Buttercups in Bloom

It happened because of tough conversations.  It happened through brokenness. It happened despite our human frailties. Hope was held. It began in the murky waters of the Jordon. It made room for the sinners and the saints, the haves and have nots. It took shape in the breaking of the bread. It came to life as dawn gave way to the resurrection.  Love was present. It happened today. Each person seen....each person valued.....each person whole. It happened today. The work is just beginning. It happened today. Revival is ours for the taking. It happened today. Today, almost 26 years after I knelt at altar of my ordination my denomination has allowed the murky waters of the river Jordon to flow over them and held onto to Jesus in a way that we have not dared to do before.  Today with a 93% approval we removed exclusive language that kept the doors of ordination shut to our siblings who openly professed their 'homosexuality."  Today in what felt like a blink of an eye, the over 700 d

Recently in a Conference meeting for our Camping Ministry, we began the conversation by recounting stories from a time we had spent in the wilderness. The stories ranged from a group of unprepared young adults hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, a time with family in which a walking stick accidentally punctured a hornet's nest, a shared experience of not just having the itching feeling that a single mosquito leaves but the realization that all of your children are highly allergic to mosquitos prompting them to abandon their trip or weather that was so cold a couple pulled their chairs so close to a campfire that they melted the sole of their shoe (that would be me).   The group laughed as the stories were told, as the inflection of one another's voices rose with excitement or dismay, we became quiet as more serious parts of the stories arose making room to honor what had taken shape.  In the sharing of the stories, I began to think about all the times I have had the unexp

Turn left in 3.3 miles Turn right in 1.7 miles. Mind the s-curve The next turn is in 2.5 miles Turn right in 4.8 miles Two lane highways County Roads Green street signs Stop signs, yield signs  Your destination is in 12. 2 miles This past week we spent time in North Georgia, where we launched from our home base each morning with a different walk in mind. Our directions were filled with quick turns on two-lane county roads that kept us with our eyes peeled to the next direction on our GPS.  Every once in a while I'd laugh because our directions would include a 5-11 mile stretch of highway that gave us a break and provided mental space to sit back and take in the scenery.   The scenery was a combination of beautiful pine trees encompassing one of the many lakes in the area and tall oaks that would stretch out on the mountainside before us.  The week was filled with walking in the woods, moments of comforted silence together, laughter over something silly, and of course plenty of dad-

The meal has been served. The bread has been broken. The cup has been lifted. Shadows are unfolding. The longings have been made known. The pleading with others to stay awake; to pay attention has unfolded. The betrayal has happened. Shadows are enveloping. The betrayer arrived. The darkness of the cell envelopes. The charges are made. Shadows are lingering. The crowd gathered. The judgment fell. The sentence is set. Shadows are darkening. Last night communities of faith gathered to break bread with one another anointed one another with oil, washed one another's hands and feet, and proclaimed messages of remembering who we are as people of God.  In the midst of it all, I was distracted because, for the past two weeks, our state has felt the veil of a deep, dark shadow descending upon us and yesterday it took its grip upon our city.  While we gathered around tables as people of faith and remembered our story in relationship to God's story, another kind of gathering was taking pl

On Sunday, my faith celebrated the beginning of our holiest week.  The palms dawned the sanctuary, special music was played and the congregation lifted our voices to songs of hosanna.  Over the years my own depth of this story has taken root in a portion of the narrative that we have failed to teach and whitewashed to make us feel better.  Our Palm Sunday isn't just some glorious day that leads to  Jesus coming to save us all, it is a day filled with pledging allegiance, standing alongside a parade route to proclaim our support for a particular candidate that will govern the land. The day is a day where the faith we choose determines the person we choose.  Our shouts and our symbols proclaim the person we believe to be the best candidate for the tasks at hand.  Our shouts, our cries are our call for liberation, freedom, justice for all, protection, and salvation through the embodiment of one individual.  The day marks the beginning. The city begins to stir in ways that those along

The sun was shining. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was clear. Backpacks were packed. Lunches tucked away. Homework crumpled at the bottom of backpacks. The commute to school was driven. Drop-off line was the usual irritation. "I love you's" were hurriedly said as children stepped out of the car. Panic Fear Disbelief Rushing back Waiting Spotting your child for the first time. Relief Enveloping and holding children as tightly as possible. NO....NO.....NO.... Words that are incomprehensible fall. Lives bound in a breaking and shrouded in grave clothes. Death  Death Death I've grown weary of hearing "our thoughts and prayers are with the victims".   As people of God, we will send up our prayers, and feel for the families in their grief but when will we stand against the unimaginable and be the voice for those who have lost so much? Not just for those within our city but for all the lives lost. When will we as believers in a God who has created all per