from death to life

Our faith tells of a time in which God protected God's people in a journey that began in a rush, a journey that had frightful challenges and communal hardships.  It was a journey in which they must have felt fear as they left behind all that they had known.  Their hearts must have been pounding as they turned to walk out of the homes for their last time.  Their souls must have been shaking as they crossed the water bed that led to dry land.  They must have wondered if their lives would ever return to what they had known before.

In the exodus, in the wandering, they no longer had the security of the walls of the temple.  Their rituals disturbed. The Holy of Holy contained in their stories, in the development of a new community.  The indwelling of God's presence making its home within the depths of their being.  In the walking, they had to carry the holiness of God with them, pitching the tent of the Holy One wide wherever they landed.  

In the last year, I felt like I have brushed up against the fear as I have left behind the movements of ministry that have been my foundation for over 20 years of shepherding.  Thirteen months ago my heart  pounded as I sorted through water-drenched books, packed my office, and turned to walk out of a building for the last time without full closure. Nine months ago my  heart ached as I unpacked what was left of my books and pictures into new shelves in yet another church community.  My soul quivered as I began a journey that I had not asked for but for which my ordination had called me forth. I wondered if I would find myself. I wondered if I would find the holiness and presence of our God amidst it all. I wondered.

The comfort found in the rituals of a gathered community on Sunday mornings slipped away as the pandemic chased us out of our building and into our homes.   It has been over a year since I felt like I had experienced awe, the quiet breath of holiness filling the swirling thoughts in my heart and mind,  I fully sat in a worship setting with my full presence.  Worship is now filled with tiny movements of ensuring that technology is working, loneliness because I am separated from my flock through a screen, there is a  different kind of weariness and energy in trying to connect to a community that doesn't know me, for whom I have not hugged. Hardships have come as a community because they have been unable to fully welcome me into their everyday lives.    Over the year the longing for holiness has been deep and wide.

Today I sat in a gymnasium to celebrate the life of a friend and for the first time in over a year, I felt the fullness and holiness of God's presence. Everyone was masked.  Our chairs were spaced at a safe distance.  But as I sat there in this place that is normally filled with screaming fans, sweaty teams, and loud buzzers there was a stillness, holiness, and flame of God's spirit enveloping us.  We held programs and we lifted our voice in song and tears flowed.  Tears flowed for my friend but they also fell because for the first time, it felt like the wandering in the desert turned us in a direction that was leading us home.  

Not the home that we have always known, but a home that is filled with the depth of oxygen that helps us to breathe in a new way.  A home that helps us to stand by our brothers and sisters instead of taking up hatred and violence.  A home that reminds us that worship isn't about our buildings but about carrying God with us wherever we travel in this life so that we might pitch a tent that is wide enough to truly welcome the stranger who has been cast away, feed the hunger that lives within both our physical and spiritual beings, be the well that lets all drink and be restored.  

We know this but today is the reminder that the God we so deeply love comes again and again. Our God that is preparing to walk the road into the city and sit in the garden will once again invite us to sit at the Passover table to remember God's spirit leads us in the clouds as well as the flames.  Our wandering has been filled with challenges, at times God's spirit feels as if it will never rest within us again but here on this day I am reminded that again and again, new life is coming.  Again and again, God breathes when we cannot.  Again and again, the dark winding road leads us to resurrection.  

Today the holy breath of God filled my lungs.  Today God lifted my spirit and reminded me that buildings are not what makes us holy.  We are brought from death to life in this life again and again.