...let's make something!

The love of Jesus calls us in swiftly changing days,

To be God’s co-creators in new and wondrous ways;

That God with men and women may so transform the earth,

That love and peace and justice may give God’s kingdom birth.

---Herbert O'Driscoll, 1989

“Let’s make something!” These are the words, this is the invitation, that sets things in motion. At my friend’s home, you can bet the end result will be sweet and sticky, jam or muffins, cake or cookies. At my house, there might be music to be made, with everyone’s voice or instrument playing a part. In some homes, in some places in Alabama, quilts are being pieced. At your house there might be a puzzle to be put together, or a craft project, or an object d’art, a play to be staged, or a tale to be spun. At your place, goody bags for the weekend backpack program might be stuffed, or items for Christmas jail boxes might be gathered and shoeboxes might be wrapped.

In this hymn we are reminded that Jesus calls us to ‘make something’ together with God---to be co-creators of a new realm where love and justice and peace are the guiding lights. Wait. We…are co- creators…with THE Creator? How in the world is that supposed to work? What could you or I make that could stand alongside God’s work? That, I think, is part of what makes the Good News good---our creation doesn’t have to stand up to God’s…it stands with God’s, as part of a beautiful whole, every person’s contribution to the creation of this new world consecrated by its dedication to our co-Creator.

Let’s make something! It will be glorious.

...losing your grip

You call us, Christ, to gather the people of the earth.

We cannot fish for only those lives we think have worth.

We spread your net of gospel across the water’s face,

Our boat a common shelter for all found by Your grace.

---Sylvia Dunstan, 1991

Tell a good enough story, you never know who might show up!

Picture this. You’ve got this great product, and you want to get the word out. But. You want to practice a little targeted-demographic marketing. You only want to attract a certain kind of clientele. So you shape your message, subliminally almost, choose your media carefully, vet your messengers---all in the hope of building the kind of customer base you have in mind. Great plan.

But something goes awry. Maybe there are leaks in your marketing. Maybe your media shifts at the last minute. But the story gets out---wide. And people have been waiting for this. The---crowd---goes---wild! Everybody wants in on what you are offering. That exclusive demographic? Fugeddaboudit. You have just lost your grip on your brand.

Sometimes good news is like that. It goes where it wants, not where we plan. Thank God. Because, friends, our plans are never as grand as God’s. Our vision is never as long as God’s. And our reach is never as broad as God’s. So, although letting go of the marketing plan can be a little scary (‘The Spirit is on the loose!’ says a friend of mine gleefully, only half-joking), trusting God’s story to do its work in the world and welcoming all who come is a pretty good plan all on its own!

Let’s see who shows up!

---Leigh Anne

...the morning after world

Where yearning hearts dream, though no joy appears,

and burning hopes gleam through crystalline tears,

O spirit, pray for us still, give wings to our fears.

And all shall be well.

And all things shall be well.

---Mary Louise Bringle, 2002

'Weeping may linger for the night,' says the psalmist, 'but joy comes in the morning.'

But what if it doesn't? What if morning dawns, and the only sound is the ragged breath of weary weeping, the only feeling the soggy pillowcase under a head that has tossed and turned through a sleepless night? Or friends, what if the sounds morning brings are the ones that greeted crime scene investigators in Orlando Sunday morning---their own shoes beginning to stick to the congealing blood on the killing floor, and the incessant ringing of cellphones in the pockets of slain loved ones as their families try in vain to make sure they are safe?

Will joy come that morning, or any morning? Is there anything left but fear? Fear of this world; fear of cheap, throwaway life; fear of those who live differently; fear of those who pray a different way; fear of guns; fear of someone taking the guns; fear of whatever is other?

As we gaze at the morning-after world through our tears, what is left us, after all? Anything at all?

Well, it may not be joy, friends; not yet, not yet. And it may not be joy for a while. Joy might come, on some morning, when our wounds are not so fresh, and just the thought of the pain no longer makes us wince and cower. Some glad morning, joy might just sneak up on us.

But hope. Burning hope. Not just a wishing kind of hope, sitting around twiddling its thumbs and sighing. No, friends. The kind of hope that gets up off its tail and does something. The kind that reaches out to welcome another to the task of rebuilding this broken world. The kind that kicks butt and takes names. The kind that sends fear fleeing into the night. Burning hope.

With that kind of hope, Julian of Norwich's words just might start to whisper truth to the fear that has shouted through the night:

    'All shall be well.

     All shall be well.

    And all manner of things shall be well.'

...seeking that city

In haunts of wretchedness and need,

On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,

From paths where hide the lures of greed

We catch the vision of your tears.

---Frank Mason North, 1903

What a privilege we have today, to experience this hymn, just over a century old. It presents a great contrast between two cities --- one earthly, one the city of God. In this verse, I can almost feel the dank walls of the city closing in on me: narrow alleys with doorways leading to shadowy rooms; streets crowded with strangers passing, eyes down; threat of danger holding in the stale air like a threadbare blanket. Wretchedness, greed, fear, the noise of selfish strife, lurk around each corner and haunt each boulevard.

But there is another city, another city than the one we manage to create when left to our own devices. This city is inhabited with love, and the streets are paved with the footfalls of Jesus; walking in them, living in the atmosphere of love, we put our hands to the wheel to co-create the Kingdom with our Savior. The cup of cold water still holds the freshness of grace; we tread the streets together, Christ among us, on his face “strong compassion.”

Seeking that City…