 is the ratio, he says.

So this practice is about opening your heart to your partner, and truly paying attention. What are the ways, large and small, that you appreciate your partner, or friends? Have you told them? Are you being stingy with your praise?

Gratitude won’t fix everything in a relationship – I’m not saying that – but it will change the landscape of your relationship.

Here’s the bottom line: “Practicing gratitude" is not one more thing to check off your to-do list. It's not an obligation or a burden to praise, to give thanks. Rather, it is an overflowing of Love, of the heart remembering and acknowledging the web of life we are in, that we had nothing to do with, yet sustains and nourishes us, nonetheless.

Mapping a Life: Greed or Gratitude?

2011-11-16T08:14:00.000-08:00

A few thoughts on greed...

Greed is almost impossible to see in ourselves, right? No looks in the mirror, and says, “You Greedy Jerk..I see you there!”

It’s easy to look at Bernie Madoff, or the top Executives at Enron, or the Bankers and CEOs on Wallstreet, or any number of other people and businesses, and shake a finger and tsk-tsk disapprovingly, and say, “Those greedy people…in this greedy system.”

Greed is nearly impossible to see in ourselves, isn’t it? I mean, who among us would say, “Yup, I’m greedy! And it’s causing me problems!” Probably not to many of us.

And yet, I’m surprised by how often I find myself saying, almost unconsciously, “I deserve this; the world owes me; other people owe me; what I have is not quite enough, quite yet, I deserve just a little bit more…More attention, more money, more things...more.”

Greed is an insidious, dangerous condition of the heart – and it’s about more than money.

Here’s what I mean: perhaps in our work lives, or relationships, or marriages, we just “feed” ourselves, slowly starving our partners or colleagues or children of the things they need. We hold tight, being stingy with praise, kindness, attention, love, even money.

Maybe you’re thinking, “I don’t hold tight, that’s not me,” and that may be true, but remember that greed is almost impossible to see in ourselves.

And yet, from the bird’s eye view (God’s view, if you will), it is clear that collectively, greed is rampant.

As the poet, George Ella Lyon, says in her poem:

God is fed up
All the oceans she gave us
All the fields
All the acres of steep seedful forests
And we did what?
         Invented the Great Chain
            of Being and
            the chain saw
         Invented sin
God says,
I've had it…

I set you down
a miracle among miracles
You want more
It's your turn
You show me.

Show what? Show how?

We might start by showing some humility. We might remember that we didn’t make the world, this day, our lives, the soil, the trees, or the oceans. We didn’t make the birds, or the moon and stars.

When I worked at All Souls Unitarian Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, we began each service with these modified words from the 118^th Psalm:

This is indeed a day which God has made.
Let us, then, rejoice and be glad in it.
And let us count our many blessings.
Let us be grateful for the capacity to see, feel, hear, and understand.
Let us be grateful for the incredible gift of life.
And, let us be especially grateful for the ties of love which bind us together, giving dignity, meaning, worth, and joy to all our days.

For a long time, that line, “This is indeed a day which God has made!” made me cranky and bothered me. Sure, I loved the stuff about counting blessings and gratefulness, but I didn’t even really believe in God, or that “God” created the day.

But week after week we said those words together. Slowly, something in me changed. I began to understand that “God” was something that kept my ego in check and grounded me. I realized that no matter what I thought about “God,” the truth was that I definitely did not make the day. I did not make the earth. I did not make the coffee bean, or the oats, or the egg that nourished me.

Something greater than me, had done these things, and had allowed life and the new day to emerge. The day was a gift. My body, my breath - a gift. All that I had, a loan from Life itself.

And the truth, is that the God and the world don't owe us anything: not the high speed internet that works 24/7, or corner offices, or drivers who always signal properly, or a partner that can read our mind, or meet our every need, or anything else.

“I set you down

a miracle among miracles

You want more

It's your turn

You show me.”

Show what?

Gratitude.

We owe the world and its abundant miracles - fiery sunsets, northern lights, laughing children, honey crisp apples, the fact that we’re here at all - our gratitude, our praise.

Instead of always reaching for something more, for feeling we never have enough, the Spirit Map invites us to try saying, "Thank you," and living with a bit more humility at the center of our lives.

P.S. For more good thoughts on this topic, check out Heidi Mastrud's blog, "Not Hell, But Hope."

Black Friday: An Alternative Narrative?

2011-11-16T06:38:00.000-08:00

I follow the Star Tribune on Twitter. The other day, I saw this Tweet:

StarTribune Star Tribune

Black Friday shopaholics: With many stores opening at midnight this year, will you just stay up? Tell John Ewoldt: jewoldt@startribune.com

It's true that there are great "deals" to be had on Black Friday, and there will certainly be people out and about filling the stores, probably even at midnight. But this Tweet, it seems to me, somehow misses the mark.

On the one hand, a voice inside my head says, "Yippee - great deals! - stores open at midnight!" On the other hand, as a person of faith, I'm curious about living into another story, a story about slowing down, pausing, reorienting, saying, "I have enough...how might I share the blessings and treasure that I already have? And how might I focus on the things that truly feed my spirit?"

And so I wonder: what other story might we create and live into on Black Friday? Who might we spend this day with? How might we honestly take inventory of our deepest needs and yearnings? How might we spend that day in a truly life giving way? How might we spend every day in this way?

I long for another Tweet from the Star Tribune that might go something like this:

"As you take stock of your life and the things that truly nourish you, how will you be spending Black Friday? Will you staying up to midnight, talking and laughing with friends? Will you be spending time with your children, creating memories that last a life time? Will you be giving yourself space and time to listen to the small, still voice within? " (I know, it's longer than 140 characters!)

How will you be spending Black Friday?
====
We'll be talking about this and more at First Universalist in the coming weeks, as we kick off our new sermon series, "Gift." Services are at 9:30 and 11:15 every Sunday.

"In Faith..." What does that mean, exactly?

2011-11-02T09:30:00.000-07:00

NOTE: Recently, a congregant asked me, “You always sign your emails, ‘In faith…’ What does that mean?”

This post is inspired by that question…

Do you consider yourself a person of “faith?” What do you have faith in? Yourself, science, nothing, something larger than you?

Or do you equate “faith” with belief in a deity? Faith as something rigid and dogmatic? Maybe, like Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris, you would say faith, belief, and religion are a plague upon humanity.

Or maybe you consider yourself a person of faith, but aren’t sure exactly how to articulate that.

In Pali, the language of much of the ancient Buddhist teachings, faith is a verb, an action, as it is also in Latin and Hebrew. In this context, faith means to trust, to confide in, to rely on.

You can learn more about Salzberg's book here.

As Buddhist author Sharon Salzberg says, “Faith is not a singular state that we either have or don’t have, but is something we do…Whether connected to a deity or not, part of faith’s essence lies in trusting ourselves to discover the deepest truths on which we can rely.”

So this means that over time, in conversation with sacred texts and others, we might learn to trust in the power of love, or the presence of the Holy; we might trust that with deep awareness and a practice of loving kindness, we can know peace and help relieve suffering in the world.

With “faith” as a verb, an action, it means faith is not something we either have or don’t. Instead, it is a step, a leap we take over and over again, a trust and loyalty that grows over time.

As Salzberg says, “Faith is what gets us out of bed, it’s what gets us on an airplane to an unknown land...it is saying, ‘I align myself with the potential inherent in life, I give myself (my heart) to that potential.’ …Faith is the willingness to take the next step, to begin a journey to an unknown destination.”

Think of marriage, or a committed partnership, or having children, or sitting at the bedside of dying loved one. Faith takes us to the threshold of what we know. And then it calls us across. Faith invites us to give our hearts to a relationship, a friend, a cause, to God - even if we don't know how it’s all going to play out.

There’s a story by the Buddha that explains this kind of faith:

A herd of cows arrives at the bank of a wide stream. The mature ones see the stream and simply wade across it. They are like fully enlightened beings who have crossed the stream of ignorance and suffering.

The younger cows, less mature in their wisdom, stumble apprehensively on the shore, but eventually they go forward and cross the stream. Last come the calves, trembling with fear, some just learning how to stand.
But these vulnerable, tender calves also get to the other side, the Buddha says.

They cross the stream just by following the mooing of their mothers.
The calves trust their mothers and, anticipating the safety of reunion, follow their voices and cross the stream. That, the Buddha says, is the power of faith to call us forward.

For me, "In faith" is not a statement of belief as much as a statement of practice. It is "in faith," that I practice trusting my own deepest experiences - continuing to lean into love and life, continuing to awaken and respond to the presence of the "Holy." It is "in faith," that I practice leaning into community, vulnerability, and greater authenticity...step by step, in faith, I learn to lean into and trust these things...and invite others to lean with me.

In faith,

Justin

More on Maps: What's Your Internal Landscape Look Like?

2011-11-01T11:00:00.000-07:00

I just read this piece, "What Does Your Spiritual Geography Look Like?" by Carol Howard Merritt, over at Christian Century. The full article is worth a read. It'll take 5 minutes. Do it, and then come back!

I've been thinking about maps and landscapes lately and this section caught my attention:

Fall surrounds us, reminding me of all the transitions happening within me. Just as I’ve come to appreciate how seasons transform the land, I’ve also become aware of my internal landscape. The two seem bound together in many ways.

When I see those bare limbs, I think of the times when my work turns inward. We all have periods of fruitfulness and other months when we can hardly create. My father died a few months ago, and I noticed a lot of those empty days in the wake of his passing. I looked back on the hours, wondering what I actually accomplished.

But driving through Pennsylvania, I’m reminded that I should have appreciated the internal work. In our culture, we relentlessly measure productivity, but we don’t allow space for those seasons when hidden roots grow deeper. We don’t always trust those times when the limbs remain desolate. I didn’t honor the days of beautiful stillness enough.

This line, especially, sticks with me: "In our culture, we relentlessly measure productivity, but we don't allow space for those seasons when hidden roots grow deeper."

I've been thinking about this in terms of "expansive time," time when there is no pressing issue, no huge "to do lists," no calls to return, no things to produce. I long for more "expansive time," flow time, time to let my heart and spirit settle, time to hear the whisper of the Holy, time to just be in the world, time for roots to grow deep...time to process, integrate and make sense of grief and loss and change.

My spiritual director (as well as another good colleague), invited me to take five minutes out of every hour in the day (or at least some of those hours!), to step into "expansive time," to settle into my internal landscape, to take some deep breaths. And in that time, to reflect on where the Holy, or joy, or meaning, have shown up in the past hour. To take note of those things, to hold them intentionally. And to be honest if the Holy, or joy, or meaning haven't showed up...and how I might invite them to show up in the next hour.

It's a hard practice to engage in - I like to be productive, after all! - but it's beginning to change the landscape of my day and of my heart. It slows me down and invites me to consider a whole other world, right there in front of me, inside of me.

Mapping a Life: Love, or Fear?

2011-10-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

(Note: for some context for this post, please check out previous post about Mapping a Life.)

"Love takes off the mask that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” - James Baldwin

In the consumer culture map, fear plays a big role in our lives, doesn’t it?

Maybe we’re afraid of our bodies, their smell, how they look. Or we’re afraid we’re not enough, don’t have it all together, don’t have the right things, or the right job.

Or on a deeper level, maybe we’re afraid of how close we feel to falling apart – because of health issues, financial stress, parenting, our house being foreclosed on, losing a job, or our marriage coming undone.

Maybe we’re afraid we’re on the edge of losing it. And yet, we’ve got to keep pretending things are fine.

Let me say this another way: perhaps we’re afraid of truly confronting the pain in our lives.

And the fear of confronting that pain might mean we turn to the bottle, to pills, or the internet, or something else, so we can numb out, tune out, keep the pain at bay.

As the Rev. Forest Church says, “We find so many ways to armor and protect ourselves…”

And as I’ve been thinking about this, here’s what I’m realizing: fear – from the consumer culture map - makes us put on a false show of strength, of pretending to have it all together.

You know how this looks:

Q: “Are you ok?”

A: “I’m fine.”

A: “I don’t need help.”

A: “I don’t want to talk about it.”

And of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Beneath that mask of strength, of being “fine,” is grief, pain and heartbreak.

And here’s what I think the crux of the issue is: In the consumer culture map, we have been taught to be afraid of our feelings and our pain.

As the Rev. Forest Church reminds us, “Every time we express ourselves, emotionally, we lose some control.”

Beyond being afraid of our feelings, the consumer culture map tells us that the thing to be most afraid of is to lose control of our emotions, to be vulnerable, to appear weak.

This is particularly brutal for men in our culture, but it impacts all of us. Essentially, we’re instructed to be afraid of ourselves, of our feelings, of our own deepest truths.

Fear then, tells us to hide our hearts. This, as you might imagine, is not a life giving practice!

And this is where love comes in.

Love calls our hearts out of hiding. Love invites us into vulnerability, authenticity and honesty.

This feels risky, even terrifying.

As the Rev. Forest Church says, “We sense the risk… every time we share ourselves with another, every time we commit ourselves to a cause or to a task that awaits our doing…

We risk disappointment, failure, or being embarrassed or inadequate…”

But love calls us to take that risk; love invites our hearts out of the dark closet they’ve been hiding in. And paradoxically, real strength comes from risk taking, from vulnerability.

And in a faith community, we can collectively begin to orient ourselves on a new map, and take risks to live from a place called love.

The consumer culture map says, “Be afraid, bunker down, pretend things are just fine,” but when we look around and see our homeless neighbors, or bullied GLBT youth, or veterans coming home and struggling with addiction and suicide, or reflect on the pain in our own lives, we can see that things aren’t ok.

With courage, we can name these realities, and “speak the truth in love.”

Fear says, “Dress right, talk right, have the right things, have the right job, and keep it all together – keep the mask on – this will keep you safe and strong.”

Love says, “Nope, not true.” Love reminds us that we’re not asked to be perfect, or have our stuff together. We’re only asked to take off our mask, to be who we are, to see our fellow human beings as the incredible miracles they are, to see their struggles and desires as our own, and to see them as brothers and sisters.

Love, as author John O’Donahue says, invites us to “waste our heart on fear no more.”

May it be so.

Mapping a Life: Hospitality, or Exclusivity?

2011-10-19T15:08:00.000-07:00

Who’s in? Who’s out?

Who’s welcomed, who’s not?

Who’s acknowledged and seen? Who’s not?

Hospitality insists that people are not objects or “its.” They are not means to an end.

Hospitality insists that people are living miracles, children of God, the face of God, if you will. Hospitality is about loving and welcoming the stranger, those different from us.

Hospitality, as opposed to exclusivity, is about a kind of kinship, an authentic, holy engagement with another. It is about casting the circle of welcome and love wider and wider still.

I spoke with a church member earlier this week, and he told me it was his personal practice to connect with folks “who looked lost” in the coffee hour after the service.

He greets them, talks with them, and introduces them to others.

He described the sense of relief they seem to feel, as someone notices, pays attention, and engaging them.

As author Rachel Naomi Remen says, “The places in which we are seen and heard are holy places. They…remind us of our value as human beings.”

Wherever hospitality is practiced is a holy place.

And hospitality’s baseline is simply: “Welcome, you belong, you are a child of the Universe, of God.” As Greg Boyle, a Jesuit Priest says, “Our common human hospitality longs to find room for those who are left out. It’s just who we are if allowed to foster something different, something more greatly resembling what God (Love) had in mind.”

That sentiment points us to the Spirit Map, where our natural desire to reach out, to connect with others, to reach out to those who are left out, can blossom!

Wherever hospitality is practiced is a holy place.

What sacred places are you creating? What new map are you trying to life into?

Mapping a Life, or "What Values Orient You in the World?"

2011-10-18T13:47:00.000-07:00

(Note: for the full context of this post, you might want to check out this earlier post. Thanks!)

This past Sunday, this song was our reading for the day, our "sacred text:"

That line,“How could it come to this? I really want to know about this…” just grabs me.

That’s my heart’s question.

I really want to know, how can it be that 1 in 7 children in Minnesota live in poverty and go to bed hungry? How can it be that their life is shaped by that devastating reality? These are children just like our son. Just like your children. And perhaps they are your children. How has it come to this?

Imagine having to choose between paying your utilities bill or buying groceries? Maybe you don’t have to imagine…maybe that’s your life. How has it come to be that across this country, there are 46 million people living below the poverty line? That’s a family of four making less than $22,000 a year. These are our brothers and sisters, uncles, grandparents, friends, our neighbors – it’s us.

How has it come to this?

How has our moral compass gotten so twisted? Our political system so shaped by moneyed interests? Our politicians posturing and playing games, as people suffer? Can’t we do better?

I really want to know about this.

I trust I’m not alone with these question.

Maybe on a personal level you’re asking, ”How did it come to this?” Maybe there’s a deep sense of unhappiness about your life, or marriage, or something else. Or perhaps you’re longing for more purpose and meaning in your life. Perhaps you’re thinking, “How could it come to this? This sure isn’t what I imagined my life would be like.”

Or maybe, like me, you’re thinking about the country and the world. Maybe you’re wondering, how did we get into these wars in Iraq and Afghanistan again? Tell me about the $3 billion we spend a week in these wars; what that money might do in North Minneapolis or New Orleans or anywhere else…what that money might do for our children?

Maybe you’re thinking, “Tell me how we decided it was ok to trash the planet, to mine, pollute, exploit it? When did profit become more important than people and our planet?"

If our eyes and hearts are truly open to what is happening around us, surely a part of us must be asking: “How could it come to this?”

The good news is that this is not a new question. It seems to me that sacred scriptures all deal with some variation on this question, and the simple answer to "how could it come to this?" is that we’ve been using the wrong map to guide our lives and decisions.

We’ve been using the “popular culture” or “consumer culture” map instead of the spirit map, the faith map, Love’s map, God’s map – call it what you will.

In popular consumer culture map, the core values we are given to guide our lives are these:

exclusivity,

fear,

ego-gratification,

guilt,

and greed.

(We’ll be unpacking these values in the next four weeks in our Sunday worship…and looking at “spirit map” alternatives to these popular culture values, which are: hospitality, love, compassion, forgiveness, and gratitude.)

The trouble, of course, is that these "consumer culture" values lead us to ask the wrong kinds of questions. As the Rev. Jim Wallis says, “Television, magazines, and our whole popular culture, in ad after ad, have asked us, “What’s the fastest way to make money? What do you need to buy next that will make you truly happy? What is wrong with you, and how could you change that?" What do you need to be afraid of? These questions do not speak to the deep yearnings of the human heart, nor do they help us become better people.

But that’s the map we’re living in, right now, in what I would call an “apocalyptic moment.” Yes, an “Apocalyptic movement!” (The root of the word “apocalypse” means to unveil or reveal what has been hidden. And we are living in an apocalyptic time right now because what is being revealed is the popular consumer culture map – with exclusivity, fear, ego-gratification, guilt, and greed as its core values - that has lead us astray.

And I believe that our brothers and sisters in this growing “Occupy” movement are essentially saying, “As a country – we’ve been living and operating from the wrong map, and it’s not working. We need a new map.”

That’s what this Occupy Movement is about. It’s not dirty hippies lounging around – it’s people of faith, families, students, and so many others, who are saying, "It’s time to use a different map with a different set of values and principles."

And they’re bearing witness to that.

And for the next four weeks at First Universalist, we’ll be exploring the Spirit Map and how we might live more fully in that map.

To be continued in another post...this one is plenty long!

Practicing Hospitality

2011-10-14T18:56:00.000-07:00

True hospitality is amazing.

Let me tell you what I mean. I spent part of the day down town at "The People's Plaza." While down there, I met a great guy named "T."

T's been staying over night in the plaza since day 1, and he explained that he used to work (in a well paying job) but that he'd recently lost that job. I'd guess T was in his mid to late 50's. He told me he didn't want to feel hopeless about the current economic and political crisis, so he came to the people's plaza.

What he's experienced has changed him.

Here's the gist of what he said to me, "This is incredible; the organizers are amazing; this process is democracy in action; and we're staying here until there's real change in this country. The community that's formed here is something else. We've got a medic station set up and a food station (along with a media station and more) - we feed anyone who's hungry. We take care of the homeless folks - food and a visit with the medic. It's like this country's supposed to be. We take care of each other. I didn't think I'd be here, but I am. And we're starting to communicate with the other "Occupy" organizers, beginning to plan together. I really didn't think I'd be here, but I am."

I had a plate of hot food while I was there, and T introduced me to one of the other organizers, D. We talked for a bit about the role that the faith community could have in this growing movement. We talked about staying grounded and not burning out, something near and dear to my heart.

As I left, I couldn't help but think about hospitality, the radical welcoming of strangers. I was a stranger and they engaged and welcomed me. I was a stranger and they fed me. And it wasn't just me; this group was offering radical welcome and care to the growing number of homeless men and women who are on the streets of downtown Minneapolis. They are living their message of creating a new way, of truly putting people before profit, a way that might work for all of us.

P.S. If you're a new reader of this blog, and are curious to know more about me and how I am, check out this post.

P.P.S. Here's another good piece to read by a colleague of mine, the Rev. Bill Sinkford.

Countdown to "Invite a Friend Sunday!" (Oct 16)

2011-10-12T07:46:00.000-07:00

(Dear readers: while this post is for all of you, it's especially geared to First Universalist members.)

Starting Oct. 16^th, we’re launching a 5 week sermon series called, “Mapping a Life.” We’re be exploring the tensions between the different “maps” we encounter in this life – the “consumer culture map,” which offers a particular set of values to guide and orient our life vs. a “spiritual” or “faith map,” which lifts up a different set of values and a different way of being in the world.

This whole sermon series will be especially visitor friendly, and we hope you’ll ask a friend to join you for the launch on Oct. 16^th. (Why? One reason is because it breaks my heart when I talk with people who are new to First Universalist, and they say, “I wish someone had told me about this place years ago....when I was raising kids, when I was struggling, when I really needed a faith community like this...” Now is your chance to be that “someone!”) And you send 'em to check out this video, found here:

Remember, a personal invitation really means something. It means you know and care enough about your friend to invite them into something that’s really important in your life, and you think it might be important in their life, too.

So if you’re proud of this progressive, liberal faith community and the faith based work we do with Habitat for Humanity, for Marriage Equality, for the Environment, and so many other things, invite a friend to experience what’s happening here! If you’ve had a life changing experience in a Small Group, or a Sunday morning worship service, invite a friend to experience what’s happening here! If your children have loved their Religious Education Classes or the Our Whole Lives comprehensive sexuality education curriculum, invite a friend to experience what’s happening here!

Who knows, it might change their life. Or yours. Perhaps you'll grow in ways you never expected!

I’ll see you, and a friend, in church.

The People's Plaza! (Further reflections on the occupy movement)

2011-10-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

NOTE: This is a follow up post to the earlier post, "What Would Jesus Occupy?"

On Friday, my wife and I had the chance to visit the People's Plaza in down town Minneapolis. (I spoke about this and more in my sermon from last Sunday.)

I wasn't sure what to expect, but as a person of faith, committed to truly growing in my faith, I have to confess that the "Universalist spirit of love and hope” invited me to show up.

Because right now, our political, economic, and financial systems aren’t working; our government no longer represent the interests of the American people; rather, money has polluted our political process and the government is more responsive to the needs of corporations than to its citizens. As a result, too many people are suffering, the planet is suffering…and I think faith communities have a role in creating a future that works for all people.

So I showed up. It was peaceful. I talked to people. There were students, unemployed folks, families, grandparents, veterans, and hundreds of others - a really diverse crowd, as you can see from the pictures.

When people asked why I was there, I told them I was a Unitarian Universalist Minister, that my faith brought me there. That I believe in a vision of a just and fair world.

It felt good to be there, to step out of my routines and my habits, to engage with my fellow citizens, to dream of a future that might work for our son, for all children, for all people, to occupy a public space with our bodies and our voices. To stand for justice and equality, and systems that better serves all people.

I left feeling like this is a significant movement taking shape in our country and that the faith community has an important role to play.

I'll be back next Friday. If any First Universalist folks are interested in a "faithful field trip" down to the people's plaza, let me know.

In the meantime, here are some other informative articles you might check out:

1) this piece about the values and principles behind the Occupy Wall Street movement

2) this article from Rev. Marilyn Sewell, former minister of First Unitarian Portland, about how the church might respond to this movement.

3) For you religious professional types who are reading, this one, about "Protest Chaplains."
4) And this one: "These Occupy Wall Street Protesters have a message"

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this movement and the role of the faith community...

Growing into Love's People

2011-10-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

The Mission Statement of First Universalist church of Minneapolis is: “In the Universalist spirit of love and hope, we give, receive, and grow.”

This isn’t “grow” as in growing from a baby to an adult. It’s not “grow,” as in, “Come on, grow up!” where the subtext is, “Quit complaining!” It’s not “grow,” as in mergers and acquisitions.

There’s a deeper meaning to “grow” here. It points to the reality that it is possible to grow in our ability to live with compassion at the center of our lives, to listen deeply to one another, to practice forgiveness, and to be able to transform suffering into something of meaning.

But we can’t “grow” alone. We need a practicing faith community to help us grow.

There’s a story from James Luther Adams (one of the best know Unitarian Universalist thinkers of the 20^th century) that gets at this perfectly. The time-frame of this story is the late 1940s when the Board of Trustees of the First Unitarian Church in Chicago was debating about whether to encourage African Americans to become members of their church.

In Adams’ words: “Some years ago I was a member of the Board of Trustees of the First Unitarian Church in Chicago. And another member of the board often complained about the minister’s preaching too many sermons on race relations. This board member often said that academics of course know little of the world of reality.

One evening at a meeting of the board he opened up again, with this same critique. So the question was put to him, ‘Do you want the minister to preach sermons that conform to what you have been saying about Jews and blacks?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘I just want the church to be more realistic.’

Then the barrage of questions opened up, ‘Will you tell us what is the purpose of a church, anyway?’

‘I’m not a minister…I don’t know,’ the man replied.

‘But you have ideas, you are a member here, a member of the Board of Trustees, and you are helping to make decisions here. We can’t go on unless we have some understanding of what we are up to here.’

The questioning continued, and items on the agenda for the evening were ignored. “At about one o’clock in the morning, our friend on the Board,” says James Luther Adams, “became so fatigued that the Holy Spirit took charge. And our friend gave a remarkable statement regarding the nature of our faith community.”

He said, ‘The purpose of the church is to get hold of people like me and change them.’

Then “Someone suggested that we should adjourn the meeting, but not before we sang, ‘Amazing grace… how sweet the sound. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.’

-----

This is a story about “grow.”

Initially, there’s a man saying, “I wish the church would be more realistic about things.”And we’ve been there, right? Someone is pushing and challenging us with new ideas, or has called us back to core values we profess, but aren’t living, and we say, “Come on, be realistic! We can’t do that…it won’t…it’ll never…”

That’s what’s happening here and I’m guessing it doesn't feel real comfortable for that man.

But that church and its values – that community - had created an environment where the spirit of love and hope worked on him until he could say, “The purpose of the church is to get hold of people like me and change them.” (I would say, “grow them.”)

This was no easy thing to confess, I suspect.

Think about how hard it is to back down from a position you’ve taken.

If you can’t think of a time, try asking your partner, or a friend, or your kids – I’m pretty sure they could help you out!

But something miraculous happened. This man was willing to be changed – to grow – because of his faith and his community. "Growth" is about the dynamic dance of faith, values, and community. It’s about being willing to be changed by what we’ve received…and to give something different than we normally give...and it can be profoundly uncomfortable.

But that’s the purpose of our liberal faith communities. The church isn't in the “being realistic” business! The Universalist spirit of love and hope is not about being realistic - it is about a vision that will completely change the world if we embrace, live it, and let it work on our hearts.)

And that’s the whole darn point, I think: for this unrealistic liberal faith to get a hold of people like us, change us, and help us grow into Love’s people.

Letting the Gift In

2011-10-08T19:23:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, in her sermon, the Rev. Kate Tucker issued an invitation. She said, "Pay attention to how you're letting the gift in this week...how you're receiving the gifts of this world."

I've been trying to pay attention. Here are the gifts I know that I really truly let in this week:

1) I put our son down for bed the other night. We did our usual routine of books, brushing, and singing (three songs sitting next to him in bed; he picked Twinkle Twinkle little star, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and Hush Little Baby). After I sang, I left the room. At the doorway, I stopped and turned around. "I love you, sweet boy," I said. A long pause. Then, in a sleepy voice, he said, "I love you, too." I just stood there, talking some deep breaths, letting those words really wash over me. It felt like....magic...joy...a moment of grace. I let it in.

2) I've been out on the bike a bit this week and have let in the incredible beauty of the fall colors. I rode my bike under a fall canopy of yellows and greens and oranges. It was so bright and colorful, it felt like I was under some kind of special light. Again, a deep breath, and a prayer of gratitude that I was alive for this. (Deep breaths seems to help the gift really sink in, I'm noticing!)

3) Since writing this blog post, I've stopped by OccupyMN and have had a dozen wonderful conversations with a wide variety of people who were there...I feel like I've really let their stories in, stories about hope, about pain and suffering, stories about wanting a better world for their children to grow up in. Each of those stories was a gift, and I really tried to let it in.

What gifts did you really let in this week? What gifts were you truly able to receive?

What Would Jesus Occupy? (Thoughts on #occupywallstreet and the faith community's response)

2011-10-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

(NOTE: For a look at the values and principles behind this movement, check out this article from Yes! Magazine. I'll post other articles soon and will do a "Part 2" to this post soon, as well. Thanks for reading.)

Today, I found myself wondering "what would Jesus occupy?"

I'm not really comfortable speaking on behalf of Jesus, but I can easily imagine him in Zuccotti Park in New York City's Financial District..

I can imagine him saying "Mic Check!" And people around him saying "Mic Check!" And if you don't know what I'm talking about, here's the deal: There's an ordinance in Zuccotti Park that prohibits amplified sound, so the people who have been meeting there are conducting their meetings and communication without bullhorns or sound systems. They're using a "the people's mic," or the "human mic." Whenever someone has the floor, he or she speaks in 4 to 6 word sentences, then pauses. Those gathered around the speaker repeat what they've just heard, so those further back can hear what's been said, and so on.(This article explains how the human mic works.) It takes a long time to communicate, but everyone hears the message. And there's something about the "people's mic" that really moves me.

Here's what I think it is: People are speaking up, lifting their voices and putting their bodies in the public square in a way that demands attention. They're doing it in creative, life giving, community supporting ways, it seems. And those occupying Wall Street, Boston, Los Angeles, Minneapolis (starting Friday), and dozens of other places, are hitting a chord that's resonating deeply with all sorts of Americans. In fact, these gatherings include union members, grandmas, professors, the unemployed, the employed, military veterans and so many others.

People are speaking out against a financial system that has essentially wrecked the American economy, destroyed the pensions of countless Americans, and decimated the American Dream (not to mention much of the middle class). They are speaking out against the corporate hijacking of our government and how corporate money has poisoned our political process.

People are speaking out on behalf of the planet, on behalf of a just and fair legal system that ensures that corporations and the wealthy pay their fair share of taxes. People are speaking out on behalf of their neighbors...on behalf of a living wage, affordable health care and housing for all, and for a new economy that works for everyone.

Since this all started on September 17, no one is using much religious language that I've heard yet (and that's not a criticism), but it feels pretty clear to me that this movement is about two choices: either turning toward the creation of the beloved community, the community of justice, equality, and mutuality ("Love's Kingdom," if you will), or turning our back on God's vision (or Love's vision) and returning to the land of the broken American dream, where a few prosper, and the majority suffer.

I realize this movement is just emerging, and the mainstream media has been slow to pick it up, and that there are lots of differing opinions about all of this, but none the less, my question is: where are the faith communities in this conversation? What is a faithful response to this growing movement, institutionally and personally? What is your faith calling you to?

And Twin Cities folks, there's an occupymn, which starts on Friday. Who's interested in going to learn more, see what it's all about, and explore what role faith communities might play?

So what is the Universalist spirit, exactly?

2011-10-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

Our Mission Statement begins with, “In in the Universalist spirit of love and hope…”

So what is that Universalist spirit, exactly?

Well, simply put: Universalism is the idea that all people are loved and embraced by God. It's not a new idea: Universalist thinking has been around for thousands of years. But it really took root in America, in the 1700 and 1800’s.

These early Universalists could not imagine a loving God who would damn them to hell. But this notion of a loving God was in tension with the dominant thinking of the time, which was that that God was an angry God, and there was only so much love to share with sinful creatures; thus, only some would be “saved.”

The early Universalists said, “Uhm..not so much,” to the idea of an angry, violent God. And as they truly began to imagine and understand the reach of God’s love, they realized that everyone was within that inclusive reach.

So love is at the heart of the Universalist Gospel.

Love.

This is blow your hair back, life changing love.

As Bishop John Shelby Spong says, "Love is the essential power that deepens our relationships and simultaneously expands our humanity. The more we are freed to be ourselves [and that happens when we know we are loved, doesn’t’ it?] the more we are enabled to give our lives and love away to others."

And that’s what these early Universalist preachers did; knowing themselves to be loved, they preached hope, not hell. Being loved, they gave their lives and their love away to others.

Many of these early Universalists worked on prison reform, the abolition of slavery, and women's rights. And is it any surprise that Universalists and Unitarians today are involved in immigration issues, are leading the faith based response to the proposed Minnesota Constitutional Amendment to define marriage as between one man and one woman, and are involved in affordable housing issues (and much more)?

Because if love is at the heart of the Universalist Gospel, then all people matter – even if they’re in prison, disabled, or among the outcasts or invisible of society – all people matter and creation itself matters.

That’s what we inherit from our Universalist forbears: God loves everyone.

It’s mind blowing.

‘Cause there are some people I think God (Big Mystery, Source of Life, Love, Deep Peace, that which is unnameable, which is in all and bigger than all) probably shouldn’t love. I’m sure you’ve got your list, too! But that’s just my little human brain casting judgment and trying to put things in a box I can understand.

That source, call it what you will, loves the whole creation.

And I 'm pretty sure that we're called to do the same thing...to be called out and stretched by Love, to grow into Love's people.

Not Hell, but Hope

2011-10-03T18:10:00.000-07:00

Heidi Mastrud, First Universalist's Director of Congregational Life, has started blogging! You can check out her first post at http://nothellbuthope.blogspot.com/. It's a spot on first post about the very real "hells" of this world, and why a liberal, inclusive faith community can help save us from those "hells." Go check it out!

The Best Gift Ever?

2011-09-28T06:59:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday in church, I suggested that the “Give” part of First Universalist’s Mission Statement invites us to develop a practice of big, generous, radical giving. It invites us to give the gift of deep attention to ourselves (not ego attention, but deep attention, i.e. really checking in with our spirits), to others, to the planet, and to the Holy. I suggested that this kind of "giving of attention" opens the door to all other kinds of giving. You might think of it as the gateway gift. When we really pay attention, it becomes clear about what to do and give next.

(If you’re interested, you can listen to the sermon, here. And a congregant shared some fascinating thoughts, here.)

I also said that this kind of giving is so important that we need to practice it in some concrete ways:

One way is to give someone a one hour “time coupon.” (On Sunday, the orders of service actually had “time coupons” in them that said, “Give this time coupon to a recipient who will get one hour of your undivided attention on a project or activity of their choosing.”) You decide who gets this – a child, friend, or partner....Whoever it is will get 60 minutes of your undivided attention.

It might seem like a simple, silly gift, but it’s pure gold.

Life size brontosaurus!

For example, our own son loves dinosaurs and cars. I could give him dinosaurs and cars every time I see him; he’d like it! But what he really likes is when I play with him; when I pay attention to him, when I give him my full self. That’s more valuable than a life-sized brontosaurus.

This attention feeds his spirit. (It’s true that I can’t give that kind of attention all the time, but when I do, it matters.)

Second, give a gift a day for seven days. It could be a material gift, but it certainly doesn’t have to be. It could be a helping hand, a hand written letter, a phone call, a home cooked meal, a singing telegram, a walk with someone.

For this exercise, focus on what you have to give and not on what your limitations are. As a colleague of mine says, “When we take the time to pay attention to what we have to give, and we all have so much to give, our hearts begin to overflow with generosity.” It could be standing in solidarity with someone, holding the door open, taking the time to tell a dear friend how much they mean to you.

So try it. See what happens. You have so much to give.

And giving makes Love come alive in the world. As the poet Hafiz says,

Even after all this time
the sun never says to the earth, "You owe Me."
Look what happens with a love like that,
It lights up the Whole Sky.

At the end of the day, it’s not what we hold on to that matters - it’s what we give away - the love, attention, and compassion we give to one another and this world.

If you were at the service, I'd love to hear your thoughts and reflections...how did you experience this service?

Staying Grounded: What's Your Practice?

2011-09-26T12:47:00.000-07:00

This past week, I was involved in two significant interfaith gatherings.

Gathering at Hennepin Ave Methodist Church (see more
pictures here.)

1) A week ago, I gathered with 550 people of all faiths at Hennepin Ave United Methodist in Minneapolis to begin to strategize about how to defeat the Constitution Amendment that will be on the ballot in November 2012, defining marriage as one man and one woman. Minnesotans United for All Families, working with Outfront Minnesota, did an outstanding job organizing this event, and the spirit was moving in the place, even though the power was out for the first 45 minutes!

I was there because as a person of faith, I believe that Love matters, families (in all configurations) matter, and that marriage - for everyone! - matters.

I also think it's important to remember what Jesus had to say about homosexuality and gay marriage, which is this: "." As far as what truly mattered, he said: "Love God and love your neighbor."

I know that the track record for defeating these Constitutional Amendments is not good, but I believe we have a good chance of defeating it next November. If we do, Minnesota will lead the way as we rewrite the national story on this issue.

Ready to march with the Earth and a Heart of the Beast Puppet

2) And last Saturday, I was at the Moving Planet-Moving Faith rally at the Capitol, in St. Paul, part of a global event, to encourage our leaders to help move the planet off of fossil fuels. A handful of clergy, including me, spoke at the event (you can watch a two minute video of me, if you're interested.)

While there was strong turnout at both of these events, and lots of energy and passion, it is not clear what the outcome of either of these issues will be. It's possible that the Amendment will pass next November. It's possible we'll fail to move beyond fossil fuels, and leave a devastated planet to future generations.

Much as I want to be involved in efforts I know are going to succeed, that's not how it works. I'm called to act upon my faith regardless of what the outcome might be. There's always the chance of heartbreak. Thus, as a person of faith, it is critical that I have spiritual practices and discipline that ground me, so that I stay centered, loving, hope-filled, and open hearted when I engage in issues where the outcome is not clear or certain. .

So on an almost daily basis I pray, journal, read, reflect, and give thanks. I spend time with poetry, various scriptures and teachings, and with the Holy. I remember those who faced the impossible with Love and Compassion at the center of their lives. I remember that Love's work is never done and that each day I am called once again to faithfully serve Love.

And here's the thing, if I'm not grounded in this way, I know I will burn out, that the pain and weight of the world will crush me, that I will turn toward anger and cynicism, and that I will become toxic to myself and those around me. The world is in need of some big changes, it's true; these changes won't come overnight; they will take time; there will be failures and heartbreak. And so we must have practices that sustain and strengthen our spirits, so that we can be grounded in faith as we work on behave of love and justice...or we'll be no good to anyone, anywhere, regardless of final outcomes.

What are your spiritual practices? How do you stay grounded and balanced in difficult times?

Why Small Groups Matter

2011-09-18T14:27:00.000-07:00

September is sign up time for Small Groups at First Universalist. As some of you know, I am a huge believer in the power of Small Groups. In fact, I believe that they are one of the most important things we do at First Universalist.

Certainly, Sunday worship is important, but Small Groups are about moving from "rows to circles*" (from sitting in the pews on Sunday morning to moving to a “face to face,” environment, where we listen to and get to know one another, and share the growing edges of our lives and our faith.)

While part of the purpose of a Small Group is to connect with other members of the church, a larger purpose is to create an environment where we can engage in the spiritual practice of deep listening.

Rachel Naomi Remen (learn more here.)

As author Rachel Naomi Remen says,

“I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention.”

As one small group participant said:

“I decided to sign up for a small group just a few weeks after starting to worship at First Universalist. I’ve had the good fortune to do a fair bit of listening training, but to be honest, as a man, as a father, as "the boss" at work,and quite frankly as a raging extrovert, I really don’t get nearly enough being listened to. And, to be honest, I know I don’t listen enough either. So I signed up and showed up, and what I found was that no one is listened to enough, and in equal measure none of us have enough space in our lives to open up, go deep, and share from the hardened tender edges of our souls. What I learned is that deep listening is another word for seeing - and that in our small groups, we show up, week after week to say to each other: 'I. See. You.'

What we practice in Small Groups sticks with us in the larger group too. As we grow our capacity for deep listening, we also get more adept at sharing that capacity with the wider community.”

He’s right. And that's why Small Groups are so important; they are changing the fabric of our faith community. Small Groups are a practice that is helping us create new patterns, new ways of being together, new ways of living our faith, as we "give, receive, and grow" together (that's part of our Mission Statement.) The more we practice deep listening in Small Groups, the better we get at it. It changes the DNA of our faith community and how we are with one another, and the wider community.

Another Small Group participant said,

“I think one of the most meaningful experiences for me about small groups is that they have allowed me to connect with other church members on more than just a surface level. We share stories we would not share in other settings. We see ourselves in others, and others see themselves in us.”

Small Groups matter.

They are a spiritual practice that can open our hearts and help us move toward wholeness

As I told the congregation on Sunday, "The early Universalist believed that God loved everyone and that everyone was saved. Today, we might say that the 'Spirit of Life' is in everyone, and that "salvation" comes from authentic relationships - with ourselves, others, and that which is larger than us…salvation, in part, comes from the kind of deep relationships we form in Small Groups, as we give, receive, and grow into love’s people."

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How is your church using Small Groups? How has the life of your faith community changed because of Small Groups? What has your experience been in Small Groups? How does a practice of "deep listening" inform and shape your life? I'd love to hear from you!

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*The "rows to circles" concept is one that I've heard from Andy Stanley, Senior Minister from North Point Community Church, in Georgia.

Today we launched the 10th Anniversary 9/11 "Hope Journals"

2011-09-11T12:01:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, during both worship services, we launched 10 "hope journals" out into the congregation and (ultimately) into the wider community. If you're asking, "What are hope journals?" that's a fair question! Here's the answer: our "hope journals" are an experiment. An experiment in possibility, in crafting a new narrative, in connecting with our community, in imagining how the next ten years might unfold, and how we might be a part of that.

Front cover of the the "Hope Journals"

Here's the explanatory text of what was in each "Hope journal:"

What you’re holding in your hands…

The Story: On September 11th, 2011, during our Sunday morning worship services, we “launched” 10 “hope journals” out into the congregation. We launched 10 journals because it’s the 10^th Anniversary of September 11^th. We know what the story since September 11, 2001 has been: Wars in Iraq in Afghanistan, an erosion of our civil liberties, an unfortunate rise in anti-Muslim sentiment, economic upheaval, and much more. In many ways, it’s been a painful and heartbreaking ten years.

As people of faith, we believe it’s time to write a new story. A story about reconciliation, hope, compassion, forgiveness, and peace, as we look to the next ten years.

And that’s what this journal is about. It a place to record and collect your hopes, dreams, and commitments for the next ten years.

Journal Instructions: If you are holding this journal in your hands, we’re glad you have it! Please add to the “hope story” we’re creating! We invite you to write down your hopes and dreams for what the next ten years might look in our country and the world. You might paste a relevant poem in these pages, or add a meaningful photograph, or even draw your hopes and dreams. If you have children, pull out the crayons and get creative!

After you’ve added your contribution, please pass this journal on to another friend or acquaintance, and invite them to pass it along when they’re done. The goal is to have as many people as possible contribute to these journals, whether they are from First Universalist or not.

Return Date: Please return the journal to First Universalist Church by August 1, 2012. In September of 2012, we’ll share stories and highlights from this journal and others in one of our Sunday services, as a way to inspire us to truly create the future we dream of. If you can’t drop the journal off, please mail it to us:

The church’s address is:
First Universalist
3400 Dupont Ave S.Minneapolis, MN55409

Tracking the Journal:

Let us know you've touched and written in this journal! Send us a Tweet on Twitter. Find us on Facebook. Or visit us on the web.

Blessings to you!

Rev. Justin Schroeder and the entire First Universalist staff

Inside page of the "Hope Journal"

So that's what the "Hope Journals" are about. And now they're launched! We hope some of them will return next year and we'll craft several sermons based on the stories and hopes that have been shared. And we're aware of course, that some of the story is a story of sadness and despair; those stories are welcome too; we know that faith lives at the intersection of despair and hope.

Parenting Confession

2011-09-02T12:32:00.000-07:00

Here's the confession: there are times when I really don't want to be a parent. In fact, there are times when I don't like myself as a parent, and even question my parenting abilities. Heck, there have even times when I don't really care for our son, times when he's screaming or crying really loud, or pushing all of my buttons, or throwing rice or pancakes or tomato pieces all over the floor, or knocking over potted plants, or yelling "get up, get up," at 6:00 a.m. in the morning. (I know, I know, these are all great "opportunities" to practice forgiveness and understanding, but that doesn't always happen.)
So, yes, there are times when I don't like being a parent.
I recently said all of this to a group of folks I deeply trust.

I doubt my confession is shocking to other parents. I suspect all parents feel this way, from time to time. What is shocking, however, is how hard it was for me to say all of this out loud. Sure, I think these things on a somewhat regular basis, but to say them out loud felt risky and dangerous, even among a group of trusted people. What would they think of me as a parent and minister?

But I was surprised by the sense of relief I felt when I spoke honestly about how hard parenting can be and how sometimes I really wish I wasn't a parent. (And for the record, I also said that I love our son, and there are plenty of times when I love parenting, and even times when I think I'm doing good (even great) parenting. Those times far outweigh the times I feel incompetent and dislike parenting.) However you crack it, parenting can be hard. We all face challenges with our kids - whether its autism, attention deficit disorder, health issues, or something else. Parenting can be hard and tiring and sometimes we don't want to do it.

It's kind of like a spiritual practice.* It's about attending to the life and task and feelings right in front of you. It's about mindfulness - what am I feeling/experiencing/aware of right now? Seen in that light, part of the spiritual practice of parenting is noticing and naming when it is damn hard, when it's challenging, when it's breaking our hearts. It's important to name that reality. To say, "Wow, this is really hard," and not to hide or be ashamed of that reality. And to name it when it's glorious, powerful, soul stirring, and beautiful.

Parenting is hard. Sometimes I really don't dig it. The vast majority of the time, though, I love it, and am thankful for all of the ways it has helped me grow. Both realities are true. And I feel better for having said it.

*The Rev. Rob Eller-Isaacs frequently refers to parenting as a "spiritual practice".

Monday Musings...

2011-08-29T14:58:00.000-07:00

Hello and welcome newest readers! So glad you've stopped by. If you're so inclined, please leave a comment on anything that moves you or stirs your spirit. No pressure, of course, but it deepens the experience for all of us.

Yesterday I preached a sermon called "Removing the Roof," a part of which I had posted as a draft earlier in the week (you can listen to the podcast of that sermon here.) I was experimenting with a different way to construct a sermon. I invited people to reflect on the draft piece I posted, and a bunch of you did.

I appreciated all the comments; it deepened my thinking about the issues of commitment, boldness, and courage. And I can't stop thinking about this particular comment from Jessi Wicks:

As so often happens, reflecting on the story (of a paralyzed man being lowered through a roof into a home where Jesus was), was I the healer, being sought out by those in need? I'm more inclined to believe I was the cripple being lowered through the gaping hole in the roof. My church community opened that hole in the roof, lowered me down so I could be healed.

I love this. I love the reality that a community of faith can hold, heal, and bless us in ways we can't even anticipate or imagine. Often, our job is simply to show up, be authentic, and open-hearted. When a faith community is alive with "gratitude, compassion, hospitality, forgiveness, and hope" (see postscript), and we're invited to truly live and embody those values, look out - the roof might come off, we might get healed, we might help heal.

If you're interested, the book I quoted from on Sunday in "Tattoos on the Heart," by Greg Boyle. It's a powerful, moving read. I highly recommend it.

I'll be experimenting with this sermon writing process again in the future. Thanks to all who commented!

PS: Phil Lund, Prairie Star District's Director of Faith Formation and Congregational Growth, recently gave a presentation to our staff and Board and shared the core values of "Gratitude, compassion, hospitality, forgiveness, and hope" as antidotes to the the driving forces of the consumer culture which are: "Greed, ego gratification, the need to be exclusive, guilt, and fear." I'll definitely be blogging more on this soon, but in the meantime, here's a piece that Phil pointed us to.

The church is in the world to lift up a different set of values, yes?!

Ripping the Roof off the House - thoughts on this Sunday's Sermon (input welcome!)

2011-08-22T14:31:00.000-07:00

NOTE: So I'm trying something new. I'm posting a couple of stories and thought sketches that I'm thinking about using in the sermon on Sunday. Here they are:

In the Gospel of Mark, there’s a story that goes like this: Jesus is in a little village called Capernaum (just so we’re all on the same page here, Capernaum is on the North side of the Sea of Galilee (map here; scroll down). He’s in a house and there’s a huge crowd gathered. The doorways are full of people. He’s been preaching, teaching, and healing all day, and a massive crowd has gathered.

The house is packed.

Photo credit

The doorways are packed.

There are even people gathered around the house, trying to see what’s going on.

(It’s probably like a really popular concert or workshop that you've arrived late to...and there's lots of excitement and noise going on in the front, but you can't really see or hear much.)

So in this story, some folks on the outside climb up to the roof and pull off the tiles in order to lower a paralyzed man into the house, so Jesus can heal him.

Maybe you know this story?

Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it much since seminary.

But I’ve just finished a book called Tattoos on the Heart, by Father Greg Boyle, a Jesuit priest. Greg Boyle is the founder and executive director of Homeboy Industries, located in Los Angeles, the gang capital of the world. (Their motto and mission of Homeboy Industries is: "Nothing stops a bullet like a job.") Homeboy Industries provides jobs, tattoo removal, and much more, for former gang members.

In one of the chapters, Boyle tells the story about the roof getting ripped off the house, so the paralyzed man can get to Jesus.

But before I dig into this story and why I think it’s relevant to us, let me suggest that first, we become "undone." Let me explain.

It seems to me that whenever we approach a story from the Bible (or any where else for that matter), we have to come “undone,” to let go of preconceived notions, of all that would prevent us from hearing the story in new, life giving ways.

We have got to come "undone" first…so that we can be “re-made”/”redone” in a deeper love and understanding, as the story works on us.

As an example, here's a story about being "undone" from Tattos on the Heart.

“In 1987," Greg Boyle writes, "the church made the decision to have homeless and undocumented men sleep at the church. Once the homeless began to sleep in the church at night, there was always the faintest evidence they’d been there.

Come Sunday morning, we’d foo foo the place as best we could. We would sprinkle, I Love My Carpet on the rugs….but the smell always remained….and the grumbling set in, and people spoke of “churching” elsewhere.

The smell was never overwhelming, just undeniably there…so we determined to address the discontent in our homilies one Sunday…So I begin with, ‘What’s the church smell like?’”

People are mortified, eye contact ceases, women search inside their purses for they know not what.

“Come on now,” I throw back at them, “what’s the church smell like?”

“Huele a patas” (smells like feet), Don Rafael booms out. He was old and never cared what people thought.

“Excellent. But why does it smell like feet?”

“Cuz many homeless men slept here last night?” says a woman.

“Well, why do we let that happen here?”

“Es nuestro compromiso” (it’s what we’ve committed to do), says another.

“Well, why would anyone commit to do that?”

“Porque es lo que haria Jesus.” (It’s what Jesus would do.)

“Well, then…what’s the church smell like now?”

A man stands and bellows, “Huele a nuestro compromiso (it smells like commitment).

The place cheers" (74).

Stink, stank, smell.

Undone, to be redone in the authority and spirit of compassion, generosity, commitment.

Back to the story in the Gospel of Mark.

As Greg Boyle says, ‘Jesus is in a house so packed that no can come through the door anymore…so the people open the roof and lower this paralyzed man down through it, so Jesus can heal him. The focus of the story is, understandably, the healing of the paralytic. But there is something more significant than that happening here:

They’re ripping the roof off the place, and those on the outside are being let in” (75).

“If we love what God loves,” writes Greg Boyle, "then, in compassion, margins get erased…and we dismantle barriers that exclude” (75).

There’s a simpler way to say this: compassion rips the roof off.

Literally, the roof had to be undone, tile by tile, so the circle of compassion could be re-done, wider than before.

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Obviously, I'm still working on this...it's no where near a final product..it's a work in progress. And because a sermon is a living thing, I'd love your thoughts and reactions to what's here, if you have a minute.

Here are some potential reflection questions to jump start your thinking:

*How does this story speak to your life and or your faith?

*What does commitment "smell like" in your life?

*What scares you about the kinds of commitments that kindness and compassion call you to?

*What makes you come "undone?" How are you different when you're put back together?

Thanks for reading and engaging! - Justin

Family Ritual for Mealtime (Singing toward Gratitude)

2011-08-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

This morning we had oatmeal and berries for breakfast, my wife and son and I. Before digging into our food, we held hands and sang the "Johnny Appleseed Song." Actually, it's a slight variation on that song. Our version goes,

Oh, the earth is good to me, and so I thank the earth, for giving me the things I need, the sun, the rain, and the appleseed, the earth is good to me. Amen -- amen -- amen, amen, amen, AHHHHmen.

(I've shard the longer, Disney version, below. It's not as robust or off-key as our version!)

Sometimes we sing the original version, belting out, "Oh the Lord is good to me," but mostly we stick with the earth. Our son knows the song by heart and when we sing it slow enough, he can sing along with us, or we'll pause after saying, "The earth is good to...." and he'll sing, "meee."

We love holding hands and seeing each other around the table and singing together. And it's a tradition that has been passed down from generation to generation in my family. (A really tender and sweet moment came last year on a family trip when our son was surrounded by parents, grandparents and great grandparents (and uncles and aunts!) and we all sang this song together. Part of the tenderness is that my grandfather is suffering from memory loss, but he knew all the words to this song, and sang with a smile and tears on his face. We all got a bit teared up, too.)

Anyway, our tradition is that after we sing, we ask, "What are you thankful for?" and then take turns saying what we're thankful for. Our son often starts, saying something like "I'm thankful for my mom and dad, and food, and books," and then he digs into his food. Sometimes he's more random in his gratitude list, and he has said some wicked funny things, too. (Like being really thankful for his "sister!" (Which he doesn't have - he's an only child!))

And then my wife and I then express our gratitude for people, food, Life/the Holy/God, family time, the gifts and blessings of the day, whatever it might be.

It's a ritual that only takes a minute, but it changes the shape of the day and the meal, as we sing together, hold hands, and name the things we're thankful for. It is a precious moment I love and look forward to. And it's a daily reminder of how incredibly amazing and miraculous this planet is - how our very lives depend upon the dirt/the earth underneath our feet.

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Reflection Question: What are the rituals you do on a regular basis, with your family or otherwise? What practices and rituals help shape and ground your day?
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P.S.: A quick shout and hello to some of the new folks who have been stopping by this blog! I suspect you visited us at the Lake Harriet Service on Sunday (here's a copy of the homily I shared, if you're interested) and were online afterwards wanting to learn more about First Universalist and Unitarian Universalism. Welcome!

The Practice of Listening and Slowing Down (aka: "Talking Chairs")

2011-08-09T07:52:00.000-07:00

I ran into a friend yesterday in the parking lot of a local grocery store. I had just finished shopping (with lots of "shopping help" from our son!) and we trying to carry all the groceries to the car. Our friend gave us a hand, and on the way to the car, we were reflecting on how busy and harried so many of us feel, and how it's almost like a badge of honor to be busy (guilty as charged, at least some of the time!) We reflected on how wonderful it would be if we were able to shift things around in our lives so that we when someone asked, "How are you?" we might respond, "Fine. I've been really slow lately. Really slow."

That conversation reminded me of the importance of slowing down, and "letting our 'spirit' catch up with our bodies" (as an old mentor of mine once said.)

So this post is in that spirit of slowing down, in two parts: First, some 'slowdown' quotes that I find helpful and inspiring, and second, a sharing of a spiritual discipline my wife and I use in our relationship.

Quotes first. In her wonderful book, Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor writes,

Barbara Brown Taylor

“Like many ambitious people, I had developed a dependence on adrenaline. I could get so much done when my anxiety was in the red zone that I learned to live right on the edge of panic, in that optimum zone between alarm and collapse...and as long as I kept moving quickly, there was a great deal I did not have to feel. Sadness and loss were slow movers, along with bewilderment and doubt. Every time I heard them moving behind me, I put on a burst of speed.”

And this, from author Parker Palmer, along the same lines (from Let Your Life Speak):

Parker Palmer

“The soul is like a wild animal...tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. Just like a wild animal, it seeks safety in the dense underbrush, especially when other people are around. If we want to see a wild animal, we know that the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods yelling for it to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods, and sit patiently at the base of a tree, breathe with the earth, the creature we are waiting for may emerge..."

Both Barbara Brown Taylor and Parker Palmer are talking about slowing down, and making room for our inner life, our spirit, our "real" self to emerge...and be known, seen, heard, by another.

Here's a "slow down/get real" practice my wife and I use. We call it "talking chairs." And on a regular basis, we make time to sit down in our "talking chairs." It really doesn't have to be chairs, it could be the couch; but here's how it works: essentially, we sit across from each other, and give each other uninterrupted time to "check in." One person talks at a time. And there's no agenda other than letting that person talk about whatever is on their heart and mind; it might be about our relationship, parenting, our families, some grief we're carrying, or resentment; it might be things we want to apologize for, dreams that might just be starting to take shape that we want to talk about...or anything else.

The one who is talking has all the space and time they need to talk; the job of the other person in the chair (or one the couch) is simply to listen without interrupting. We try to leave room for lots of silence, because the soul is like a wild animal. It takes a while to emerge, to show up. It takes time to find the words to express what we're feeling, or to find the words for gratitude. (And it is crazy-wild how much of a backlog of stuff can get stored up, stuffed down, ignored...that will come out in a good talking "chair session.")

We don't do this "talking chair" thing perfectly, but we've learned that when we're busy, or stressed, or just feeling "off," or the world seems to be going crazy, we probably need to sit in the "talking chairs," open our hearts to one another, listen deeply, speak honestly, and slow down just enough to really reconnect with one another and clear the brush out of the way. Even if we thought we had nothing to check in about, by the end of our deep listening, our hearts feel lighter and laughter comes more easily.

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How do you sustain and strengthen your key relationships? Do you have an equivalent to a "talking chair" process? What other practices do you have?

Digital Ministry and Why it Matters: An Interview with the Rev. Phil Lund, PART 2

2011-08-05T06:44:00.000-07:00

Rev. Phil Lund, Director of Faith Development
and Congregational Growth for the
Prairie Star District

Yesterday, I shared the first part of my interview with the Rev. Phil Lund and today I'm posting the second part. If this sparks thoughts or ideas for you, please comment - there's a lot of you "virtual people" stopping by and I'd love to know what you're thinking!

Phil, don't we spend enough time online already? What's the point of digital ministry? How do you ensure face to face/real life connections?

We may or may not spend enough time online already. The point is that this is technology that’s going to be with us from now on, and unless we learn to use it to help us get our message out, fewer and fewer and fewer people are going to find us. Because finding churches via the internet is mostly how it’s done these days. And the competition’s pretty stiff. In fact, I ran across this quote earlier in the year: “Liberal religion is always one generation away from extinction.” That wouldn’t have worried me five or ten years ago. But I can see it happening if we don’t learn how to use this technology well. As far as face-to-face connections go, that’s one of the things I love about the Faith Formation 2020 initiative. Yes, we provide folks with the opportunity to interact with us on a completely digital level. But we need to constantly be offering invitations to come join us in real life. And we’ve got to hang on to the one thing we can offer that people can’t get anywhere else in our society: a genuinely multigenerational community. If we lose sight of that, we’re just as likely to go extinct as if we ignore the need to use digital technology well.

Do you have suggestions/best practices for religious liberals just starting to use Twitter, or wanting to start a blog?

I’ve just finished a month long experiment as a social media lab rat, and I’ve found a lot of good resources which I’ll post on my blog soon (you can find Phil’s blog here.) In the meantime, I’ll say that congregations need a social media strategy, which the minister (if they have a minister) needs to be involved with. The strategy will probably require the use of some sort of team, which means using the pro version of something like HootSuite, which allows a team to track multiple social media streams, schedule posts, assign individuals to respond to particular tweets, etc. There are a lot of good posts that give newbies some good rules for the road. I feel blessed to have been mentored in this by the Rev.Naomi King (@revnaomi), who is a substantial presence in the Twitterverse, the blogosphere, and Facebook.

How can churches effectively use social media?

There’s only one way to effectively use social media. To broadcast your congregation’s mission, vision, and values. Sure you can use Twitter to tell folks what room the Social Justice Committee is meeting in tonight, but that’s just augmenting 19th and 20th century technology. Unless the congregation has something really significant to offer the community it’s in, you can blog three times a week, post on Facebook once a day, and send out tweets from morning till night, and it will all be, to quote Saint Paul, “as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.” However, if your mission, vision, and values are clear, then why the heck would you want to miss the opportunity to tell folks who you are, what you believe, and what you’re doing. Social media may be the most effective way the church has ever had to get its message out.

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So, dear readers - what is the message you're trying to get out in your churches? What is your mission, vision, and values, and how are you using social media to share them? What innovative, creative things are you doing? What challenges have you faced? What resources do you recommend? What insights do you want to add to this conversation? Jump in, leave a comment!

Digital Ministry and Why it Matters: An Interview with the Rev. Phil Lund, PART 1

2011-08-04T08:02:00.000-07:00

Rev. Phil Lund

I’m introducing a new feature to this blog – the interview! Every few months, I’ll post a short interview with someone who is inspiring me with their ministry, or who I’m deeply thankful for, or who has shaped my life in some way.

Regular readers will recall that in my first blog post, I mentioned that "The Well" was inspired, in part, by the Rev. Phil Lund, and the “social media ministry” he’s been involved in. Because of this work and his willingness to share what he's learned, Phil has become something of a mentor to me.

I had the chance to chat with Phil recently, and he was generous enough to answer a bunch of my questions. Here’s the first part of our conversation:

“Phil, I've heard you and others use the term 'digital ministry.' What does that mean and why is it important?"

Actually, it’s a term that I’ve recently started using. For me, it’s sort of expanding on the Faith Formation 2020 initiative notion of using digital media and web technology as part of a lifelong faith formation network. The idea is that a congregation needs to be doing two things: providing opportunity for people who are already part of your community to deepen their faith through digital media and web technology, and offer people who an not involved with our community the chance to do some spiritual seeking online, with multiple invitations to come in for face-to-face interactions. So you’re using the internet two ways: to augment the faith formation of friends and members, and to give newcomers a taste of what your congregation can do for them spiritually. Digital ministry expands that to include the entire ministry of the church. So it’s more than faith formation.It’s worship and social justice as well. Of course, as a faith formation leader, I consider everything we do in our congregations to be faith formation.

“Just a quick sidetrack here: What is 'Faith Formation 2020' and why is it important, as it relates to ministry and digital ministry?”

Faith Formation 2020 is an initiative of Lifelong Faith Associations (a Catholic group, by the way) that sought to answer these three questions:

1) How can faith formation flourish in Christian churches over the next ten years?
2) How can churches address the diverse spiritual and religious needs of people today?
3) What are the promising innovations that can guide faith formation in this decade?

Through a long process, they came up with 16 strategies “for designing the future of faith formation.” At the top of the list was this: Faith Formation using Digital Media and Web Technologies. Whether we’re talking about faith formation specifically or the ministry of the church in general, it’s clear that we can’t address the forces that are affecting religious institutions in the United States without digital media and web technologies. In other words, digital ministry is a must.

"What are some of the key things you've learned in the past year, as it relates to digital ministry?"

The number one thing I’ve learned is that most of our congregations are favoring 20th and even 19th century technology and media. That means we’re way behind here. There are congregations out there (mainline congregations, by the way, not just evangelical) that have full-fledged digital ministries that are far beyond anything UU congregations are doing. I’m thinking Darkwood Brew here. Just spend a few minutes checking out their website. It’s a ministry of an actual UCC church that meets in real life. This is their digital ministry. It is truly amazing. Having said all that, though, another thing I’ve learned is that you don’t need to do it all. Facebook, Twitter, YouTube—they may or may not be what a particular congregation needs. And when I say “what a congregation needs,” I mean, what a congregation needs to spread the word about their mission, vision, and values.

(Readers – stop by tomorrow for Part 2 of this interview. In the meantime, you can find Phil on Twitter @psdlund, or “Friend” him on Facebook.)

Thermostats vs. Thermometers

2011-07-27T12:37:00.000-07:00

In the New York Times Magazine on Sunday, July 24, 2011, Cornell West said, "Be a thermostat rather than a thermometer. A thermostat shapes the climate of opinion; a thermometer just reflects it."

(image credit.)

That idea lodged in my brain: be a thermostat, not a thermometer.

Another way to say this might be, "Awaken! Listen to that still small voice from within (or without). Listen to the cries of longing and suffering around (and within you), and discover where your great gladness meets the world's great need, and then act and move in the world in a new way."

Be a thermostat, not a thermometer.

Maybe Buddha was a "thermostat." Or Jesus. Or Ghandi. Or Susan B. Anthony. Or your mother, minister, or mentor. Someone you respected, listened to, even followed; someone who shaped their environment in positive, life affirming ways, and articulated a dream of how things could be. They weren't perfect, but you knew where they stood and they stood on the side of love.

Be a thermostat, not a thermometer.

Seems to me that "thermostats" are grounded in some sort of practice or spiritual discipline; they have a vision of the beloved community, a sense of the common good, a thirst for justice, and they truly love their neighbors as themselves. Thermostats can cut through the noise of the culture, the nonsense that passes as truth, and point toward something bigger, a deeper reality.

We live in a thermometer culture (i.e., What's trending/trendy right now? What ways are the opinion winds blowing? How much of our lives are echo chambered off from the rest of reality?) We live in a thermometer culture which is why faith communities matter. Faith communities are one of the places where, through worship and small group participation, through serving, learning, justice making, giving, receiving, and growing, we might come to see ourselves as thermostats - instruments - called to help shape a new narrative/a new reality of inclusion, hospitality, love, and interdependence.

(Photo credit)

Be a thermostat, not a thermometer.

"It Helps Now and Then..." - In the midst of a crazy world, a moment for gratitude

2011-07-23T13:58:00.000-07:00

I know it might seem weird to be writing about gratitude on a day when the world is reeling from the news out of Norway (more on evil in another post), when Congress can't seem to find a way to raise the debt ceiling and address the budget (or find a civil way to work and compromise together so our children and grandchildren have a future worth living into), and when some are calling the heat index and climate change a left wing conspiracy.

Climate change, the debt ceiling, and the terrible, horrible, tragic violence wrought by an extremist in Oslo are all on my mind. (And my prayers are certainly with the families and friends of all those who were injured or lost their lives in this attack.)

But gratitude is also on my mind.

Here's the story: It looks like we'll be moving to Minneapolis soon, to rent a home much closer to First Universalist. We're thrilled. At the same time, we're sad about leaving Frogtown, our St. Paul neighborhood. Right now, we're in the process of packing, as it's all on a pretty fast timeline. And you probably know the moving drill: Almost every item that gets touched get this treatment, "Keep it? Toss it? Or give it away?" Mostly, it's pretty straight forward, but there are some items that haven't been touched in years, and when they are, stories, memories, and deep feelings all come flooding back. And often, lots of gratitude. Heap-loads of gratitude.

Not the exact journal, but close!
(image from http://www.eastgate.com/catalog/ItalianJournal.jpg)

I was packing up my home office, when I came upon a gift from my Ordination and Installation service, nearly two years ago in October, 2009. It was a beautiful journal from a dear friend and colleague. I had (somehow!) completely forgotten about this gift. "On the occasion of your ordination - Oct 25, 2009," the inscription read.

Holding this gift brought back a flood of memories from that day, as First Universalist and I began our shared ministry journey together, as we were collectively called by something greater than ourselves to serve something greater than ourselves. I turned the page in the journal to discover these words, credited to archbishop Oscar Romero, but actually written by by Ken Untener for John Cardinal Dearden in November of 1979:

"It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

Amen."

We cannot do everything, and we will never see the end results of what we start, but we must do something...despite the heart break and fear and extremism in the world, we must be the yeast that helps bring a new creation/world into being.

Today, in the midst of everything, this is what I needed to hear and be reminded of. Thank you, dear friend.