A Voice in My Head

I had coffee yesterday in Phoenix with a voice in my head.  You know what I mean? Some voices need to be ignored or understood or somehow resolved. But other voices provide guidance, support and encouragement for the spiritual journey.
I have a number of those mentor voices. It was good to share conversation with Tex Sample ... a retired professor from Saint Paul School of Theology who was on my doctoral commitee.  Tex nicknamed me "Jimmy Zen" ... which made some sense 35 years ago.  Tex had his seventy-fifth birthday this week but the conversation was about his current reading list and writing projects along with sharing about family, "conference gossip", etc.
A mentor doesn't intimidate but inspires. Tex and I don't always agree but his dedication to learning and research; his personal integrity and his commitment to excellence (whether it is understanding the best way to interpret Wesley and Paul or to play ball) ... all of this simply makes me want to do and be better.
Tex's approach to credo conference or a doctoral conference was to ask the theological  equivalent of a high hard fastball ... giving the student a chance to hit a home run.  In my doctoral conference (remember,  Tex is a sociologist) he asked: Jim, you make extensive use of John Wesley and Carl Jung. What are the philosophical connections in the way you use those resources? My response was honest but inadequate.
I thank God for the voices in my head who remind me of the love of Jesus and the claims of the Gospel and provide a vivid incarnational model for how to live faithfully.

Keeping Watch

I woke up early thinking about Peggy's son and our first grandchild whose birthday will be Christmas Eve. Mom and dad were at the hospital last night. Occasional text messages kept us updated on progress (or the lack thereof). Peggy didn't want to come to bed ... preferring to stay up and keep watch over events in Phoenix.
My waking thoughts were of this new baby and another child born long ago in Bethlehem.  Tonight we will read about shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. Our children's Christmas pageants belie the central role of shepherds as protectors (of their flocks and perhaps the baby Jesus).
For Peggy keeping watch was an act of prayerful presence. A mother keeping another mother and son in her heart. Years later Jesus asked his friends to keep watch ... more as presence than protection.
Lord, protect this child and his parents. Wrap them in your love and mercy. Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace ...

Savor

Peggy and I recently visited a candle shop in Brookside. The small room is filled with freshly made aromatic candles of many shapes and scents.  Although I was hoping for a short visit, I soon found myself lifting one candle after another to my nose ... sniffing the fragrance ... amazed by the variety. But soon my sniffer was overwhelmed by the choices. It became increasingly difficult to distinguish between the scents.
Discernment of spirits is akin to deciding on a candle. Discernment is less about good or bad/right or wrong and more about settling on a direction among multiple faithful choices. The Holy is present all around us. The leading of the Lord requires us to discern a path among many.
A favorite passage from the Psalms is: O taste, and see that the Lord is good.  Ps. 34:8 In the rest of this sacred season, I aim to focus on a scent at a time ... to savor the distinct flavors ... to delight in particular moments and persons.
God chose to reveal the fullness of divine character and purpose in a particular life and person, Jesus. If we will watch and listen we can distinguish the imago dei within each other.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow ...

Light in the Darkness

It is a bitterly cold snowy morning. I am reading Dr. Nancy Copeland-Payton's new book, The Losses of Our Lives. She writes of our yearning for the breath, light and love of God:
In the beginning God exhales in the darkness of a not-yet cosmos. Divine breath sends matter expanding outward to form the universe. But this is not a singular event. Sacred wind persists in sweeping over the waters of each not-yet moment.
In this divine out-breathing, we are created in sacred love. And in the way of creatures, we are conceived in human love. Love is deep-woven into our developing bones and sinews, our emergent mind and heart, from the beginning. If anything is our birthright, it is love.
Is this the root of our yearning? Do we long for the One who breathes us into life? Deep within our being, do we ache for our sacred birthright of love? ... Our small human voices call into life's darkening nights for the One we've lost. It is this birthright love, this first unconscious experience of divine love that echoes faintly for the three-year-old girl as she gazes on her newborn brother. "Tell me about God, I've almost forgotten," she whispers to the tiny baby boy.
O come, let us adore him.

Rest Along the Way

Some time ago I read an article about a site near Bethlehem where Mary and Joseph supposedly stopped on their journey to the City of David. For centuries it was a place of worship venerated by Christians and also Muslims.
Mary needed to stop and rest along the way to Bethlehem. I am acutely aware of the weariness of so many this season. While this year is no busier than another I believe that people are worn down with worry. We are anxious about an uncertain future. Our patience may be thinner; our boundaries less clear; and choice of words less care-full.
I write on a Saturday/sabbath morning that will be full from early to late with preparations for the Lord's Day and this sacred season. I pray for moments of refreshment where we nurture each other with the lovingkindness of the Lord.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.