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Work and Wait

The Divide

Right now there is a tremendous divide in our nation as together we face the COVID-19 pandemic. Those who work and those who wait.

The Essential Work

Many millions of people are overwhelmed and overworked: doctors, nurses, and other health care workers; public health officials and scientists, government leaders and grocery clerks, mask producers and delivery drivers. A member of my congregation cleans the local hospital’s ICU and she is worried and burdened by the challenges she sees. They are our front-line workers in the desperate battle to mitigate and eventually end the pandemic.

They need our prayers and unwavering support.

Almighty God, we call out to you for help. Your children are being overwhelmed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Bring strength, compassion, and hope to all who are working day and night to stop this pandemic. Guide our leaders with your wisdom. Empower the nations to work together. We cannot do this without your grace and power. Amen.

The Essential Wait

Yet as millions work and work to find a way through this pandemic, tens of millions are at home not sure what to do. I am writing this post primarily for those who are staying home, waiting for the pandemic to pass, And waiting is so hard.

As Americans we hate to wait. Our culture values action, doing, and productivity. We are measured by what we accomplish. We become restless if we don’t have something to do. We want instant gratification and satisfaction. We hate to wait.

But now so many must wait.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this is our opportunity to learn how to wait? How to simply be?

Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. (Isaiah 40:31)

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! (Psalm 27:14)

Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

Rather than learning to wait and be patient, many of us are practicing panic, worry, and anxiety. We become overly saturated with news and information. We succumb to despair rather than abide in hope.

Many spiritual practices that can help in the waiting. Scripture study and meditation is one; hymn singing and chanting is another. Many are finding new ways to volunteer, even in this season of social distancing.

The practice that I have embraced in recent years is Centering Prayer, a form of Christian meditation that I practice daily. I have written about this in other posts of my blog: here and here. You can also learn more at Contemplative Outreach. The practice of Centering Prayer deepens my trust in God and continues to transform my life from the inside out.

Perhaps this is your season to begin such a practice? In the next week or two I will be starting an online centering prayer group though the online Meditation Chapel. I will have more information in the coming days on this blog.

Centering Prayer will not be an instant pacifier. But it can help you learn to wait and stay calm as the present storm intensifies.

How are you handling this time of waiting?

Hide and Seek with God

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Andrew_peeking When my children (and now grandchildren) were small, a favorite game we played was hide-and-seek. One of us would close our eyes and count while the others scattered through the house to hide. The basement closet, the upstairs bathroom, under the bed – no room was off-limits. The seeker would search every room, look behind every door to find the hidden ones. If I was hiding, I sometimes would make special shouts – “Ookookachoo” – to help them in their search. We would all squeal with delight when the hidden were found and then a new person would close their eyes and start to count.

When I was a child I imagined God was playing an ongoing game of hide and seek with me. I knew that God was somewhere in the house but that he was hidden in some way and that I had to find him. If I prayed long enough, or studied the right scriptures or behaved the right way, God would suddenly pop out of his hiding place and we would embrace. I experienced moments of shared spiritual intimacy and wonderful joy, but then, in a moment, God was hidden again.

In this season of COVID-19 pandemic, one might think God is hidden, beyond our normal sight lines. Our regular practice of gathering for worship has been interrupted. The comforting taste of Holy Communion and church coffee has been locked away. The familiar sounds of congregational songs are silent. We sit alone searching on our computer screens for the hidden God.

Yet what the Bible teaches and what my contemplative prayer practice affirms is that God is always present, especially in the suffering of life. When the great leader Moses died, his young protégé, Joshua was called to lead the people into their promise land. Joshua was frightened by the unknown challenges ahead. In that moment of uncertainty, God spoke to Joshua, “Be strong and courageous, do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) God did not magically remove Joshua’s obstacles (nor our pandemic) but God gives us courage and strength to walk through the challenges, the fears, and even death itself.

What I am learning -and it is a life-long process- is that God is not hidden, but rather I am the one who has closed my mind and heart to the God. She is always with me. And the ironic thing is that it is often when I close my eyes, quiet my racing mind, and open my heart in centering prayer, I hear the still small voice of God shouting, “I am here, I am always here.”

Be strong and courageous, friends.

Let Go of Words

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wordle A young man came to my office years ago looking for help with his marriage. An older friend had recommended me because “Pastor Keller is really good at prayer.” I was surprised and a bit flattered by the recommendation but also confused. How would someone know that I was “good at prayer?” The young man clarified his friend’s recommendation, “When you pray in worship you seem to say the right phrases and words for talking to God.” The young man continued, “So I am wondering, could you pray for my marriage.” I did pray with him, asking for God to intervene and restore his marriage. A few months later I learned that his divorce was finalized.

I remember that story not so much for the outcome but for that recommendation (and my reaction) based on my public prayers in worship. As a pastor I am often asked to pray in public setting and I normally comply with my best words and ideas for addressing God. Recently I prayed at the dedication of new fire station and felt honored to be part of a simple civic ceremony. Yet, as the years go by, I wonder if all my words are becoming more of a barrier than a bridge to communion with the Divine Mystery that we so easily call God.

The barrier question is definitely part of my personal devotion. For many years I have kept a spiritual journal, pouring out my thoughts, feeling and concerns to God on the written pages. At times these words helped me come to some clarity in my relationship with God, yet often the writing just seem to stir up the dirt and garbage inside, like shaking a jar of glacial river water and seeing all the silt swirling around in the jar. It is only when one sets the jar of river water aside and allows the glacial silt to settle does the water become clear. That has been my discovery with silent contemplative prayer. I need to stop the swirling words and allow the sheer silence of God to speak (I Kings 19:12).

I have learned that I am not alone. In his book. Without Buddha I could not be a Christian, Paul Knitter, a Roman Catholic theologian, writes,

So often in Christian liturgies I find myself gasping for breath because I am suffocating on words! Christian prayer, especially liturgy, is so verbose. . . . God is Mystery and must remain so — the unknown part of God is much, much larger than the known part we are expressing in our prayers and services. Our words don’t seem to respect that Mystery not just in their quantity but in their quality. . . . Words are not only always inadequate in expressing the Divine Mystery, but they can actually be impediments to experiencing the Divine Mystery. . . . In my own personal practice of prayer I have grown to feel the need for silence.” ( page 136)

Paul Knitter is not alone. Ruth Haley Barton, an evangelical Protestant, writes in Invitation to Solitude and Silence.

In silence we begin to recognize that a lot of our God-talk is like the finger that points to the moon. The finger that points to the moon is not the moon. Pointing to the moon, talking about the moon, involving ourselves in study and explanation about how the light of the moon is generated is not the same thing as sitting in moonlight. It is the same with God. Our words about God are the not Reality itself. They are only the finger pointing to the moon. In silence we give in the fact that our words can never contain God or adequately describe our experiences with God. When we give in to the exhaustion that comes from trying to put everything into words and mental concepts, we give our mind permission to just stop. We give ourselves over to the experience of the Reality itself (page 75).

Enough words for today. May I recommend that you seek some silence for your soul.

Let Go with a Limp

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hiking with Springloaded technology brace A few months back I wrote about my experience in letting go of running. You can read about it here. One thing I should make clear is that the physician who diagnosed the osteoarthritis in my right knee talked about me not running marathons again, but she did not rule running out entirely. She prescribed an off-loading knee brace and said, “You might be able to run with it; I don’t know.”

The Breg Fusion® OA Plus Osteoarthritis Knee Brace that I have.

In early December I was fitted with the brace and started using it. I noticed that I had a slight limp or hitch in my walk as I use it. I mostly wear it when I go on longer walks of three to four miles. Also I have worn it on occasion at the gym, using it with an elliptical trainer and walking on a treadmill. I have not as yet tried to run with it. Partly because it is winter in Minnesota and I fear slipping on some patch of snow or ice. Partly because I want my body to adjust to wearing the brace during walking. This spring, when I feel the urge, I will try a short run.

For now, at this moment, I have set running aside. I may be able to run in the future, but for now I am not. What mindfulness continues to teach me is to live in this moment, accepting as life is, not as I would like it to be. In the past I have wasted a lot of mental and emotional energy regretting some event or yearning for something different. Learning to live in this moment is challenging. My mind seems to have a default mental state (sometimes referred to as the default mode network) that likes to ruminate about some past event or fret about some future challenge or problem.

Jesus warned about the danger of future worries in Matthew 6:34

So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

Centering Prayer is retraining my mind to let go of these ruminations and worries while coming back to the simple awareness of God’s presence. As one sits in centering prayer, one may notice the mind wandering to some thought, feeling or judgment. When one notices the mind moving off on this mental tangent, whether it be some joyful anticipation or some anxious though, the practice of centering prayer is to gently let go of whatever thought or feeling my mind is following and return to my chosen sacred word. I may do this dozens of times during my twenty minute session. It is the continual practice of letting go and turning to God that is the exercise portion of centering prayer. (You can read more about centering prayer here.)

Like walking with my brace, my practice of centering prayer still feels like it has a pronounced limp. Yet my trust is not in my feelings during centering prayer, but in the fruit of the Spirit that has come with the practice in my daily life. I have discovered that I am more consistent in letting go of my worries and my attachments, such as my fixation on running. At least for the moment, which is sufficient for today.

Let Go

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landscape bookcase

Several years ago, I started giving away my books. Early in my ministry, I took pride in the collection of theological and ministry-related books I had in my personal library. I had various Bible translations and commentaries. Using books, I earned a Master of Divinity and a Doctor of Ministry. I thought that if I had all the right knowledge, I could discern God’s path for myself and my congregation. If I could fill my head with the right ideas, concepts and principles, I would succeed.

I discovered the knowledge path can be a dead-end. Though I did learn many wonderful and helpful things, I found less and less deep satisfaction in knowing ideas, concepts and principles. Knowledge did not equal wisdom. I needed to learn to “let go.”

For over a decade, I taught a course called BeFrienders which trained lay people in my congregation to do basic pastoral care through the practice of active listening. At the beginning of each new training course, I and my co-leaders would tell an ancient story about a young man search for wisdom. He traveled to a wise elder and began to tell the elder all that he knew about wisdom. As the young man talked, the elder poured tea into the young man’s cup. The young man kept talking and as the elder continued to pour, the tea cup overflowed. The young man looked in horror at the overflowing cup and shouted, “Stop, my cup is already full.” The elder stopped pouring and says, “Yes, it is. The cup is like your mind. Your mind is so full of itself that it cannot take in anymore. You need to empty your mind in order to receive wisdom.” It was several years before I caught up with the story’s full impact.

The scripture that guides my path towards wisdom is Philippians 2:5-7

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

I have thought a lot about what it meant for Christ Jesus to empty himself. Emptying is a way of letting go. Since Paul is talking about the same mind that was in Christ Jesus, it makes sense that Jesus gave up being “all-knowing,” an attribute that many Christians give to God. Throughout his ministry, Jesus was not all-knowing, but rather asked questions (Mark 2:8-9, Mark 5:30, 10:51). Furthermore, Jesus strongest rebuke was for the religious know-it-alls: the Pharisees and scribes (Mark 7:1-13). Now I understand Jesus more as a “love-it-all” rather than a “know-it-all.” A big part of love is letting go.

In the next few weeks I plan to write more on this theme of letting go. Letting go of my past, letting go of words, letting go of status and pride. It hasn’t been easy, but as backpacking has taught me, “a lighter pack (or mind) creates a more pleasant hike.”

Riding Into the Darkness

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16460554715_7e0e09e482_c Last month I wrote here about the disappointment I felt when a physician diagnosed my chronic knee pain as the early stages of osteoarthritis. She said that my marathon running days were over. Her diagnosis has felt like a dark shadow creeping into my life, robbing me of my identity as a runner. I recognize that I am over reacting. After all I can still walk and bike and paddle and swim. I can remain active if I choose. Yet running remains something I embrace, something I share with many of my buddies, even in the dark days of winter.

The season of Advent comes during the shadowy, short days of December. In Minnesota we often drive to and from work in the dark. It is challenging to find ways to get outdoors for exercise. Thus the darkness often can be internalized. A favorite Advent scripture verse captures the season’s gloom and yet offers hope.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. (Isaiah 9:2)

One recent Saturday two of my running buddies invited me for a winter bike ride. We each have one of those fat tire bikes that make possible riding in snow. It was still dark as we started off, our headlamps pointing the way. As we rode the Gateway Trail, the sun rose and the clouds turned pink and red. It was beautiful morning and I gave thanks for chance to ride with friends. I adapted Isaiah, thinking, “Those who ride in darkness have seen a great light.”

I continue to miss running. When I drive pass runners, I feel a pang of sorrow. I wish that I could tie up my running shoes and go for a quick run around the local trails. Yet I recognize that my emotional attachment to running will fade and that I am capable of finding other ways to be outdoors. My identity as a runner is not my core. My simple daily prayer has become, “Lord, let me rest in my identity as your beloved child.”

As Isaiah states, “a great light shines.” The promise of God’s love continues to illuminate our days. Jesus’ birth is celebrated in the depth of winter because Christ is the light of the world that shines in our darkness. On Sunday, with the whole church, I can sing

Silent Night, Holy Night, Son of God, love’s pure light!
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth, Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.

“My own congregation”

Microadventure

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My friend, Bob Timmons, wrote an article for the Minneapolis Star Tribune called “Making 2017 a year for microadventure in Minnesota’s outdoors” He inspired me to consider my own micro-adventure: a two night winter campout at Gooseberry Falls State Park.

Though I have done plenty of summer camping and backpacking, I have never tried winter camping. Living in a state best known for winter, I had to try.

I started by simply setting up my tent in the backyard to see if two sleeping pads and two sleeping bags would be sufficient. Also to see if my CPAP machine for sleep apnea would work on battery power. Though it only dropped to 28 degrees that night, I was warm and the CPAP worked fine.

Next I invited my son and grandson to enjoy an overnight campout at a nearby state park. I had purchased a new 6 person tent and wanted to test it out prior to the Gooseberry Falls trip. The weather was fairly warm, about 30 degrees for the night low. We all fun, so my plan moved forward.

Son Jon and Grandson Jack at William O’Brien State Park

I arrived at Gooseberry Falls State Park on the North Shore of Lake Superior at about 3 pm. I discovered that the plowed roads had only four campsites; the other campsites were available but I would need to hike through icy snow. I was the only camper in the park and picked one assessable by car.

My micro-adventure had several lessons to teach me. All of Minnesota had been experiencing a recent warm spell which melted all the snow in the Twin Cities. However at Gooseberry Falls there was still some snowpack, but most of it had a thick glaze of ice which made footing treacherous. There was an open patch for my tent, but the ground was still frozen and my aluminum tent pegs were bending prior to penetrating the soil. Lesson one: find alternative tent pegs or ways to secure tent.

I brought plenty of clothes with the idea of trying various layers. My basic down coat and three lower layers all worked well, but my hands were cold much of the first evening. I was wearing thick gloves but probably should have worn mittens with liner gloves. Lesson two: explore different glove/mitten options.

It was nearly dark by the time I finished setting up my tent and got a fire going. My dinner was fairly simply to fix but I hadn’t organized my cooking gear in any reasonable way. With the light of my headlamp I was able to find the needed items, but only after searching several bags or boxes. And with heavy gloves the search was more difficult. Lesson three: organize cook gear prior to leaving home.

The night sky was brilliant with stars; Venus, Orion and the Big Dipper clearly visible. After enjoying the campfire and a last cup of tea, I climbed into my tent to sleep. I was not worried about bears (hibernation) and the night was clear so I left several items on the picnic table as I went to bed. I did bring the water bag into the tent to avoid freezing.

My CPAP machine worked but breathing cold air kept waking me up. When I climbed out of my sleeping bag at 7:00 am and opened the tent, I was surprised to see three-inches of snow covering all the gear left on the picnic table. Lesson four: put gear away even on a clear night.

I spent the day hiking the trails of Gooseberry falls and taking a few pictures. The problem remained the patchy glare ice, especially troublesome with the fresh snow covering it. Though I used my trekking poles and extreme caution, I still fell four or five times during the day. The austere scenery kept me moving forward. Lesson five: micro-spikes?

Where the Gooseberry River enters Lake Superior

Gooseberry Falls

Gooseberry River and Lake Superior in the snow

Lake Superior in Winter Sunlight

The second evening and night were colder, probably 11 degrees, and I thought about nearby warm motels. But my goals was two nights so I stayed in my tent through the night, got up, made breakfast, packed up and headed home by 9 am. Thus forty continuous hours outside is my first microadventure of 2017. What is yours?

Completion

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One thing I rarely have experienced in my three decades of pastoral ministry is a sense of completion. Unlike a contractor who sees a completed home or an artist who holds a completed piece, I have rarely felt like I had finished a long-term task. I may have finished a pastoral visit or a Sunday sermon, but there were always more visits to make and sermons to write. The job of pastor, by its nature, was never finished.

Trinity Lutheran in Lindstrom, MN

So when I ended my thirteen month interim at Trinity Lutheran Church in Lindstrom last week, I was surprised that my dominant emotion has been a sense of satisfaction. I had accomplished the specific job I was called to do. I had been their temporary shepherd as they took time to grieve the departure of their previous senior pastor, to assess their present mission and leadership needs and to call a new senior pastor. Now they are ready as a congregation to walk forward into God’s future.

Yes, there are other emotions. I feel sadness at leaving some great relationships. As a pastor I shared in the joy of baptisms and the sorrows of funerals. Together we struggled how to faithfully steward a large bequest to the congregation. I truly enjoyed working with Trinity’s leadership of council and committees as together we sought God’s path for Trinity. I will miss many gracious people.

What my recent study and practice of mindfulness has taught me is that all things change. As a pastor I intellectually knew this, but never fully embraced it. All pastoral ministries come to an end. As an intentional interim pastor I recognized this from the start. I practiced “living one day at a time, enjoying each moment at time,” as the Serenity Prayer says. Some days I did become anxious, trying to control the outcome. But during my final weeks at Trinity, as they prepared for the arrival of their new pastor, I took time to be grateful for the opportunity to serve and to savor the satisfaction of my call’s completion.