Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 11 Yr B July 18 2021

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost Proper 11 Yr B July 18 2021

2 Samuel 7:1-14a, Psalm 89:20-37, Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

 

Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went.

 

I’ve described to you before the wonderful opportunity I had a few years ago, before I came to you, for a sabbatical. I took three months away from the congregation and did some traveling. The first couple of weeks Rick and I, and Tom and Amanda, who were newly married, and Willie, who was newly graduated from college, went to Norway. We saw family, we saw spectacular fjords and mountains, and we stayed in some mighty fine places. The kids flew home, and Rick and I were in London, and then we traveled through Europe ending in Paris. We were with a group of people who turned into friends, and we saw beautiful sights, ancient ruins, and ate really well. Rick flew home from Paris, and I had a month, by myself. The first two months were highly planned, and rightly so when you want to make sure you do and see some very particular things. But I purposefully did not plan out my month by myself. I went where the Spirit led. So the deserted place for me was the Scottish Island called Iona. Iona is a thin place, it is a place where the land and the sky meet. It is a place where prayer has been placed throughout time. It is a place where sacred and secular dance. And it is a place where there are not many people, mostly sheep.

 

Have you been to a deserted place? It doesn’t have to be far away. In fact, I believe we are called to deserted places that are not far from home. Sometimes it is in the deserted place, the quiet place, where we may listen and know we are God’s beloved. This last year of our lives has been something like that, a deserted place.

 

As you well know by now, Mark doesn’t waste any time getting down to business about Jesus, the Son of God, in fact those are his very first words. Jesus is then baptized by John in the Jordan, and we hear “You are my beloved Son, I am well pleased.” And in an instant, Jesus is in the wilderness. I believe that event, and this excursion to the deserted place, are related. Between these two desert place stories, Jesus calls the disciples and sets about healing and teaching. Jesus calls out unclean spirits, Jesus heals a paralytic, a woman who was bleeding, a man with a withered hand, and a little girl. Jesus teaches about the kingdom of God. Jesus feeds five thousand with five fish and two loaves of bread, and Jesus walks on water. The disciples are in all of this with Jesus, and they need to rest.  

 

We don’t hear the feeding story, with five fish and two loaves of bread, nor do we hear the walking on water story this morning, but we know they are there. After the feeding story, Jesus goes off by himself to pray. And when evening came, Jesus saw that the disciples were in trouble on the water, and goes out to help them. The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost and they were terrified. That’s also what is left out of what we hear this morning, and we pick it up again when they all get to the other side of the lake. At this point people recognize Jesus, and want to touch Jesus, or at least the fringe of the cloak, and be healed. Remember the woman who was bleeding, she reached out her hand to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and was healed.

 

This is a good news, bad news story. People were recognizing Jesus, they knew what Jesus could do, and what Jesus could do for them. The trouble it seems is that Jesus was beginning to feel closed in, torn apart, mobbed. Expectations of Jesus were rising, this man could heal, and so many needed to be healed. The disciples were beginning to feel afraid of what might happen. Just like at the very beginning, Jesus goes to a deserted place, a lonely place, but this time, Jesus invites the disciples to come.

 

This past year might have been like a deserted place for some. I heard about so much creativity, artwork, reading, and making music, the fruit of silence and reflection. And yet at the same time we worked hard at staving off some fear, some loneliness and heartache. 

 

 

But this Good News from Mark assures us that the deserted place is a place of refreshment. Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went. Jesus makes this very same invitation to us. Come away to a deserted place. And yet, the deserted places are often the places we avoid and yet know somewhere deep down they are necessary places, truthful places. They are not just “time to get away” places. They are not just “we all need a break” places. They force us to recognize what’s necessary. What’s absolutely needed. And who will truly be there when everyone else walks away. 

 

When I was away, on my own in Canterbury, Durham, Edinburgh, Iona, I listened. I found quiet places, sometimes deserted places, thin places, in the catacombs and the cathedrals, in the countryside and the seaside. And what spoke most loudly to me in the quiet, was this, “In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

 

And so Jesus takes the disciples to a deserted place not just for a well-deserved respite, but to teach them what was learned in the wilderness -- and what will be essential for them to remember when it comes to their role in bringing about the Kingdom of God. Deserted places change our perspective. In the quiet places we have a chance to meet Jesus again. I wonder what you have heard in the last year of quiet? In the quiet places we have a chance to hear Jesus’ claim on our lives and our hearts. We are followers of Jesus. We are invited into the quiet places with Jesus so that we may hear Jesus’ call to us. Jesus says to us, you are my beloved, you are my beloved, and together we may build this Kingdom of God. Amen. 

9 Pentecost Yr B Proper 11 July 22 2018

9 Pentecost Yr B Proper 11 July 22 2018 Audio

Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went.

I had the great gift of sabbatical a few years ago. I took three months away from the congregation and did some traveling. The first couple of weeks Rick and I, and Tom and Amanda, who were newly married, and Willie, who was newly graduated from college, went to Norway. We saw family, we saw spectacular fjords and mountains, and we stayed in some mighty fine places. The kids flew home, and Rick and I were in London, and then we traveled through Europe ending in Paris. We were with a group of people who turned into friends, and we saw beautiful sights, ancient ruins, and ate really well. Rick flew home from Paris, and I had a month, by myself. The first two months were highly planned, and rightly so when you want to make sure you do and see some very particular things. But I purposefully did not plan out my month by myself. I went where the Spirit led. So the deserted place for me was the Scottish Island called Iona. Iona is a thin place, it is a place where the land and the sky meet. It is a place where prayer has been placed throughout time. It is a place where sacred and secular dance. And it is a place where there are not many people, mostly sheep.

Have you been to a deserted place? It doesn’t have to be far away. In fact, I believe we are called to deserted places that are not far from home. Sometimes it is in the deserted place, the quiet place, where we may listen and know we are God’ beloved.

As you well know by now, Mark doesn’t waste any time getting down to business about Jesus, the Son of God, those are his very first words. Jesus is then baptized by John in the Jordan, and we hear “You are my beloved Son, I am well pleased.” And in an instant, Jesus is in the wilderness. I believe that event, and this excursion to the deserted place, are related. Between these two desert place stories, Jesus calls the disciples and sets about healing and teaching. Jesus calls out unclean spirits, Jesus heals a paralytic, a woman who was bleeding, a man with a withered hand, and a little girl. Jesus teaches about the kingdom of God. Jesus feeds five thousand with five fish and two loaves of bread, and Jesus walks on water. The disciples are in all of this with Jesus, and they need to rest.  

We don’t hear the feeding story, with five fish and two loaves of bread, nor do we hear the walking on water story this morning, but we know they are there. After the feeding story, Jesus goes off by himself to pray. And when evening came, Jesus saw that the disciples were in trouble on the water, and goes out to help them. The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost and they were terrified. That’s also what is left out of what we hear this morning, and we pick it up again when they all get to the other side of the lake. At this point people recognized Jesus, and wanted to touch Jesus, or at least the fringe of the cloak, and be healed. Remember the woman who was bleeding, she reached out her hand to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and was healed.

This is a good news, bad news story. People were recognizing Jesus, they knew what Jesus could do, and what Jesus could do for them. The trouble it seems is that Jesus was beginning to feel closed in, torn apart, mobbed. Expectations of Jesus were rising, this man could heal, and so many needed to be healed. The disciples were beginning to feel afraid of what might happen. Just like at the very beginning, Jesus goes to a deserted place, a lonely place, but this time, Jesus invites the disciples to come.

I wonder if you’ve ever experienced what Jesus and the disciples might have been experiencing? Sometimes I feel like we live in a cacophony of noise, motion, input. With the world at our fingertips, we are bombarded with news and information from all over the world. It’s not all a bad thing, we create a community of prayer when we see the images of the young boys stuck in a cave and rescued from that danger. Or when we witness an explosion in Sun Prairie, and we can join in the prayers for all those people. Or when we see homes destroyed by tornadoes and storms and our prayers go to them. All of this information gives us opportunities to contribute our money when we are so moved.

But we also hear and see news and information that engenders fear and anxiety. The Mayhem guy has us convinced that at every occasion we need to be fearful of what will go wrong. Drug companies have us convinced that we’ll die if we don’t take their drugs, forgetting about the fact that we’ll die anyway. And your nightly news always leads with the disease, or the product, or the event that we must be scared of today.

But this Good News from Mark tells us a very different story. Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went. Jesus makes this very same invitation to us. Come away to a deserted place. And yet, the deserted places are often the places we avoid and yet know somewhere deep down they are necessary places, truthful places. They are not just “time to get away” places. They are not just “we all need a break” places. They force us to recognize what’s necessary. What’s absolutely needed. And who will truly be there when everyone else walks away. And none of this is what we see and hear on our televisions and in our news today.

When I was away, on my own in Canterbury, Durham, Edinburgh, Iona, I listened. I found quiet places, sometimes deserted places, thin places, in the catacombs and the cathedrals, in the countryside and the seaside. And what spoke most loudly to me in the quiet, was this, “In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

And so Jesus takes the disciples to a deserted place not just for a well-deserved respite, but to teach them what was learned in the wilderness -- and what will be essential for them to remember when it comes to their role in bringing about the Kingdom of God. Deserted places change our perspective. In the quiet places we have a chance to meet Jesus again. In the quiet places we have a chance to hear Jesus’ claim on our lives and our hearts. We are followers of Jesus. We are invited into the quiet places with Jesus so that we may hear Jesus’ call to us. Jesus says to us, you are my beloved, you are my beloved, and together we may build this Kingdom of God. Amen.

Last Epiphany Yr C Feb 7 2016

Last Epiphany Yr C Feb 7 2016 Audio

Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him. At the very beginning of these Sundays after Epiphany we heard the same voice at Jesus' baptism say "you are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." In that story John the baptizer was there to show how important that event was, and in this story Moses and Elijah show up to let us know that this event is really important, and Peter and James and John are there to witness this transfiguration. The stories we have been hearing these 

Sundays have been showing us who Jesus is. Jesus, the carpenter's son, Jesus, the boy who reads from the scroll in the synagogue, Jesus, the one who would be hurled off the cliff, Jesus, the beloved, listen to him. 

In the midst of the cacophony that surrounds us, in our work, in our school, as we play, in our homes, at our tables, we are to listen. Can we even do that, can we even listen to Jesus? Where do we listen? How do we listen When do we listen? It seems like a fairly small ask, listen to him, and yet we do everything we can to not listen. We fill our spaces with sound and noise and motion. We fill our days with stuff to do, errands to run, accomplishments to fulfill. That is what our lives are made of. We wear our earbuds, we listen to our Pandora stations, we are inundated with sound. 

I don't think that is necessarily bad, but I do think we don't really know what to do with quiet and silence. I also don't think that it is only in silence that we can hear God. God will have us listen, and sometimes God knocks us around so that we do. But I do think our spirits' yearn for quiet.  

Maybe, as we begin our shift from the glory of Epiphany through this moment of transfiguration that transforms time, to the journey of Lent, we may choose to find some time to listen.

We may listen to stories of Jesus. The gospel readings we will hear are not stories about sweet, gentle Jesus, but about strong, brave Jesus who calls us to be like him. Jesus is tempted by the devil in the wilderness, Jesus tells the truth about Herod's depravity and Pilate's oppression, Jesus shows us what real love looks like, and that Love always wins. 

Last week I told you that this life is about flying boldly and courageously, these stories of Jesus show us what that looks like. Read the stories, tell the stories, know the stories of Jesus. During Lent this year you might find a way to listen to the stories of Jesus each day.

We may listen to God in prayer. Prayer is really about listening to God. It is good to thank God, and ask God, and bless God and bless people and things. But really, prayer is about listening. Prayer is about carving out some time to intentionally listen to God's movement in our lives. My personal mantra is, "more quiet, less words." But, my favorite author, Madeleine L'engle, says it much more beautifully in her poem "Word". I'll read it for you.

I, who live by words, am wordless 

when I try my words in prayer. 

All language turns to silence. 

Prayer will take my words 

and then reveal their emptiness. 

The stilled voice learns to hold its peace, 

to listen with the heart

to silence that is joy, is adoration.

The self is shattered, 

all words torn apart

In this strange patterned time of contemplation

That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,

And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.

I leave, returned to language, 

for I see

through words, even when all words are ended.

I, who live by words, 

am wordless when I turn to the Word to pray. Amen.

(quoted in Praying Our Days: 

A Guide and Companion by Bishop Frank T. Griswold)

I do encourage you to find the time to pray, to sit in silence, and to listen. Now, when I was a younger mother, and exhausted most of the time, I would try to sit still for a while, and listen in prayer. I would inevitably dose off. And I believe in a God who believes in me, and I believe there is a time and a season for everything, that was my season for dosing off prayer, this is my season for attentive silence. You need to find your own kind of silence. And if you need words, there are plenty in your prayer book, use them. Those of you with young children at home might consider praying the Lord’s Prayer together each day especially during Lent. Maybe before or after meals, at bedtime, even in the car (if that is when you have quality time together).

We may listen to God in other people around us and around the world. Jesus listened and responded to the people around him and calls us to listen to the people around us and those all around the world who need us to hear them. What do we hear from people around us and around the world, that transforms us? How do we listen to the needs of others 

and respond in ways that truly help? Sometimes when we listen to the needs of others, our own world is disrupted, we are transformed in the listening. Listening, deeply listening to others, changes us. Another of my favorite authors, C. S. Lewis writes, "I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me." 

As you listen to God, You may want to respond to God's voice, God's love. How may you do that? What might you do? What will your Lenten discipline be? I know that the older children in Sunday school will be talking about collecting their coins and where they want to give them. Maybe we can follow their lead and give, there is so much need right here in our community, and there is need around the world. Episcopal Relief and Development is a project that you might think about.

Listen to God, listen whether you can hear or not, God will show up. 

13th Sunday after Pentecost Proper 16 Yr B August 23 2015

I'm telling my best Vikings Packers joke, because after today, I don't think I'll be able to tell it again.

The Vikings and the Packers had an ice fishing tournament. The first day the Vikings caught 100 fish and the Packers didn't catch any. The second day the Vikings caught 200 fish and the Packers didn't catch any. The third day the Packers were getting worried so they dressed Aaron Rogers up like a Viking and sent him with the Vikes to see why they were catching so many fish and the Packers couldn't catch any. That day the Vikes caught 300 fish and the Packers caught none. They said what's the deal Aaron, are they cheating or what's going on? Aaron said you bet they are, they are drilling holes in the ice!

You have heard me say over and over again, I place all of my faith in the truth of resurrection. I place all my faith in the reality in which we live, the reality that God's creation is death and resurrection. This community of faith has experienced it's share of death and resurrection. We all know that, and we walk that road together. So today, I want to talk about baptism, and ministry, and resurrection.

My baptism, Salah's baptism, your baptism, is what empowers each of us for ministry. Baptism reminds us that we are God's beloved creation, and in baptism we are claimed and marked as God's own forever. Baptism matters. Water is a powerful force that can kill as easily as give life. In it we join with Jesus in death, and in new life. Baptism reminds us that it is in the letting go, letting things die, that we are free to be the amazing creation God intends for us. 

So we are baptized for ministry, what does that mean? And what does that look like? We show up. We are people of incarnation, we don't just attend church, we are the church, and the church shows up. The church shows up to care for one another, to advocate for those with no voice, to feed each other and those who are hungry, to love those whom society will not.

We listen, to one another. We listen to those with whom we most vehemently disagree. We listen to those who are most different from ourselves. We listen to stories of lives, when they are much like our own and when they are so very different from our own. We listen without needing to inflict our own opinion, judgement, or morality. We listen, as if it Jesus is in our midst. And indeed, it is, because we also know the reality of incarnation, Jesus in our midst. 

We tell the truth, the truth that love wins, the truth that death does not have victory, but that the work that Jesus does on the cross is the victory. The truth that we miss the mark, we often slog through the muck and the mess,

and God loves us, and we love one another, anyway. The truth that perfection is an illusion, brokenness is the reality, and healing possible because God shows up for us and we show up for each other, bearing light and love into all the dark places. Truth is that prosperity and success are not what God's heart's desire is for us, but God's dream for creation is love, and relationship and connection. The truth that this life is not really even about any one of us, but about all of us together and God's love in the midst of us.  

And we let go. We let go. This may be the very hardest part. We cannot control God's love, or even who God loves. We cannot control what dies and how new life arises out of that death. When we don't let go, we get into all sorts of trouble. 

So, you, you individually, you St. Andrew's, you, have shown up as church, and shown me what that looks like. We have prayed with each other in this space, and in the parish hall and the garden and the park and the hospital. You have shown me what communion and community look like. We gather here, at this table, shoulder to shoulder, standing and kneeling, holding hands and holding each other, to be created as the body of christ, to offer our brokenness to be healed, to be filled with the healing bread and wine. You have shown forth communion and community in your homes, around your tables. You have fed one another and you have fed me, and Rick, and our children, as family. You know what being a minister is, you live that out day by day.

You show up for the Cornerstone meal, you show up for Love INC, you show up at United Campus Ministry. You are church for so many.

You show forth God's kingdom, you are part of God's love for all of creation. Our work, our call is to bring God's love, God's healing and wholeness into the world, into our workplaces and our playplaces. Don't ever be discouraged by numbers, always be encouraged that you get God's mission in the world, and you get on board with God's love in the world. 

Always know that new things are hard, and you can do hard things. Always know that God's dream for you is that you love and welcome everyone into this sacred space. Always know that you have shown me, and us, love and compassion and mercy, and that love always wins.

Thanks be to God. 

2 Lent Yr C Feb 24 2013

During the season of Lent, we are challenged by our memory of what is to come. We know that Good Friday is ahead and that crucifixion comes before resurrection. We know what is to come because we already have been this way. Nonetheless, we are called to care for one another, just as a mother hen cares for her chicks. Just as God cares for us. And we are called to respond to that love through action toward others, reciprocating that love. Jesus challenges our notions of who God is and our visions of God’s kingdom. We are also challenged to expand our understanding of God to include images of a strong, nurturing presence.

We know what is to come because we already have been this way. Isn't that the truth. The pattern that is shown forth in the stories of the Old Testament shows God's creation, blessing, humanity's turning away from God, God calling creation back to healing, wholeness, and reconciliation. In the midst of pain and sadness, Abraham needed God to remind him who is was and what his role would be and that God was with him. In the midst of the wandering in the wilderness and certain death, the Israelites had to be reminded at every junction that God was with them.

And that is the pattern of our lives. Each one of you has experience personally and with your friends and family of this truth. The reality of life is death, the reality of love is loss. But the reality of life is also resurrection, that's what the pattern shows us, that's what God's love tells us. What makes that so hard is that what the world counts as death, what the world counts as loss, is not at all to God. Every where we look, we are encouraged to change the way we act and feel and look to keep away our wrinkles or our sagginess or to increase our stamina or virility. Those things may be well and good and help us feel better, but God's kingdom is about being fully human, fully alive, knowing full well these bodies of ours will die.

Death is what happens when we are trying so hard to stay alive, life is what happens when we live in the reality of resurrection, when we live in the reality that Love wins. And that is the new life that is gift, and to which we must respond yes! Yes, Lord, in the midst of this pain and loneliness I will continue to love, because it is love that wins. Yes, Lord, in the midst of this heartache I will continue to love, as a mother hen loves her chicks, as you lord, love me, because it is love that wins. Yes, Lord, in the midst of the joy and gladness of my life and my heart, I will spread your love and mercy and compassion to those who have lost hope, because I am grateful.

In this passage, Jesus’ use of the mother hen image is a wonderful reminder of God’s love for all of us. It expands our imaginations. It is a mother’s love that is revealed here. And it is also a love that might seem unjustified. The people Jesus was reaching out to were known to “kill the prophets and stone those sent to you.” We may say they were unworthy of Jesus' love, that they didn’t deserve it. And the truth be known, they didn’t deserve it, none of us deserve it. But that is the truth of God's kingdom, it is not about what we deserve, because it is not about us at all. It is about God's amazing and abundant love for all of us, and for each of us, just like that mother hen and her chicks.

This passage from Luke shows us what God's kingdom looks like. Indeed, we are called to care for one another as God cares for us, as the mother hen cares for her chicks. That is God's kingdom. God's kingdom is not necessarily something waiting for us at the end of our time or the end of all time. God's kingdom is what God yearns to create with us right now, in this place, in this time. God gathers us in, cares for us, brings life to us. God's kingdom welcomes all, cares for all, nurtures all, regardless of whether or not we deserve that amazing and astounding love. Can we do any less?

During Lent we are particularly called into relationship with Jesus, just like that mother hen calls her chicks to herself so she can care for and nurture them. We are called into relationship, not because we are deserving, or wonderful, or perfect, we are called into relationship because we are loved.

So Rick and I went to a concert last night by the School of Mines Jazz band and Master Chorale. I have gone on before about how impressed I am with these engineer's musical performance, and last night I was impressed again. I heard voices that were lovely, and beautiful, and fun. They sang very complex arrangements together unaccompanied. The only way they could pull that off was to listen to each other. No one voice was more important, or less important, better than or worse than, any other. It was about all the voices, blending and soaring and supporting, that made the music. Listening to one another made the music beautiful. The relationship of all the voices, made the music even possible. I think that is a glimpse of God's kingdom. I think that is God's call into relationship. I think that is what Lent is about.

Listening to God, listening to one another, building something beautiful that not one of us can do alone. That is the journey we take with Jesus. So in the middle of one of the songs, one of the microphones completely fell apart, with a big popping noise the thing fell apart in the young man's hand. You see, it's not about perfection, it's about what we do in the midst of the reality of the journey, and how we lift one another up. It's about how we listen to each other, those we blend with well and those whose voice may be hard to hear. It's about how we listen to Jesus, whose deepest desire is to call us into himself, so that we know in the depth of our beings, that Love wins.

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of The Lord.

Last Epiphany, The Transfiguration, Feb 10, 2013

Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him. At the very beginning of these Sundays after Epiphany we heard the same voice at Jesus' baptism say "you are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." In that story John the baptizer was there to show how important that event was, and in this story Moses and Elijah show up to let us know that this event is really important, and Peter and James and John are there to witness this transfiguration. The stories we have been hearing these Sundays have been showing us who Jesus is. Jesus, the carpenter's son, Jesus, the boy who reads from the scroll in the synagogue, Jesus, the one who would be hurled off the cliff, Jesus, the beloved, listen to him.

In the midst of the cacophony that surrounds us, in our work, in our school, as we play, in our homes, at our tables, we are to listen. Can we even do that, can we even listen to Jesus? Where do we listen? How do we listen? When do we listen? It seems like a fairly small ask, listen to him, and yet we do everything we can to not listen. We fill our spaces with sound and noise and motion. We fill our days with stuff to do, errands to run, accomplishments to fulfill. That is what our lives are made of. We wear our earbuds, we listen to our Pandora stations, we are inundated with sound. I don't think that is necessarily bad, but I do think we don't really know what to do with quiet and silence. I also don't think that it is only in silence that we can hear God. God will have us listen, and sometimes God knocks us around so that we do. But I do think our spirits' yearn for quiet.

Maybe, as we begin our shift from the glory of Epiphany through this moment of transfiguration that transforms time, to the journey of Lent, we may choose to find some time to listen.

We may listen to stories of Jesus. The gospel readings we will hear are not stories about sweet, gentle Jesus, but about strong, brave Jesus who calls us to be like him. Jesus is tempted by the devil in the wilderness, Jesus tells the truth about Herod's depravity and Pilate's oppression, Jesus shows us what real love looks like, and that Love always wins. Last week I told you that this life is about flying boldly and courageously, these stories of Jesus show us what that looks like. Read the stories, tell the stories, know the stories of Jesus. You might find a way to listen to the stories of Jesus each day.

We may listen to God in prayer. Prayer is really about listening to God. It is good to thank God, and ask God, and bless God and bless people and things. But really, prayer is about listening. Prayer is about carving out some time to intentionally listen to God's movement in our lives. My personal mantra most recently has been, "more silence, less words." But, my favorite author, Madeleine L'engle, says it much more beautifully in her poem "Word".

I, who live by words, am wordless
when I try my words in prayer.
All language turns to silence.
Prayer will take my words
and then reveal their emptiness.
The stilled voice learns to hold its peace,
to listen with the heart
to silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered,
all words torn apart
In this strange patterned time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language,
for I see
through words, even when all words are ended.

I, who live by words,
am wordless when I turn to the Word to pray. Amen.
(quoted in Praying Our Days: A Guide and Companion by Bishop Frank T. Griswold)

I do encourage you to find the time to pray, to sit in silence, and to listen. Now, when I was a younger mother, and exhausted most of the time, I would try to sit still for a while, and listen in prayer. I would inevitably dose off. And I believe in a God who believes in me, and I believe there is a time and a season for everything, that was my season for dosing off prayer, this is my season for attentive silence. You need to find your own kind of silence. And if you need words, there are plenty in your prayer book, use them. Those of you with young children at home might consider praying the Lord’s Prayer together each day especially during Lent. Maybe before or after meals, at bedtime, even in the car (if that is when you have quality time together).

We may listen to God in other people around us and around the world. Jesus listened and responded to the people around him and calls us to listen to the people around us and those all around the world who need us to hear them. What do we hear from people around us and around the world that transforms us? How do we listen to the needs of others and respond in ways that truly help? Sometimes when we listen to the needs of others, our own world is disrupted, we are transformed in the listening. Listening, deeply listening to others, changes us. Another of my favorite authors, C. S. Lewis writes, I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me.

As you listen to God, maybe you want to select a project that you and your family want to collect your coins for. Episcopal Relief and Development is a project that you might think about. Putting your coins into your box would provide the opportunity of listening with Jesus to the needs of the world.

Listen to God, listen whether you can hear or not, God will show up.