jesus – Life in the Deep End

Gratitude & Grief

July 28, 2024July 28, 2024Vona Wilson

Grief is one of many things we hold in common. We all do it differently. And while volumes have been written about ways to navigate through it, we consistently land in the reality of walking our hearts through the depth of gratitude and loss.

I’ve been cleaning, purging, and rearranging all week. It’s part of my navigation. All the hidden bones need to be found and removed. The rugs that Oreo had claimed for his own – purge. The place he would go to and wait for me to greet him every time I came home – rearrange.

All of this led to a big haul to the recycling center, and ultimately to rearranging the garage. It makes perfect sense, right? I couldn’t let go of the collars and leashes so I hung them up for a day when I’m ready. Pacing our hearts is a way to walk through loss. I have so much peace about his quick departure – he had a full life and we had some great years! But yeah, I’m keeping his collars for now.

I was looking for a carabiner to hang something in the garage. I have a lot of them so I looked up to see what was hanging and if there is an extra one I can use. At this point I’m on the finishing touches. I’ve hauled off, rearranged, swept…it’s looking pretty good; I just need to hang another thing or two. Where’s a carabiner…..?

My eyes found it and it hit me like a ton of bricks. His life jacket! I didn’t think about his life jacket….and here come the tears.

I took it down and sent it away. Full of tears and gratitude, I took a moment to look through the pictures of our 2020 adventure to the lake.

When it came time for our rhythm of life to “take a break”, our routine had to change in 2020. For the first time we packed up our stuff, including dogs, and headed to a cabin near the lake. We ventured out to let them explore…about 5 miles on the lake with a paddle board and kayak. So much fun!! The two dogs, one so young and the other a little bit “mature”, fully engaged in the whole adventure.

Like everything else, Oreo was cool with whatever was happening on any given day. He wanted to be included. Every day I find something else that was his alone (like bones hidden in the furniture cushions!), and every day I stumble on something we shared….like a lake adventure during a pandemic. A reminder…that keeping rhythms but changing the routine often helps us discover new blessings.

Any routines you’d like to change this summer? You might make a memory that blesses you for the rest of your life!

“I think my God every time I remember you.” – Philippians 1:3

People bring us joy and blessings. Animals do as well. God has been generous and kind to us through all of creation. When Paul writes to the church in Philippi he is full of joy and gratitude for their faithfulness. When this Scripture comes to my mind today, it is because my spirit is full of gratitude for God’s blessing in providing me with a canine companion to do life with for a little while. Oreo helped me laugh and see little joys in life! Who helps you?

God, thank you for all the ways you help us to experience love and grace in this world. Please be near anyone who is navigating through the depths of grief. When it is possible for the memories to return in a way that blesses, please bring them to mind. And when it is not, please comfort the brokenhearted in whatever way is needed. Thank you, Jesus, for understanding the whole of our human experience. We love you and we trust you completely. Amen.

John Hiatt & The Goners- My Dog & Me
https://youtu.be/nDKzxZfqZR8?si=u-0tU39eisa5N0iS

Morning Prayer in June

June 4, 2024Vona Wilson

God of Peace and Mercy
God of Wisdom and Grace
We acknowledge you who hold all things and are in all things.
Thank you for the ways you reveal your glory to us and around us.
The stillness of the summer air in June
The watchful eye of a hawk in the morning
The love in households where people are preparing for
the day;
The silence in places where nature is the companion.

Rush in, Holy Spirit.
Rush in Great Redeemer.
Rush in to change the conversations among families and friends,
work teams and leaders,
strangers on the street and whomever is in our path.
We welcome you, Holy God, to turn our attentions where
they need to be
so that we can see your mighty hand at work.
We know and trust, Holy God, that you are indeed present and acting
right
now.
Mold us into what we do not know
Transform us bit by bit or all at once;
we need you.
We trust you completely so we yield
all of ourselves…
to you.
Thank you, Lord, for your steady faithfulness
and for not giving up on any of us.

We love you. Amen.

The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn,
shining ever brighter til the full light of day.
But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know what makes them stumble.
– Proverbs 4:18-19

Lingering on Good Friday

March 29, 2024March 29, 2024Vona Wilson

We left the church last night in silence, after watching the purple vestments of the Lenten season carefully removed from the altar. Each pastor lifted the stole from the neck of their robes and handed them over, expressing the surrender and darkness of what is unfolding. It was all taken away…the bread and cup, the vestments, the vessels, and the crucifer.

I had a deep sense of pending loss. Of persecution or injury, perhaps, to the church that we know. A time when our practice is rejected. A season in which we are called to face the reality of what we have allowed, or not allowed. Maybe complacency. Or perhaps enjoying the comfort and security of a religion that has largely moved us along in a direction we could all embrace. It didn’t require more than we were willing to give.

But what is this? What is this cross that keeps showing up in the middle of our beautiful practice? What is this pain that keeps emerging? Some discomfort that says something is not quite right. What are these signs that say, “no more”? The cross is part of the redemptive story; we can’t remove it. If it is the way of redemption, why do we treat sacrifice as if it doesn’t belong in the story we are living every day?

Is that our denial? Like Peter, “we don’t know him”, because it doesn’t match anything we expected out of life. What a disappointment it must have been for Peter. He thought he was part of God’s kingdom coming to fulfillment. Instead, the one he has known as Messiah is under arrest and all signs point to crucifixion. It’s messy. It’s awkward. There’s too much mercy in all the wrong places. Peter took such a risk to go down this path, and it’s falling apart. “I don’t know him”.

It feels better when we can point to someone else’s failure or sin as the cause of our disruption. It makes it easier to not see the cross in my own house if I’m peering out at my neighbor’s unkept lawn. I can forget that I may be contributing to the injustice in our world if I keep my eyes focused on the way my colleague, or family, or friend, or enemy is doing life so imperfectly. Ughh…. So many voices were there on what we call “Good Friday”.

Pilate in his role of leadership and order. High priests in their role of religious expertise and upholding the righteousness of God. Disillusioned and disappointed disciples that can’t understand why Jesus is letting this all happen. Crowds that love the drama and the chance to express their anger onto a helpless man whose sheer physical suffering makes them feel powerful. Shouts of cruelty. Physical injury. The sport of condemnation and humiliation. Women who refuse to leave and can’t hold back their tears for what the men are doing to one another and to the one they know is Christ; observers of those in charge. Others who are ready to take advantage of the moment and get what they want out of the situation; making sure their seat in eternity is secure.

So many voices were there. Enough that I can find myself somewhere in the scene, although it would feel much better to imagine I’d be walking through those hours more faithfully than they did.

Sitting with the text of Good Friday, I do wonder, in what ways am I ignoring the part of the gospel that teaches us that sacrifice is included in the way of redemption? The kingdom of God is fulfilled on earth, not by my comfort, but by through sacrificial suffering and living with Christ’s death and resurrection. The invitation Jesus makes is to let our selfishness die, allowing God’s spirit in us to become fully alive.

It really does mean, “not my will, but thine”. It does mean setting aside my pride and desire for success and taking up obedience in whatever way God asks me to be obedient in any season. Like Jonah appointed to Nineveh or Peter being instructed to eat what was once “unclean”, it means Jesus becomes Lord of my life, and I follow him.

It means I need to stop telling myself a story that makes me feel better about the cross I’m refusing to take up to follow Jesus.

So many voices were there at his arrest, while the humiliation and trials take place; the condemnation is secured, as the crucifixion is planned and executed.

Lingering on Good Friday, I am struck silent in realizing how many voices are present right now, doing the same: hurling insults, inflicting injury, making fun, condemning, discounting, and shouting, “crucify!”.

I remember echoes of Jesus teaching something like: “whatever you did for the least of these you also did for me.” And “whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me.” – Matthew 25:31-46 (NIV)

Is it a misinterpretation to say, whatever I do to someone else, I am also doing to Christ?

I hear a voice speaking through my pondering. It is clear. There is a way we are to live in all seasons. Seasons of war and peace. Seasons of plenty and seasons of famine. Jesus gave the disciples a new command. It has not changed over time. There is no “revised” version. It contains no trademark, logo, denomination, flag or label:

Love one another as I have loved you. This is how they will know you are my disciples.

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” – John 13:34-35 (NIV)

Lord, on this Good Friday when we tell your story, help us to tell it humbly and truthfully. Lord, on this Good Friday, when we hear the story, help us to receive it fully. Lord, through this Triduum, help us to see the places in our lives where we are denying you and refusing to carry the cross that will lead us into the kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. We have no good apart from you, Lord, and we are quite helpless to save ourselves. Come quickly Lord Christ to assist. Thank you for not giving up on us. Amen.