The Spiritual Practice of Stability

This summer, I have been spending a lot of time reading books by Benedictine nun Joan Chittister. In the midst of social distancing and sheltering at home, it seemed like a wise thing to spend time with a monastic! Currently, I am reading “Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today.” In this book, she breaks down the Rule of St. Benedict, which were a set of guidelines for monastic living, which included ordering the day into hours for prayer, study, work, fellowship, and attending to the needs and health of the community, to show how it can inform contemporary life.

I have been reflecting on her chapter “Stability: Revelation of the Many Faces of God”.

We are currently in the midst of a time of great social instability. It feels as if all that we once rested on—the good and the bad—are now up for grabs and the very institutions we found comfort in are in the midst of tremendous change. What does “stability” look like in our current climate? How is finding and committing to stability a spiritual practice for us?

Even before COVID-19, Chittister critiqued our engagement with stability: “The problem is that perseverance and persistence are aspects of stability which the present word counts little. If our children don’t learn, we blame the teachers rather than expect the students to study harder. If the book is difficult, we don’t read it even if the intellectual struggle would be worth it. If the show is too long, we leave early even if that wastes the price of the ticker. If the work is hard, we quit.”

Ouch. This hit close to home!

She goes on to explain why stability is necessary: “Stability, however, says that we have an obligation to see things through until we have done for them what can be done and, no less important, until they have done for us what can be done as well.” (p. 151). Stability, with its aspects of perseverance and persistence, impacts not only others, but ourselves as well: “We stay with a thing in order to grow, not in order not to grow…I will certainly fail to learn a great deal about myself if I leave a thing before it’s finished. I will fail to learn the strengths that give me quality. And I will fail to face the weaknesses that call for change. I will end up being less than I can be.”(p. 152-153)

In the Rule of Benedict, stability’s first task is remaining steadfast in our relationship with God. In this way, stability centers “us in something greater than ourselves so that nothing lesser than ourselves can possibly sweep us away…Stability says that where I am is where God is for me.”

Chittister turned my understanding of stability upside down: stability isn’t the place where everything stays the same. It is an engagement that invites sticking with something long enough to be changed by it. And for this reason, stability is a spiritual practice: by committing to stability, we are opening ourselves up to growth, change, and conversion.

How are you creating and maintaining stability in these days we are living? What are you learning about yourself? Where are you committing yourself to growth even when the going gets hard? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Get Out of the Boat!

 This week’s lectionary is the story of Jesus walking on water as he came to the disciples, whom he had sent off on a boat. You will recall that when the disciples first saw Jesus walking on the water, they assumed it was some sort of specter and were afraid. But then Jesus told them, “Fear not! It is I!” Peter responded, “If it is you, then, let me come to you.” Jesus beckoned for Peter to come. Peter jumped out of the boat and began to walk on the water! It was only when he took his eyes off Jesus and realized there was a storm around him that he began to flounder and sink. Jesus reaches for him and asks why he had so little faith and they return to the boat.

As I reflected on this scripture this week, I am seeing so much more than I did before (I love how God does that!). The first thing that nudged me, which I hadn’t caught before, was that Peter actually did walk on water at first! It was only when he took his eyes off Jesus that the divine power that flowed through him because he was connected to Jesus was broken, overcome by his fear. How often do I, do we, start to do great things but get overwhelmed because we stop keeping the main thing (God) the main thing? When we are one with God, we are empowered to do things beyond our wildest imaginations. What is Christ beckoning you to do, that defies all reason? How has your fear prevented you from moving forward?

The second thing that I learned has to do with a part of the church: the nave. That is what the part of the church where the congregation sits. Nave originates from the Latin word “navis” which means…(wait for it!) “ship”.

It got me thinking: Jesus told the disciples to get into the boat, but he also says, “Come out!” Faith is not meant to be lived just in the boat. In fact, it would be hard to do all the things God asks of us if we stayed in the boat! Likewise, we can’t be the hands of Christ in the world if we just stay in the nave.  Christ asks us to leave the safety of the nave for a world that is most unpredictable, sometimes violent and even frightening, yet in need of the hands and heart of Christ which we are called to bring into the world.

Right now, we’ve been pushed out of the boat.

COVID-19 has forced us to leave the safety of the boat (in fact, if we don’t follow very careful instructions, the church building itself is no longer safe even). Yet, isn’t this what is expected of disciples of Jesus? We are not called to live out our faith from the safety of the sanctuary. Comfort and ease is not promised to us when we agree to take up our cross and follow Jesus. There is much to fear. But when we keep ourselves focused on God, we can do great things. And right now, the world needs great and necessary things from us.

How is Christ calling you and your church to leave the boat? What is being asked of you? Remember, we can do the unimaginable when we remain faithful in our discipleship.

Step out and do the outrageous. There is a hurting world in need of what you can bring to it.

Get Away With God

. 

This week’s lectionary is Matthew 14:13-21, which is commonly referred to as the Feeding of the Five Thousand” (plus the women and children. They weren’t included in the tally. Hmmmm). But I’ve been reflecting on the start of passage: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.”

So what made Jesus get away from it all? He had received word that Herod had beheaded John the Baptist. Perhaps Jesus left in order to remember his cousin and grieve his cousin’s death. Maybe he knew the crowds would be agitated so he left, hoping his departure might deescalate things. Maybe it was all of that and more: perhaps Jesus was weary and just needed a break. 

We, too, are weary. We, too, are in the midst of grief. And, due to COVID-19 restrictions, we are dealing with so many emotions (both our own and others): anger, confusion, loneliness, fear and so much more. 

What might Jesus teach us?

Even though you’ve been social distancing, when are you making it an intentional time to be alone with God and bare your soul? When do you give yourself permission to let go of your responsibilities, get away from your work, walk away from all the demands on you, and simply feel all the things you’ve tucked deep away? In what ways do you bring yourself to lie beside still waters and let God renew your soul?

When Jesus returned to shore, we are told he looked around and was moved into action by what he saw.  He “had compassion” and “healed the sick”. I know when I neglect to make space for my soul to be restored, the first thing to go is my compassion and empathy. In fact, when I start feeling as if everyone is annoying me, I’ve learned it’s less about them and more about me: I haven’t taken time for my soul and everything suffers: my compassion, creativity and productivity. 

When Jesus retuned to shore, he not only healed people, he also fed the multitude. Imagine what God might have you do if you intentionally get away from the crowd and spend time with God. 

Be well. Wear a mask. Stay safe.

What if...?

While taking care of the final details of my mother’s estate, I took a break each day to do one of my favorite summer time activities: floating on an inner tube (any body of water will do). Bobbing on the small waves of Peconic Bay was a perfect meditative exercise to ponder matters related to our shared ministry. I’ve had time to think about what we are facing and listen for the still small voice of God. I’ve reflected on online worship, the many reopening plans received, and the honesty we as a nation and church are having about race. I’ve spent time pondering the COVID-19 pandemic trajectory and the ways it will impact our lives for months to come. 

I began to wonder. 

What if we were as meticulous about combating the virus of racism as we are about the coronavirus?

What if, as we did a quick body scan (do I have a sore throat? A fever? Am I masked? Did I wash my hands?), we did a quick check scan of our racism and privilege (am I listening to the voices of siblings of color? Am I considering how I engage in micro-aggressions? What does my body feel and what emotions surface when I’m in conversations about race?)?

What if, as we implement plans to open the doors of our church for in-person worship, we aren’t paying attention to new ways we are being called to worship in the 21st century?

What if, instead of stressing on who can and can’t worship in person due to age, risk factors, or hitting the threshold for how many/few can be in the sanctuary at the same time, we fretted over who in our community we are not reaching with Good News and thought of new and creative ways be in relationship with them?

What if the hours we are taking to clean our building after each use was spent making sure hungry families in our community had something to eat?

What if we discovered that spirituality doesn’t just need an hour on Sunday but the daily disciplines that make our lives be a prayer and our actions a hymn of praise?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these questions!

Be well. Wear a mask. Stay safe.

Railside Redemption

Last week, I saw a former train station that now had a sign declaring “Railside Redemption”. Of course, I immediately wondered what kind of church had taken up residence there, only to chuckle to find out it was the recycle center for the region!

But it did get me thinking: where, in the midst of COVID-19, are the places where God’s saving grace found in Jesus Christ being experienced? If the church building is closed, where is the church as the Body of Christ now moving in communities, touching and changing lives?

When we go to the supermarket, are we attending the Grocery Store of Grace? When we get take-out from a restaurant, are we stopping by the Resurrection Restaurant? As we socially distance with friends on the porch, are we sitting at the Patio of Promise? Where, now, are you experiencing Holy Ground, that place where you are surprised by a God who shows up to offer new life in the most unusual ways in the most common of places? More importantly, how are YOU, as you move in the world, bringing the light of God to the forgotten corners of human existence?

The Holy Spirit has pushed us out of our church buildings and into our streets. We can no longer close the doors of our church buildings—or our hearts—to the sufferings of our neighbors. Our hymn singing can no longer drown out the cries of the poor. Our offerings no longer need to prop up a building that has had decades of deferred maintenance but instead can build much needed ministries that can transform individuals, families, communities, and a world as we seek to bring healing as Christ’s hands to a broken world.

Wear a mask. Stay safe.

Learning the Unforced Rhythms of Grace

I am praying as I do every Saturday, for the laity and clergy of the Mountain Sky Conference as we continue to learn how to gather as the Body of Christ in new ways as we seek to reduce the impact of the coronavirus in our communities.

I want to thank you all for the ways you have been discovering how to worship together even when we aren’t able to be physically present with one another and continue in mission and ministry together. Our lives have been abruptly disrupted as we seek to lower the rate of infection of the coronavirus so we don’t overload our health care system.

In the last week, schools have closed, many business are having employees work remotely from home, in-restaurant dining has closed, we are being advised not to gather in groups larger than ten, and we are practicing physical distancing. So much change, so quickly. It is dizzying as we learn new ways of working, being with our children, and maintaining relationships. I don’t know about you, but I feel as if we just crammed several years of living into a single week.

This disorientation is exhausting. How do we regain our balance in these days we are living?

In Matthew 11:28-30 in the Message version, Jesus says:  “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

This has been the scripture that has guided me all week, as I adjusted to life and work at home—I hope it can be helpful to you, too, as we reorder our life during this pandemic. Sink into your spiritual disciplines and find Jesus beckoning to you: keep company with me and you’ll learn how to live freely and lightly. 

May you find yourself learning the unforced rhythms of grace. Slowing down to see where God is in all this, offering you rest and new life. May you discover the ways grace has always been breaking into your life but you’ve been too busy to notice. May this grace help you find balance as you walk and work with Jesus so that in this time of disruption, you might recover your life more fully and completely.

Take care, precious servants of God, we need you.

Doors May Be Closed, But the Church is Open

Each Saturday I pray for the clergy and laity of the Mountain Sky Conference, as we get ready for worship. I pray that you will greet one another and newcomers with a generous and warm hospitality; that the burdens and joys you bring will be lifted together in prayer to God, that the Word spoken will both challenge and comfort you in your faithful living, and that the music will shake something lose in you so that its message will bring you healing and hope, and that when you rise from your pew, you will have found yourself changed by the whole worship experience: you will live your Monday more deeply as a disciple than ever before.

But tomorrow, most of our churches will not be holding worship in an attempt to slow the rate of transmission so our local health care systems will not be overwhelmed by a spike in infections. By closing our doors, we are living into the first General Rule of our church: do no harm. We are also following Christ’s command to love our neighbor by protecting the most vulnerable in our midst: the elderly as well as those with underlying health conditions, because the mortality rates in these populations are so high.

But just because the doors of the church will be closed doesn’t mean the church is closed. This is a moment for us to step forward in our communities as the hands of Christ and offer love in bold tangible ways. In order to do that, may we in these days of pandemic response sink more fully into our individual and communal growth through the spiritual discipline found in the means of grace.

For we United Methodists, the means of grace are inward and outward focused to help us be open to God’s work in us to strengthen our faith.

In the days to come, may you order your life together in reading and studying scripture, in prayer and fasting, in caring for our bodies as well as engaging in Christian conferencing.

But the means of grace don’t stop with us, the means of grace also includes doing good works, visiting the sick, visiting those in prison, feeding the hungry, and giving generously to the needs of others as well as seeking justice, ending oppression and discrimination and addressing the needs of the poor

We are in uncharted waters. Your ministry is needed in vital, life-saving ways. May the work of your church be undergirded by the ways you will engage in the means of grace so that together, you and your church will grow more spiritual and share the love of God in ways that will help us emerge from this pandemic a more faithful church and a healthier and stronger community.

May God bless you all.