|
November 5, 2019 Beloved: During my few days at an ashram in India, I attended teaching sessions of a guru named Sadhvi Bhagawati Sarawatiji, or Sadhvi. Not to weird you out too much, but this Baptist preacher enjoyed her immensely. She’s really smart, deeply wise, funny, kind, and practical in ways I appreciate. “It is not selfish to desire a peaceful home,” and “if someone consistently spills tea on your best sofa and never apologizes or helps clean it up, maybe they aren’t the person you want to keep having over for tea." And my favorite, “all the mystical practices of all the religions in the world send us inward to the place of spiritual abundance.” She is prayed up, as the Baptists who raised me would have said, though maybe not about a Hindu leader. But I have no doubt at all. As my heart, mind, body, and soul continue to settle down from my trip to India, I am all the more grateful for the ways I shall never be the same – in a dozen tiny ways for sure, but most of all as it has to do with prayer. With worship. And with language for the One who made and loves us all. In every people group in every time and place, language has kindled a cacophony of words and names for God while unknowingly agreeing on the message of the Divine’s unyielding love. Friends have asked, how was India? Mostly I answer, hot. To one person however I did say, if I traveled to the moon I don’t think I would have felt more like a foreigner. Which is altogether true save one thing: those sunset Hindu worship services alongside the Ganges River – Mother Ganges they call it, because all of India is fed by her waters. Weird as it is to say so, those sunset services felt like Baptist church camp to me – folks getting closer to God by getting closer to nature. The words were different, but the connection among people singing together was exactly the same; the night air was exactly the same; the sound of lapping water was exactly the same. So was the shine of the stars and the smell of the fire and the deep peace of praying with other praying people. All those people together at the ashram for Navratri are now back home at their everyday routines, where spiritual practice is always more tricky than when at camp, on retreat, or on pilgrimage. Duty so easily crowds out the things we do for pleasure, prayer especially. However you are able, try to make the time and then keep in mind that a world of folks are praying too. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette 
0 Comments
October 29, 2019 Beloved: Inside the last five minutes, the skylight outside my window has turned from grey to some odd shade of orangey-pink. The day is coming on. I hear we’ll have killing frost by Friday, which means I’ve got last tomatoes and beans to gather in. In another month one of my favorite jobs comes due - clearing off the garden beds, just like cleaning up after a big dinner party. My husband will write down lots of notes, no doubt, as we collect the little name tags that came with seeds and starts we bought last May. We’ll dump some of it on the coop floor for the hens to scratch through for fun. They’ll break it down and fertilize it more before we move it back to the beds next spring. I make it sound like so much more work than it truly is. Dividing investment by the effort required essentially amounts to free food. Last night I ate sweet potatoes for supper from three tiny seed starts it took thirty seconds to plant in the ground. Digging up that little basket full was so much fun, it is a sin to call it work. More like finding treasures in the ground. I gave away the green beans just because I couldn’t face putting up another round. Our freezer is stacked with them already. Daylight is full on now, the house quiet as a candle. Once we move we stay so busy until bedtime. May we be busy with the things that matter. ~peace & prayers, pastor annette  October 22, 2019 Beloved: Willing to experience this aloneness, I discover connections everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me. Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself transformed Into its radiant jewel-like essence. I bow to the one who made it so, Who has crafted this Master Game; To play it is purest delight; To honor its form – true devotion. Nothing sums up my trip to India more precisely than this poem my yoga teacher read to us our second morning together. I can tell a story for every nearly every line. For some, I can tell a dozen. My body has been home nine days but my heart and mind are still only halfway here. India is an ancient place where modern ways look almost like a joke, the man driving his camel-drawn cart while talking on his cell phone. “Did you see that?” my group members asked each other, wondering if we all simultaneously had a vision. Turns out construction companies use camels all the time for hauling extra-heavy supplies. A week in and none of us even get out our cameras anymore. India is a colorful place that left my eyes aching from the beauty of her people, their clothes and their food. The flowers, the field, the animals, the waters, the mountains. I am so glad I saw it. India is a spiritual place, reminding me that God is both really, really old and has at least a thousand faces. No words of mine will ever tell it. I took a few pictures which I’ll have on slideshow tomorrow at Wednesday Night Supper if you’d like to come and see. We’ll share a meal I call “What’s in my freezer that I can cook up nice?” Think rice and tacos. We’ll also have all those Sunday potluck dessert leftovers and have some sweet table time together. I hope to see you there. We pray and serve at 6. I’m so glad to be home again!
September 17, 2019 Beloved: I am going on an adventure! My first stop is Toronto, where I’ll spend a night and a day having a ball with two Canadian preacher friends, Takouhi and Jill. From there I’m headed to India for three weeks of yoga, sight-seeing and time with the family of one of our sons-by-other-mothers, Seine. His parents live in Imphal, a city in the far east of India, nearly to Myanmar. I’m very excited to negotiate such complicated travel by myself (I meet up with my group once arriving in New Delhi) and even more excited to be in a place so different from Indiana. I’m excited to be changed the way only travel can change a person’s heart, mind and soul. In my absence, Rob, Fan, Laura Beth and the deacons will take care of everything at church. We’ve lined up wonderful supply preachers and I’m counting on you all to watch out for each other like you always do. Welcome new friends and don’t forget to eat together on Wednesday Night, September 25th. Tuesday morning columns will still appear and I’ll post trip pictures on Facebook as I have wi-fi access. I will be back in church on Sunday, October 20th and look forward to seeing you then. Much love and, as always,
Call me enchanted, but I have seen nature’s labor up close, and she does the far greater share, turning the planet around and to the light so it falls just right on my little garden. I did not do that. Blowing rain clouds past my place to shower my flowering vines for free. Bees, hummingbirds and butterflies sent to pollinate them in their season. None of that was me either. My part has been negligible since I poked the seeds into the ground. Which isn’t to say farmers don’t work hard, only that all our labors are in consequence to the miracles of nature. Great or small, the miracle is worth remembering when we sit down at our laden tables.  Beloved: Jesus’ trio of stories about lost things has been on my mind since last Thursday when I discovered the stone has fallen out of my wedding ring. I’ve crawled on the floor with a flashlight at home and at church. I’ve shaken out my sheet, swept my kitchen and sifted dirt from dog hair to no avail. Hoping against hope, I even called our insurance agent only to discover lost jewelry isn’t covered. I walk with my head down, stooping for every glint or glitter of light. So far I’ve found staples, Sunday School glitter, foil, a straight pin, gravel galore and oodles of onion skin bits. Who knew onion skin was so glinty! It could be in the chicken coop or the garden. It could be in a trash bag at the landfill. The only place it cannot possibly be is nowhere. To his ever-loving patience and my joy, my husband has been nothing but comfort. “Ah well,” he said when I told him, “we’ll just have to get another someday.” More seriously he said over and over, “It’s just a thing.” And while I still mostly walk along looking for glitter on the ground, I absolutely believe him. Life is too short and the world is too beautiful to spend a moment grieving over what can be replaced instead of enjoying what is ours right now. I pray this gorgeous day is full of light and love as you move through it. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette P.S. These pictures are of a rogue cucumber vine growing from a pot on my porch. Can you see how the end of it looks like a giant praying mantis?
Once upon a time I’d not have considered picking up a snake, and am still not likely to handle a very big one. But the design and the mechanics of their bodies is truly fascinating. They can move sideways up a bucket wall then stop and stay still for long minutes at a go. It must take enormous energy to stay up there, because the baby tumbled down and rested awhile before starting up again, getting a little higher with each successive climb.
ALSO - Please remember the wedding shower for Heidi & Chris at Wednesday Night Supper tomorrow, August 28, 6:00 PM. Since they already have everything a house requires, we are giving them what every family needs – CASH. Bring a few greenbacks to pin to the money tree and enjoy a wonderful summer meal and some cake!
August 20, 2019
Beloved: Just when it seems that writer’s block has gotten the best of me, along comes a congregant to save the day. Thanks, Donetta, for the delightful article about life together around the church supper table. You can check it out here. We break bread together plenty and yet never too often. Making these meals happen is one of the ways we feed each other, body and soul, and how we draw new friends more deeply into our life together. When I am a very old woman and I’ve forgotten every Bible verse I ever knew and every sermon I ever preached, I pray I remember feeding generations of babies, kids, and teenagers in this church basement. I pray I remember the bushels of corn we’ve husked and pies we’ve made together in this tiny kitchen. I pray to remember the cooking disasters that made us laugh and the triumphs that made us sigh with pleasure. I pray to remember the mouse invasion of 2018 that nearly unhinged Heidi and me but has left us laughing hysterically about it since. I pray to remember the hundreds and hundreds of Chinese dumplings we’ve rolled and pinched and boiled together on countless Global Women Tuesday afternoons. Surely I’ve consumed at least a million church food calories and I don’t regret a single one of them. That said, the time for making memories around the table isn’t close to over. We’ve another Wednesday Night Supper next week, August 28th, and this time we’re adding on a wedding shower for Heidi and Chris. No ordinary presents requested, just some cash to pin to the money tree. We’ll have a wedding cake and good wishes to share along with a summer meal. Jodi has a list of folks willing to feed a student or two after church on September Sundays. E-mail her or text her to add your name there. The blessings will be at the table, no matter where the table is. ~ peace & prayers, pastor annette Article: https://babylonbee.com/news/crock-pot-introduces-new-430-gallon-model-baptist August 13, 2019 Beloved: My goodness but didn’t it storm last night! The hens are extra grumpy this morning, no doubt for loss of sleep, but the hydrangeas appear much refreshed. Coming round the bend of late summer such soaky good rain is a treat for these plants who have taken care of business so faithfully for months. Other joys this time of year: neighborhood school kids at the bus stop in their new shoes and backpacks, international students loading their bags into Uber out front of Target, and nights almost cool enough to sleep with the windows open. Best of all – y’all are back from your summer travels, so Sunday morning attendance has picked up again. Along with the busyness of town we’ve oodles going on at church these days too. Check it out. Today ~ Pridefest Volunteer Training this evening. If you signed up you have email with details about this. This weekend, August 17-18
It really is the most wonderful time of the year to be called University Baptist Church. Join me in making it mean something very special to the guests who are arriving daily as we pray for them, receive them gracefully and offer them a place in our life together. The joy will be all ours.
 a fabric delivery man at work in Seoul, South Korea August 2017 If only all of life fell within the borders of our druthers. If only gardening did our taxes and reading fiction took out the trash. I’d love to knit my kitchen clean and quilt my inbox empty. What if drinking coffee on my back porch mowed the grass and cleaned the chicken coop? My home would be a castle and I would be its queen. A reorganization of household responsibilities has bequeathed me two new projects. The first requires long stretches of time spent in tedious quiet and focus. The second includes shopping. Care to guess which is moving along more sweetly?
Work is the word I’m after: the work we do for money and the work we do because we’re human. We work to earn and work to live. We work to care for neighbors who can’t, as well as those who won’t. Human decency demands it and every religion teaches it: work as privilege and requirement, to be done cheerfully and regarded gratefully. Whatever work today brings, I wish you joy and patience in it. |
I write a Tuesday morning devotional to members and friends of UBC. It is also posted here.
Enjoy! Pastor Annette Copyright
Everything on this site is licensed under a Creative Commons license, which gives you permission to copy freely, provided that you attribute the work to me, that you use the work for non-commercial purposes, and that you do not produce derivative works. Archives
November 2019
|
RSS Feed