Maundy Thursday: The Gospel Story is Our Story

A week that began with praises grows more difficult. 

One day, at the home of a friend, a woman anoints Jesus’ head with oil, preparing him for burial. 

Like Jesus, we have been prepared by loving companions for the difficult road ahead of us. 

Let us not turn our eyes away from the difficulty. 

Jesus tells his disciples to prepare a place to celebrate Passover. 

Like the disciples, we have been given commands from Jesus. How will we prepare for Him?

At evening, Jesus gathers with his friends to celebrate the Passover meal. 

A meal rich with symbolism, a meal that begins in the darkness of slavery and rejoices in God’s light of liberation. 

A meal that recognizes our own darkness, and hopes for God to bring light again. 

Jesus eats this meal with his friends. 

We eat this meal with Jesus. We, too, hope for God to turn our darkness into light. 

Jesus knows what his future holds. His heart is heavy. 

He takes the bread, thanks God for it, breaks it, and shares it - the Bread of Life.

He takes the cup, thanks God for it, and shares it - Living Water, the cup of Salvation. 

After the meal, Jesus and his friends sing a song of praise to God.

They go out to the Mount of Olives, to the garden called Gethsemane. 

Jesus says to his disciples, “Wait here, while I pray. I’m very sad - as if I’m dying.”

Like Jesus, we have felt grief so heavy it felt like we were dying.

Like the disciples, we have been asked to witness the heavy grief of our friends. 

Like Jesus, we retreat to pray. 

“Father, for you, all things are possible. Let this cup pass! Nevertheless, not my will but thine.”

An angel appears to strengthen Jesus. 

Like Jesus, we have received divine help in our time of need.

Like the angel, we have been a blessing and provided strength to those around us. 

Jesus returns to find his friends sleeping, overcome with grief. They have let him down.

Like the disciples, we have been overcome with grief, grief so heavy we feel we cannot move. 

Like Jesus, we have been disappointed by our friends. 

Like the disciples, we have disappointed our friends and our God. 

Judas arrives with a crowd carrying swords and clubs. 

Judas betrays his friend, and Jesus is arrested.

Like Jesus, we have been betrayed by those we called friends. 

Like Judas, we have betrayed our friends and our God.

Like this crowd, we have captured Jesus and taken him to be judged. 

All the disciples leave Jesus and run away. 

Like Jesus, we have been abandoned. 

Like the disciples, we have abandoned our friends and our God. 

Jesus is led to Caiaphas, the high priest. A crowd bears false witness, telling lies, and spits in Jesus’ face.

Like Jesus, we have been victim to lying foes.

Like the crowd, we have told lies. 

Like Jesus, we have been mocked and scorned.

Like the crowd, we have mocked and scorned the image of God in those around us. 

Meanwhile, Peter denies Jesus three times - just as Jesus predicted.

Like Jesus, we have been denied and left alone by those whose we thought would stay with us. 

Like Peter, we have denied our friends and our God. 

Like Peter, we have realized our mistake and cried uncontrollably. 

What will tomorrow hold?

Can it get worse than this? 

Ash Wednesday & Lenten Invitations

For several months, I have felt estranged from God. I have not attended Sunday services or meetings. I have not prayed. I have not read scripture. I have interacted with social media communities, and participated in family scripture study and prayer about once weekly. Even with those - my heart hasn’t been in it. I haven’t sensed a connection to the Divine, to the Beyond. Discussing scripture was like discussing the weather; participating in prayer was no more than listening to the words of another. 

Today, I decided to attend an Ash Wednesday service. For the past handful of years, the seasons of the church year have become increasingly important and meaningful to me. Last Advent, I decided to create a home altar with candles, statues, and colored cloths for each season of the liturgical calendar. I decided that I wanted to incorporate the seasons into the rhythm of my home and life. I wasn’t sure how to do that, but I knew I wanted to. So with Lent approaching, I knew an Ash Wednesday worship service with the Body of Christ would start me off. 

And boy was I right. More right than I expected. 

I deliberated through the day about where I would go for service (remember, I haven’t been attending church; I have no home). All I knew was that I needed Communion; I needed the Eucharist; I needed the Bread of Life. I’m not sure I would have been able to explain why. I just knew in my soul, in my bones, that I needed it. So I searched for a church that was sure to offer this gift to me. 

Divine Providence brought me where I needed to be, I believe. Just before 7, I headed to the nearest United Methodist Church. I reached for the door handle - locked. I walked around the corner to another entrance - locked. And the next - locked. I checked the website to discover the 7pm service was at a different location. Reluctantly, I walked to the Episcopal church across the street (they also had a service at 7).

I was early - the sanctuary was sparsely populated and filled with a stillness. The altar seemed bare. 

The service began. The priest gave a sermon about the origins of Lent as a time when converts prepared for an Easter Sunday baptism, a time when estranged members who had committed grievous sins prepared to reenter the community, a time when indeed the whole church took time to reflect on their own baptism, take inventory, and recenter their life on Christ. He spoke of Edward Hays’ book, “Lenten Hobo Honeymoon,” and the origins of the word “hobo.” After the Civil War, this word referred to people who were “homeward bound.” Hobo - people who would do anything just to get back home. This is the message of Lent, he said: You can go back home. Jesus came so we can go home. 

The minister continued, proclaiming, “People of God: The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord’s passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. . . . I invite you, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” 

The Spirit moved within me. I want to observe a holy Lent. I want to prepare for the feast of the Lord’s passion and resurrection. I want to prepare to renew my baptism and its covenants at Easter. I want to be reconciled and restored to fellowship. I want Jesus. I need Jesus. Jesus, I cried, take me home. 

We received ashes as a sign of our mortality and penitence, remembering that it is only Jesus who grants us life. We continued through the liturgy to the memorial of Christ’s death and resurrection, the Eucharist. A word that translates to “good gift.” 

As I ate the Body and Blood, the Bread of Life and the Fruit of the Vine, I was overcome with gratitude. The love of God was thick in the air. Christ is truly present, I thought. Christ loves me, embraces me, calls me home. The words of Christ came to mind: “Repent, and return unto me, that I may heal you” (3 Nephi 9:14, paraphrased). With a Mother’s love, God waits patiently. God does not grow weary of me; God’s welcome will never expire. 

As I walked home, a song ran through my mind: “All my life You have been faithful, and all my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God . . . Your goodness is running after, it's running after me. . . . My life laid down, I'm surrendered now, I give You everything” (Bethel, “Goodness of God”). 

At home, I began working on my altar. I removed the green cloth of Ordinary Time and replaced it with a purple cloth - purple, symbolizing royalty, penitence, and waiting. I felt as Nephi, being "led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). “Nevertheless I went forth,” finding an index card and writing what the Spirit laid on my heart. 

Lenten Invitations

• Prayer: Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary, Book of Common Prayer Lenten Collects
• Scripture: Book of Mormon
• Communion & Sacrament: Gather with the saints to celebrate Eucharist

I must make one thing clear - these are not goals. These are not things I hope to do. These are invitations. God has invited me to use these practices as a means of grace, to partake of God’s presence and goodness. There is no obligation here, only open arms. God invites me to come to the table. 

Another note - “For the Lord God . . . speaketh unto men according to their language, unto their understanding” (2 Nephi 31:3). I firmly believe that the Divine Power can and does communicate with people in their own language. God meets us where we are and uses many means to connect with us. And I believe God welcomes all our efforts to experience God’s presence. You’ll notice that the invitations God laid on my heart are eclectic - Catholic and Anglican prayers and Mormon scripture (and who knows which saints I’ll gather with to celebrate the Eucharist!). I don’t find issue with this. I meet God when I pray, “Our Father, who art in Heaven.” I meet God when I pray, “Hail Mary, full of grace.” I meet God when I read the Book of Mormon - more than in any other book. I firmly believe that God is okay with that. God is big enough to accept any and every human offering. 

And now, I extend and invitation to you. I invite you to spend a few moments in quiet, asking the Great Unknowable how you might come to experience Its glory more fully during this Lenten season. How can you observe a holy Lent? How can you prepare to celebrate the glorious mystery of rebirth? What will bring your soul to life? 

Darkness, and Light

Advent embraces the whole arc of the Christian cosmology. 

The Bible begins in darkness. "In the beginning . . . the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light" (Gen 1:1-3). 

Darkness, and light. 

Then, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. . . . The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. . . .The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us" (John 1:1-14). 

Darkness, and light. 

Finally, "I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. . . . The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. . . .There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light." (Rev 21:3-4, 23-25; 22:5)

Darkness, and light. 

God's light broke into darkness at creation. God's light broke into darkness at Christmas. God's light will break into darkness at the end. And in every moment between - God's light is breaking into darkness. 

This world is cyclical. Darkness, and light. Darkness, and light. Darkness, and light. We continually experience darkness. And God’s light continues to break in. 

Advent remembers the ways that God has broken into our darkness in the past (Christmas). Advent acknowledges that we still live in a world of darkness. Advent hopes that God will break into darkness again. Advent hopes. Advent hopes. Advent hopes. Advent remembers the First coming and clings to the promise of the Second Coming. 

“Because God has been faithful and kept His promises in the past, we can hope with confidence that God will keep His promises to us in the present and in the future” (Dieter F. Uchtdorf). In Advent, we look back. We say, “Yes. God has kept God’s promises. God has been faithful.” supported by the security of God’s past faithfulness, we turn our gaze forward. We say, “Yes. God will keep God’s promises. God is faithful. God will not leave me alone.” 

Advent is a time of darkness. And yet, each Sunday we light a candle. Light. Through the darkness of this season, God gifts us with glimmers of light. Through the darkness of our mortal sojourn, as we wait for God to make all things right, God gifts us glimmers of light. Our life is a constant cycle of darkness and light. Advent reminds us that God’s light will always break in. 

How Long, O Lord?

In the darkness of waiting, it appears that God has abandoned God's people. There is silence, there is oppression, there is darkness over all the face of the earth. In first-century Judea, God has promised so many things and has not delivered on the promise. The people suffer under Roman occupation. The people remember the glory of King David and Solomon's temple. The people remember how God has been mighty! But it is not so now. Stricken down, the people have long waited for God's promises to be fulfilled. Has God forgotten? Has God abandoned us? How long, Lord, will we suffer so?"

It appears that God has abandoned God's people. Yet - it appears. It is not truly so. 

In the darkness of despair, the people wait for God. The people cry out, "How long?” 

“How long, O Lord, wilt thou forget me? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?” (Psalm 13:1-2)

“How long, O Lord, wilt thou look on? Rescue my soul from their destructions” (Psalm 35:17).

“How long, O Lord? Wilt thou hide thyself forever?” (Psalm 89:46)

“How long, O Lord, shall the wicked triumph?” (Psalm 94:3-4)

“How long, O Lord, shall I cry, and you will not hear?” (Habakkuk 1:2)

How long, God, will we be left alone in the dark? How long will You watch silently? How long will You see us suffering and not act? How long will evil prevail? How long will you ignore us? 

Advent is for the waiting. Advent is for the asking. Advent is for the soul-wrenching despair and grief. Advent is the time to lay bare our struggles and doubts. Advent is the time we ask, “Has God abandoned us? Has God had enough of our sinfulness? Will God refuse to aid us?”

Christmas is the answer. Christmas says, “God has not abandoned us. God has not left us alone in darkness.” 

Christmas says, “Behold! The day is coming.” Indeed, even, the day is here. The Kingdom is at hand. The Lord is come, with healing in his wings, to save us all. God came before. God will come again. 

We don’t know how long we will wait here below. We don’t know how long darkness and wickedness will prevail. But we have the promise - Christ will come again. Light will break forth over all the earth. Our darkness will have an end. 

Recognize the Darkness

Christmas is joyful. Christmas is bright lights and warm cocoa and fresh cookies and gifts and singing children. We like to skip over Advent and go right into Christmas. We like to just get to the good part. 

But Advent invites, perhaps even requires, us to consider darkness - the darkness in our world, the darkness inside our own hearts. Pain, regret, sadness, loneliness are the proper backdrop for advent. We lose much if we refuse to acknowledge the darkness. If we try to ignore and push away the darkness, it remains, staring us down at all times. 

Christmas recognizes the light; Advent recognizes the darkness. 

Lehi taught, ”It must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things” (1 Nephi 2:11).

Phil Schaefer of Christian Fellowship Church in Columbia, MO said, ”Advent leads us to consider our darkness that we may more profoundly see the light.” (Watch the sermon here)

We like to run from the darkness, but God doesn't. Christmas, like all holidays (holy days), serves to re-story us. It causes us to remember our stories. It teaches us about the character of our God. When the world was dark, God didn’t wave a magic wand and turn it to summer. When the world is dark, each December (and usually even more often than that), God doesn’t wave a magic wand and woosh the darkness away. Nope. 

God enters in to the darkness of our world, of our families, of our hearts. By entering into the darkness, into our darkness, God invites us, “Watch. Stay. Look. Observe the darkness.” When we embrace and enter into the darkness, when we allow ourselves to feel the full weight of how dark life can be - then, we are able to move past it. 

Advent is for waiting. Advent is for pain. Advent is for darkness. 

We waited for Christ to come then. We wait for Christ to come again. We have hurt and we have pain. We need God to join us in our darkness. 

And thankfully, God does enter in to our darkness. We need not face it alone. Our God will join us in the dark, in a stable, alone, rejected, cast out. God joins us even there. In the depths of the darkness, we are not alone. 

What will this Season Hold?

This is a loaded time of year for me.

Halloween 2012 sits in my memory as the day my eating disorder shifted from a creeping crawl to a sprint. I had just gone away to boarding school, and my parents sent a package of treats just in time for the holiday. That night, I shared these with my roommates. I remember the overwhelming guilt and shame as I realized that I was eating far too much (forgetting, of course, that I was with friends, all eating the same amount as me). Humiliated and mortified, I concluded that I had eaten enough for this day and the next - no, two days more - no, three days more. The next morning, I fasted.

October 2018: I teach a Sunday School lesson on Reformation Sunday, my first as what would become Interim Children's Ministries Director at the church where I worked as an assistant. We didn't have a curriculum that year, so part of my job was to gather disparate lessons and 4-week curricula off of the internet and create large group and small group lessons for our 1st-4th graders. In November, we discussed gratitude - on All Saints Day, gratitude for the church universal; on Veterans Day, gratitude for our country, our military, and our God who "always has our 6" (I've linked the video at the end); during International Bible Week, gratitude for the God's word. We finished November celebrating Christ the King Sunday, the Sunday preceding Advent, preceding our wait for a humble babe, honoring the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The King of Heaven, grand and majestic, will become a babe for our sakes. Then we went into Advent - we talked about the symbolism of green and red, or pink and purple, of the Christmas tree and Christmas wreath and Christmas lights, all pointing to Jesus. We talked about God's gifts to us in Jesus - hope, love, joy, peace. We waited for our king. It was a beautiful, wonderful time.

During those same months, my grandmother was dying. In her final weeks, I basically moved in to spend as much time with her as possible. I have fond memories of us all gathering in her bed in the evening, watching game shows, working on college papers, eating ice cream. It was a beautiful, wonderful time.

September 2019: I am a graduate student. It is far more stressful than I imagined it would be. One evening, I miss dinner. When I wake up in the morning, the switch has flipped. I'm back in my eating disorder. I fight and give in and fight and give in all fall. During December and January, my weight plummets. I am hospitalized as a suicide risk. I enter intensive treatment for my eating disorder.

This year, I find myself torn. I have held my breath - this is the time in the semester when I started restricting again. This is the time in the semester when I started getting behind in my work. I worry that last year will repeat itself. Halloween approaches - this holiday difficult every year.

At the same time, my heart jumps wen I see "All Saints' Day" on the calendar, when I picture my Jesus, Christ the King, enthroned in glory, when I consider how I will observe Advent.

My heart rejoices, and my heart sorrows. There is both. Both are real. I wonder what this season will bring.

Christ the King Sunday: A Different Kind of King

One year ago, I was a new Methodist Sunday School teacher. I didn't know what I believed.

I began teaching the first Sunday in November, and our theme for the month was thankfulness. We celebrated All Saints Day with gratitude for saints and the church universal, Veterans Day with gratitude for veterans and God's protection, National Bible Week with gratitude for scripture, and ended the month with Christ the King Sunday before moving into Advent - a season of waiting for God in the form of a baby.

At this time, I really had no idea what I believed, especially about Jesus. I didn't even know if I believed in Jesus! But here I was, writing a lesson on Christ the King?

I decided to focus on the figure of Jesus Christ in the gospels and the way that this character is presented as a king utterly opposed to the kings of his day. Christ is King of the World, as Natalie Grant sings, but He is a different kind of King. Jesus is not greedy but generous, not violent and warring but gentle and kind, not a dictator but a servant. The people were expecting a king and they got something completely different.

Christ is in charge of this whole thing. I believe in the Christ principle - as the spirit or energy that animates and courses through the universe, in each of us. Some might call it the Light of Christ, the Inner Light, or the atman. But that principle, that true self, I believe, is pure, true, loving, and ruler of all. And I devote myself to the pursuit of this principle within myself by worship the anthropomorphic Jesus Christ, a character described in the New Testament, the Book of Mormon, and other texts.

Christ the King Sunday recognizes Christ as King and Ruler over all the earth. We recognize our submission and obedience to Christ. We rely on Christ and we remind ourselves that evil does not rule, but Christ does. Love does. Love is in charge. NO matter how dark it looks, Christ is in charge.

I focus my trust on King Jesus as a different kind of King. We have lots of thoughts about what kings are like. And Jesus, with all his power, is none of those. And I am so grateful and willing to submit my life to this gentle, generous, different kind of servant King. My Lord and my God!

Anna the Prophetess: Luke 2:21-38

Holy Week: Hosanna! Crucify Him!

I have not been so faithful about writing weekly during Lent. I had grand aspirations. My hope was to write the whole series before Lent began and schedule the posts to ensure this series actually got finished!! But, sadly that didn’t happen, and life did happen. So here we are, a series half finished and Lent on its way out. Oh well, I guess. 

But this week is a week commonly referred to by Christians as Holy Week. A specially sacred time set apart (holy) to remember the myths of our traditions and meditate on how they apply to our lives. 

Holy Week begins on Palm Sunday. 

For weeks we have reflected, fasted, prayed, served. We have slowed down, quieted down, made room. 

This week we remember deeply. 

We remember Passover, when God led the Israelites out of slavery and bondage in Egypt. 

Remember Jesus’ final Passover meal, when he remembered, celebrated, and taught his friends that God’s salvific and redemptive work did not end in Egypt. 

Remember the day Jesus was arrested as a rabble-rouser, as a troublemaker, as a threat to the state. Jesus’ followers claimed that he was the messiah, the king of the Jews, come with power and a sword to bring deliverance from the Romans! Passover had long been a remembrance of deliverance and a hope for deliverance. The Romans knew Passover was the ideal time for a reformer to rise up among huge crowds and excite them to rebellion against the authorities. Thus, they were on strict lookout. Jesus was a threat. The prefect Pontius Pilate dealt with political threats swiftly and without remorse. Jesus was no different. 

We remember the day that Jesus died for love, the day when the powers of greed, selfishness, and pride arrested this man of love. Remember the day when he did not back down from his message of redemption and radical acceptance. Even unto death, he did not forsake God’s love and truth. As he hung on the cross, his oppressors mocking, still he loved them. This image of God loved even unto death. 

We remember darkness. Remember sadness. Remember grief. Acknowledge the darkness, sadness, and grief in our lives and in our world. Acknowledge all the ways that we kill Christ over and over and over in our thoughts and in our words, in what we have done and in what we have failed to do. 

This week, we see darkness. We feel darkness. We remember darkness. We welcome darkness. Pain is not bad, and we will not run from it. 

~ ~ ~

On Sunday, Palm Sunday, we celebrated. We celebrated Jesus entering the holy city, the capitol, to the welcome of a king. We celebrated joyfully and welcomed Christ into our lives. 

Tomorrow, the crowd will shout, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Historical accuracy aside, I am concerned with what we can learn from this story, what this story teaches us about who we are. 

This story speaks to the ever-changing nature of humanity. We shout loud hosannas one day, only to crucify God the next. 

We march for justice one day, only to go home and yell at our children. 

We cook at soup kitchens one day, only to drive past the homeless the street corner the next. 

We welcome Christ in so many wonderful ways, but forget to keep Him with us. We welcome Christ, and then in small and simple ways, crucify him over and over again. 

We are not faithful. We are not steady. We are not consistent. 

But God is.

God IS faithful.

God IS steady.

God IS consistent.

And more than that - God’s LOVE is faithful, steady, consistent. 

And that’s what next Sunday is about - Easter. Easter says that no mater how bad it gets, no matter how dark, no matter how hateful - love and life will reign victorious. We killed this Christ, and he rose again, exalted on high. He rose to even greater power. He rose and gives us another chance to welcome him. On Sundays we welcome. During the week, we so often fall short and crucify him. 

We are not faithful, but God is faithful. God’s love abides whether we are welcoming him or crucifying him. God loves us wherever we are on the journey. This is a cyclical journey, not a linear one. We will welcome and crucify Christ many times over the course of our lives. We will never get it right. But God will love us through our weak human efforts. And God will love those who are hurt by our lack. Sunday will always come. Jesus will rise victorious, ready for us to welcome him into our hearts and homes, ready to give us another chance. 

On the Sundays of our lives, we are joyful and triumphant in our welcome of Christ and our proclamation of Love. On the Thursdays and Fridays of our lives, we kill the Christ and mourn for the darkness of our world. But all hope is not lost, because Sunday will always come back around, giving us another chance. God is forever tries. 

This week, let us remember. 

Three Years

Three Years.



As a new member, I used to pray often that I never lose sight of how grand and glorious a blessing the gospel is.

Well, it didn't work. This year, my baptism anniversary totally caught me by surprise. I have not been reflecting all week about what baptism means to me or how this past year has gone. Nope, haven't thought about it a bit.

What does baptism mean to me? Particularly, what does my believer's baptism into the LDS church three years ago mean to me?

That day was the first time I really made a decision for me, regardless of what anyone else said or thought I should do. Some people told me I shouldn't join the church, that I didn't know enough, that it wasn't safe. I said I'd never know "enough" to commit myself to any church, and I was choosing this one on faith. I know I might get hurt, but I took the risk anyway, believing that life will hurt me wherever I got and trusting that God would be with me through the hurt.

And I have been hurt. Not necessarily by the church. Just by life. And I think God has been with me. Or perhaps God is truly with us whenever we think to acknowledge God's presence. Really, I believe God is everywhere, all the time. That's the kind of God I believe in. A lot of times we feel without God simply because we have failed to see what's right under our noses - plenteous provision.



Baptism. A forgiveness. A rebirth. A cleansing. Baptism means that my past has no power over me. My past before my baptism, and my past since. Baptism means that the best is yet to come.

Baptism. A testimony. A loud proclamation of what God has done in my life and what God will do. In the waters of baptism I publicly proclaimed my belief in the Savior God, proclaimed His work in my life, and proclaimed bright hope for what lay ahead. Baptism is a testimony of God's faithfulness - past, present, and future.

Baptism. A covenant. A covenant to always remember the Lord and the work He has done for me. To always remember how the Lord has delivered me and saved me. How the Lord has given me worth when I felt I had none. How the Lord has organized and been sovereign over the details of my life. Remember.

Remember. Re-member. Come together, Baptism is a covenant to come together, with knowledge of my true self, with my God, and with God's people. At baptism I covenanted to re-member myself to God, and God promised to always re-member me. God promised to never leave my side. I promised to never forget God's presence at my side. How intimate and holy.

At baptism, I also covenanted to re-member God's people, to be present and vulnerable and true with the communion of saints. To take God's people as they are. To pursue authentic community, not just superficial "Hi, how are you?" This might be what I have failed most at. I'm not really a people person, or so I like to say. We're all people persons. God made us that way, to live in community, to live in relationship, to live face-to-face with other humans. That's why we Christians often describe God as a community - Father, Son, Holy Spirit - because that description rings to true to a reality that we have experienced in our lives.



For the past six months, I have been working in a Methodist Children's Ministry. Teaching children who God is, helping them discover God's character for themselves, sharing stories of Jesus, trying to answer brilliant questions, and honoring the season of Advent and Lent as a community. This has all been a joy. I have had the opportunity to research and think deeply about what I believe, who I am, and where God may want me. I don't think I'm Methodist, and that's okay.

I have loved immersing myself deeply into the liturgical calendar, which I'd never given much thought to in the past. I love the cycle of honoring seasons and seasonal changes. Our God is the God of seasons. Our world has seasons, how can we worship a God without or live a life without seasons? I love the liturgical calendar for the rhythm it gives me, the way it grounds and centers me to thinking deeply about certain subjects. In Advent and Lent, we have meditated on darkness.

In Advent, the world was dark and waiting for light. And then - light came! Just after the winter solstice, as light is returning to earth, we celebrate the birth of God's Light in our world! Then we had a short season of meditating on the life of Jesus and the things he did in a mortal body just like mine. What wonderful stories.

And now, we rest in Lent. We wait for Easter. We wait for spring. We wait for resurrection. We wait for God to bring new life.

We wait for baptism. We wait for April showers and May flowers. We wait for God to bring a cleansing on our lives and on our world. We wait as God does work that we cannot see, trusting that work is being done and that we will see the May flowers.

Spring is a time of baptism. Easter is a time of baptism. I now see why the Catholic tradition baptizes yearly on Easter Sunday. It makes so much sense.




You're the God of Seasons, my Lord.
Through summer and winter, through desert and harvest, though Advent and Lent,
          You are there.
My Lord and my God, I trust that you are working, even when I cannot see.
Work in me, Lord. Work in me and work in my life. Let me be a tool in Your hands.
Bring life from death, and let me be a field hand to aid Your work in the lives of others.



Three Years.

Epiphany & the 12 Days of Christmas!

Well, Christmas has come and gone. Hopefully it was a pleasant holiday for you and yours.

In the church calendar, Advent and Christmas are followed by a period called "Ordinary Time." This term, conveniently, refers to any time that isn't Advent or Lent (the season before Easter). Ordinary Time is filled with lots of little holidays, though, that vary from denomination to denomination. Not all of these are celebrated  by every church.

In the church, Christmas actually isn't just one day. Like most holy festivals - Chanukah, Ramadan, Chinese New Year - Christmas is traditionally celebrated over a period of time. We usually think that the 12 Days of Christmas begin before Christmas, with December 25 being Day 12. Wrong! The 12 Days of Christmas actually start on the night of Christmas Eve and lasts until January 6. The end of the Christmas season is marked by its own holiday, the Epiphany.

Epiphany remembers and celebrates when the wise men visited Jesus. It was more than 12 days later, but we shrink the whole Jesus story up to make it fit in one calendar year. Epiphany is always January 6, while Epiphany Sunday fluctuates. It's the Sunday closest to January 6.

As I said above, Epiphany Sunday remembers and celebrates when the wise men visited Jesus. Epiphany is a word that means "manifestation" or "showing." At the Epiphany, the wise men recognized that the Light of the World had manifested itself, had shown up. That's why they traveled - to visit the King.

The wise men, also called Magi, were from Persia. Magi means king - equivalent to emperor, pharaoh, etc. Think "we three kings." These kings were fancy, also studying math and science, especially astronomy. Some scholars believe that the wise men were Zoroastrian priests. Zoroastrianism is actually the world's oldest monotheistic religion (that we know of, I suppose), even older than Judaism. The religion gets its name from Zoroaster, a prophet who solidified most of the teachings. He was not God, and no one thought he was. They just named it after him. I guess this is very similar to how Mormons are called after the prophet who compiled our holy book, the Book of Mormon.

According to the story, the wise men were waiting for Israel's king. By studying the stars, they learned that the king had come, and they traveled to where Jesus was. And, though we put these nice gift-bearers in our nativities, it may have taken them up to two years to travel.

Today, we put stars atop our trees in remembrance of the star that shone when Jesus was born. It was the light of the star that helped the wise men know where they should go. We remember the coming of the Light of the World and we remember that it took time for the wise men to travel. Just like we don't just *snap* arrive at the Lord's feet. We've a journey, too. But no worries - we know God leads us home.

The voice of the Lord came unto him, saying:

Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets. . . .

And it came to pass that the words which came unto Nephi were fulfilled, according as they had been spoken; for behold, at the going down of the sun there was nodarkness; and the people began to be astonished because there was no darkness when the night came. . . .

And they began to know that the Son of God must shortly appear; yea, in fine, all the people upon the face of the whole earth from the west to the east, both in the land north and in the land south, were so exceedingly astonished that they fell to the earth.

For they knew that the prophets had testified of these things for many years, and that the sign which had been given was already at hand . . .

And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given.

3 Nephi 1:12-19