| Dear Friends, A coworker and friend from my consulting days recently sent me this text: |
| On the way to church this morning…there is a Baptist church that has a message board out front. Usually, they are very funny. This morning’s laugh: “Some people should use a glue stick instead of Chapstick. Just a thought.” I laughed so hard. So true. Great way to start Sunday morning. |
| Like my friend, I laughed hard when I read it. I began to list people who I would like to see substitute their Chapstick for a glue stick. It was an entertaining exercise, for a hot minute. Then, my name popped onto that list. The Holy Spirit often has a different idea about what is entertaining. This got me thinking about this past Sunday. Our worship service on the first Sunday of each month is an inter-generational worship that is different than then ones on the other three Sundays. In this service the children stay in worship the entire time. The children get to be front and center for the sermon. They do not have to crane their necks around bigger people to see what is happening. They do not have to fit into the “big people’s world and ways” for the sermon. For the sermon, we (the big people) get to fit into their world and ways. Some children rushed up to hear the message. Others sauntered. And still others arrived at a “regular speed” accompanied by siblings, friends, or parents. I don’t know what message the children heard Sunday. I don’t know what message the rest of those gathered with us in the wider circle heard. I imagine it was hard to hear, through masks, on the livestream, and because of some awkward pauses and re-directed thoughts. Children make connections adults do not. And it can be fun to just go with where they go. I told someone after service, rather sheepishly, that I was not sure the message I gave had meaning. I wondered out loud if there was a specific message at all given the redirections. That person responded, “I just noticed how you all were leaned into each other. I noticed the children were not ready to leave when you wrapped up and said they could return to their seats.” I was surprised. I knew I was not ready to send them back but had not picked up on their hesitation. I pictured in my mind’s eye what she may have observed, all of us leaned in together: children, adults, those physically present in worship (and maybe even those on our livestream). Maybe we held for a precious moment a posture of connection through a desire to listen though we could not possibly have understood each other well or discerned a tight message in the din of sermon time. And it seems our posture of listening spoke volumes. If you have time today, return to the poem by Walter Brueggemann I introduced last week, Marked by Ashes. The link to it is here. Read it a few times. The line that captured my attention this week was, “… all our Wednesdays are marked by ashes.” Ashes are soft and light. They move quietly. What if, in all the noise that surrounds us, we choose, in this Lent, a soft, light, and quiet way of being in the world? Like ash. What if this Lent we lean toward one another, holding a posture of connection shaped by a desire to listen more than to speak? I wonder how we might then show a love that is beyond words, beyond what we could ever speak or make sense of. Blessings on the rest of your week. In Peace, Rev. Dina |