Paying Attention (Welcome to Advent)

Oh my sweet ones, I had a moment in church today.

I am not in church very often. I'm the director of children's and youth ministries, but my Sunday mornings are often spent preparing classrooms and the chapel and rarely in the Sanctuary. I volunteered to do the children's sermon this morning (despite never having actually seen how the children's sermon is normally done at the church I serve now) because it is the first Sunday in Advent. I was going to teach the kids about God breaking into the world and offering the gift of hope to a needy and yearning people. And I guess that is what I told them this morning, but as it turns out, they one-upped me. They often do.

At the end of my children's sermon, I invited the kids to join me in a spirit of prayer as I sat with them at the front of the sanctuary. Since I often pray in front of people, I close my eyes and hold my hands low in front of me, palms up. You know, the "I don't want to fold my hands and bow my head, but I wasn't raised in an Evangelical community so I keep 'em low" sort of posture that is really excellent for use in leading worship in New England. The kids all assume the "head down, hands folded" tried-and-true way of listening and talking to God. 

So I begin to pray about God's love breaking into the world and I feel a little hand slip into my right hand. Oh my gosh, y'all, it was so small. And it was warm. And I gave it a little squeeze to say, "We're in this prayer together and you are welcome in this space with me and I am glad, so glad you are here." And then, a few words later, another hand reached out and found my left hand and, of course, I squeezed that one too, though, to tell you the truth, I am surprised that it's there - that two of the kids reached out and found my hands this morning. 

I am wrapping up this prayer about hope (it really wasn't very long, but I find those moments when you are paying attention, they really seem to stretch out), and I decide that I need to see whose hands are in mine before I close the prayer and send us all off to Sunday school. I just need to know who reached out across the vastness of space and grabbed my hands. So I open my eyes before the Amen and this is what I see:

Every child has found a hand to hold and we're sitting there on the chancel steps, pretzeled together and loving God and each other in that quiet sort of way.

Every one of these kids reached out and found another hand. Every one made some room for Love. Every one of these kids was listening to the call to be present with one another, to love God and each other, and they were acting on it. 

What an invitation! What a welcome into the season of paying attention! I am blessed to have such brilliant teachers to help me prepare my heart during Advent, to make me stop and wonder, to help me pay attention to the little moments of Love shared between us, and to be grateful. 

So some reminders for the Advent season, more for myself than anything else, but you may find them helpful, too:

Be alert - God can show up anywhere and at anytime! Pay attention to Hope, Joy, Love, and Peace; they show up in tiny, little things that we can (and totally do) ignore. Don't ignore them. Don't be so preoccupied with worry, anger, hurt, and fear that you miss them. Make a conscious decision to choose to reach out and take a hand instead of worrying if the hand will be pulled away. Advent is the season of preparing your heart, so do it already.

Remember dear ones, there is a light in the darkness. It cannot be overcome. 

Love, love, love,

Maddie

Put On Some Clothes

Outward appearances: people seem split on their importance. We proclaim “inner beauty” yet, The Society Pages.org states that beauty spending “adds up to a $160 billion-a-year worldwide”[i] industry. What we say and what we believe certainly seem to be two different things.

Now, if you’re a member of my home church, you may recall the sermon where I trashed my prom dress, proclaiming that the Divine didn’t care what we wore while we did the work we are called to, so long as our hearts were in the right place. I still hold this to be true, but I’d like to make an amendment – what we wear makes a difference, not in God’s eyes, but in our own. The clothes may not make the proverbial man, but they may help the man see himself more fully.

So why the shift in perception? I tried on pastoral robes.

I didn’t even have to look in a mirror – I felt like a minister. My friend Kelly said I was “just glowing.”

Pictured: Bioluminescence.

Now, I know my ministry didn’t start with putting that robe on. Obviously not. Ever since I first felt this stirring to serve six years ago, I’ve been working to answer this calling – going on visits to friends in hospice, providing music, preaching, serving on committees, organizing community events, helping lead worship, teaching confirmation, and leading the high school youth ministry.

But, honestly, when I put that robe on, it was a sudden affirmation of what I’ve known in my heart but never really owned – I’m going to be a pastor. I’m going to walk with people on their spiritual journeys. I’m going to sit with them in times of sorrow and we are gonna dance together in times of joy.

Nothing changed. I didn’t hear the voice of God saying “Now that you have these robes on, you can really begin your ministry.” But it was a kick-start almost. It was a reminder.

My grandfather loves to tell me that ministers don’t paint their nails or have tattoos or dye their hair. I know all of this is based in his concern for my well-being and his love for me. I would always laugh and shake my head. But I see where he was coming from. I think I get the underlying message – if you don’t present yourself as a minister, other people won’t see you as one. And I’ll give in a little bit – you need to see yourself  as a minister, you need to own your calling, before other people will see you as a minister. Just like my little sister will one day have to own her calling to Mr. Berry-dom (i.e. teaching literature and film classes to high school students) before she begins to teach. Just like we all have to own our purpose in life.

And, no, you don’t need to be wearing certain clothes to own your calling in life, but if it helps you understand yourself and see yourself more in the role you feel called to, is that a bad thing? My vote is ‘no, it’s not.’

I guess what I’m getting at is, sometimes, what we think is a just a superficial outward appearance is actually our inward selves radiating out. And when your inner self is reflected out for the world to see – through your actions, attitudes, and, yes, even clothes – that is a beautiful thing.

Own it friends. And if you need a little help owning it, put on some clothes.

---

[i] http://thesocietypages.org/socimages/2009/05/15/the-beauty-industry-spending-and-routines/

Where Is Church?

So this morning, I had intended to go see one of my sweet seminarian friends preach. That plan went out the window when I woke up at 10:05. I considered going to an 11 o' clock service at another church, rushing around to get ready and hop on the T... but it occured to me, what I really need right now is some "me and God" time... And I felt like walking. Yes, in the -2 degree wind chill, the best thing for my faith this morning was a walk.

So I packed up my laptop in my backpack, figuring I'd get lunch somewhere after my walk, and I took my iPhone (with headphones) and bundled up like Arctic Barbie and headed out into the blustery winds with The Decemberists' The King Is Dead as my soundtrack.

Here is a track-by-track of my spiritual formation this morning:

Don't Carry It All:
Beginning of song - This was a bad idea. It's cold outside.
Middle of song - Oh, wait, the sun is shining. I'm breathing. Things are not that bad.
End of song - Right, then. Things are actually pretty good.

Calamity Song:
I'll admit it, I broke into a kind of dance. The kind of dance you can only do with nine layers on. Sometimes this song makes me really happy.

Rise to Me:
Okay, God. I get it. Good morning, how are you? Thanks for checking in.
The lyrics of this song don't actually make sense in relation to the feeling it imbues in me.

Rox in the Box:
"Of dirt you're made and to dirt you will return.
So while we're living here,
let's get this little one thing clear,
There's plenty of men to die,
you don't jump your turn...
What were you meant for?
What were you meant for?"

January Hymn:
It is January. I can identify with this song. This song is good stuff.
"What were the words I meant to say before she left,
when I could see her breathe lead where she was going to.
Maybe I should just let it be,
and maybe it will all come back to me.
Sing oh, Janu, oh, January, oh."

Down By the Water:
Okay, this song doesn't actually inspire much... but it continues the good feeling.

All Arise!:
"But you keep on stealing, you keep on stealing,
yes, you keep on stealing 'til there's nothing left to steal."
I like this song too.

June Hymn:
I now have this calm that was not there when I woke up this morning. It is quite pleasant.

This Is Why We Fight:
I'm now in Starbucks contemplating this good feeling that has manifested itself in my brain.
"This is why, this is why we fight,
This is why we lie awake."

Dear Avery:
"Don't you shake alone, please, Avery, come home."

It's good stuff, friends.

And I think feelings like this are a big part of why my idea of church is so nebulous and unformed. What constitutes as church? Why does the order of worship and which hymnal we use matter so much? Why do I need an old white or stone building to minister to others?

No, I know that I don't. I don't know what my ministry is going to look like, but I hope it includes cold morning walks and indie folk-rock albums.

There is a place for you, here.

I've been asked, a lot, 'what would you say to a young person who maybe isn't sure about coming to church?' And I've thought about it, and what I'd say, really to anyone wondering about whether they could be part of a church, is this:

"There is a place for you, here."

There is a place for you, here, in the church. Whether you've been a part of a church your entire life, whether you went to church when you were little and now feel a calling back after a long time away, or if you've never been to church at all. There is is a place for you in the church. 

There is a place for you, here, in the life of the church. You're never too young to become part of the missions committee and help those who are on the fringes of our society. It doesn't matter if you haven't been to church that much, you can learn to minister to those in your congregation through being a deacon and helping make decisions about the spiritual life and worship in the church. You can organize fundraisers, you can start small groups, you can do big things - or small. You can join small groups, you can attend church dinners, or you can simply be a presence in the church at worship service.

It doesn't matter if you sit in the front or the back of the sanctuary, if you come in wearing your best suit or jeans and a t-shirt (God isn't calling your clothing to worship, God is calling you!), it doesn't matter if you are tattooed and pierced or if there's not a drop of ink in your skin, if you are single or married, an accountant or an artist, it doesn't matter if you've got money or if you're just barely squeaking by each week, or if you haven't paid your credit card in three months (you are not just another check in the offering plate, you are part of a loving and caring church community). What you look like, what you do, your past... it doesn't matter; what matters is that you are a beloved child of God, that you feel the Spirit working in amazing and miraculous ways... or maybe that you think you may have felt the Spirit, but you're not quite sure how this all works out for you, yes, Thomas, there is a place for you, too! There is room for everyone in the house of the Lord.

I would say: If you feel in your heart that God and Jesus are a part of your life, if you feel called to love others as a testament to the love that has been poured out on us, then there is a place for you, here, in the church - no matter what.

Yup, we've got room for you! (Photo: WeHeartIt)

I am blessed because, after I had walked away from the church after confirmation in ninth grade, when I later felt that God was calling me back to faith (after my first year at college), my church family said, 

We don't care where you've wandered, 

what matters is, you're here now, 

and you are ready to serve God,

to love like Jesus, 

and to revel in the Spirit of the Lord. 

They showed me, through their endless love and support, the unconditional and unrelenting love of God.

When I was a nineteen year old girl wanting to get back into church and feeling called to serve through youth ministry, they entrusted me with their freshman class of confirmands and let me start a high school youth ministry. They let me take the kids up to Boston for a weekend retreat in the city, they let me build a makeshift house out of boxes and spend the night with the kids outside (in October, in the rain). I was given the opportunity to organize worship services and small groups and to co-chair the biggest fundraiser in my church. I'm only 24, but in the past 5 years, my church has made a place for me, I've done things I never thought I'd actually be able to pull off - like organizing a music festival with seven bands from around the country, and joining with another area church to take kids on a mission trip to New Orleans to work on houses that had been damaged by Katrina. 

There was a place for me; there is a place for you.