Our church, Trinity, rallied this weekend to provide food for our local food pantry. Kids collected food on Saturday at a party. The church gathered for worship and brought boxes and boxes of goods. The Focus Adult Sunday School class wrapped up a month of their Bucket Brigade to collect money (the food pantry can generally get four times the purchasing power from money than we can). Last night, the junior high youth, with assistance from parents and Dave the truck driver, unloaded all those cans and boxes and bags at the food pantry, and began to stock the shelves.
150 families a day are using the food pantry. They can select 15 items (2 damaged cans count as 1 item) each month, equaling about $100. 15 items. As Shari, one of the parent drivers said, it's like going through the express lane. Once a month.
What 15 items would you choose? If you only had 15 things to last you a month, would you get the bag of dried beans, or the baby cereal, or the diapers, or the deodorant? What would your priorities be, if you found yourself in this situation?
I wondered. Would I get a boxed brownie mix, so my kids could have a treat in the otherwise bleak situation? Or would I be practical and get oatmeal, peanut butter, a large bag of noodles? Would a decision to use conditioner on my hair deprive my family of food? Can we squeeze a little more out of the tube of toothpaste so we can have some boxed cereal?
I don't have to make such choices, but many people do. I have other choices to make. How will I respond to the need that is in the world? If we really believe Jesus, then whatever we do to these 'little ones,' we do to Jesus. My choice is to decide how to respond.
God, grant me generosity to make the choices that are mine, to bring what I can to the collection site, even when no one is sponsoring a drive to encourage me. Have compassion on those who find themselves walking the aisle of the food pantry, trying to figure out how to feed a family on 15 things. Have compassion through me.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sabbath-keeping
It's Friday, at the end of a week filled with work, church, kids' activities, homework, allergies, and assorted other normal daily things. Friday is my day off, sometimes it's Sabbath, sometimes it's Preparation Day for a Sabbath that runs from Friday evening to Saturday evening worship. This week, Friday is Sabbath because we have to be at church in the morning. Randy is off work today. The sun is shining. Kitty the slightly odd-looking bullish dog is napping beside me.
Nowhere we have to go. Nowhere we have to be. Nothing we have to do. It feels like heaven.
That's exactly what Sabbath is supposed to be - a foretaste of heaven. A day to live on God's time, to purposefully live at God's beck and call so that it seeps into the other six days and all of life becomes God-directed. A day of peace that spills over and makes us people of peace the rest of the time.
I looked forward all week to it, but the temptation to fill the day with shopping, errands, work is huge! There is always more to do. Stopping has to be a choice. No wonder God had to make Sabbath-keeping a commandment! Otherwise, we'll just do one more thing, try one more thing, slip in an activity or two, and before long we aren't stopping at all.
God commands me - us - to Sabbath. A rabbi Randy knows sent us a recipe for cholent, a traditional Sabbath dish. For Orthodox Jews, it is breaking the Sabbath to turn on a stove or light a fire. A fire kindled or a stove turned on before the Sabbath is allowable. So they have a dish called 'Cholent' which is started before the sun sets on Friday and cooks until Saturday mealtime. Crockpots are Sabbath-friendly, to the Orthodox Jew.
I joked about this last weekend. How much energy does it really take to plug in a crockpot or turn on a stove? Is that work? For the Jew, yes. Because even the family cook, be it Mother or Father or you yourself, should have the taste of heavenly peace. Since they also don't want to cause work for others, ordering pizza is not an option. So they put together the cholent on Friday, and let it simmer away.
We aren't going to make it as Orthodox Jews, and yet I want everyone I know to receive the blessings of deliberately choosing Sabbath. It is indeed a blessing, a joy, to cease from work and to not put work onto others. Choosing Sabbath takes planning and thought, it is a decision that doesn't happen by itself. And it does form me into a more tolerable and kind person the rest of the week. Why am I blogging on a Friday then? Probably because I like to! Still, after I finish this, I'm even turning off the computer, unplugging the phone, and simply being in the day. God is in control, and the world will survive without me.
If someone is actually reading this, I am going to pray that you find the strength in yourself to choose to keep a Sabbath. Stay home, cease from your work and fret, allow others the freedom to do the same, and rest in God's care and provision. It will be easier and even more blessed if we do it together.
You have to love a God who puts resting in the top 10 things he wants you to do with your life!
Rabbi Tovia's Cholent recipe
Boil one package of parley and some red beans and lima beans in water to cover for 10 minutes. Drain. Cover again with water, boil 10 minutes, drain. Do the same thing one more time. This will help with the gas, or so he says!
Fry some onions and place them with some olive oil in the bottom of a crock put. Put the barley and beans in the crock pot. Pour a can of vegetarian baked beans over the top. Add salt, ketchup, pepper and a few cloves of garlic to your taste. Mix it all thoroughly. Add some flank steak or stew meat. Add some sliced potatoes. Pour boiling water over the whole dish until the water comes to the top of the food.
Let it simmer away in the crockpot on low. Given how the Sabbath works in Israel, I'm guessing it cooks for 12-15 hours before they even attempt to eat it, but the recipe doesn't say. Leave the dishes until morning!
Nowhere we have to go. Nowhere we have to be. Nothing we have to do. It feels like heaven.
That's exactly what Sabbath is supposed to be - a foretaste of heaven. A day to live on God's time, to purposefully live at God's beck and call so that it seeps into the other six days and all of life becomes God-directed. A day of peace that spills over and makes us people of peace the rest of the time.
I looked forward all week to it, but the temptation to fill the day with shopping, errands, work is huge! There is always more to do. Stopping has to be a choice. No wonder God had to make Sabbath-keeping a commandment! Otherwise, we'll just do one more thing, try one more thing, slip in an activity or two, and before long we aren't stopping at all.
God commands me - us - to Sabbath. A rabbi Randy knows sent us a recipe for cholent, a traditional Sabbath dish. For Orthodox Jews, it is breaking the Sabbath to turn on a stove or light a fire. A fire kindled or a stove turned on before the Sabbath is allowable. So they have a dish called 'Cholent' which is started before the sun sets on Friday and cooks until Saturday mealtime. Crockpots are Sabbath-friendly, to the Orthodox Jew.
I joked about this last weekend. How much energy does it really take to plug in a crockpot or turn on a stove? Is that work? For the Jew, yes. Because even the family cook, be it Mother or Father or you yourself, should have the taste of heavenly peace. Since they also don't want to cause work for others, ordering pizza is not an option. So they put together the cholent on Friday, and let it simmer away.
We aren't going to make it as Orthodox Jews, and yet I want everyone I know to receive the blessings of deliberately choosing Sabbath. It is indeed a blessing, a joy, to cease from work and to not put work onto others. Choosing Sabbath takes planning and thought, it is a decision that doesn't happen by itself. And it does form me into a more tolerable and kind person the rest of the week. Why am I blogging on a Friday then? Probably because I like to! Still, after I finish this, I'm even turning off the computer, unplugging the phone, and simply being in the day. God is in control, and the world will survive without me.
If someone is actually reading this, I am going to pray that you find the strength in yourself to choose to keep a Sabbath. Stay home, cease from your work and fret, allow others the freedom to do the same, and rest in God's care and provision. It will be easier and even more blessed if we do it together.
You have to love a God who puts resting in the top 10 things he wants you to do with your life!
Rabbi Tovia's Cholent recipe
Boil one package of parley and some red beans and lima beans in water to cover for 10 minutes. Drain. Cover again with water, boil 10 minutes, drain. Do the same thing one more time. This will help with the gas, or so he says!
Fry some onions and place them with some olive oil in the bottom of a crock put. Put the barley and beans in the crock pot. Pour a can of vegetarian baked beans over the top. Add salt, ketchup, pepper and a few cloves of garlic to your taste. Mix it all thoroughly. Add some flank steak or stew meat. Add some sliced potatoes. Pour boiling water over the whole dish until the water comes to the top of the food.
Let it simmer away in the crockpot on low. Given how the Sabbath works in Israel, I'm guessing it cooks for 12-15 hours before they even attempt to eat it, but the recipe doesn't say. Leave the dishes until morning!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I get a present from the Verizon Guy
The Verizon guy came today (his name is Phil). Our phone has been buzzing for some time. Phil showed me the outside box, and having determined it was a problem somewhere down the line, told me he was off to fix it.
I said something like, “Really?” and he looked at me strangely. “Don’t people you call to repair something usually repair it?”
Not always.
So I am sitting, watching Phil go from phone box to phone box in the neighborhood, trying to figure out where the problem is. He’s extremely diligent at his work. I want him to be right about fixing the phone, for his sake, as well as mine. His optimism and taking-for-granted-the integrity-of-repair-personnel attitude appeals to me. And it is, after all, a Friday afternoon. I’m probably his last stop. It would be good for this nice, positive guy to end the week on a success.
On the other hand, people I call to repair things don’t always repair them. Sometimes because they don’t try too hard. Sometimes because it’s just not repairable. Often because they can’t figure it out that day. They call in someone else, or forget about it. Sometimes they make us wait (which is why we do not do business with Comcast).
I really appreciate Phil the Verizon guy’s attitude and persistence. I intend to thank him and report his great attitude to his supervisor. As soon as he fixes my phone.
I said something like, “Really?” and he looked at me strangely. “Don’t people you call to repair something usually repair it?”
Not always.
So I am sitting, watching Phil go from phone box to phone box in the neighborhood, trying to figure out where the problem is. He’s extremely diligent at his work. I want him to be right about fixing the phone, for his sake, as well as mine. His optimism and taking-for-granted-the integrity-of-repair-personnel attitude appeals to me. And it is, after all, a Friday afternoon. I’m probably his last stop. It would be good for this nice, positive guy to end the week on a success.
On the other hand, people I call to repair things don’t always repair them. Sometimes because they don’t try too hard. Sometimes because it’s just not repairable. Often because they can’t figure it out that day. They call in someone else, or forget about it. Sometimes they make us wait (which is why we do not do business with Comcast).
I really appreciate Phil the Verizon guy’s attitude and persistence. I intend to thank him and report his great attitude to his supervisor. As soon as he fixes my phone.
You might get stuck
Kids make faces at each other. They make faces for no particular reason. My mom used to say, "Be careful what face you are making; it might get stuck that way."
Faces are not the only things that get stuck. I realized this week that if we react to life with complaints, bitterness, anger, and blame, we get stuck that way too. How we act and react when we are young become habits, patterns, that imprison us as we get old. If I'm grumpy and whiny now, how much more will I be when I'm older and have less energy to fight it off?
Someday, I'll be stuck. I used to think it was never too late to change, or at least that it wasn't too late until death. Now I am not so sure.
There's a poem by Jenny Joseph that a lot of senior women find inspiring. It's called 'Warning', and it begins: "When I am an Old Woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me." Many of those senior sisters have formed red hat clubs, where they get together for the joy of friendship, wearing red hats and purple tops and crazy, gaudy jewelry. http://labyrinth_3.tripod.com/page59.html if you want to check it out for yourself.
Well, I doubt I'll wear purple, and I never did like hats. Instead, I am going to wear laughter and gratitude. I want my face to get stuck in a smile . I want to be thoughtful and caring. I want to be strong and opinionated, but also loving and gentle with both my strength and my opinions.
If I'm going to be stuck that way, I want to start now.
Faces are not the only things that get stuck. I realized this week that if we react to life with complaints, bitterness, anger, and blame, we get stuck that way too. How we act and react when we are young become habits, patterns, that imprison us as we get old. If I'm grumpy and whiny now, how much more will I be when I'm older and have less energy to fight it off?
Someday, I'll be stuck. I used to think it was never too late to change, or at least that it wasn't too late until death. Now I am not so sure.
There's a poem by Jenny Joseph that a lot of senior women find inspiring. It's called 'Warning', and it begins: "When I am an Old Woman, I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me." Many of those senior sisters have formed red hat clubs, where they get together for the joy of friendship, wearing red hats and purple tops and crazy, gaudy jewelry. http://labyrinth_3.tripod.com/page59.html if you want to check it out for yourself.
Well, I doubt I'll wear purple, and I never did like hats. Instead, I am going to wear laughter and gratitude. I want my face to get stuck in a smile . I want to be thoughtful and caring. I want to be strong and opinionated, but also loving and gentle with both my strength and my opinions.
If I'm going to be stuck that way, I want to start now.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Fire from Heaven, and other stories that I've never actually seen happen
I want it to be exciting.
Tonight, James and I were reading the story of Elijah, how, when Elijah asked God to send fire from heaven on the wet wood of an altar, God sent fire. James just looked at me. He has become a skeptic where God stories are concerned. James understands that God did a whole lot of stuff that's really cool, dramatic, fiery, BIG, exciting, but he doesn't believe God really does that stuff now. I want him to believe, I want him to be excited.
If I'm honest, I want to be excited, too. Passionate. All-consumed. On fire. Sometimes it is that way with God. Remember church camp? That was big! Remember the first time you knew, just knew, that a prayer you prayed was truly answered? Or the confirmation of a call? I do.
Passion is what we're preaching about at Trinity these days. Yet even as I hope for passion, I remember that all those exciting times, for Elijah, were preceded by many, many days of simply walking with God, not to mention some persecution and extreme loneliness. Before the fire rained down, he had to gather wood, after all, and tote the water for the whole production. The writer doesn't really tell us about all that.
I remember that my own 'passionate' moments were preceded and followed by a whole lot of ordinary days when little old church ladies were praying for me. They were surrounded by huge stretches of time when I put one foot or one word or one action in front of the other and did my best to stay open to the ever undramatic nudging of the Holy Spirit. Passion is big moments, sure, but it's also coming to God daily, reading his word and looking for him in it regularly, doing something for someone else often, listening to the wisdom of the Body, and being ready for the big stuff when it's time.
Dailiness doesn't make a good story, I suppose. Maybe the parts of the Bible that talk about fire from heaven and crazed wicked queens are for the child in us. We need them. They remind us there is such a thing as faith that risks death. God is so much bigger than most of our puny prayers. We're kept on our toes, turning the pages day after day, never knowing just where or how the Wind of God will blow. As we do the daily work, as we keep returning our attention to God, the altar is built for the time when fire rains down.
I've never been good at manufacturing adventure or passion or excitement. All I can do is keep returning to Jesus, walking with him, doing what I can do to build the altar. He took care of the fire for Elijah. I suppose he just might do the same for me, and James.
Tonight, James and I were reading the story of Elijah, how, when Elijah asked God to send fire from heaven on the wet wood of an altar, God sent fire. James just looked at me. He has become a skeptic where God stories are concerned. James understands that God did a whole lot of stuff that's really cool, dramatic, fiery, BIG, exciting, but he doesn't believe God really does that stuff now. I want him to believe, I want him to be excited.
If I'm honest, I want to be excited, too. Passionate. All-consumed. On fire. Sometimes it is that way with God. Remember church camp? That was big! Remember the first time you knew, just knew, that a prayer you prayed was truly answered? Or the confirmation of a call? I do.
Passion is what we're preaching about at Trinity these days. Yet even as I hope for passion, I remember that all those exciting times, for Elijah, were preceded by many, many days of simply walking with God, not to mention some persecution and extreme loneliness. Before the fire rained down, he had to gather wood, after all, and tote the water for the whole production. The writer doesn't really tell us about all that.
I remember that my own 'passionate' moments were preceded and followed by a whole lot of ordinary days when little old church ladies were praying for me. They were surrounded by huge stretches of time when I put one foot or one word or one action in front of the other and did my best to stay open to the ever undramatic nudging of the Holy Spirit. Passion is big moments, sure, but it's also coming to God daily, reading his word and looking for him in it regularly, doing something for someone else often, listening to the wisdom of the Body, and being ready for the big stuff when it's time.
Dailiness doesn't make a good story, I suppose. Maybe the parts of the Bible that talk about fire from heaven and crazed wicked queens are for the child in us. We need them. They remind us there is such a thing as faith that risks death. God is so much bigger than most of our puny prayers. We're kept on our toes, turning the pages day after day, never knowing just where or how the Wind of God will blow. As we do the daily work, as we keep returning our attention to God, the altar is built for the time when fire rains down.
I've never been good at manufacturing adventure or passion or excitement. All I can do is keep returning to Jesus, walking with him, doing what I can do to build the altar. He took care of the fire for Elijah. I suppose he just might do the same for me, and James.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Antonio and the amazing presence
Antonio came to see me a few weeks ago. He was born and raised in Aguas Calientes, Mexico. Grew up, raised a family, and ran a printing business there. One day, back in the 90s, he went to bed one night and when he woke up, the peso was worth 3 times less than it had been the day before. Everything cost three times as much, but pay did not increase at all. His business went bust. He picked up and moved to Elkhart, finding work in one of the many RV-related businesses here.
When he walked in our church, he was 63, and his plant had joined many others in closing their doors. Once again, he watches as the bottom drops out of his life. Antonio came to see if we had a Spanish Bible. We talked for a long time, his great Spanish and broken English, my Hoosier English and pitiful Spanish. We managed to connect. He wanted a Bible and a job, in that order. Not a hand out. He needs money desperately, but won't take anything. He wants to learn English, but wants work most of all. At 63, with little English, even his printing and computer skills don't mean a lot.
I want to help Antonio. Antonio helps me with my Spanish. I'm afraid all I have had to offer him was the Bible, some supper one night, and a warm welcome. I can't fix the economy.
Whenever I hear someone make a disparaging comment about Hispanics, or 'those Mexicans,' I cringe and think of Antonio. He doesn't give up, you see. He calls. He comes back. He checks in. Though he worked in an office in Mexico, hear he has only known hard factory work. At 63, most US Americans contemplate retirement. Antonio wants to learn English and work.
I hope, when I am 63, I am still so hopeful, still stretching my mind around new things, still able to get around and long to give what I can to the world. Antonio is my inspiration. I haven't helped him all that much. But Antonio, he has helped me.
When he walked in our church, he was 63, and his plant had joined many others in closing their doors. Once again, he watches as the bottom drops out of his life. Antonio came to see if we had a Spanish Bible. We talked for a long time, his great Spanish and broken English, my Hoosier English and pitiful Spanish. We managed to connect. He wanted a Bible and a job, in that order. Not a hand out. He needs money desperately, but won't take anything. He wants to learn English, but wants work most of all. At 63, with little English, even his printing and computer skills don't mean a lot.
I want to help Antonio. Antonio helps me with my Spanish. I'm afraid all I have had to offer him was the Bible, some supper one night, and a warm welcome. I can't fix the economy.
Whenever I hear someone make a disparaging comment about Hispanics, or 'those Mexicans,' I cringe and think of Antonio. He doesn't give up, you see. He calls. He comes back. He checks in. Though he worked in an office in Mexico, hear he has only known hard factory work. At 63, most US Americans contemplate retirement. Antonio wants to learn English and work.
I hope, when I am 63, I am still so hopeful, still stretching my mind around new things, still able to get around and long to give what I can to the world. Antonio is my inspiration. I haven't helped him all that much. But Antonio, he has helped me.
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