What's so Good about this Friday?

In a Twitter post earlier this afternoon, I said "Our Lord experienced all we do, even death. We are never alone. God knows our pain. God has come to us. That is why we call this day good."  This is true, but it's not the whole of it.  As my eyes meandered down the posting list, I came across a post from the Next Starfish saying, "Eggs & Bunnies? - Easter and Forgiveness" with a link to their latest blog post.

I stand corrected.  And I must add an addendum to my post.

Jesus' experience of all the pain, suffering and humiliation first century humanity could throw at Him is not the only reason we call this day good.  As Next Starfish says in their blog post, it's "all about forgiveness".  Jesus did not only cry, "my God, my God why have You forsaken me" from the cross.  He also cried, "Father, forgive them for they have no idea what they're doing".

The Zombie Within - A Prayer for Release

Lord,
I desire to be at peace.  I desire freedom from anger, freedom from hatred, freedom from death, pain and darkness.  I desire fullness of love and abundant mercy to flow out of me like a wellspring of living water.  Dear Lord, I want to be whole.

I want to be able to give from an infinite wellspring of life and abundance.  This sort of giving is only possible through intimate communion with You.

But You are not all I desire.

Dust and Ashes: Mortality, Ash Wednesday & Collective Memory

Fellow zombies attempting to remember our Identity,

Yesterday we began one of the most intense seasons in the Family year.  As our heads were marked with ashen crosses, we exhaled and sighed, remembering that humankind was created from the dust of the earth and animated by the Breath of our Creator.  We all know, don't we, the pain that comes with the return to the earth?  Death hardly ever comes easily or quickly.  Very few people simply drift from this life into the next without a fight.  We live in a society seemingly hell-bent on retaining animation as long as possible.

Ash Wednesday, dear brothers and sisters, reminds us that we will return to the earth.  But this is not the end, dear ones.  Oh no, this is not the end.

Zombie Brains Contemplate Relationship

I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted here!  My goal was to be on top of posting at least once a week, but it turns out this was only the case during the summer, and it is an unrealistic expectation during seminary study time.  So, perhaps once a month will be my new goal.

Since posting last, we've meandered through the season of advent, celebrated Christmas, closed out a new year and begun a new one.  I've also begun a new term and come to the realization that my time in seminary is drawing close to a wrapping up point.  Only four classes and a part-time practicum stand between me today and the zombie wearing a grad cap and gown with velvet stripes.  I'll be a Master of Theology & Ministry then.  How's that for brains?

Mmmm, braaaaiiiiinnnssss!

Ahem.

Sorry about the drool.

A Zombie's Advent Cry for the Day of the Lord

As we begin the season of Advent, where our hearts, minds and spirits are preparing for the dawning of Christmas day, the day of the Lord's physical entrance into the earth, we look around and see what has become of the world into which Jesus came.  Longfellow's-poem-now-turned-song, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" echoes in my heart.

This is my Body - Given for You

As my neighbor and I observed the weather two days ago, we were thrilled to see sunshine!  Cabin fever had hit us both.  I was particularly ready to get out of the apartment since I have been in school for over a month.  With all of my classes online, I spend much of my non-working hours in the same room(s), and in the autumn and winter months, the darkness begins to wear on us here in the Seattle area.  So, when the sun broke through the clouds and it seemed to be likely that we would have sun the rest of the afternoon, my neighbor and I hopped in the car and drove eastward.

After a delicious lunch and a stop by a small town market for fresh veggies, we noticed a creek flowing freely nearby.  So, we slid down the slopes towards the creek, muddying up our walking shoes, and we looked around.  What beauty!  With the crisp autumn air, the vibrant hues of crimson and goldenrod above and the swiftly flowing creek just a few feet away, we began to maneuver over the stones. 

We passed a bridge.  Then, a funk rose to my nostrils.  A few feet later, my neighbor stopped in her tracks and turned towards me. "Doesn't it smell like fish to you?" 

Just before she had spoken, my eyes landed on the rocks near her feet.  Oh my!  She hadn't even seen it yet.

There at her feet lay a huge, moldy salmon with its eyes gone and most of the meat rotted out.  "There's a reason for that," I said, hardly containing my laughter, "look at your feet."

Her own eyes nearly popped out of her head and she shrieked, jumping backwards.  I nearly lost my balance and fell onto the fish from laughing so hard at her comment timing and response to our discovery.  Quickly, I whipped out my camera and snapped a photo.

As we continued our walk, adjusting to the smell and our surroundings, we realized this was not simply the remains of someone's lunch.  We were witnessing the end of the salmon life cycle.  Only a few weeks ago, we had seen a neighboring river nearly overflowing with salmon preparing to lay their eggs.  Now we were seeing the results of that life-giving effort.

Someone less interested in the macabre probably wouldn't have snapped a picture of the rotting salmon corpse.  But I was captivated by its beauty.  I still am.

This simple fish is willing to give everything in hopes of new life sprouting forth.  There are no guarantees.  Even if their eggs are fertilized and sheltered until they mature, the little ones must survive the treacherous journey downstream where predators lurk around every corner.  Still, knowing all that the little ones must go through and aware of the probability of failure, the salmon gives up its own life so that others may have the hope for new life.

This image of the salmon carcass gives me new eyes to encounter the Eucharist.  This is my body, given for many; this is my blood, shed for all. -- Jesus' willingness to give himself so that others may know the meaning of life -- this is a holy mystery embodied today in a salmon returning to the earth.

Hide & Seek for Zombies

The kiddo I nanny loves to search for bugs.  In the big rock pile in their backyard, the child picks up a rock, looks underneath to see what's there, and then marks the rock with a piece of chalk.  When a bug is found, the child laughs and does a special dance in celebration of the life that was discovered.  The child's joy is contagious!

What distinguishes the living from the living dead?  Certainly there are a lot of things.  The distinguishing mark that I'd like to focus on today is the difference between following and seeking.

One of the sad trends in the American Christian church across the denominations is a lethargy in worship and missiology.  We tend to focus on a personal relationship with Jesus Christ as though it were the only thing that Jesus meant when He said, "follow me".

One of my dear friends this weekend, at a Unitarian Universalist fellowship, gave a homily on Proverbs 8.  This being one of my favorite passages (particularly as it relates to John 1) and she, being a very dear friend, I was eager to hear what she had to say.  The main focus of her message was the same as Wisdom's call to Her followers: "seek and you will find".  My friend encouraged her fellowship to seek after Wisdom, to be on the look-out for this thing called "God" and to ask lots of questions.  We who were listening were encouraged to not be complacent in our spirituality, to rise up and discover something new about ourselves, to allow ourselves to be challenged and to grow in unexpected ways through this spiritual, playful game of hide-and-seek with a jovial, loving Creator.