Lament as Worship: Michael Card

Here is the series on lament presented by Michael Card. Well worth the time to watch these.

Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pr3mNGtxd-I&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=0

Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7UUz7j7JQw&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=1

Part 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmsbTAg5Vk4&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=2

Part 4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ou17lPhzdAI&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=3

Part 5
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pXBNwDOMMaA&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=4

Part 6
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igg51L1tMAw&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=5

Part 7
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwYsXe6BWeg&feature=PlayList&p=296943C19E334A8A&index=6

Presence not Presents

Hello Everyone! Don't pass out. I'm posting something after almost half a year of idleness. Sorry, but I've been extremely busy teaching and learning. Besides, I haven't felt like I've had anything worthwhile to say.

But this all changed with Christmas.

The tinsel. The holly. The family. The friends.

Everybody sing with me: It's the most loneliest time of the year!

Still wonderful, don't get me wrong. But for many people, Christmas can be very, very lonely.

This year, I --a single woman living alone in a foreign land (Elkhart, Indiana) --accepted an invitation for Christmas dinner at Nettie and Ed's. I thorougly enjoyed their hospitality.

However, for the last 19 years, I've spent Christmas alone. Perhaps you have experienced this. Spending Christmas alone is like the plague. Being alone on Christmas feels like a big bad disease eating you alive. And for those folks who spend Christmas alone, being alone on Christmas is ironically easier than being with people that are not close family. That is, except for Ed and Nettie.

Over my spending Christmas alone years, I've tried a number of cures. I tried working at the homeless shelter. I tried church hopping to Christmas Eve services. I tried sleeping all day. I tried positive thinking. I tried wallowing in self-pity. I even tried shopping, but the home shopping channels are off the air on Christmas! Even they are with family on Christmas. In one final desperate attempt to squelch the loneliness, I resorted to watching the special Christmas programming offered by the home shopping channels.

My conclusion: Nothing helps the flesh-eating loneliness that is part and parcel of spending Christmas alone.

Except for God.

As unexpectedly as the birth of a Babe in a manger, God helps Christmas alone loneliness.

I recently watched a video series by Christian musician, Michael Card. In this series, Michael teaches about lament, the deep sorrow and contrition one feels over life's painful circumstances. According to Michael, when a person prays, they often pray for God's provision. I know I prayed provision prayers many times throughout my 19 Christmases alone. I begged, I pleaded, I screamed, I cajoled. I asked God to do something to ease the loneliness I felt on Christmas. He never took the loneliness away.

Michael Card's teaching struck a cord with me. He suggests that when we are in a state of lament, provision will not comfort us. It is not provision we need. We ultimately need God's Presence. We would be better off not to seek provision for our need, but to seek our deepest need, God's Presence.

Provision fulfills human desires. Presence fulfills spiritual needs. God's Presence is what I find as I lay down my human desires over and over again. In fact it is only God's Presence that allows me to lay down my fleshly needs and desires.

The Christmas story speaks to this. Mary and Joseph needed a place to stay. They needed provision. There was no room for them in the inn. They were forced to settle for something less than desirable. They stayed in a stable. Damp shards of hay. But then Jesus Christ was born. God incarnate. God in human form. For Mary and Joseph, the Presence of God came in the form of a baby, and suddenly the provision mattered far less. They forgot about their circumstances because they were looking into the face of Christ.

Are you lonely at Christmas? The Presence of God came to Earth to heal your hurting human soul. Seek Him and you will find the greatest "Presence" of all.

Glory to the newborn King!

Blue Spruce Park in the Mist

The gardens surrounding the Peace Pole

A place for reflection...

To talk to God...

To listen to the "still, small voice"...

Close your eyes and pretend this is Heaven

For the beauty of the Earth...

"May Peace Prevail on Earth"

But my visit to Blue Spruce Park in the rain was prompted by a mission. Back in 2004-2005, when I lived in Indiana, PA, a group of community and nonprofit leaders gathered to develop Let There Be Peace: A Community Peacebuilding Event.

Friends from the local children's commission took part in the planning. We decided to obtain a peace pole, a wooden structure that encourages unity and peace. Twelve cultures are represented on the pole through 12 languages each saying the phrase, "May peace prevail on Earth." Here is a close-up of two of the 12 languages. I'm not sure of the language in the bottom picture, but the top picture has my favorite of all the languages--American Sign Language. Click on the picture to see a closer view of the phrase "Peace in the World" spelled out in ASL.

Let There Be Peace, or at Least a Peace Pole

On a recent trip back to Indiana, PA, I visited Blue Spruce Park, a place of beauty, as the pictures tell. Since it was pouring rain the day I went, it was also a place of serenity. I was completely alone in the park, the only person in the entire county who didn't mind getting soaked for a visit to Blue Spruce.

What Do You Think Belongs in Church?

My friend and colleague Bonni lent me a book on how to encourage people to volunteer. Close to the end of the book was this great poem by Ann Weems. We had discussed Ann Weems in Family Spirituality class last Winter. She has written a book called Psalms of Lament. It is a book of poetry on sorrow, grief, and loss. Weems lost a son at age 21. Not though illness, through senselessness. I suspect Weems may be empathetic to children and adults who hurt. Perhaps you have already read this poem. But for those who have not, here it is. It's a long poem and well worth the time it takes to read and ponder.

Balloons Belong in Church

I took to church one morning a happy four-year-old child
Holding a bright blue string to which was attached a much
loved orange balloon with pink stripes. . .
Certainly a thing of beauty.
And if not forever at least a joy for a very important now.
When later the child met me at the door,
Clutching blue string, orange and pink bobbing behind her,
She didn't have to tell me something had gone wrong.

"What's the matter?"
She wouldn't tell me.
"I bet they loved your balloon."
Out it came then, mocking the teacher's voice,
"We don't bring balloons to church."
Then that little four-year-old, her lip a little trembly, asked,
"Why aren't balloons allowed in church? I thought God would like balloons."

I celebrate balloons, parades, and chocolate chip cookies,
I celebrate seashells and elephants and lions that roar.
I celebrate roasted marshmallows and chocolate cake and fresh fish.
I celebrate aromas: bread baking, mincemeat, lemons . . .
I celebrate seeing: bright colors, wheat in a field, tiny wild flowers . . .
I celebrate hearing: waves pounding, the rain's rhythm, soft voices . . .
I celebrate touching: toes in the sand, a kitten's fur, another person . . .
I celebrate the sun that shines slab dab in our faces . . .
I celebrate snow falling . . . the wondrous quiet of the snow falling . . .
I celebrate the crashing thunder and the brazen lightning . . .
I celebrate anger at injustice
I celebrate tears for the mistreated, the hurt, the lonely . . .

I celebrate the community that cares . . . the church . . .
I celebrate the church.
I celebrate the times when we in the church made it . . .
When we answered a cry
When we held to our warm and well-fed bodies a cold and lonely world
I celebrate the times when the Church is the church
When we are Christians
When we are living, loving, contributing.
I celebrate perfect love . . . the cross . . . the Christ
Loving in spite of . . .
Giving without reward
I celebrate life . . . that we may live more abundantly . . .

Where did we get the idea that balloons don't belong in the church?
Where did we get the idea that God loves gray and sh-h-h and drab and anything will do?
I think it's blasphemy not to appreciate the joy in God's world.
I think it's blasphemy not to bring joy into His church.
For God so loved the world
That He hung there
Loving the unlovable.
What beautiful gift cannot be offered unto the Lord?
Whether it's a balloon or a song or some joy
that sits within you waiting
to have the lid taken off?

The Scripture says there's a time to laugh and a time to weep.
It's not hard to see the reasons for crying in a world where hatred is so manifest.
So celebrate!
Bring your balloons and your butterflies, your bouquets of flowers . . .
Bring the torches and hold them high!
Dance your dances, paint your feelings, sing your songs, whistle, laugh.
Life is a celebration, an affirmation of God's love.
Life is distributing more balloons.
For God so loved the world . . .
Surely that's a cause for Joy.
Surely we should celebrate it!
Good news! That he should love us that much.
Where did we ever get the idea that balloons don't belong in the church?

Ann Weems

FTT

"My initials are FTT," old Fred said to me last week, during one of our many discussions about life and faith. Fred and I work together at Menno-hof, the Amish and Mennonite Historical Center located in Shipshewana, Indiana. As a traveling tour guide, Fred comes to Menno-hof for about 4 months out of the year before setting sail for warmer climates in the winter months.

I have been blessed to know Fred since April, over the last 4 months. Fred is the father of one daughter whose middle name is "Anne," as Fred shares, "with an 'e.'" Fred also enjoys two grandsons and a great-grandson.

I am honored to know Fred. He makes me laugh because he is so funny. He makes me smile because he is such a story teller. And he makes me cry because he seems lonely. But most importantly, Fred makes me feel humbled, because Fred is a man of God.

Fred has his priorities straight. He walks circumspectly, but not so circumspectly that he is beyond human. Fred enjoys travel, but he offers service to others in his travels. He shuns materialism, except that he loves horns: trumpets, cornets, and other minature horns. He rides his bike all over Shipshewana, saving on gas and tags for his old truck. He lives simply and frugally.

Fred is a KJV man. For those readers who may not know, that's the King James Version of the Holy Bible. I do declare that if it would have been appropriate to do so, Fred would have fist pumped with the Baptist preacher who came into Menno-hof and mentioned his commitment to the KJV. Fred and the Baptist minister had something in common. You know, it was like the ritual that men do when they find out another man is a fan of the Cleveland Browns. This was one time when Fred made me laugh. There have been many other times.

Fred is unapologetically from Kansas. I asked Fred one time if he did drugs in his younger days. "Are you kidding," he questioned. "I'm from Kansas. We don't do things like that there."

Oh. Okay. How was I to know?

Fred enjoys storytelling. He tells true stories with a Fred flare. My favorite story is the one about the Dalton brothers who attempted to rob a bank in Coffeyville, Kansas in the late 1800s. He's on the road alot and he tells stories about the restaurants into which he has ventured over the years. Fred should be near his grandchildren so they can get to know him. He is a character, and I would hate to see his grandchildren and great-grandchild miss out on knowing him. His stories make me smile, and I am sure they would be a lasting legacy for his family members.

Fred loves people. Fred needs people. He is the ambassador of friendliness at Menno-hof. But there is another side of Fred, a side he tries to hide and deny. Fred seems lonesome and a bit sad. Fred lost his wife a number of years ago, when he was much younger, and his life has been one of adjustment to this "tragedy." Fred's word. When he speaks of his wife, Fred's voice changes to one of even greater tenderness than what is typical for him. She must have been a wonderful woman to have been loved so deeply.

Fred will be leaving Menno-hof in a few weeks. Time to move on. Time to make a mark on the world. I can tell you that I am not easily impressed by people. I love people and care about people, but I don't always think people live up to their own values and beliefs.

Fred does. Fred knows what is important to him, and he gives his heart and soul to the world and people around him. I am humbled by his character, his faith, his devotion, and his will to persevere.