This is the call to worship I wrote for today's church service, which was about forthrightness and truth telling.
As we enter into worship, may we be loving towards ourselves, and towards each other, ever mindful of the myriad of ways in which we are connected.
May we be wise, and think through our actions, conscious of how our actions affect not just ourselves, but our church, our families, our communities, our planet.
May we be bold, willing to work through our fear, our anxiety, the things keeping us from fulfilling our potential.
May we be willing to take risks, to stretch and grow outside of our comfort zones, knowing that in the lottery of life, you must buy a ticket to win
May we tell the truth, for there is insight in the oft-quoted phrase, "We are only as sick as our secrets,"
May we silence the voices, telling us we need to have a cleaner house, a pricier
car, a more influential resume, the perfect parenting style, for this is a community of compassion and welcoming. You only need to bring yourself, and you do not have to pretend perfection to earn the love contained within these walls.
And, May we step on each others toes on a regular basis, for if we don't, we are not dancing, we are merely shuffling
Come, let us worship together.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
My Newsletter Article
The following will appear in my church newsletter in October.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about “transitions,” and how we’re all perpetually in one. It seems like every time I turn around someone is transitioning from one job to another, from summer break to a school year schedule, from one apartment to another, or even from one mindset to another. The fall seems to be particularly rife with change as even the leaves on the trees begin their next phase—multicolored compost.
This fall the stakes are even higher as this country is about to transition from one President to another, and both major candidates have tried to bill themselves as change-makers. John McCain’s website places the quote “Country First: Reform, Prosperity, Peace” front and center, and Barack Obama embraces the slogan “Change You Can Believe In.”
As a church, I know that this congregation has faced quite a few transitions, from the loss of beloved congregants to changes in polity and church structure, as well as the new experience of having an intern minister. While some of these transitions have been exciting and positive, others have been heart wrenching and overwhelming. Regardless of the effect, change always comes with some grief for what was.
I must admit that part of my preoccupation with transition is that I recently went through several pretty big ones, leaving my friends, colleagues, and church community on the west coast to begin a new life and new ministry here. Usually a pretty easy-going person, I found myself anxious and preoccupied straddling two different cities, two sets of roommates, and two jobs. Even my cats were anxious, finding a way to hyperventilate through 6 states on the move from San Francisco to Kansas City.
While transitions seem pretty constant and inevitable, they also expose a pretty powerful asset in our human toolbox—each other. Even before I arrived in Kansas City, I was receiving dinner invitations and a “Welcome to Kansas” package from my internship committee. The effect was striking. While I was leaving one home, I knew that I was going to another. Imagine what the world could be like if we all felt so welcomed, so connected, so appreciated. Imagine the worldwide community that could be built. Imagine the hope and trust that could come from hospitality, from feeling connected even when we’re thousands of miles apart.
We’re all transitioning, all the time. We transition personally, as a church, as a country—the list in endless. It can be hard, liberating, ridiculous, exhilarating, and overwhelming. What seems to make the difference, what makes transition that much easier, is when we find a way to support each other through it. No matter what happens in the next month, the next year, the next 20 years, may we find ever-deepening ways to connect, to support, to ease our way through transitions. Change is constant, may connection and community be as well.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about “transitions,” and how we’re all perpetually in one. It seems like every time I turn around someone is transitioning from one job to another, from summer break to a school year schedule, from one apartment to another, or even from one mindset to another. The fall seems to be particularly rife with change as even the leaves on the trees begin their next phase—multicolored compost.
This fall the stakes are even higher as this country is about to transition from one President to another, and both major candidates have tried to bill themselves as change-makers. John McCain’s website places the quote “Country First: Reform, Prosperity, Peace” front and center, and Barack Obama embraces the slogan “Change You Can Believe In.”
As a church, I know that this congregation has faced quite a few transitions, from the loss of beloved congregants to changes in polity and church structure, as well as the new experience of having an intern minister. While some of these transitions have been exciting and positive, others have been heart wrenching and overwhelming. Regardless of the effect, change always comes with some grief for what was.
I must admit that part of my preoccupation with transition is that I recently went through several pretty big ones, leaving my friends, colleagues, and church community on the west coast to begin a new life and new ministry here. Usually a pretty easy-going person, I found myself anxious and preoccupied straddling two different cities, two sets of roommates, and two jobs. Even my cats were anxious, finding a way to hyperventilate through 6 states on the move from San Francisco to Kansas City.
While transitions seem pretty constant and inevitable, they also expose a pretty powerful asset in our human toolbox—each other. Even before I arrived in Kansas City, I was receiving dinner invitations and a “Welcome to Kansas” package from my internship committee. The effect was striking. While I was leaving one home, I knew that I was going to another. Imagine what the world could be like if we all felt so welcomed, so connected, so appreciated. Imagine the worldwide community that could be built. Imagine the hope and trust that could come from hospitality, from feeling connected even when we’re thousands of miles apart.
We’re all transitioning, all the time. We transition personally, as a church, as a country—the list in endless. It can be hard, liberating, ridiculous, exhilarating, and overwhelming. What seems to make the difference, what makes transition that much easier, is when we find a way to support each other through it. No matter what happens in the next month, the next year, the next 20 years, may we find ever-deepening ways to connect, to support, to ease our way through transitions. Change is constant, may connection and community be as well.
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