The Holy Ordinary (5th Sunday of Lent)

I have spent the past few weeks trying to create a space to hear from God, praying for an extraordinary move of the Spirit in my life. Instead, I have been besieged and overwhelmed with the most ordinary of tasks: dinner to prepare for my family; homework to check; papers to grade; and bills to pay. And these ordinary tasks must be done after the most lowly of tasks: cleaning the bathrooms; taking out the trash; mopping the kitchen floor; and filing this year's tax return.

Lately, I have been so inundated with work and chores and errands, that I haven't had time to think big thoughts and dream big dreams. How would I ever have my "road to Damascus" experience when my mornings were spent writing recommendation letters; my afternoons were devoted to checking long-division problems; and my evenings were spent preparing to do the same thing all over again the next day? I pleaded with God for a supernatural expression of God's presence. God told me to find the holy in the ordinary.

Now, when I do laundry, I take the time to hold a tiny sweatshirt to my face; smelling the fragrance of the fabric softener and reflecting on the little one who loves to wear her favorite sweatshirt every week. As I mop the kitchen floor, I smile at the thought that if I dropped a cookie, my floors would be literally clean enough to eat off. As I take the car to get an oil change, I take delight in how few miles I've driven and how I'm reducing my carbon footprint. To pay bills reflects the fact that there is money in the bank; to write recommendation letters ensures that future generations will continue important scholarly work; to pray with a student means that I am consistent in my witness. These are the ordinary tasks of my life. And they are all holy.

This Lenten journey has helped me to reflect on the fact that the sacred is not always found in the church building and the holy is not always experienced in worship. By purposefully setting my heart and mind to recognize God's presence in ordinary things, I am feeling and experiencing God's presence in powerful ways. What an amazing God, who is "here with us" in the ordinary and in the lowly.

Lenten Journey - Day 23 (Touch)

I wanted to give her a hug, but instead I squeezed her hand and we each went our separate ways. I wanted to embrace her and share that portion of God's love that we experience through these small acts of touch and connection. But I did not heed that small voice inside of me telling me to reach out and defy social conventions.

I grew up in a loud, noisy church where the love of God was expressed in concrete ways, where healthy and healing touch was as much a part of the worship as music and preaching. Babies were passed from lap to lap, likely to fall asleep in the warm comfort of anyone's arms. Children were caught up in bear hugs, enveloped in the smells of bath oil and peppermint candy. Kisses were placed on the elders' cheeks, on skin that was still smooth and unlined despite old age.

But those days seem long gone. Steeped in the reality of abusive, uncomfortable, and violent physical contact, we have created sterile places where no touching is preferable. We err on the side of caution, but in doing so, I fear that we lose the fundamentals of real human connection. The "laying on of hands" did not simply commission the early church; it equipped those men and women with a powerful reminder of a real, tangible, and loving community that supported their bold work.

As I continue this Lenten journey, I am confronting those places where I have conformed, those times when prompted by the Spirit, I have refused to act out of fear for how I will be perceived. It is an act of risk to offer a hug, when a handshake is the convention. But real love requires that risk. I commit myself to the power of transformative love, where healing and comfort can be known in the form of a godly embrace.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—God's good, pleasing and perfect will.

Lenten Journey - Day 15

The term "despite" is a frame of mind. This Lenten season, let us reflect on how we can live, love, and serve God and one another "despite" our circumstances. When we play jump rope with our daughters, despite the need to finish paying the bills, we are choosing love over obligation. When we take the time to talk with a friend, despite being late for a meeting, we are choosing people over institutions. When we make our way to a house of worship, despite all the other places we need to be, we are choosing that which is eternal over the temporary. When we actively choose to worship and love God, even despite God's apparent silence, we are operating in faith. Remember that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.

Lenten Journey - Day 8

In our personal lives and in our professional lives, there is great liberty in confessing that we are not where we want to be and that we are not who we want to be. When we admit that we are works in progress, we are open to seeing the wonderful possibilities still ahead of us. To admit where we fall short is also to stand in expectancy of getting back up and continuing our journey. Know and affirm that God, who has begun a good work in you, will be sure to complete it. Be open to acknowledging and embracing those unfinished places in your life.

Lenten Journey - Day 6

I am learning many things this year from my yoga class, particularly about my physical body. As we go through the postures, I can sense my areas of strength and my areas of weakness. And while yoga is a gentle discipline, I have been surprised at just how many places I am physically weak and therefore particularly vulnerable to injury.

As I continue this Lenten journey, I want to surrender all those areas in my life in which I am weak, both emotionally and spiritually. I want to fervently lean on God's strength in those vulnerable places knowing that where I am weak, God is strong.

In Winter (First Sunday of Lent)

The first story in my RSS news feed this morning was "Why Does Hair Turn Gray." It was quite something to contemplate as I sat in my kitchen, watching snow fall on this first day of March. The sky was overcast, the snow was white, and scientists were promising me that if I lived long enough, I would have a head full of gray hair. It has been a long winter around here, in many ways.

But as ready as I am for spring, I cannot rush the seasons. I must continue to sit with winter, with the barrenness, and with the gray skies. I must continue to endure the cold temperatures and the snow storms, because winter is a preparing ground for the bountiful spring ahead. Winter, despite its appearance, is a fertile sowing ground for so much that is to come.

Lent asks that we not leap too quickly ahead to the glorious Easter moment. We love the notion of the triumphant Christ entering into the city of Jerusalem, whom we celebrate with the giving of palms. We love the notion of the resurrected Christ, whom we celebrate with praise and thanksgiving on Easter morning. But can we identity with the lonely Christ, who faces temptation in the desert; the Christ who faces a gray winter in the wilderness?

Let us sit with winter for a little while longer...spring is surely coming, but winter is still fertile ground.