Upon the Rock: May 29, 2008 Youth Group News

On memorial day, my family enjoyed a hike on one of the many cliffs that decorate Wisconsin's landscape. David decided it would be fun to run up the last steep incline and I relished in beating him to the top (though I guess he had a tougher time with Ian on his shoulders). Standing on the cliff, heart racing, full of breath and life, I watched the familiar preeminent structures fade into a background of a much larger vision, where sky stretched wide and colored long smoothing lines against the rough edges of earth, where birds flew--not above us--but next to us, in the same wind that cooled our faces.
Rocks, cliffs and mountains have filled the religious imagination for ages. People have climbed the tallest heights to be closer to heaven, to find perspective, to see far off into the distance and into the depths of their lives. Questing to see more clearly allows us to unveil the everyday illusions, to put things in their proper size and allow new sights to come into focus.
In this week's gospel, Jesus calls his followers to hear the good news and live it. Jesus had just preached his Sermon on the Mount and he was probably standing on high ground over looking the stones of Palestine as he was telling folks to build their lives on the rock, on this new vision of God's Kingdom.
Recently we've all seen many homes destroyed by storms, cyclones, tornados, and earthquakes. We've watched fragile cities with feeble infrastructures crumble on top of its people. Even as we respond and rebuild, our faith in a good God who values us more than the birds of the air can be shaken to the core.
In this country we know how to make strong buildings that can withstand most storms. In the same way, we are called to build strong faith, one that is not constructed with crumbly answers or weak-kneed avoidance. May we have the courage to quest the mountains that lay before us, especially when the the rock is in our stomach rather than under our feet.

Dancing with God: May 21, 2008 Youth Group News

Dancing With God

When I meditated on the word Guidance, I kept seeing "dance" at the end of the word. I remember reading that doing God's will is a lot like dancing.
When two people try to lead, nothing feels right. The movement doesn't flow with the music, and everything is quite uncomfortable and jerky. When one person realizes that, and lets the other lead, both bodies begin to flow with the music. One gives gentle cues, perhaps with a nudge to the back or by pressing lightly in one direction or another. It's as if two become one body, moving beautifully. The dance takes surrender, willingness, and attentiveness from one person and gentle guidance and skill from the other.
My eyes drew back to the word Guidance. When I saw "G" I thought of God, followed by "u" and "i". "God," "u" and "i" dance." God, you and I dance. As I lowered my head, I became willing to trust that I would get guidance about my life. Once again, I became willing to let God lead.

-Anonymous

Pentecost: May 9, 2008 Youth Group News

There is a wind that sings songs through trees
moving leaves like tambourines
a breath that fills the spaces
in between
the dark knots of branches
where the air becomes a stage
on which life dances


Your Word descends on concrete
blowing babes out of their nest
the once fluttering heartbeat
drops like stone in the chest
into a night
where rocks cry
and flames speak-- fiery things
like alchemy
transforming leaden flesh
into a light
into wings

Big Shoes: May 2, 2008 Youth Group News

My grandfather passed away before I could say what I needed to say to him. He was a Lutheran pastor, a quiet man with a sparkle in his eyes. He was always whistling a tune and when the uncomfortable silence would grow, he'd respond with a soothing sigh and a simple, "yup...so..."

He got sick when I was away at college, but by the time our family got to him, he had become someone else--his skin glowed a holy white, and his limbs curled in, like an infant. He spoke in moans and only asked for "mama" my grandmother. The doctors said death was very near.

I waited at grandma's house with the younger children, while my mom and her family stayed beside his bed. When they finally came home, they told me how grandpa had smiled as my uncle Tim, his son, also a Lutheran minister, had said the benediction, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead as he breathed his last.

That night I lay in bed filled with anguish. I had been too late and my grandpa would never know how over the past year I had come back to the faith that he had passed on to me. I drifted off to sleep with a knot in my stomach and tears in my pillow.

It was in that space between dreaming and waking when the smell of of grandpa's pipe filled the room and I could feel his presence near, so close, like a hug and a whisper in my heart, "I know," he said. "I know." I was relieved of my mournful anguish and filled with peace and renewed hope in the resurrection. When I saw his body the next day at the funeral, I thought, "why are you looking for the living among the dead?" I knew he had risen. He had gone home to be with his Father.

It's hard to let go of those we love and admire. They leave behind pretty big shoes to fill. When Jesus finally ascended into heaven, his disciples were left with the promise of the Holy Spirit, and no one to turn to but each other, their memories of Jesus and their faith. "Go be my hands and feet," Jesus had urged. And somehow they managed to change the course of human history.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to fill my grandpa's shoes or come anywhere close to Jesus' sandals. But will I try to fill my own? Martin Luther King Jr. said that we don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step. We all have big souls tucked away somewhere. How will we get them free? One step at a time.

Bye bye coffee...sniff sniff...April 24, 2008 Youth Group News

Bye-bye coffee...sniff, sniff
I finally did it. And I don't like it. And I hope it won't be for long. But I was having some physical symptoms that may be alleviated by giving up caffeine, my beloved cup 'o coffee, that black sea of morning magic that makes my day worth jittering all the way through. OK, I hear ya, I should have given it up for Lent... but I just wasn't ready to live without it.

I wonder if this is how the disciples felt when Jesus said he was going away. The disciples clung on in fear, unsure of how they could cope without their daily dose of Jesus. But Jesus reminds them that the same Spirit that lives in him, will come to live in them when the Paraclete comes. (I just love that name for the Holy Spirit, it makes me think of a talking bird with track shoes on).

I hear a call to find that Spirit, the one that wakes me up without caffeine, the one that abides within, who speaks to me, who runs the race with me. The Spirit who nudges me to let go of addictions and attachments and realize that my true hunger is for God. What are you addicted to? Maybe it's an unhealthy relationship, a drug, perfection, work, approval, something that gives you god-like energy but bears bad fruit. The challenge for us is to wean ourselves from those energies and begin to feed on the Spirit that produces abundant life. Change is uncomfortable, withdrawal is uncomfortable, but it's all a part of the process that brings us into new life.

In this week when we celebrate Earth Day, we all are being called to look at our lifestyles and how they effect the world. Waking up to face the problems in the world around us is not fun, (especially without coffee) but we have the hope of seeing our sorrows turn to joy and new life springing from ashes--or coffee grounds--if we are willing to admit our unhealthy habits and give into the Way that the Spirit is calling us.

Stones: April 16, 2008 Youth Group News

Stones
Thrown at prophets
I hope for castles to keep me safe
But the Rock is in my stomach
Heavy
Rejected
Cast away
You turn to me
and say,
"You belong
Out of the rubble"
Building blocks
You're building rooms
For Spirit to dwell
You take it all
And make me new

Finding the Voice: April 10, 2008 Youth Group News

I used to get so nervous when I sang in front of people that my throat would close and I could barely squeak out a note. When I was taking voice lessons from Anton Armstrong, the acclaimed director of the St. Olaf choir (which only made me more nervous) he decided to help me relax by putting his hand on the back of my neck, pushing my face towards the floor and giving me a good shake (in front of my entire class). This must have been some nifty trick he learned in "how to make your vocal students relax 101" and maybe he only skimmed the readings, or decided to ditch the lab portion of the class where they worked on fine tuning that shake. I can only speculate because, for some reason, it didn't work. I was actually more nervous after this little relaxation exercise. But it wasn't over. "Sing!" he commanded. "Eeeeiiiik," I squeaked. "Sing!" he repeated. "EEEEIIIIK!" I squeaked louder. "SING!" he insisted, and I knew, this nightmare wasn't going to end no matter how much I wished I could zap myself out of this space and time, the laws of physics were on his side and they insisted this moment continue. Maybe it was the loss of blood to my head, or maybe it was my quick assessment that things could definitely not get any more embarrassing than they already were, but, all of a sudden, to my surprise, my voice burst forth from the depths of my private hell and soared straight up to the earth plane, passed through my quivering lips and exploded into a world of sound and light and colors. At that exact moment, coincidentally, all the air was instantly sucked right out of the room, because everyone, including Dr. Armstrong, gasped.

For a long time when I recalled this moment in my life, I recoiled in shame, because I always remembered my nervousness and my embarrassment. Later, when I shared this story with a friend, he said to me, "he knew you could sing," and the lights went on. This was the whole point. But I had missed it because I had only listened to the negative voices in my head and still doubted my singing abilities. Dr. Armstrong had heard the voice in me, and like the Good Shepherd pursues the lost sheep, he was not going to give up searching for it--no matter what.

There's a lot of voices in our world that can easily drown out the voice of One who calls us all by name, who leads us to places of nourishment, who keeps us safe. Voices of peers, parents, our own insecurities can make it difficult to hear which way we're being called to go. Which college? Which career track? Which friends? We fret and we squeak and maybe we doubt that there really is a voice calling us to sing (or paint or dance or do whatever it is we were made to do) and we give into despair, but that's the thief that comes in the night. John's gospel reminds us again of the good news, the point of it all: the Good Shepherd calls us so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. So may you hear the voice of God, and may you hear it louder than your doubts and fears.