Reunion

We had a family reunion today and I missed you.

"Why do I need to worship regularly?" you ask me.

I could give you the commandment ("Remember the Sabbath"), but I don't want to push the law here. Believe me when I say that there are days when I would prefer to worship at St. Mattress by the Pillow!

But, please hear me out and don't turn away just yet: I can think of two really good reasons to worship every week.

The most important reason, of course, is to set aside time to worship and praise God.

I know, I know. That sounds like a line right out of the confirmation instructor's mouth. But, we have heard that so often that sometimes I think we really don't think about what that means...that the focus is on God.

Maybe the music doesn't turn you on. Or, perhaps, it's difficult to sit through the sermon. Maybe the choir makes you grit your teeth. But, it's my opinion that those aren't the reasons we worship together on Sunday. It's not for our own gratification (although we can get something out of it...and maybe I'll talk about that another time).

My point is this:

~It's not about you.

~ Or me.

It's all about God. Praising God. Thanking God. ALL about GOD.

But, you say, "I can do that anywhere!"

You're right of course. But, there is something about doing it with a community of believers. A community of people like yourself and myself. Broken. Sinful. Hypocrites. Liars. Doubters.

God gave us the gift of community. It's not all bad all the time. It is a community that can lift up prayers on your behalf when you're not doing so well. It is a community where you can look others in the eye and know that they - like you - love God. It is a community where you can listen to God's Word with others and struggle with what it means for you, for me, for us. It is a community unlike any other in that it is one of the few places left where folks of all ages gather together.

You can't do that alone. In the woods. By the ocean. Doing yoga.

And that brings me to the second reason why weekly worship is important. I miss you! The rest of your family misses you. Really!

Each week is a family reunion. We're a happier bunch when you are there. When the pews are full - when the house is packed - the place is bursting with energy and life....all that "God praise" fills the room and fills my heart.

I love that passage in Corinthians when St. Paul compares the body of Christ (you and me and other believers) to a human body. When one part suffers, all suffer. When one part rejoices, all rejoice. I think Paul could also say, when one part is missing, we all miss that one.

We truly miss YOU.

Come back to the family reunion! All your adopted uncles and aunts, grandparents, parents, siblings and children are waiting for you. We're throwing a party to give thanks and praise to God.

The table is set. God's arms are outstretched beckoning you, "Come. Come to the banquet!"

There's a seat waiting for you ~

Feet

John 13: 3ff
Jesus....got up from the table...poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him....After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them."

For my birthday last year, Wayne gave me a gift certificate for a spa. I put off using the gift certificate because I feel very self-conscious about my body. However, the gift was only good for a year - and with my birthday coming up soon, I knew I had to "use it or lose it."

Last week, I looked over the information sheet provided with the gift certificate. The spa offers a variety of choices - everything from head to toe - literally!

One of the things I chose was a pedicure.

Lauren filled a small ceramic tub with hot water and some soap. "Put your feet in," she instructed. "Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

My feet looked rough, calloused and tired. I lowered them into the shallow tub. The hot water felt wonderful on my feet, massaged by the air bubbles being forced into the water by the jets on the sides of the tub. Lauren sat across from me, a towel draped over her shoulder. She instructed me to put my right foot onto a padded ledge just beyond the tub. While my left foot soaked in the water, Lauren took my right foot and trimmed my toenails. Then she took an emery board and smoothed the edges of my toenails. She used an orangewood stick to ease back my cuticles. When she was done with that, Lauren took a callus remover and gently rubbed the bottom of my feet and toes, smoothing out the ugly, rough patches.

She gently put my foot back into the water and then repeated the process with my left foot. "So far, so good," I thought to myself.

My left foot returned to the tub so that Lauren could work more magic on my right foot in the next step. She took a scrub smelling of chocolate and raspberry and worked it into my foot. These weary bones were starting to come alive as she massaged the grainy scrub into my foot. She did the same to my left foot. Happy feet! I was getting happy feet!

Lauren rinsed off the scrub and then took both my feet and wiped them with the towel she had on her shoulder. She took a cream and massaged each foot generously for several minutes each. When she was all done, the old, dry skin was gone and my feet appeared to glow.

+ + +

Let's face it. Feet are not exactly the cleanest part of anyone's body. Feet bear the weight of their owner. Barefooted, feet pick up the dirt wherever they go. Feet stuffed in shoes get hot and sweaty. They are usually ignored and taken for granted until something goes wrong.

Jesus took the miserable, dusty, smelly, callused feet of his disciples into his hands and held them just as Lauren did with mine. I wonder if the disciples felt embarrassed because I kinda did. I felt my own unworthiness, lowliness: Why would anyone want to take a stranger's feet into her hands - even for pay? I wonder if the disciples felt that, too. Why would a teacher hold and clean the foot of his student?

And make note of this, too! Embarrassed as the disciples may have felt (did they want to crawl away and hide?) Jesus had to kneel - or at least be lower than they were - in order to clean their feet. A pose of humbleness. A pose of servanthood. All of a sudden the one who is feeling embarrassed - almost beneath another - is elevated in a way. What a paradox!

And note this, as well: Jesus was taking the ugliest and misshapen parts of the disciples bodies and making them clean, giving these ignored appendages some much needed TLC. Just goes to show that Jesus doesn't ignore anything about us. He loves every part - blisters, hangnails, calluses and all.

It is the season of Lent. In a few weeks we will remember the story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. We will remember Jesus' act of servanthood. Help me, Lord, to find ways to serve you and others so that all may be elevated by knowing your amazing love for them.

My feet are glowing!

Jesus wants us all to glow.

Roots

Ray was born on July 4, 1907 - born of Finnish parents in New York City. There is a tale of adventure concerning how his father, Charles, came to the United States.. The story - as I remember it - went like this: Charles boarded a Russian ship and when it got into the harbor in Buenos Aires, he jumped ship and made his way to Brooklyn. Maybe that's not exactly how it happened. But, he did land up in Brooklyn where he married Josefina. He was a shipbuilder like many Finns living in that Brooklyn neighborhood.

Death and hardship were part of Ray's life early on. He and his four brothers - Charles, Frank, Walder, and Martin slept crosswise in a large a bed. Tears came to his eyes whenever he told the story of how - when he and his siblings were at play - his father came down from Martin's bedside to tell them that Martin had "gone home to Jesus." Ray was always affected when he remembered this part of his life. Martin died from diphtheria or the flu (I can't remember which). He told us how he remembered the horse-drawn hearse coming to pick up the body of his young brother. There were stories of bread lines and scarcity in the depression. There was the story of how his family learned on Christmas Eve that his brother Walder had died, serving the country in World War II.

But, Ray did not live a life focused on death or scarcity. His life was rooted in God's abundant grace and life. If there were one word to describe him, for me, that word would be "joyful."

Ray was a raucous joke teller, much to the disdain of his wife, my grandmother Marie. He absolutely delighted in telling stories. I remember the story he told of how he felt the call to go to seminary. According to him, he was on a golf course when a bolt of lightening struck close by. Years later, I realized that he was pulling my leg - telling a story that mirrored Martin Luther's own story of call!

Joy!

If you knew him, you would remember his delightful laugh and that twinkle in his eye.

Joy in the Lord - Most days, Ray was up just as the sun was about to rise. Sometimes earlier. The first thing Ray did every morning was to get the coffee percolating. Then, he poured himself a cup (strong enough that a spoon could stand up in it) and sat at a table with his Bible and journal. Making time for personal devotions was part of his daily routine. I have no doubts that the last words on his lips at night were prayers to God. I remember how appalled he was that I would put my transistor radio under my pillow to fall asleep to the music from a local radio station. He thought my last thoughts before drifting to sleep should be of God.

Joy in the blessings of family - Ray loved his family. At every mealtime, he said a prayer giving thanks for the food before him. But, he also said prayers for his "children, our children's children, and our children's children's children." My brothers and I teased him about this, but we would have sorely missed this invocation if he had ever skipped over it. I think, sometimes, he identified himself with Abraham and the covenant God gave to Abraham. God's covenant with Abraham was God's covenant with my grandfather - to be blessed with children and generations to follow.

Joy in the blessings of harvest - His hobby was gardening - and what a green thumb he and my grandmother had! When I watched him work in his garden, tending his plants, I could see that this was a very spiritual matter for him. When the harvest was gathered, Ray and Marie canned much of the food. They sold some produce by the roadside and the money they made they gave to fight world hunger.

Joy in the blessings of heritage - Ray was proud to be a first-generation American. I think it tickled him to have been born on the fourth of July! We celebrated his birthday with parades of pots and pans and made cakes looking like the American flag. The Finnish flag flew from time-to-time off his porch. While his roots were important, he did not let that stand in the way of getting to know others who came from other places. For him, ALL were God's children. There were no distinctions.

Joy in welcoming the stranger - Ray could make conversations with anyone. Anyone! We laugh when we remember the story of his trip to a hardware store where he struck up a conversation with someone. "Bob," he exclaimed. "How are you?" My grandmother witnessed this and wondered who this fellow was. She didn't recognize him. And Bob didn't seem to recognize Ray. But, they conversed together for awhile and it wasn't until Bob walked away that my grandmother saw that he was wearing a belt around his waste with his name across the front!

Ray -

Always welcoming.

Always blessing.

Always grace-drive.

Living life through his faith lens 24/7.

I give thanks for the living witness of my grandfather!

Beginnings

God's child.

This is who I am and this is the lens through which I view my life.

Forgiven. Connected. Supported. Loved.

Everyone has one has a story to tell. This is my faith story.