And a child shall lead them....

As I prepare for this Sunday, reading and praying about the feeding of the 5000, I find myself feeling short of time.  Have you ever had a period in your life when you were literally just checking off the “to-do” list praying “If I just get through these next few days, I will be able to breathe”?  Well that is where I am.

I am reminded by this scripture that through Christ all things are possible.  Even though I start each day earlier and try to stay up just one more hour I feel there is not going to be enough to do what needs to be done.    Just as the crowds and disciples are thinking there is not enough food for those gathered around Christ.  And then one boy offered to share and the crowd was given hope.  And in that hope there was enough. 

Was there enough because Jesus actually multiplied the bread or was it enough because the people were able to take only what they needed?  Maybe some people passed on the bread realizing that they could wait until they got home, that it was the fear of no bread that made them hungry.  Maybe one boy inspired others to share. 

And when they were satisfied, he told the disciples “Gather the fragments left over so that nothing may be lost” (John 6:12).  When they were done they had filled 12 baskets. 

                Leftovers?  How could there be leftovers?  At the end of each of our days we have remnants, fragments, pieces leftover.  If we gather them up we will see all that our day held.  It is at the end of the day that I can examine what fills my time, I can be amazed at all that was accomplished, I can thank God for allowing Christ to show up in the midst of my dismay and be thankful that in spite of my fear and worries that there is enough. 

                Quite often what I am most grateful for as I examine the fragments of the day, are the unintended, not scheduled events that have allowed me to be fed, coming from the least likely of places similar to the bounty held in one boys lunch sack.

Kum Ba Yah

Michelle Shocked shares the following lyrics in her song "Holy Spirit" based on the hymn
 Kum Ba Yah:
Oh a twilight time in New York City
Descending subway stairs
The man whistling out a tune
I paid a dollar for my fare
And we got on the same train
Going uptown down the tracks
And we sang out of tune
To the clackety-clack-clack
And the Spirit Holy Spirit was flowing
Yeah the Spirit Holy Spirit it was a-flowing
I have felt it on a mountaintop
And underneath the stars
I felt it in a churchyard
And even in some bars
It will make you laugh
It will make you cry
It will make your heart go (ping!)
Oh the Spirit Holy Spirit
Will make you shout and want to sing
Come by here Lord, oh come by here

In Ephesians 2:19-20 we are reminded that as we wander individually on this great planet, like sheep in a field, we also wander together.
     "So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself the cornerstone."
      Kum Ba Yah is an old familiar hymn but some of you may remember it best as being sung around a campfire while roasting marshmallows.  I imagine for many the memories of singing this song stop before reaching the age of adulthood. 
     I find it ironic that the words asking God to come by here because someone is crying, someone is praying, someone needs you, and someone is singing may be thought of as children's lyrics.
     Calling out to God to join us in each other's sorrows, struggles, prayers and joys are actions of a mature faith. Imagine walking through the day and calling on God for our neighbor, for a stranger and even our enemies.  Imagine knowing that someone was doing the same for you.
      Certainly this knowledge could cause us, citizens with the saints who have gone before us, to praise God, praise God now.....Oh Lord come by here! 

    

The Gift of Grace

 In Ephesians 1:1-14 Paul speaks to the people about inheritance and grace. When I think of inheritance I immediately think of my own inheritance, not financial but physical and emotional.  My eyes are blue like my grandmother's, I look just like my mother, though my sister and I have often been mistaken for twins as we get older.  I have my father's personality; we like to be alone and can be a little too matter of fact at times. We grew up listening to my dad saying "that is a nit on a nit on a nit on an elephant" when rating a crisis.  I share with all of my siblings a tendency toward sarcasm which for better or worse has been passed on to all 11 of our parent’s grandchildren. 

Like most of you reading this I have things that I love about my inheritance and some I would rather deny and then there is a lot I just don't know.  I don't know what drove my ancestors, those look a likes with my laugh and smile, to work, love and play the way they did.  I get only a small glimpse of what makes them who they are.  The same way my own grown children don't understand the stress or elation over love, money or work that may have motivated some of my poorer or seemingly best parenting decisions.  And yet as children of God the greatest inheritance we receive is grace!

       Frederick Buechner in Wishful Thinking writes this about grace: "Here is your life.  You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you.  Here is the world.  Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.  I am with you.  Nothing can ever separate us.  It's for you I created the universe.  I love you.”

          Every one of us has been given the gift of grace; it is in the warmth we feel on our backs on a sunny day, the sparrows at the feeder, the spontaneous laughter shared with family or friends, and even in the smile of a stranger.  Any time we experience that unexpected moment of relief, excitement, joy and even sorrow, we have accepted grace.  Grace waits for us, hovers over our heads, within an arm’s reach, grace waits for us through the night and greets us in the morning.        

       God’s grace allows us to see ourselves in each other; it is what we have in common.  

                                  We are family-can you tell?

Coming Home

I recently went to my home town for a wedding.  This town is also the home town to my parents and my mother’s parents.  I had my husband take me by my family’s house which was on the top of a big hill, well big if you are an eight year old. 

The first time I saw this hill as an adult I was stunned that my long, high hill had been replaced by a slight slope!  I remembered riding my bike up that hill, the difficult pumping as I doggedly pedaled home for dinner.  I remember my brothers riding down the hill in an old baby carriage and crashing on the curb, the seemingly endless run to my father one day after being stung by a bee and the many walks up and down to play with our neighbors.  What happened to my hill? 

Mark 6:4 speaks of Jesus telling the disciples that the only place prophets won’t have honor is in their home town and with their own family.  Jesus goes back to his home town and he is seen as the carpenter’s son, the brother of local residents, some may even remember him only as the boy who scared his parents by remaining in the temple when it was time to go.  Jesus was amazed at their disbelief, how could they not see who he had become, who he always was?

The reality is that if I had met anyone along the way from my hometown they would have known me only as the daughter of Bill and Sue, the granddaughter of the Curtis’s and the Alger’s.  The history of my family would be my history, the best and the worst of us would be what remained.   The ordinary everydayness of a person can be dismissed by exaggerated memories despite the fact that it may be what defines us best.

The funny thing is, as I sit here miles from that town and I think of our home at the top of the hill, it remains high.  All logic is lost to memory, the pedaling was difficult, it took forever to reach my dad and my brothers were daredevils and fearless as they cruised down the hill at breakneck speed in their homemade stroller/go-cart.   

When Christ comes home he stirs up memories of a time past, his history is their history.  To deny who his is, always was, could somehow change their story, they may have to acknowledge that the hill was a slope.  Past ideas and thoughts about people and places can be difficult to let go of, Christ revealed the truth with love; Christ continues to reveal the truth and we as a family can respond to it or deny it.

House at the top of the hill.