wonderful dust.

Today is ash wednesday, the first day of lent. I am preaching for the first time at Lee's Summit UMC tonight, and am excited because lent can be such an amazing journey. And hopefully, I will be able to invite others on that same journey.

Joel 2 :12 says, "Return to me with all your hearts." I think this act of returning is what makes lent so beautiful. No matter how far we've drifted, how distracted we've been, how broken our hearts are, we are invited on a journey to return to God.

So where is it we are returning to? I've been contemplating that for the last few weeks, and the image that keeps coming back to me is that of God in the first moment of creating humanity. The earth is this flat wasteland, and through any other eyes would have looks dry and hopeless. But God sees possibility. He reaches into the dust, and sees possibility. From little bits of earth that seem like nothing at all, our great Artist God creates humanity, and calls us children of God.

Lent is a return into God's hand. It is an opportunity to make space in our lives for the great creator to transform us. By setting aside 40 days to intentionally pray, fast, and seek God, we allow God to once again reshape us. We return to the intimacy of that first act in which we were created. And just as God saw possibility in that dust, the divine still sees and creates possibilities in whatever mess we've made of our lives.

Wherever you are at, whatever pieces your life is in, God can recreate it. That is what the resurrection promises. This night, we cry out that we are nothing, we repent of our egos, our materialism, our selfishness, and our failings; we confront our own mortality, remembering that our days on earth are numbered. But in this very moment of admitting we are nothing, we are reminded of a God who can do all things. A God who calls us his children, and who at the end of every wilderness journey provides an Easter, a recreation, a promise of new life.

So, when you hear those words: "Remember that you are dust, and to the dust you shall return." Be reminded also that God is the greatest artist, and has intentions for us beyond our mortality. You are wondrous dust, with which God can do marvelous things, if only we return to his hands.

This year, I am committing to fast from food one day a week, to journal every day, and to spend less time surfing the web. I am excited about intentionally creating space and time in my life for the spirit to move.

My friend Flip came up with a really creative idea for Lenten practice this year, by committing to give one thing away each day for the forty days of Lent:



You can check out his journey throughout lent by viewing his video blog at http://flipcaderao.tumblr.com/ .

Whether or not you have any Lenten practice, I hope you are finding ways to experience the power, creativity and hope of the divine in your life. I'd love for you to share about the ways that God is moving in your life this season.

christian media.

According to this article by NPR: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=100927647 the highest grossing independent film this year wasn't Slumdog Millionaire or Milk. It was a Christian movie called Fireproof starring Kirk Cameron.




This NPR article about the continuing growth of Christian media and art really bothered me. And it's not just that Kirk Cameron happens to subscribe to a more conservative/evangelical theology that is different than my own. It has to do with this obsession we have of separating Christian and Secular culture. As if God is only present in one place. These Christian filmmakers talk about culture as though it's all about immorality and sex and violence, as if it is the enemy of God. But actually there is a lot of really beautiful, powerful God-filled art and film out there. Slumdog Millionaire and Milk are two great examples. Both films confront us with ideas about equality and justice and the power of love. All of these are essentially Christian messages. I really believe that God speaks through those films.

Fireproof has these very overtly Christian images of the Bible, prayer and the cross. These are important pieces of our faith, and in my life have been powerful forces. But with Christian music and film making I wonder if we sometimes end up just preaching to the choir. I mean, aren't the only people who are going to be impacted those that recognize and relate to those images already?

I've been thinking about the parables of Jesus. Rather, than speaking in religious terms, Jesus tells stories that essentially don't have God or scripture in them. They are stories of working people, of masters and servants, of families, of nature. Everyday things that people experience. But people could relate to those images, and in the story, even though religion isn't overt, we find God's presence over and over again. Christ understood that the redeeming message of God couldn't be divorced from culture and context. He didn't simplify God into a religious concept. He spoke in the language of the people, used metaphors, told stories and in doing so invited them into this great mystery of the Divine.

One of my favorite Christian books in Ben Pasley's Enter the Worship Circle. I love this book because it challenges its readers to find the divine everywhere, to make their whole lives worship. He writes, "Some might argue that since not all artists believe in God, we could not find God in their work. On the contrary, many artists who do believe in God have so poorly caricatured the nature of the divine that they do little but diminish God. It is often the innocent and uninitiated that give best expression to a vision of God... Whether in realism or abstraction, the artist has the ability to tell the story of experience, and we have the opportunity to listen for the Divine."

On the one hand, I do believe in Christian art. I believe that songs, stories and art that represent God as revealed through the Christian faith are important. I love going to worship and singing praise songs and experiencing artful expressions that embody who Christ is. Without artistic expression, religion dies and becomes sterile. It is an amazing expression of our living God. But to say that this is the only place that God is revealed and expressed puts such incredible limitations on God. We don't need to fear non-Christian culture, and assume that only overtly Christian art is "truly meaningful to the kingdom of God."

God is speaking in all these amazing ways, everywhere and every moment. If we draw a hard line between "Christian" and "Secular" we miss so much of the God who is present in all of creation. Also, when the Church becomes divorced from culture and the people of that culture, religion stops being relevant. We can no longer speak into lives in the meaningful way that Christ did. There's a huge difference between being counter-cultural and anti-culture. By separating ourselves from "secular" culture we don't save our Christian identity, but in fact we lose it. Christian identity means being Christ in the world in a meaningful way. It means meeting people where they are. It means experiencing God revealed where one least expects.

I mean, didn't you like Kirk Cameron better when he offered those happy accessible messages about growing up, finding identity and being a part of a family on the show Growing Pains?



I love bananas too, Kirk, and think they are an amazing part of God's creation. But is an apple less created by God just because it doesn't have a convenient pull-tab and hand grip? I actually think you are a nice guy, but please stop being the spokesperson for Christianity and get back to "sharing the laughter and love" like you used to.

Giving something the label of Christian, doesn't necessarily mean that it offers a more life-giving message.

lyrics.

These are the lyrics to the song that is played at the end of every yoga class that I attend. It is hopeful, comforting and so powerful. It has been in my head all week, and I think it's beautiful. Enjoy.

Close your eyes; Go Inside
Give up control, let a stronger hand guide you
Back to where you want to be
Dry your eyes, Don't you cry
It's all going to be alright
It's all a dream, a dream
you've been sleeping, a bad dream that's all it is
There's nothing wrong with you really
You're perfect just as you are
We've all just been acting silly
But now the game is over and we know who we are
Northern Star, Shine on me
Fill me up with starlight
Awaken my soul
My heart and my true desire
Walk with me, Take my hand
Trade love for fear
You don't have to be perfect
That's not why you're here
There's someone waiting to find you
There is something inside
Patiently loving and guiding
protecting and waiting
for you to decide
Let a stronger hand guide you
back to where you want to be
Back to your true home.

happiness.

I think there is an art to happiness. A way of just being in the center of your own life, being totally present, and just celebrating all that you are, mistakes and all. There is an art to being present in those moments that take your breath away.... The other day I was walking out of the grocery store, feeling the winter air, and the afternoon sunshine, arms full of groceries. And it just came over me: "this is my life. all of our hard work and journeying and questioning leads to these simple satisfactions, of light and air and food." And even if that very moment summed up all the meaning in life, I would be perfectly happy. I wish I had the wisdom to always live into that beautiful everyday ordinariness. That is everything. There is freedom in just appreciating all that is.

I was reading through the New Yorker today, and they did a wonderful tribute to John Updike with pages of excerpts from his writings. Updike's work is so full of those ordinary beautiful moments. It's so real, it breaks your heart.

Here is John Updike describing a young man who is driving a car through the middle of the night, his friend asleep in the passenger seat. For me this is a description of perfect happiness, the kind of complex simplicity that life is made up of, deep and meaningful precisely because it is so accessible:

"Nothing happened, the car stayed firm on the road, Neil slept, his face turned skyward... There were so many reasons for me feeling happy. We were on our way. I had seen dawn. This far I had brought us safely. Ahead, a girl waited who, if I asked would marry, but first there was a long trip. Many hours and towns interceded between me and that encounter. There was the quality of the 10 am sunlight as it existed in the air ahead of the windshield, filtered by the thin overcast, blessing irresponsibility... And there was knowing that twice since midnight a person had trusted me enough to fall asleep beside me." -John Updike

whelks.

a poem from the beautiful pages of mary oliver:


Here are the perfect
fans of the scallops,
quahogs, and weedy mussels
still holding their orange fruit—
and here are the whelks—
whirlwinds,
each the size of a fist,
but always cracked and broken—
clearly they have been traveling
under the sky-blue waves
for a long time.
All my life
I have been restless—
I have felt there is something
more wonderful than gloss—
than wholeness—
than staying at home.
I have not been sure what it is.
But every morning on the wide shore
I pass what is perfect and shining
to look for the whelks, whose edges
have rubbed so long against the world
they have snapped and crumbled—
they have almost vanished,
with the last relinquishing
of their unrepeatable energy,
back into everything else.
When I find one
I hold it in my hand,
I look out over that shaking fire,
I shut my eyes. Not often,
but now and again there’s a moment
when the heart cries aloud:
yes, I am willing to be
that wild darkness,
that long, blue body of light.

miracles.

I sometimes pray for miracles. I wait in expectation for God to move, to heal friends who are sick or broken, to meet the needs of myself and of others. I pray to see the divine in some kind of undeniable way that will restore the faith of all of us. I look around and feel that in some moments we all seem so lost that we could never find our way to wholeness and happiness and love without some mighty miraculous sweep of God's hand. I sit and hope and wait.

But miracles are common things. As usual and solid as the ground that we step all over every day. There is hurt, yes. And so much poverty and brokenness it breaks my heart. But waiting does no good. I have hands to help. That is a miracle. I have a voice to speak. That, too, is a miracle.

I know in my heart that God moves through human skin, human thoughts, human love-- but still I so often sit and do nothing. Perhaps the most miraculous thing of all, is that even when I choose to be lazy, when I sit doing nothing, waiting for God to move; even when I am so utterly selfish, failing so incredibly... grace rains. It pours. Abundant blessings fill up my life. Miracles shower down on me, even when I forget to be a miracle for someone else.

Today, I ate a clementine and a banana, fruit shipped across the world, over lands and seas so I could hold it in my hand and taste it on my tongue. Today, I heard a familiar voice say I love you after a long day. Today, I sat with friends and talked about fears and hopes and smaller silly things. Today, I walked and the earth met my feet and kept me from sinking. Today, I read words on a page and was moved. These are my rich blessings. These are real miracles.

God is moving, every day, every moment, graciously inviting me to be a living miracle for others. To be the one who hears, gives, loves.... I hope that I have the courage to say Yes. To out pour miracles with the same kind of free abundance that is poured out on me.

an uncomfortable moment with angela lansbury.

At first I was just confused. Then I was a little uncomfortable. Then I laughed so hard I almost peed a little.

For your viewing pleasure, here is Angela Lansbury sharing thoughts about her body and her sexuality:

First of all, way to go angela! Your legs look better than mine and you are like 70 in this video.

Second, my favorite part is when she says, "I think feminity and sexuality go hand in hand." And she says it in her sexy voice, with the porno-style-soft-jazz playing in the background. Creepy.

Third, the way she says "massage" is amazing.

Fourth, if her goal is to present herself herself as "a woman of loveliness and dignity," I'm not quite sure this video achieved that... I mean the music? The constant massaging of herself? Really?

Fifth, for as much as this is halarious and disturbing, I also think its kind of great that an older woman who is not normally seen as sexual is saying to the world, "I am a woman, and I am sexual and that's part of my identity I won't ignore just because society tells me to." Kudos on the feminist message, creepy youTube video.

And lastly, all I can say is hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe. :)