Archive for February, 2010

by Andrew Shumacher

Hi. My name is Andrew, and I’ve never blogged about anything before.

I was intrigued when approached to participate in this project, and figured it was as good a time as any to make my official “blogging debut.” Though you might consider yourself a recipient of the “soul-baring” that my fellow bloggers and I are attempting here, selfishly I’m getting something from you: accountability. I’ve found that the “discipline” part of the whole “spiritual discipline” thing can be tough. But I’ve said yes, my picture is up there on the page, and so I’m committed for the long haul of Lent! Thanks to you for being part of the community that will hold me accountable to my little undertaking. It is appreciated.

For Lent this year, I’ll be taking on the spiritual practice of fasting from food. It’s actually something I’ve done before, but it’s been a couple years. For me, fasting from food feels like a pretty radical thing. I know it’s right there in the Bible along with prayer and all the rest, but this one seems to make me realize what a wild thing it can be (as it should be) to follow Christ. While I’ve fasted before as a part of Lent, I’ve historically had a tougher time with the spiritually reflective aspect. So I’m actually really looking forward to the act of blogging and getting the thoughts of my head, heart, and even my stomach out there.

Ok, here are the nuts and bolts (which may morph a bit as we go, but this is the plan): Each week I’ll refrain from eating food beginning after dinner on Tuesday night until dinner on Wednesday. So breakfast and lunch (both of which I regularly enjoy) will be out. In order to try and focus on where the Spirit is in all of this, I also plan on spending time first thing Wednesday morning (time I normally spend eating breakfast and making my sack lunch for the day) in Bible study and prayer. And at the end of the day before breaking the fast at dinner, I hope to stop by Holy Covenant where on Wednesday evenings during Lent the sanctuary will be open for prayer and other methods of meditation and reflection.

Am I looking forward to these six weeks? Well, yes and no. I really do love food. So being hungry doesn’t sound like an awesome time. But I trust that it will open me up to hear some things that perhaps God is already telling me, but I’m too busy chewing some delicious food to notice.

So not-eating is the first part, but then there’s the listening and reflecting. I’m not always so great at these, so I am looking at morning and evening prayer as a challenge, too. Wednesday will be the central project, but of course I’ll try to keep God on the front burner the other days, too.

So here we go.

by Jeffrey Dodson

I understand that silence is difficult, especially here in the city. There are sounds all around us, many loud and uncontrollable, and many that bring comfort to us day in and day out. We enjoy plugging in our earphones to listen to our iPods and mp3 players. We rock out at concerts and sway gently to hymns on Sunday mornings. We even find rhythm in our day through the rumble of the “L” and honking taxis on the road.

This Lenten season I want to give up some of that noise in my life. There is a wonderful term used throughout the Psalms, “Selah” (or “Celah”). It comes at the end of a verse or chapter, and the original Hebrew meaning of the word is lost to us. However, scholars believe it is close to the Arabic root “Sel,” which means “Prayer” or “Connect.” One interpretation suggests the word means “stop and listen,” and another to “weigh thoughtfully.” Many scholars agree it is used in a similar manner the way Amen is used after a prayer.

I will be rising each morning (a little earlier than I usually do) so I can practice Selah, a period of time to weigh the meaning of things and to connect with something deeper.

These past few days of the beginning of Lent have found me reaching for my Singing Bowl, finding an isolated place in my apartment, lighting a single candle, and sitting comfortably on a mat on the ground.

I take three deep breaths in and out, one to release the tension that awaits me in the day, the next to center my mind and spirit, and the third to remind me of healing and renewal, ideas I got from a crazy guy named Jesus.

I continue to breathe for the next 10 minutes, focusing on my breath, not on the ideas that come swarming into my mind. I sit there in the silence, letting the rhythm of my breath guide me. Sometimes, like this morning, I struggled to make it through the 10 minutes. Sitting still is HARD! I want to be jumping up and getting on with the day – there’s always so much to do! But my Lenten journey is to stay with the silence, to “disconnect” from the city and “reconnect” with my soul.

At then end of my time of silence, I pick up the singing bowl and ring it 3 times – Creator, Christ, and Holy Comforter. The bell sounds my body to alertness, and, hopefully, I am ready for the day. This morning I found myself asking for 5 more minutes. (“Better is one day in Your court than a thousand elsewhere!” Psalm 84:10)

Prayerful meditation is not a part of my usual spiritual life, so embarking on this journey of Selah through the next month and a half will be difficult. Taking an extra 10 minutes everyday to be silent will stretch me to be mindful in my spiritual practice, but I think that’s what Lent is all about – to stretch ourselves so we may find solitude with Christ and healing for ourselves. I am reminded that without the sound of people, cars, and wind, the silence means little. We do need sound! It is my hope then that the silence of the morning speaks wisdom into the sound of the day.

Selah.

by Ronna Case

Lent comes this year with my promise to write something for our church blog. For days I wondered: “What shall I give up?” How about my writer’s block? How about my depression attacks? Be glad to give ‘em up! Actually, I’m seeing Lent, these days, as a time to do something good and sustainable, something that adds to life, rather than subtracting. So I’m thinking about restarting Yoga time.

Yoga time slows my pace for the whole day. It addresses my inner rhythm, my constant movement and “doing,” quiets me in ways that help me be less distracted during the day, and helps me to be more loving. Doing yoga my mind is more relaxed and free and my body becomes more so. I listen for my own true voice. I listen for divine voice.

Some of you may remember the days at Holy Covenant when I used to stand up in church and ask for support and prayer as I quit smoking – again. Five times I think I tried, before I was liberated from cigarettes. I basically stopped writing in order to do it, on the advice of a psychologist I trusted: “If you can’t do it without smoking, don’t do it.” You may be picking up that I’m nervous about writing for Lent. Normally smoking is not a temptation. I admit I am at risk, with the pressure of the promise to write. I ask for your prayers as I re-discover writing without smoking, through this blog.

Lent is about intention and action. It is also about asking for help and waiting in hope, passionately. I hope for freedom and help to practice my spiritual disciplines more faithfully and reflect more honestly upon what i say I need and want and how I act.

This morning during yoga stretches, looking out over the blue lake in the sunshine after two days of snow, I felt so good. I remembered that I always feel good when I’ve done it, really stretched.

God, help me stretch every day. And during Lent, help me write without smoking. Amen!

by Maggie Roth

I’m going to say it right now… I haven’t always been very good at Lent. Not that I cheated on my promises to avoid chocolate or magazines or whatever oddball selection I’ve chosen in previous years (okay, I probably did), but what I mean is that I’ve never had a significant spiritual experience accompanying my Lent sacrifices. Never in the many years that I’ve done this. Not once.

It feels a little weird to admit that.

Have you ever “cheated” on your Lent sacrifice? Do you really feel closer to God each year? I wonder if others are “better” at Lent than I am. More devout. More focused. In fact, maybe someone else should be writing this blog entry.

Regardless, this year I’ve been asked not to simply drop a random attachment to sugar or TV, but instead, to commit to a spiritual practice. Indeed, this will be an entirely different Lent experience. As I looked over the list of sample practices, I felt drawn to one that my family and I could incorporate into our lives: “keeping the Sabbath.”

Just reading the word “Sabbath” got me wondering – what does Sabbath really mean to me? The first thing that pops into my mind is, of course, a day of rest. A change in our daily routine. According to the infallible Wikipedia, the term “Sabbath” derives from the Hebrew word “shabbat,” meaning “to cease.” Truthfully, my Sabbath is hardly ever restful, and there is very little ceasing. It’s full of laundry, dishes, grocery store runs, email checking. In fact, aside from church attendance, there’s not much rest going on around here.

As my husband and I sat discussing what our Sabbath-keeping parameters might be, we first agreed to honor the Jewish tradition that dictates our Sabbath will begin at sundown and last until the following night. After a little research, we realized that observing the Sabbath really focuses on a new way of worship (i.e. ceasing and resting), whereby we free ourselves from what entraps us, thus opening us up to a more intimate experience with God. In biblical times, entrapment meant something entirely different, but we are still very much trapped in the endless cycles of work, technology, commercialism. All that fancy shiny stuff.

In order to truly observe Sabbath, we’ll have to cease from all this activity, and so we’re going to… wait for it… attempt not to buy anything, and refrain from participating in the marketplace. Gulp! In addition, we’re going to try to drastically reduce technology exposure. This one will be tricky and we’ll have to work our way through it. Ceasing from worrying is yet another suggestion we’ve been provided with and I will tell you right now this may prove to be the very most difficult challenge for me. I’m a classic worrier. Huge. And, of course, resting from work. Grocery store runs will have to wait until Monday, writing this blog post will have to wait also. We’ll replace work with enjoyable activities, things that help us celebrate our family and our relationship with our community.

Of course, all of these rules will be nothing more than a sociological experiment if we don’t also focus on the meaning of Lent. God, of course, is with us in this great caper, waiting for us to throw off the layers of distraction and listen for His voice, feel His presence, know Him more deeply. This is the part that has me worried. I can follow the rules, I’m that kinda person. But will I feel God’s presence more if I do this?

I pray this is the case. Oh, Lent, please don’t stymie me this year.

by Dale Jones

When the e-mail invitation arrived from the Communications Committee to participate in the Holy Covenant Lent Blog project, my instinctive reaction was, “This is definitely not for me.” After all, I reasoned, I’ve never regularly kept a personal journal, am presently slipshod in my devotional life and delinquent in spiritual disciplines, and don’t have much to say that anybody would be interested in. Moreover, my work schedule and job demands have been heavy enough lately. I doubted I would be reliable at timely submission of blog posts. So I ignored the e-mail – for a while.

Then a Communications Committee member approached me at church the next Sunday, and I went through a litany of the reasons why I was not a good choice to be a Lenten blogger. She listened politely, but countered some of my objections and asked me to think and pray about the matter. Although confident I already had the answer, I agreed to think and pray about it.

If one does not want to risk the possibility of having a change of heart about a matter, one should not agree to think and pray about it. I soon came to realize that my reasons for declining were the very reasons I should accept the invitation. I have never experienced much personal growth from doing only the things I feel comfortable with, am experienced at, or am already good at. Further, if I have let work and other urgencies crowd spiritual practices out of my routine, what could be better motivation to restore some discipline and regimen than knowing I have to write each week about a spiritual pursuit? And what better time to start than now, during Lent?

So…we shall see. As I type these words, Ash Wednesday is upon us. By the time this post goes on the blog, we’ll all be a couple of days into our Lenten journeys. Some of my initial rationale may prove accurate: I may have little of interest to say, and I may not always be on time with my posts. My prayer, hope, and intent, however, say that by the end of this season of Lent, I will be in some way changed or challenged, my knowledge of God and of myself will be more full.

Let us move together toward these ends in the coming weeks. Amen.

Dear Holy Covenant Community,

On this Ash Wednesday, as we begin Lent together with a service at 7pm, read these words from our Psalm of the day, Psalm 51:

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love, according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and sustain in me a willing spirit.

It seems odd that our Psalm includes joy, for we don’t typically think of Lent as a joyous time. Lent is the time in the Christian year when we prepare for the death of Jesus on the cross. It’s a time of waiting-waiting in the wilderness. We spend 40 days in reflection and repentance. We focus on our sins and the sins of the community that crucified Jesus. Tonight we will receive ashes on our forehead, as a sign that we came from dust, and to dust we will return. Tonight we are reminded of our mortality, and we wear a mark of our mortality on our bodies, proclaiming our death to all who look upon us.

So why would we read this Psalm, one that speaks of joy and a willing spirit?

The Psalm begins, not with joy, but with vulnerability, saying: Have mercy on me, I know my transgressions are before me. Ash Wednesday, and all of Lent, is a time for us, with the psalmist, to admit our vulnerability before God. To acknowledge our need for mercy and grace

Admitting we’re vulnerable isn’t easy to do. We live in a society that tells us to always look outward, to be busy, to ignore our inner lives. We think that joy comes when we ignore our brokenness and focus on everything else. But when we ignore our inner most selves, our brokenness, we ignore the parts of us that help us recognize we need God. When we have the courage to be vulnerable, we will find joy. Not a shallow joy based on temporary pleasure, but the joy of growing closer to God, to ourselves, and to our neighbors.

Our Lenten theme this year is: Search Me, Know Me: Practicing Intimacy with God. This Ash Wednesday, join me in considering what you can take on for these 40 days of Lent that will help you create a clean heart and grow closer to God, and/or what you need to give up that is keeping you from God.

During Lent, be sure to read Holy Covenant’s blog each day written by members of our community who have covenanted not only to take on a spiritual discipline for 40 days, but to share it, in vulnerability and love, with all of us.

So in this season of wandering in the wilderness, the journey won’t be easy, but if we take it seriously, we will find joy in Lent: the joy of intimacy with God.

See you tonight at 7, and on Sunday.

Grace and peace, dust and ashes,

Kate

by Vicky Nabors

I am no different from other people in that I feel deeply, and these feelings are often expressed through colorful language, primarily when I’m experiencing negative emotions. This habit started during my early teen years, and as we all know, habits are hard to break. As I have pondered this blogging project, I realized the Lent season would provide me with a great opportunity to challenge myself in a way that would move me closer to God.

And I love moving closer to God … it’s the ultimate “feel good/high!”

What I seek to do is sort of layered yet simple. I want to give up profanity. But don’t think for one moment that what I seek to do is as simple as exchanging a curse word for a more acceptable word like “fudge.”

You see, it’s more about meaning/intentions versus feelings versus being God centered. It’s about not having expectations of others, and not judging others. It’s about living in the moment and loving. It’s about walking in the light of God and letting Him deal with the short-comings of others. It’s about giving The Creator all my pains and frustrations so I no longer have to express them through profanity. I sense that when this level of spiritual enlightenment is achieved, life shifts for me and colorful verbiage vanishes. Another goal of this spiritual challenge during Lent is physical health. The use of profanity indicates the presence of stress, and stress weakens the body. I’ve asked my Father to walk with me throughout this journey.

If you’re wondering how I plan to do this, awareness is my method. During Lent, I plan to stay focused on when and how I use these colorful words. After each event, I plan to do the following: react, re-center, recreate, release. First, I will accept the fact that I reacted to something consciously or subconsciously by using colorful language. Next, I will re-center myself in God’s love and remember that He is always active in my life. Then, I will recreate that situation in my mind with a positive outcome. And finally I will release the situation, learn and grow from it. As we know, daily practice is the key to developing useful habits.

by Carlos Rios

Since I started coming back to church about 3 years ago, I have always given something up for Lent. Last year, I gave up meat, and the year before that alcohol (a mistake I will never again make!). For Lent this year I have chosen to take something on, instead of giving something up, and focus on the spiritual discipline of prayer.

Growing up I was always taught about the “power of prayer.” Having been raised in the Southern Baptist tradition, I was accustomed to people emotionally praying out loud, hearing prayers that sounded more like sermons than prayers, and of course, gossip in the form of a prayer request. These experiences didn’t do a great job of communicating the importance of prayer in my spiritual life.

Even now, as I have begun reclaiming my faith for myself, I find that I don’t really pray as much as I should. Sure, I pray (like many people do) before something stressful like a test, or during church, or when I can’t find my keys, but prayer is something I have rarely been intentional about. This is how I knew it is what I needed to focus on this Lent.

In reading through Richard Foster’s book A Celebration of Discipline, I came across a chapter on prayer. The giants of our faith—Luther, Wesley, Kierkegaard, et al.—all placed heavy emphasis on prayer. Prayer wasn’t something they did to prepare to do God’s work: prayer was God’s work. I am truly moved and inspired by those men and women who have laid the foundation of our faith, and I hope to capture even a fraction of that.

Of course, selecting a discipline and actually carrying it out are two independent processes, and that’s why I am so very blessed to be blogging about it. I know that this will keep me accountable for what I have promised to do. Like any new practice or habit, I know that some days it will be tough. I also can’t expect to feel like I have “mastered” praying right away. Instead, I want to take an attitude of humility and ask God to teach me what it really means to pray, how to pray, and what or whom to pray for.

I am grateful that together, we’ll take this journey through Lent. The path may be rocky, the weather may not always cooperate, and sometimes we might feel like we’re walking around in circles, but I know that we will get to where we need to be. And all the while we get to pray for each other.

Amen.

Over the next few days, the Holy Covenant blog will be introducing you to fellow members of our community as they share their experiences during Lent.

The Communications Committee has invited a diverse group to take on a new spiritual practice during Lent, and to take on the additional challenge of writing about the emotions and thoughts surrounding what this new practice brings to their life. Spiritual practices will, of course, mean many different things to many different people. For some it might mean daily prayer, Sabbath keeping, or fasting. For others, it could be being more environmentally aware or finding better ways to communicate.

This blog project isn’t just about a few people sharing their journey, though. We invite the entire Holy Covenant community to join in by sharing comments or submitting additional posts about your Lenten journey.

To get things started, we have a question for you. What are you changing for Lent? Are you giving something up? Are you taking something on?

“Deliver us from Evil”
Holy Covenant UMC, Sunday February 14, 2010
Rev. Kate Hurst Floyd

Romans 8:18-27, 38-39

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Our culture thrives on words; we’re surrounded by words all the time: from clever tweets of 140 characters to long blog posts written by anybody with a computer and internet connection; Phones that deliver e-mails 24/7, and the ability to talk on the phone anywhere, anytime…from the train to our car; texting in the movie theater (or church!). And now, it’s not enough to watch the news, and hear the stories, but simultaneously, underneath, we read a ticker of other news stories that are happening.

But no matter how many words we surround ourselves with, put out to the world through hundreds of kinds of media,
There are times in our lives when words escape us:
When we are faced with the pain of another and don’t know what to say: a friend has lost her mother unexpectedly; a couple that we love is splitting apart and no words we seem to muster up can cut through the sharp daggers they’re throwing at one another; One sister has lost her baby to a miscarriage and another is struggling with infertility.

When there are disasters in the world that take our breath, and so our words, away: the earthquake in Haiti; the constant bombings and death happening in Pakistan, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and our fears that we are becoming numb to the violence; we don’t know what to say to ourselves, much less our children in the wake of so much pain.

And there are times when we desperately want words for ourselves, words that stubbornly refuse, no matter how hard we try, to rise to the tips of our tongues. We flub apologies when we’ve hurt someone deeply; we want to say the right thing when we hear a difficult diagnosis.
Words escape us. (more…)