Advent Conspiracy

A couple of years ago our family instituted a new Christmas policy. We all like presents, and are perfectly good consumers, but it had gotten out of hand. We had mountains of gifts. We just had too much stuff, or maybe it was because we were broke that year, I can't remember which. Perhaps it was a combination, but either way we came up with a new way of doing presents.

Christmas evening, after the kids had opened their gifts, after "It's a Wonderful Life", after a big dinner, we all sit down and tell each other stories.

We tend to hand out the writing prompt on Thanksgiving - "What is your favorite childhood memory?" was our first attempt. The next year we each picked a name out of a hat and we had to write something about the family member whose name we'd picked.

We usually write about a page's worth. Then we hand out our pages, and everyone reads someone else's thoughts. This is to cut down on the tears. Sometimes our stories are ridiculously funny, and sometimes we cry.

This has turned into the most anticipated part of Christmas Day for the Stuart/Miller/Thomas households. What will Grandpa write about this year? What embarassing story will Jen tell about her sister?

So as we move into Advent I encourage you to think of ways that can make this season more meaningful to you and yours.

Check out www.adventconspiracy.org for other ideas.

Questions for You

I'm back in school again and loving it! I'm learning all about the history of the Methodist Church. You know what? It's not boring! Strange, I know.

Anyway, in my studies I came across this list of questions that John Wesley used in his "small groups". Wesley formed folks into groups for accountability and further bible study. Sounds familiar doesn't it? He believed that the real spiritual work happened in these "societies" and I think he is right. Anyone can have an epiphany as part of an emotional worship service. The question is can you keep that feeling and have it inform your everyday life? Now that is more difficult.

I'm not going to lie. These questions are hard hitting. But I really think they are helpful. What do you think?

The 22 Questions of John Wesley’s Holy Clubs

1. Am I consciously or unconsciously creating the impression that I am better than I really am? In other words, am I a hypocrite?
2. Am I honest in all my acts and words, or do I exaggerate?
3. Do I confidentially pass on to another what was told to me in confidence?
4. Can I be trusted?
5. Am I a slave to dress, friends, work or habits?
6. Am I self-conscious, self-pitying or self-justifying?
7. Did the Bible live in me today?
8. Do I give it time to speak to me every day?
9. Am I enjoying prayer?
10.When did I last speak to someone else about my faith?
11. Do I pray about the money I spend?
12. Do I go to bed on time and get up on time?
13. Do I disobey God in anything?
14. Do I insist upon doing something about which my conscience is uneasy?
15. Am I defeated in any part of my life?
16. Am I jealous, impure, critical, irritable, touchy or distrustful?
17. How do I spend my spare time?
18. Am I proud?
19. Do I thank God that I am not like other people?
20. Is there anyone whom I fear, dislike, disown, criticize, hold a resentment toward or disregard?
21. Do I grumble or complain constantly?
22. Is Christ real to me?

I love this

Practicing What We Preach

"One of the great tragedies of life is that men seldom bridge the gulf between practice and profession, between doing and saying." MLK Jr.

There are some people who do not see strangers, only potential friends, only children of God. Surely they are the angels in our midst.

This past Sunday there was a slightly unkempt homeless man sitting on the steps of the Sanctuary building looking rather forlorn. Most people walked on by. He was bearded and wearing a jumpsuit reminiscent of a superman costume. We who work downtown have become accustomed to people like him.

But an angel of the Lord came and sat beside this man. She introduced herself and asked him his name. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do for him. He said he was hungry and started to cry. The angel took him by the hand, led him into the church and fed him coffee, juice and donuts. She sat with him in worship and put her arm around him so that others would know that he was with her. They wept together as the preacher talked about suffering and grace and God’s love.

After the service she took him to her home. She let him take a shower, fed him a big lunch, and gave him new clothes. She listened to him and prayed with him. Then her sweet husband drove the man back downtown, clean and refreshed.

This act of faith humbles me. This act of faith disturbs me. How can I ever live up to that?

Do angels come to live among us to shake us out of our complacency? Was Jesus serious when he said, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple?”

God, help me practice what I preach. Amen.

Jesus on Death Row

The death penalty is a funny thing.

Not funny ha ha. Just funny. In a state where hundreds of folks will come out to the state capitol to protest against abortion, taxes, and the licensing of interior designers… we can only get 24 to show up to talk about the death penalty at this church right across the street.

Professor Mark Osler of Baylor Law School came to talk about his book “Jesus on Death Row”. He is a graduate of Yale Law and a former prosecutor. He now teaches classes on sentencing and professional ethics. He pointed out some very interesting parallels between the Texas justice system and the process that Jesus went through to be put to death.

My friend Sara did a concert series across the state last year trying to raise awareness about the death penalty. The crowds were less than overwhelming.

Texans don’t want to talk about the death penalty. By and large we buy into the idea of retributive justice. If you take a life, you will lose your life. I understand that. The myth of retributive violence is all around us.

Our non-violent heroes are few. Jesus, Ghandi, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr are all I can think of. Our heroes who fix the world by doing violence to the offender? That list goes on and on.

Jesus taught another way. That way is a hard thing to keep in mind when a loved one has died a terrible death.

People do horrible things to each other. I’m sure that in the heat of the moment I would take a life to defend my own or another’s.

It’s just that if I follow the words of the one who started this whole Christianity thing, I should have a hard time judging others. I should have a harder time condemning them to death. Things get complicated. Osler pointed out that when Jesus came across a legal execution he challenged the moral authority of the crowd, “Let you who are without sin cast the first stone.” No one did.

Do you know why we use lethal injection? Professor Osler said that it is because it’s the most palatable to watch for the families of the victims. Generally speaking, most people don’t want to watch someone being shot or hung to death, unless it’s in a video game. Too violent and bloody. Death is funny like that.

By the way, we just killed our 439th prisoner on death row. We are first in something. We are the state that has legally killed the most people. Something to be proud of. Ha ha.

The UM General Board of Church and Society invites you to learn more at www.deathpenaltyinfo.org .

10 Things I Learned at Annual Conference - stimulating title I know

Well folks,
I went to my first BIG meeting of the Methodists. Yes, my first Southwest Texas Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church! This is where all the Methodists in our conference come together to worship, hash things out, update each other on what’s going on in the global church, and look for ideas to improve our own church homes. It wasn’t as bad as I was led to believe! I’d heard tales of food poisoning, jelly fish and endless meetings, but only experienced one of those. Corpus Christi was beautiful, had a constant breeze and the people were so friendly. So here is my top 10 list of things I learned at my first Annual Conference

#10 Our conference is going to spend the next 6 months raising money for Nothing but Nets. This is our first big push working together to further one of our stated goals “Stamping out the killer disease of poverty by improving health globally.” We can end Malaria if we pull together and help developing nations. We will be starting in Sierra Leone, but that is just the beginning…

#9 Eating a delicious, greasy, fried hamburger and fries at Hurbs might sound like a good idea. It’s not.

#8 Our new Bishop is really funny and seems like a guy you’d want to hang out with. Plus he moved the meetings right along. Good job Bishop Dorff.

#7 As in the rest of society, the churches for the most part, were divided by race. I hate that. How do we fix that?

#6 I’m bringing fruit for the FUMC Austin table next time. Sitting for hours with a big fat bowl of candy in front of you does not make you feel sleek when you go down to the pool later in the day after all the meetings.

#5 Methodists really do like to sing. I love that. And it wasn’t all songs from 1782. We can rock the house!

#4 It was great to see people who disagreed on matters of polity do so with respect and cordiality. Thank you to all who expressed their views in that manner. I wish we could be like that all the time.

#3 If you see jelly fish on the beach why would you get into the water? There is no good reason unless you are just into pain. I am not into pain. I really wish I hadn’t gotten into the water.

#2 This church is very lucky to have Beverly Silas representing us. She serves on the Board of Church and Society. She knows the in’s and out’s of all the policy, people and places that are discussed. Go talk to Beverly if you have questions about the church. She’ll know the answer.

#1 NEVER let your husband exit the house for a long car trip with a RUSH CD hidden on his person. It was bad enough in the early 1980’s but to listen to it now is pure torture.

Conversations

My prayer life is a running conversation with God. Something irritating happens, I talk to God, try not to blame, feel myself blaming, give it up to God and go on with my day.
Or maybe I see something amazing and thank God for putting me in this place to see this amazing thing.

That is my day, continually trying to give things up to God, knowing in my heart, that I cannot fix things by myself. Although, I do keep trying.

At this point in my existence I’m finding it hard to just sit down and pray. I’d much rather go for a walk, and feel the wind and the sun, work off some calories, and know that God is with me. A walking prayer.

At different times I’ve beaten myself up for not being Thomas Merton and meditating for hours, but for now I’m doing alright.

I disagree with opening up the bible and just praying on the text you come across. I know it works for some people, but I inevitably open up to some horrible text in Judges. Have you ever read Judges? There are some truly nasty stories in there. Really, awful stuff. Seems to me, that there is a whole lot of the bible that needs context to open it up. Certainly before I can meditate on it. That could just be me, but I offer that up to you.

Here are my prayers for the last hour.

Thank you God for my children, even though they can be really whiny and selfish- they make me laugh and wonder
Thank you for my sister - she is so funny and kind
Thank you for not striking me down when I cuss on occasion - I’m working on it.

Amen

Invisible Children

What did you do on a Saturday night when you were in college? Watch the game? Try to find a ride to your boyfriend’s house? Drink beer? Or was that just me? Well not these kids. Saturday afternoon hundred’s of college students and friends from across the state camped out on the Capitol lawn to bring attention to the plight of child soldiers in Uganda.

People, I don’t think I could’ve found Uganda on a map in my undergraduate years! Yet here these students are camped out, taking a stand for children halfway across the world.

Heather Chestnut, one of our newest members and UT student, gave me the lowdown. The event is called “The Rescue”. It happened in 10 countries in 100 cities. The idea was that the people camping out at the Capitol had to wait to be “rescued” by a celebrity of some sort who would bring media attention to the subject. They need to be rescued just as the children of Uganda need to be rescued. In Uganda the army led by Joseph Kony abducts children in the night and forces them to fight in the army. Stealing their childhoods and introducing these children to a nightmare of violence.

“Unlike any generation before, we are a generation that does not differentiate a person’s worth by geography. Rather, we possess a global outlook. We grew up online with technology at our fingertips and pen pals in New Delhi and New Zealand. Therefore, we have a greater sense of connectedness that compels us to fight for our friends’ freedom.” This comes from the brochure they were handing out. You can learn more at www.invisiblechildren.com.

When I went out to check on them yesterday afternoon the tents were mostly down and the kids were hopeful that someone would show up to save them.

I hope someone showed up to rescue them today. The rain is fairly ugly out there. Maya Angelou … Governor… Lance… anyone?

Art

This Lenten season we have two of our resident artists working on banners for us. Danette Ward is painting the Sanctuary banner and Jan Morris is working on the Chapel banner. Over these seven weeks they are both adding to their paintings as a representation of the journey through Lent to Easter. We Methodists are exceedingly good at words, but not always at feelings too deep for words. This is what art is for. Often a painting can get at a feeling that you yourself cannot voice. I share weeks one and two with you to deepen your journey.

Prayer

Young Son and I put together this video for you. It represents many things to me.

I leave it to you to interpret as you will. Art is in the eye of the beholder.

The origami prayer birds will be used in an art installation here during Lent and Easter. Enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eX7bQyo910

Ode to Zulu

We put our 17 year old cat, Zulu, to sleep this week. Frankly, we weren’t expecting to have to do that. I firmly believed that she was going to live forever yacking all over the furniture.

My husband saved Zulu when she was a few weeks old. She and four of her kitty sisters were wandering around east 17th mewling, with no owner in sight. Derek and his college buddy swooped them up and took them home to live in their bachelor pad. At one point they had at least 10 cats in that house. If those guys were women they would have been those “crazy cat ladies”. When we married we ended up with three of them.

Zulu was the quiet cat. She was sweet and patient with everyone, even when my girls were small and pulling on her tail. Not as proud and haughty as her kitty sister, Farrah (who was a beautiful princess and expected to be treated as such), and not as loud and dirty as her kitty friend Muerta (a big, fat, dirty, lovable, stinky cat). Zulu loved to sit in the sun, observe the birds, and most of all sit in Derek’s lap and purr. She was happiest there hiding her head under his arm while he stroked her back. This is how we chose to let her die. Lying in the arms she felt safest in.

As I grow older the prayers of lamenting become dearer to me. Prayers of pain can be comforting. Just knowing that others, thousands of years ago in far-away places, felt the same things that we feel.

Psalm 31:9 says,
“Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and my body with grief.”

Grief is not an unknown in my house. In recent memory we have lost the two cats previously mentioned, a great uncle, an aunt, a grandmother and a deeply wanted pregnancy. With each loss we struggle with how to express our sense of sorrow. My youngest daughter had the truest response. Derek sat her down and told her that Zulu had died, she sobbed in his arms for a few minutes and then lifted her grief racked head and said, “Does Sissy know? Let me tell her!” A completely honest reaction. I’m suffering, but it will be better if I share my pain with my sister.

So I share my pain with you, my church family. A cat is not a grandmother or an aunt, but she was a member of our family for 17 years and we miss her.

Am I my brother's keeper?

I have been haunted by something that happened a few weeks ago while I was in the car with my kids.

I’d picked up three of my girls friends to take with us to church. The eldest was going to MYF with Clara. The two younger girls were coming back to my house to play with Ava. These kids are refugees from East Africa. They are hilarious, fun loving, sweet... kids.

We were talking about animals. The girls were asking about our cats and dogs - which they’ve been afraid of every time they’ve been to our house. There are not many house pets in refugee camps, and dogs especially were not friendly to them in Africa. But the girls seemed like they wanted to get over their fears. Our cats intrigue them.

Anyway, they started regaling us with tales of animals that they had seen and liked. Giraffes, elephants, monkeys, snakes. We were all laughing. Clara started telling them how afraid I was of snakes and everyone proceded to make fun of me. I’m cool with it. My fear of snakes doesn’t make much sense, but it’s not one of those fears I’m eager to face. (Please, don’t bring a snake to the office to help me get over my fear, please).

I finally said,” Fine, fine, everyone make fun of me, what are you guys afraid of?” The eldest replied easily, “the soldiers.”

I caught my breath.

Then all three children broke out with descriptions of how scary the soldiers were and when you saw them you better run before the bullets started and people started falling all around you.

These kids are 6 and 8 and 14. This is their experience.

The kids all continued in their conversations as if nothing had happened. I felt like the ground had shifted underneath my feet.

I still do.

Am, I my brother’s keeper? What do I do with this?

I don’t know. But I'm listening God.

I'm listening.