Tuesday, December 11, 2012

In Paths of Peace


Through war-torn streets where hope is dead,
Fly bombs and anger ‘round our heads.
We raise the cry, “God hear our plea
And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through homes where love cannot to be found,
And violence spreads the fear around,
We raise the cry, “God hear our plea
And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through lands where food just will not grow,
And streams of water never flow,
We raise the cry, “God hear our plea
And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through minds where illness takes first place,
And wholeness longs for any space,
We raise the cry, “God hear our plea
And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through challenges of this our time,
Through rage, neglect, greed’s paradigm,
We raise the cry, “God hear our plea
And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

When things seem worst, we hear the song
Hope sings above the din of wrong:
The song of One who hears our plea.
Christ guides our feet in paths of peace.

Monday, December 10, 2012

...and Give You Peace

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord's face shine upon you and graciousness cover you;
the Lord's countenance turn toward you,
and give you peace...
---priestly blessing
"and quiet."
---Armstrong kids

This blessing, recorded in the book of Numbers, was a favorite 'goodnight' for my children when they were small. There is a hush about it, a kind of settling peace. It encapsulated a sacred moment of the sometimes hectic days with three small children in tow. Without fail, one or the other of my kids would whisper their own benedictive ending to the blessing, adding 'and quiet' to the ancient prayer. Apparently the concept of 'peace and quiet' was a familiar refrain for them at that time, although I will promise you that I don't remember the words being paired in my vocabulary! Somewhere, sometime, they had heard the wistful wish for a little peace and quiet.

But this peace --- the peace of looking into the face of a loving God, of being known to the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, of being cherished, of basking in the warmth of God's grace --- this peace is not the 'peace and quiet' variety. It is the transforming variety.

"...and give you peace."

Sunday, December 9, 2012

No King, But a Prince

His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor...
Prince of Peace.

When my son Sam was a child, he asked me a question during the Christmas season: "Why is Jesus called Prince of Peace? Who is the King of Peace?" I was stopped short in my tracks. Having grown up in choirs, singing 'For Unto Us a Son Is Born' from Handel's Messiah, I had never given a second thought to the moniker 'Prince of Peace.' But, Sam is right --- why not a king? I have since reflected on this (after, I'm sure, stumbling on my initial response), and feel some stirrings of what might be understanding.

In my mind's eye, a king, regal and powerful, rules (either well or poorly) over subjects. A king would use power to rule. A king speaks, and it is so. A king is indisputably the most important being in any room, sphere, or realm. A king is "the man", no ifs, and or buts.

A prince? Well now, a prince is a different sort of ruler altogether. The prince must win the hearts of the people, must take a place in the hierarchy as one without absolute power. The prince might lead with gentleness, with good humor. 

A Prince? A Prince might just wage not war, but peace. The image is of an incomprehensible reign of peace, maybe even the peace that passes understanding.

Prince of Peace.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Revealed in its season


As first time homeowners in Atlanta many years ago, Henry and I pulled up a dead bush that looked like a bundle of kindling from a front flowerbed, and threw it on a pile of dirt in the side yard. Summer came, and we noticed it had burst out with lovely pink torrents of flowers; we had pulled up a dormant crepe myrtle! Despite our lack of care and proper treatment, it had somehow survived to show its true colors, in its season.  How glad I am that, in the dormant periods of my life, when I may look as dead as a bundle of sticks, God doesn't toss me on the trash heap. In season, I believe, we can all begin to show signs of life again. If you see someone who seems dead to you, no signs of life, no visible growth, don't count them out; don't write them out of your life. Only wait, and love; in her time, in his season, there may be torrents of bloom there once again. And friend, if you are experiencing a great dryness, a great alone-ness, an other-ness, a deadness of soul...wait. Just wait. Though dormant for a season, there will be a living time for you. Wait for beauty's revealing in you, friend. Wait with expectation.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Pillar of the world

Hope is the pillar of the world.

If you are like me, there are times in life when you need a firm foundation. All around you, because of trouble you have caused, troubles others have caused, or just because of the frailty of being human, the ground gives way. Things you thought you could believe, you now question. Institutions you once trusted, you now doubt. People you thought would be there always, go away. Clouds obscure the sun in the day, and the stars at night.

But hope...hope is the pillar of the world. Hope is invested in tomorrow, and can nourish us through the famine of present disappointment and sorrow. That hope; that hope sustains, strengthens, enables.

Hope holds us up.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Dark the night...

Now, Lord Jesus, hear our calling, 
Deep the darkness where we stray;
How shall we, mid boulders falling,
Know for thine the rough-hewn way?
Lo, a light shines down to guide us,
Where thy saints and angels are! 
Now we know thy love beside us;
For our eyes have seen the star.

The words of this Welsh carol strike me today, which in east Alabama was dreary and hot, with a threatening, steely sky. One of those days when it is easy to feel lost, or at least tiny and overlooked. It is so easy to be distracted by what seems a good enough path, to follow what seems like a path but is really a rut. But, friends, as lost, or tiny, or alone as I feel, there is One whose presence I cannot deny on my path. The birth we celebrate in this season is the hope of not having to journey solitary through this life, of not having to blindly lurch through our day-to-day existences. I have felt the love of the Christ beside me, illuminated by the star.

Never alone.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Faith, hope, and love, these three...

Faith, hope, and love, these three remain;
But the greatest of these is love.

Who of us has not been at a wedding (our own or another's) and heard this famous quotation from Paul's letter to the church at Corinth? According to St. Paul, love trumps everything else. Not everyone agrees. Jim Evans, a former pastor of mine, claimed that hope reigned supreme of the three (I'm sure he meant no offense to St. Paul, or inerrantists). Without faith, he said, a life could still be meaningful with hope and love; likewise, without love, a life of faith and hope could sustain someone. Hopeless, though, all the faith and love in the world would be useless. Without hope, the soul is rendered helpless to wield the weapons of faith and love in the good fight against the shadows in the world. Hopeless, nothing else matters.

Friends, it may be shadowy or even inky dark in your life right now. But the dawn is coming. Hold on to hope.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Life, for our dead places


Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings.
Mild he lays his glory by, born that we no more may die,
Born to raise us from the earth, born to give us second birth.
Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the new-born King!”

There is a danger in the carols of Christmas, one that threatens to deaden us to the wisdom hidden within. This danger is familiarity, the same quality that makes them beloved. Anywhere you go, you are apt to hear some version of this carol, sung or played by a wide variety of ensembles. Many of us could sing this carol in our sleep --- all three verses!

Our familiarity with this carol should not, however, blind us to the message of comfort and hope contained within. Hear these words anew: “Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings….” We all know that in the midst of the great joy of the season lurk illness, injury, grief, and sorrow. These are part of life, and do not miraculously disappear during Advent and Christmastide. But there is good news, even in darkness! There is one who brings light for our darkness, life for our dead places, and healing for what hurts us. In the middle of this tumultuous existence, Christ comes to meet our deepest needs.

Monday, December 3, 2012

'Wish' is not 'hope'

Perhaps hope has wings,
and feet...

St. Disney is famous for the phrase, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." And while, a week ago, I made a wish on (mercifully fewer than the actual 50) birthday candles before I blew them out, I have always felt that wishes were toothless and lacking in power. Now, hear me out; I'm not anti-dream-for-the-future. I just think there has to be a more active way to mold the future than by wishing.

Consider 'hope'. Not the "hope you feel better" hope, or even the "hope Santa is nice to you" hope. I'm thinking of that hope with some lift in it, and some feet under it. To hope for something, to place your hope in something or someone, is to commit your own efforts to bring the thing you hope for to fruition. To hope is to step across the line from interested observer to active participant.

The kind of hope the birth of Jesus brought, was this --- hope with power; the power of the hoper, the power of those who 'catch' the hope. This kind of hope, now, in a mean season, is hope with wings, and feet.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

God with us!


Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee,
O Israel!

Breathless from the bustle of autumn, we arrive at the first Sunday of Advent. Here in a football town, it seems we rush straight through football season ( no matter what kind of season it is) headlong into the string of holidays that stretch from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. If we observe it, the season of Advent can give us a chance to take a breath, focus on the meaning of Christ’s birth, prepare our hearts for a sea change.

Abby and Sarah have always felt that this hymn, from the 12th century, is the only appropriate way to usher in the season. I think that its words delineate the difference between Christianity and religion. First there is the name given for this coming Savior --- Emmanuel, “God with us”. Not “God up there”, or “God on a throne”, or “God with a big naughty or nice list and a long memory”. God…with…us. Then there is the rest of the short refrain: “Emmanuel shall come to thee”. Jesus is the God who comes to us. No more beseeching the heavens, stumbling around in the dark, crying out and hearing only the echo of our prayers.

God with us, come to us. Rejoice!

Monday, November 26, 2012

Light in a Shadowy Night

It's true. The birth of Jesus, what we celebrate as Christmas, was no big thing. Conception shrouded in personal scandal, to backwater parents, in a busy little town preoccupied with a Roman census, marked by domesticated animals and a scruffy group of shepherds. No big thing.

But, like the smallest flame in total darkness, thoroughly transformative. From dark, to not dark.

If you have always wondered what the big thing was, or if you doubt that a little light could make that much difference, you are invited. Come with me on a journey, a search, for a little light in our shadowy night.

Let's make Advent together --- hope in a mean season, peace in a tumultuous time, joy in a desert place, love in a wounded world.

Friday, November 2, 2012

50 Ways to Celebrate!

Hello, friends! In this month of November, I will turn 50 years old. Now many of you may be asking, "What in the world can I do to make Leigh Anne's birthday memorable?!" Well, I'll tell you! For the 50 days leading up to the big day, I have been doing something small to help make the world around me a little better place, and I'm asking you to join me. The list that follows consists of 50 examples of acts of kindness, ways to invest in your community, from which you might want to choose one. When you have picked an act of kindness, and performed it, you can wish me a happy birthday by reporting on your kindness, either here on the blog or on my facebook page.
I'll have a great birthday month, and we'll all be better for it! If you're ready to roll up your sleeves, read on! And thanks in advance for helping me to make this birthday a really meaningful one!

50 Ways to Celebrate

1. Give blood.
2. Donate to your local food bank. $ go furthest, but peanut butter and tuna are welcome.
3. Donate to domestic violence shelter: working cell phones, black trash bags, bleach.
4. Donate household goods and clothes: ACHR allows eligible clients to shop free.
5. Pay at the drive-through for the next customer in line.
6. Offer to rake an elderly neighbor's yard.
7. Write a note to an old friend with whom you've been out of touch.
8. Tell a family member something you love about them.
9. Apologize sincerely for something you've done, or failed to do.
10. Celebrate someone else's good fortune.
11. Sit and mourn with a grieving person.
12. Thank someone for an uplifting tweet or facebook post.
13. Compliment someone on something other than appearance.
14. Write a letter or email to someone in public service, thanking him or her for their work on behalf of the community.
15. Walk somewhere instead of driving.
16. Listen to a child.
17. Listen to an elderly person, at their pace.
18. Drink water at a meal out, and donate the price of it.
19. Buy a $5 bunch of flowers. Give them to a stranger.
20. Sing a song out loud.
21. Drink a glass of clean, virtually-free tap water, then make a donation to a clean water organization, such as Watering Malawi or Living Waters for the World.
22. Spend 2 hours volunteering@ a school cleanup, assisted-living facility, library, food bak, or Big House.
23. Write a poem.
24. Unload the dishwasher when its not your turn.
25. Vacuum out someone's car for them.
26. Offer to take someone's empty grocery cart to the corral for them.
27. Donate pet food, bleach, or used bed and bath linens to the animal shelter.
28. Hug someone when they need it, even if you don't.
29. Forgive someone who has wronged you.
30. Gather up the change lying around your home, and donate it to a charity. Roll it first.
31. Fill the bird feeder...even if the squirrel will get some.
32. Invest in someone's dream: make a microloan on kiva.org.
33. Pet your cat or dog when you don't feel like it.
34. Return a gentle answer for rude words. Again.
35. Laugh at a bad joke. Someone else's.
36. Smile at a stranger.
37. Let someone else choose the restaurant or activity for the evening.
38. Step out of your comfort zone to make someone else comfortable.
39. Pray about something that does not personally affect you.
40. Sit in a new place @ church, school, or a gathering.
41. Forgive yourself. You can't reach for something better if you are holding tight to your failure.
42. Be open to a new idea or perspective.
43. Leave the laundry or emails. Treat yourself to a few minutes outside.
44. Let someone teach you something.
45. Take a moment to honor the memory of someone you love.
46. Leave an extra tip.
47. Cede control of the remote.
48. Write an encouraging note to someone training in your career field.
49. Carry a sack with you on your walk. Pick up trash along the way.
50. Post a 5th grade picture of yourself on facebook, to encourage a 5th grader you know.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Wing My Words

English 19th-century hymnist Frances Havergal has penned a phrase that sticks in my brain, there to intrude upon my thoughts during odd moments of reflection. Most known for the (unfortunately named) gospel hymn "Take My Life and Let It Be", Havergal, in the hymn "Lord, Speak to Me, That I May Speak", used the phrase 'wing my words'. Listen again: 'wing my words'. Wow. Aside from wishing I'd written this, I am in awe of the longing found in three short words. Oh, for the words I speak to breach space and time, finding their target with meaning and intention intact! Oh, for the hearer to really hear! This could be the breath prayer of anyone who crafts writing or speaking, desiring their words to make a difference in others' lives.

Today, though, it occurs to me that we need not pray or wish for our words to be winged. Often, our words fly, for good or ill, without our even considering them. Our words, carrying balm or wound, already wing their way to the ears and eyes of others. And these words? Carefully crafted or not, they can soothe, heal, build up, bind together. Carefully crafted or not, these words can wound, break down, destroy, build walls. For better or worse, our words are already winged, taking on a life of their own once spoken or written.

Wing my words; and let them be words of healing and encouragement. There are already enough winged words of destruction, and condemnation, and wounding. This is my breath prayer today.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

When It Hurts to Be Human


When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.
---Rippon's Selection of Hymns, 1787

There are lots of ways to look at the rough patches and tragedies in our lives. Some folk choose to look at everything that happens as God’s distinct will, some look at bad stuff as karma or payback. I see the bad things that happen as part of the price of being truly human in this world. For me, this resonates with my observations, with history, with my own life experience, and with my belief in a loving God.

In today’s hymn, with its text from the 18th century, the hymnist speaks from the viewpoint of a strong, caring God to a searching believer. We will be called, no choice about it, through our life experiences, to journey through deep waters; but we will not go alone. God goes with us through our troubles and distress, to bless and even to make holy those experiences that try us the most. To me this says that God can bring some worth out of even the most tragic, worthless, hurtful situation.

What a hopeful thought from a loving God!

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Re-membering, and re-union


As Christ breaks bread and bids us share, each proud division ends.
The love that made us, makes us one, and strangers now are friends.
---Brian Wren

The word “communion” has shadows of many other words in it. I see community, common, commune, union, unity (also ‘ion’, but that doesn’t fit with this devotional!). What is it about communion that makes us keep it central to our religious tradition? Why is it so important to us? I think it is the concept of ‘one-ness’ that communion implies. Brian Wren has gracefully captured that yearning we have for belonging in his hymn, 'I Come with Joy' (set to a lilting American tune that will always make me want to sway when I sing it). The meal is to break down barriers, to remind us through shared elements that we are the same on some fundamental level. As John Bell, preacher and musician from Scotland says, the tradition is kept to re-member the body of Christ --- to put the pieces back together, to unite us at last.

See you at the table, to re-member the body of Christ.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Softening Rain

I waited for it; the long-promised 'big rain', the one that would feed the ground with renewing life, that would set things green again. 'It's coming,' said the weather guy, 'and it's gonna be big.' Driving early yesterday morning, I see the first spatters on my windshield. Thing is, it didn't turn into the pouring rain predicted; it just...stopped. Then started again, a few splattering drops any time I ventured outside for errands. What a rip-off, I thought; more of the same. Not even enough rain to wash the dust off the grill cover, not enough to pearl up on the bird feeder roof. Not enough.
This morning, again woke to grey, threatening skies --- the haze that makes you squint and vaguely unsettles you. And then it came: not heralded by thunder and lightning, not accompanied by gusts of wind. The rain came in sheets, one drop indistinguishable from another. Rain you couldn't stay awake in, rain you couldn't see through, the soaking rain. It didn't last long, though I think it may pay a return visit.
And then I realized: yesterday's rain had been the softening rain, loosening up sere soil and parched lawns. The softening rain, then, had not been a disappointing outcome, but a promise, a readying of the thirsty earth for the soaking rain of this day.
When you look at your life, are there times when you are disappointed by what may be only a softening rain? Await with expectation the soaking.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

The Bright and Morning Star




Near the cross, a trembling soul, love and mercy found me;
There the bright and morning star sheds its beams around me.
In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever,
Till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.
---Fanny Crosby

There is a stained-glass window here in town. It is a marvel to me, and never fails to capture my attention any time I pass. The window is all the things one would expect from stained glass --- colorful, bright, kaleidoscopic, faith-themed. For me, the window is also theologically profound. Whether this is the message intended by the artist, or the church, I don’t know; I am hoping that message, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Boy, do I behold it!

The window features a towering cross, perhaps three stories high. Typical, you might say. But around the cross --- oh, around the cross --- is a bursting rainbow, shards of color and light exploding from the crux, the crossing point, of the cross. Whenever I see it, I think of the way Jesus’ grace, light, love cascade down from his cross, showering the whole world with its unfocused mercy. Showers of blessing, indeed, on all of us mortals.

I have a feeling that the hymnist Fanny Crosby would dig this window, too. Because if I close my eyes, I can picture, in the center of the cross, the bright and morning star, shedding its beams. If she were here with me, we would park the car, and walk to the churchyard, and stand in the shadow of the cross, and bask in the prismatic light of the Morningstar.

---Leigh Anne

Thursday, February 23, 2012

40 days, wild animals: Lenten Journey

And a voice came from heaven, "You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was there forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
---Mark 1:11-13

Lent. Forty days (plus Sundays) of reflection leading to Easter. But why forty? The passage above, detailing the aftermath of Jesus' baptism in the Jordan by John the Baptizer, provides our model. I have always been fascinated with Jesus' fully human state --- feeling the things we feel, experiencing the gamut of our experiences. The old court hearing question --- "What did you know, and when did you know it?" --- seems to me to apply to Jesus' life. A human like me, would Jesus have doubted his readiness for his calling, questioned his life's meaning, wondered where he fit into the grand scheme of things, been confused or afraid? To me, these are essentially human questions.

So, after hearing that he was indeed claimed by God as Beloved Son, Jesus was 'driven' into the wilderness. Have you ever had those times in your life where you felt 'driven' to ask the hard questions about yourself and your place in the world? Have you come to places where to compromise something essential in yourself seems to be the only way to accomplish your goals? Have you been tempted to give up on something good to accept something adequate? Looked for shortcuts to good ends? Wondered, "Why me?"

Here, then, is your wild place, your forty days to ask the hard questions, to find out what you believe about yourself and your relationship with God and this world, to reflect on what it means to be 'beloved' of God.

And the 'wild beasts'? That is a fascinating mystery to me --- important to the story (else the succinct Mark would not have wasted space on it in his slim Gospel), mentioned in the same breath with the angels that attended him. My immediate reaction to the phrase --- 'wild beasts' --- evokes snarling, predatory danger. But then I think, could those beasts have been a benevolent part of this episode? What could Jesus have learned from the beasts of the field, the fish of the sea, the birds of the air? We know the stories of Jesus that are preserved as parables are full of animal examples of how the reign of God looks. I have to think that every part of this wilderness period of Jesus' life deepened his understanding of who he was, and what was to be his journey.

May our journey be blessed, by knowing our belovedness, by searching, by angels attending, maybe even by the company of wild beasts.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Put down, pick up: Lenten journey

Wednesday marks the open of the Lenten season, and we are familiar with the idea of "giving up something for Lent." I would encourage you to consider with me the purpose of giving up something. At the risk of offending popular culture, "giving it up for Lent" is not to help break a bad habit, to jump start a diet, or to save money. And though there may be some aspect of self-denial involved in the practice, I don't believe Lent is meant to be a body- or spirit-punishing discipline. Stay with me here, if you will. I believe that the purpose of Lent is to open our hands. When we hold onto our lives, our things, our status, our comforts, our time tightly, to keep them close (and to keep them to ourselves), our hands are clenched around them; the only way to hold on is to grab and to grasp, and to hang on for dear life. Only, so often it turns out that the life we are holding on to is anything but dear; it is plain, and dreary, and common. In order to make room in our hands for some truly worthy thing, something of value, we must open our fists and risk letting something go. Just let it go. And look at your open hands. And wait, with expectation. Blessings in this wilderness season...

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Home by another route

"And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
they left for their own country by another road."
---Gospel of Matthew 2:12

Just days ago, the Feast of the Kings was celebrated; Epiphany, the festival of the manifestation, the "made-known-ness", of Christ as Gift to the world. In this season, we celebrate eyes opening, hearts softening, minds embracing the possibility of a Savior for all of humanity. From the time the Magi (whoever they were, and however many, and from wherever they had come) had begun their star-guided journey, till the time they turned around to head home, the world had changed. The Treasure to which the Magi had been led had become worshipped, and hunted. Their insight, openness to dream, warned them home by another route.

Perhaps another way to describe the insight of the Magi is the word 'epiphany'. Epiphany, the moment in time when something becomes crystal clear, when the essence of an idea is stumbled upon. The thing is, I'm of the mind that epiphanies are not serendipities. See, serendipities are discoveries made by luck or accident, and they are great when they happen. But epiphanies? I think they occur when we prepare for, study for, hope for, wait for them with expectation. If you stumble upon a sudden enlightenment, it is more than likely you were wandering in the general vicinity of your epiphany. It is not surprising that the Magi discerned the danger in retracing their steps; they lived a life of seeking, and of openness to being guided. They were in position for their epiphany.

You and I? I hope the same goes for us in this new season. Can we be open, seeking, expectant --- ready for our epiphanies? Can we be led, by star or by dream, toward a place of more grace?

And getting home? It's been my experience that all of us travel home by another route. The road we got there on just doesn't serve us on the way home. That trail has grown thick with weeds, choked with the half-formed ideas of our youths. We all need to go home by another route, God help us...