Bodysurfing

Prodigal

2010-10-27T14:05:00.003-04:00

Words fascinate me. I still remember many of my vocabulary words from my youth, especially when a word was unique in meaning or had an unexpected pronunciation. I read the thesaurus for fun.

Lately, I've been intrigued by the word "prodigal." This word is very misused, I find. I was the biggest offender of its misuse until rather recently. I grew up thinking that "prodigal" meant the favorite, as in the Prodigal Son was the favorite son. I think this confusion was borne from a lack of knowledge about the Bible and the fact that most other people around me seemed to think it meant something postiive too.

Then I learned that most church people believed "prodigal" meant wayward, since the parable in Luke 15 seemed to concentrate on a really wild kid who disrespected his father. That made much more sense.

I could have just looked the word up in the dictionary, of course. I never did. I'm reading a book now that gives the dictionary definition: recklessly extravagant. Think of a prodigious feast; there is far too much good food to possibly eat.

So, the Prodigal Son is not the favorite son or even simply the wayward son, though people might argue he was both of those things in Jesus' parable. The Prodigal Son was the recklessly extravagant son, who took his inheritance, blew it on rather unholy things and activities, and then came back with his tail between his legs.

But there is another layer to this story--in fact, there are many layers to this story. Yes, the Prodigal Son was recklessly extravagant with his father's wealth. But as it turns out, we have a Prodigal God. Who knew?

In the parable, of course, God the Father is represented by the earthly father who runs out to meet his son on his walk of shame, and orders a fine robe and great feast to celebrate his son's return. This father, like ours in heaven, is recklessly extravagant in his love and care for his son. The grace is prodigious.

The book I'm reading is called Prodigal God. When I first heard of that title, laboring under a misunderstanding of what the word "prodigal" meant, it struck me as vaguely offensive. But I have been humbled by Webster's Dictionary, and I now see how appropriate of a title it is.

There is another layer to this parable that many might not know-that of the other, presumably good and obedient, son. I think I'll tackle that part in another post.

What prodigious feast has God given you lately?

A Voicemail Message to God

2010-10-23T21:05:00.002-04:00

I am not terribly comfortable writing about the subject of prayer. If I wrote a book about my early prayer life, it would be a pamphlet. Or a postcard.

My first prayer memory involved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. My grandmother would put me in bed and make me say “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I would then lie in bed, wide-eyed, terrified to fall asleep, with thoughts of my own death swirling in my head.

I pretty much avoided prayer after that unless it was forced upon me in a communal setting, like Mass, and then my mind was certainly not on God or my own transgressions, but rather how much longer I was trapped at church. I was not a willing participant in my youth.

In my college years, prayers boiled down to begging God for some result because I was terrified at the outcome of a situation. Please keep my brother out of trouble. Please help me get into law school. Please make money appear in my checking account.

Through this circuitous journey, I stumbled back into prayer, largely as a result of my every-so-slow recognition that I really didn’t know best. I was no longer convinced of my own righteousness.

It was not easy to start praying. In the beginning, I stuck with formal, well-known prayers. Over the past few years, I have taken the leap to talking to God in my own words. At first, I would pray in the fashion of what I call “leaving a blithering voicemail for God.” Have you ever started leaving a message for someone, and you just can’t stop talking? You simply cannot end the message? Well, that is what I would do. “God, Hi, this is Kathleen (of course you know that God, sorry, you know everything, I shouldn’t have said that)…God here’s what happened (you know that too! Sorry God)…” And it just went on and on from there, with no real beginning and no real ending. I would end up embarrassed that I had spoken a poorly constructed prayer to the Almighty.

And yet, I believe that even those blithering voicemails to God were acceptable, even welcome, to him. What he really wants is our conversation, to meet him with dialogue. He wants for us to recognize that it is his righteousness, not ours, that makes us redeemable and redeemed. It is in those poorly constructed, grammatically incorrect prayers that we reveal recognition of our flaws. Recognition of our imperfections can lead us back to God and make us thirst for his mercy.

Pray 10

2010-10-20T11:59:00.001-04:00

Nativity's challenge to pray ten minutes (or ten minutes more than our usual daily routine) is on. Here is my track record so far:

1. I started Sunday, and used Plan B (reading and reflecting on Scripture, along with direct conversation with God), from the Message Guide. It went well. I was on my game. Go me.

2. On Monday, things got crazy and I tried to do it while I was in bed (no Plan B, just "Kathleen's last minute plan"), right before falling asleep. Big mistake. I kept trying to wake myself up to finish "praying 10." I think it is safe to say I prayed about 4.

3. On Wednesday, I went back to using Plan B. I did it at night again, but not right before falling asleep. It went well and I think I went over ten minutes because I was less focused on the clock than before.

It has been good. It has also been a starter for family conversation about praying. A good friend of mine fell ill this week, and the "Pray 10" campaign made it easier to ask people to pray for him--"just add him to your Pray 10."

Let me know how your "Pray 10" is going. Leave me a comment below.

Peace-

Kathleen

Love & War

2010-09-29T18:13:00.000-04:00

I never thought I would be the go-to person on marriage issues. Don't get me wrong-I am married, and only once, and for a fairly long time. But if you had asked me years ago if people would be contacting me about the blissful (getting married, getting prepared for marriage) and the not-so-blissful (marriage struggles, separation, divorce), I would have looked over my shoulder for the grey-haired church lady you were surely talking to.

In the past two weeks, I've attended one wedding, overseen marriage preparation for engaged couples, and put some final touches on a program Nativity will have for married couples in a few weeks. I've also spoken to no fewer than five people who are working through the sadness of separation and divorce.

So, Love & War is an appropriate title for this blog, and for any program dealing with marriage.

Marriage is a battle. It really is. It is hard work that sometimes seems too hard. I'm exhausted from hearing the stories of love in marriage and war in marriage. Sadly, in our culture, it seems like war is more the norm than love.

My exposure to the many people who are suffering in their marriage relationships is one reason I was interested in hosting a program for couples that doesn't pull any punches. Nativity's Love & War program, on Saturdays in October, isn't your grandma's church's marriage enrichment course. It's a group of couples who will come together to watch short videos about marriage and the struggles of real life couples, and then discuss as a group (and later, privately with their spouses) what the obstacles are to having a transforming marriage. And there are many obstacles.

What does God want from us as married people? He isn't satisfied with the attitude that "I'll stay with her until the kids are grown," or "I'll tolerate him but I won't touch him," or "I stay married but every battle we have will be a public one for everyone to see what a loser he is."

The goal isn't simply to stay married. There are plenty of miserable couples who achieve that goal. The goal is to have a successful marriage, measured against the barometer of God's word.

A successful marriage isn't a perfect one or even a happy one all the time. It is one that transforms us into someone better than we were before we were married.

Please join me and my husband, and other Nativity couples, on October 16 and 23 for Love & War. For more information, stop by the Nativity Info Desk or email me at kleslie@churchnativity.org.

Married 6 months or 60 years? Love & War is for you. Have a great marriage or a troubled one? Love & War is for you. If you've said "I do," this is for you.

Mad as Fire

2010-09-21T19:12:00.005-04:00

When I was little, my mom used the expression "mad as fire." That meant really, really mad. It was the kind of anger precipitated by things like your child playing "cuckoo clock" inside the front-loading dryer and breaking the door, or your child breaking up records (remember those?) and shoving them down the toilet, or your child writing in permanent marker on a freshly painted wall. Not that I know what sort of child would do such things . . . suffice it to say that I learned fast what made my mom "mad as fire," though unfortunately for me, I didn't always remember.

We have been examining anger during Nativity's Boiling Point series. Last week, I tracked what makes me "mad as fire." It turns out that it is people more so than situations that anger me. Perhaps I should say that I always attribute anger-inducing situations back to people, whether they are people I live with or the faceless Verizon guy on the phone. I also found that anger in the morning usually translated to a steady diet of anger all day, and that morning prayer seemed to precede a morning without much anger.

I think I see a pattern here.

This week, I've been tracking to see if my anger is righteous or unrighteous. I've only been doing this for two days now, but generally, my anger is unrighteous. The question is, would the event that angered me also anger God? At first, I think I was approaching this question incorrectly. For instance, if my child didn't do a chore, I would translate as follows: children should do their chores, and so God would support me in yelling at my child. Wrong, of course. I was taking something that might be righteous anger and wrongly reasoning that because my anger was righteous, God also endorsed my method of expressing the anger.

What does make God "mad as fire?" I think if we ask the question this way, we see how our anger is almost always unrighteous. I don't think my daughter failing to put her plate in the dishwasher makes God "mad as fire." I do think millions of children not having any food to put on any plates does.

So, tomorrow, my goal is this: when I get angry, I will stop right there and ask, "does this make God mad as fire?" If the answer is no (and I'm pretty sure it will be), then my job is to let it go. Let go of the small inconvenience, annoyance or sharp word from another.

Update to follow.

Nativity Stats-It's All in a Weekend's Work

2010-09-12T21:46:00.002-04:00

6 worship services successfully completed

50 new members welcomed

16 signed up to become members next month

8 new parents ready for the Baptism of their brand new additions

3 couples prepared for marriage

13 people ready to start the process of becoming a Catholic Christian

2 of my children leading worship at the end of Mass

2 tired feet

1 aching back

0 regrets

A Small World After All

2010-09-03T09:18:00.005-04:00

It's that time of year. Back to School Nights populate September like holiday parties populate December. They are everywhere, and they aren't always welcomed.

I attended Towson High School's event last night. Back to School Night is an interesting microcosm. You have a small world, a classroom, of adults. As always, I was observing rather than mingling.

You have the popular parents, the ones who know each other, the extroverts who find someone to chat with the moment they enter any room. They talk about their kids, their jobs, the weather. They seem pleasant, but you don't know them so you don't say anything.

You have the (pardon the expression) suck-ups, the ones who are there to attempt to grease the wheels for their kids. "Hi, Mr. Davis, we are Anne and Albert Smith, Kelly's parents. It is so great to finally meet you! Kelly is loving your class!" How Kelly can express such sentiment after 3 days of school remains unanswered. As if Mr. Davis even knows who Kelly is. You jump to the conclusion that they are phony, so you don't say anything.

You have the parents who attempt with each head nod to impress upon the teacher that 1) their middle-aged memories fully recall the subject being taught (really? pre-calculus?) and 2) they agree with every word the teacher utters. You are embarrassed about their visible enthusiasm, as if they were your own parents embarrassing you, so you don't say anything.

Then you have the parents like me. They seem unfriendly (maybe they are unfriendly; I can be). They seem grumpy (I'm just trying to be objective). They don't speak (I'm there to listen and apparently judge others). They are impatient for the teacher to start, and are ready to leave as soon as the "dismissal bell" sounds (there is a schedule and it must be followed absent Jesus walking through the door).

It occurred to me after this event that herein lies society--the extroverts, the politicians, the enthusiasts, and the curmudgeons. God bless them all. What would we do without those among us who get others talking and meeting others? We also need those who lobby for position, even for power, in certain situations. They create movement; there were some great politicians in the Bible. Remember Peter in Acts 2 and Paul all over the place?

And the enthusiasts--I have the great pleasure to work with a few enthusiasts, and they sure keep me smiling when I'd rather not be. The world would be a sour place without them.

We even need the curmudgeons. The ones who are interested in the facts as we know them and how to accomplish the daily task of surviving life with some efficacy.

I left Back to School Night irritated, which is not a completely foreign emotion to me. And yet, reflecting on the night, I realize we need all these personalities, and more close to home, I need to appreciate all of them and somehow interact with all of them, for my own good. Maybe I don't need to interact with them on Back to School Night (please, God, don't ask that of me), but these same folks are at Starbucks, at my church, and in the grocery store.

It is the diversity of personality that has helped us survive under God's direction. I would do well to remember that the next time I feel my eyes involuntarily rolling at Back to School Night.

Surprise!

2010-08-31T18:59:00.004-04:00

I hate surprises. I really do. In high school and college, I had no fewer than 10 surprise parties. It was as if my dread of the surprise party was directly proportional to the likelihood that I would be the beneficiary of such an event.

Soon I'll turn 43. I don't feel like that's old, but I don't feel like it's young either. I hate the expression "she's 80 years young!" What good is time-earned wisdom if we only wish for youth?

My best friend will turn 43 on the same day I will. We were born in the same town, on the same day, in the same year (different hospitals, though). I am a few hours older, so naturally I possess more time-earned wisdom than she does. She shares my dislike of surprises too.

And yet she was treated to one this summer. Cancer.

A surprise like this one is of course not welcomed. It does test one's fortitude. It is testing hers and her family's. It is testing mine.

I've taken to controlling really small situations since I can't control The Big One. I have conquered the messy closets in my house. My earrings have lost their constant battle of separating from their mates, and are now relegated to one tidy container where they can't escape. Most impressively, however, is that I have defeated dust altogether. Dust doesn't stand a chance against me.

I wish I could say the same for cancer. Fortunately, smart professionals are well poised to fight that battle, along with my friend, one of the strongest people I've known even before this diagnosis.

Certainly this is hardest for her, but when you can literally do nothing about it, the level of powerlessness is overwhelming. So I've been praying. Not as much as I should and not with a perfect heart about it either. I'm mad. I know God can take it, but I'm still mad about the pain that people are experiencing because of this.

And yet I can't forget what C.S. Lewis said about pain. "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

I sure wish he used a different method to rouse a deaf world. But he wants relationship with us. Even if we're yelling at him.

Yelling at God is better than ignoring him.

Thoughts on Marriage

2010-08-11T11:48:00.004-04:00

Nineteen years is a long time to do anything. Most people don't have the same job or attend school for that length of time, and sadly, most people aren't married for that long either. Yesterday Eric and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary. And now I will wow you with the many critical pieces of advice we have to offer you on having 19 pain-free, fun-filled and easy-going years together. Nothing but bliss, right?

Fail.

Anyone who tries to give you that advice, shoot them. No, don't shoot them, but do ignore them. Because if anyone tells you marriage is all bliss, they are worthy of being ignored (and perhaps committed).

Marriage is not easy. It was, frankly, not designed to be (or maybe it was designed to be, but humans screwed it up). Now our challenge is to work through our brokenness to establish a lifelong bond with someone. And if you can persevere, it is totally worth it.

I'm reading a book now that is challenging for me in many ways. It is challenging first because it is told from the perspective of a man and woman who more or less fit the commonly held stereotypes of a men and women--nothing wrong with that, but it tends to alienate me because that is not really my personality. I simply don't identify with the woman, and I'm not sure my husband would identify with the man. Maybe that's part of our brokenness, maybe not. But either way, it makes it hard to persevere through a book that makes you feel a bit alien.

Nevertheless, even for men and women who don't fit the stereotypes, the book has real truth in it. What I've gotten out of it the most is that marriage is not actually a vehicle meant to provide us with unending happiness, but rather is a vehicle to transform us into something better than we are. That doesn't mean it brings out the best in us right away, or all the time, but it is through those times when were are surely not our best that we have the greatest opportunity to grow, to be transformed, into something better.

The book is Love and War. Aptly titled, this book really guides you through what marriage is about, from a God perspective and also from an imperfect human perspective. If you are perfect human, there is no need to read it.

So, following a truly fabulous anniversary dinner last night (which, by the way, my husband cooked from start to finish), I am back tackling the challenges of Love and War. Stay tuned! I'll post more thoughts on this book and marriage in days to come.

Two closing thoughts: 1) Marriage is awesome and 2) so very hard. And admitting, even embracing, the second part actually brings you closer to the first.

Dumb Prayer Requests

2010-08-06T10:22:00.004-04:00

I have a confession. Sometimes I think people's prayer requests are dumb. I know that is wrong, and that part of me that jumps to judgment needs a lot of work. It is so hard for my mind to stay focused on God when I'm talking to him about:

-Little Suzie's nail biting.

-No rain for an upcoming camping trip.

-Joe's tomato plants finally coming in.

I mentally roll my eyes at these kinds of requests. I'm intense, and I like things black or white, so my preference is to categorize prayer requests as "necessary" or "dumb." I am also someone who totally disagrees with the statement that there are no dumb questions. OF COURSE there are dumb questions! Who's with me??

Largely, though, it is a matter of concentration. I have a hard enough time staying focused when the prayer requests actually do seem important to me.

That last sentence reveals the core of the problem. It's the word "me."

"Me" doesn't get to decide which prayer request is legit. "Me" isn't privy to what is really underlying Little Suzie's nail biting. "Me" is supposed to be praying for others, loving others, through their own messy circumstances, even if I don't get how messy those circumstances are. "Me" has to learn to tolerate the fact that since I don't know everything (whaaat?), it is not my province to judge which words people use to speak to God.

When it comes to breakdowns in my prayer life, it really is all about "me."

Know Your Story

2010-07-26T14:31:00.000-04:00

I'm reading a good book now about knowing your personal story, and how important that is to shaping your faith life and, frankly, surviving this messy existence we call life. The author, Dan Allender, writes that "it is our responsibility to know our story so we can live it out more intentionally and boldly for the Great Story, the gospel."

Many people have stories that are quite painful, and it might seem most appropriate to refuse to know your story. But I think that, until we know all parts of our life stories, like history, we are doomed to repeat them.

The biggest challenge might be attempting to admit your entire life story, including the parts that bring you shame, the parts that you peg you as a victim, and the parts that make you seethe in anger. Or maybe the bigger challenge is to own it, and realize how current behavior is not a cosmic coincidence but rather has been slowly built over time with the mortar of life events. For me, the biggest challenge, I think, is to share my story with a trusted friend or group of people who support me. I'm still working on that one.

Allender writes that God has created our lives but has invited us to co-author them. We are not to be just victims of bad circumstances or passive participants in lives spinning out of control. It is very hard not to give in to the temptation to rest as a victim (although that "rest" is never really restful for those of us who have tried it). But to do so is cowardly and not a part of God's plan.

Know your story. Own it. Write it. Tell it. But most of all, ponder it so that you can lovingly understand where you came from, warts and all, and how that experience made you who you are. Embrace your future life with the knowledge that owning those parts of your undesirable past will help you to avoid repeating it, or at least repeating it forever. Even though we often hate ourselves for where we've been, God loves us through it. But he takes his challenge of co-authorship seriously, and he won't rescue us out of self hatred, self pity or anger toward others without some effort on our part.

Scar Tissue

2010-07-22T12:21:00.000-04:00

I'm on a mission to fix my feet. I have chronic plantar fasciitis in both feet, and it is so bad that I have scar tissue formed all over the plantar fascia, that thin, long band of connective tissue that runs from your heel to your toes.

How did I get this? Through pride and stupidity. I was running a great deal, training for 3 marathons and numerous half marathons in a few year period. I started to get pain in my heels, and did some scant research on the condition. I believed that it was just pain and not really harmful, so I kept running on it without treatment. I also thought it would be a great idea to run barefoot on the beach for miles at a time. I was an athlete, right? Nothing can stop me.

You know how this one ends. I severely injured my feet because, surprise, I was not invincible. I went from marathon running to limping when I walked in a matter of months. As a middle aged woman, you can also guess what followed: weight gain and self loathing, the satanic twins that follow women around like loyal puppies.

It made me wonder if this physical condition didn't mimic so many spiritual conditions we endure. We think we can do it on our own and that nothing can stop us. We can't, naturally, but we continue to fool ourselves that our way is the best. It is not until we are crippled by the sins of pride and self-omnipotence that we are forced to deal with the scar tissue left behind.

So as I roll a golf ball under my foot to break up old scar tissue, and eat lentils instead of buffalo wings, I write this mea culpa in the hope that, this time, I truly concede that I am not the Almighty.

Jesus taught us to pray to his Father that "THY will be done," not "MY will be done." (Matthew 6:10). And yet, our whole lives, we fight our tendency to do our own will, to believe that we really know best.

The good news is that scar tissue can be broken away from healthy tissue, though it is a slow and painful process.

What scar tissue is on your heart? Start the slow and painful process today. Don't ignore it anymore. It's not going away on its own. You have to work it. It hurts, but in the end, surrender to a God greater than yourself is worth it.

Choked Up

2010-07-15T12:59:00.004-04:00

A father calls a local church and wants to know if they will allow his child to be baptized. He wants to raise the child in the faith, but he has "things" in his past (it could be divorce or other situations that have separated the father from the church). It has taken him a long time to call a church at all because he assumes he is not welcome. His discussions with others led him to believe his assumption was correct.

This happens more than you think. At Nativity, I field these calls and emails from parents desperate to return to the faith of their childhood but embarrassed and ashamed that they will not be welcome. Ironically, my experience is that these parents are the ones who we find to be the most invested in their church experience and the faith upbringing of their children. And yet, what is the Church doing to welcome these people back?

Almost nothing. That must change. Why must it change?

-It's wrong (Matthew 25:43).

-It's clearly the opposite of what Jesus would do (Luke 5:32).

-It violates the mandate that we baptize all nations (Matthew 28:19).

-It ignores the requirement that we build the local church (Ephesians 4:12).

-It abdicates responsibility for finding new members to serve others (also Ephesians 4:12).

I had a conversation with a father in this predicament today. After a brief conversation, he said he was "all choked up" that Nativity would welcome his family. He was, frankly, shocked that anyone wanted them. It's a crime that people are made to feel this way and believe that they aren't welcome because of past mistakes.

If you know anyone in this situation, please have them contact me at kleslie@churchnativity.org.

What's that about throwing stones?

A Life More Ordinary

2010-07-05T01:24:00.003-04:00

Ordinary is a confusing word. It conjures up images of mind-numbing routine: housework, billable time, supermarket lines and summer television. No one wants to be ordinary. To want to be ordinary is like wishing you were middle of the pack. No one dreams of being average.

And yet the word is derived from the Latin ordo, meaning "ordered" or suggesting sequence. Words like ordinal, or numbered, come from this root word. Ordinary time in the Church calendar doesn't mean boring time (although the stretch from Pentecost to Advent can seem like it, depending on the quality of preaching you are privileged to hear, or not). It means "numbered" time, sequenced to correspond to the life of Christ.

Since I like knowing the origin of words, and lacking anything extraordinary to do at this late hour, I researched this further. I found that ordo was used in medieval times to mean "a system of parts subject to certain uniform, established ranks or proportions, and was used for everything from architecture to angels." Cool.

I like order (my spices are alphabetized) and I like movement (idle time is not enjoyable to me), so these definitions together pleased me. If the word ordinary connotes sequence or movement, then I guess I should want to be ordinary. I want to be moving somewhere and not remaining stagnant. And I want to be a part within the system. I want to be a part of the human world, but yet somehow distinguishable from the other people. I want to be numbered--I want to count for something, and I want my individuality to be counted. Fortunately, God does just this for us. He allows us to be a part of a whole, while all the time knowing every tiny thing about us, even the number of hairs on our head. He also gives us the ability to move towards him (and he gives us the choice to move away, too).

My point? I'm not sure I have one (it is 1:00 am). I guess my point is that we should rethink the stigma of being ordinary. When we despair that we are living simply "ordinary" lives, we need to focus on what that word should really mean and not the reality of enduring yet another price check in the longest supermarket line ever.

Keep moving. Be counted. (Sounds like a Census ad).

Better yet: Keep moving towards God. Rest in the truth that you are counted.

Crew Leader, Day 4.5

2010-06-24T23:09:00.000-04:00

It's nearly midnight on Thursday, and I should be asleep, but I'm not. Tomorrow is my last day as a crew leader for Vacation Bible School at Nativity. I have a very sweet crew-ages 5 to 9, girls and boys, with a personality range as long as the horizon. They have been having fun, and so have I. I am very tired (exhausted might be a better word) but it has been good for me in so many ways.

I think one of the reasons I love little kids so much is that they give me permission to be kid-like. Without that permission, I know I wouldn't do things like dance. I don't dance at all under normal adult conditions. I also colored today for the first time in a long time. The only part of my experience that is not kid-like right now is my right hip. You try sitting "criss-cross applesauce" all day long when you are used to a desk and a padded chair.

I believe that ministers who are really growing as true servants of God would always admit that they get more out of serving than they give. In fact, I wonder if that ought not be the litmus test for service-are you getting more than your giving? If you aren't changed for the better by the experience, are you really the minister that you should be?

Tomorrow I say goodbye to my crew and the ache in my hip. But if you've ever seen a child really rejoice in God's love, then you know that I hope I don't say goodbye to those wonderful, childish qualities that children can instill in us, if we only let them.

Crew Leader, Day One

2010-06-21T18:35:00.000-04:00

Today Nativity began its Vacation Bible School. I am a crew leader again this year. This means I have a small group of 7 children, ages 5-10. We dance, listen to a Bible story, make crafts, pray, have a snack (today was Peter's Jail Mix!) and then collapse. Except I then had some meetings and work to do--so I collapsed later. I'm home now, resting and getting ready for day two.

When asked where she saw God today, one little girl announced "I saw a bird eat a worm" (except it sounded like "I saw a buuuud eat a wuuuuum").

I saw God today too, in the eyes of tiny children.

Vacation Planning

2010-06-20T16:12:00.002-04:00

In a break between Sunday Masses, I am at home, watching the World Cup and getting finances squared away, in anticipation of an upcoming vacation. Our friends have invited us to the Outer Banks to share their beach house for a week. This arrangement is very fortunate for us--it hasn't been a great tax paying year for the Leslies, and so we were originally planning to forgo a vacation away from home this year.

The hardest part of pre-vacation finances is writing that check for our giving. This has always been hard. It was hard the summers we went to the Bahamas and a cruise in the Caribbean, and it was difficult the springs we went to Italy and Disney World. Interestingly, it has not gotten easier with more modest vacations. There are two months when the giving checks hurt more than others: pre-Christmas and pre-vacation.

But getting that money out of my hands is of paramount importance to me, especially during the seasons when it seems to increase my stomach acid to write the checks. I've learned that if I linger over it too long, it might not get done. One year, prior to Disney World, I hadn't done it when I intended. I was worried about having enough money to play with at Disney World, to be honest. Because we left for Disney World the next morning, I knew what I had to do. I drove a check to Nativity that night and managed to catch someone before the place was locked for the night.

It wasn't that I was so darn holy. It was that I knew it would bother me while I was on vacation. This is not because I felt guilty so much as it was a failure to follow a giving plan. Because I am now convinced that all "my" money isn't mine at all, I have a plan to give just a fraction of it away. All "my" money is really God's, of course, and therefore I need to deliver that rather small portion of giving money to a place where it's rightful owner can use it for His good.

So, with intestinal fortitude from God and a cramp in my writing hand, I'm getting that check taken care of before I leave.

He asks for so very little of our treasure. It seems even more disrespectful to withhold right before vacation. That would be biting the mouth that feeds me, I think.

Marketing

2010-06-17T15:15:00.000-04:00

I hate marketing. I hate the word. I hate what it means. I hate that I am supposed to do it.

That seems a bit harsh, but much of it is true. When I was practicing law, I spearheaded marketing efforts for the firm for about a year, the year that coincided with my determination to leave law firm life. And yes, to some degree, those two facts were linked.

I received an email today from an old law colleague in New York, whose firm was announcing (i.e., marketing) a new partner in their Chicago office. Lists of credentials and accomplishments and glowing words followed this new partner's name. I remember the days of writing copy for that sort of thing. There are many words we can use to describe that kind of marketing but we can all think of some that aren't appropriate for my PG rated blog.

When I read this announcement, I actually felt relieved. Relieved that I didn't have to write that stuff anymore. Relieved that I didn't have that stuff written about me anymore.

And yet, I still need to conquer marketing. It's not all bad (not even marketing for lawyers). And it's certainly a good thing when you market the saving power of God. I have to figure out that sweet spot so that I can market my skills, the skills of my ministers, and the ministries I oversee in a manner that suits my personality and my beliefs about how hard a sell should be.

I've waited for divine revelation about marketing long enough. Apparently God wants me to put some effort into it.

Asher Lev

2010-06-04T14:22:00.002-04:00

Today, on my day of rest, I have been reading. I decided to pick up my favorite novel of all time, My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. I have loved this book since I was in my early teens and have read it at least ten times. It is both a triumphant and sad story of a Hasidic Jew with a great gift as an artist, who struggles to follow his calling while he breaks his family's heart in the process. It is filled with Judeo-Christian imagery and themes, and in that sense, is particularly intriguing to me at this point in my life.

I think on some level, every persons struggles with the dichotomy in life of striking a path while hurting others in the process. Sometimes the chosen path is a right one, and sometimes it is a wrong one. In fact, upon reading My Name is Asher Lev at age 42 (as opposed to 14), it occurs to me for the first time that it is not so readily apparent all the time whether this man's chosen path is ultimately right or wrong, but rather it is always apparent how significant his choices are.

I'm no great artist (my famous Snoopy drawings aside), but I take away from this convicting book the truth that all choices, whether they seem large or small, are significant, and even the small ones ultimately lead us down a path that we may not realize is the chosen path until we look back at the clearing we've made in the journey.

So, today I triumphantly recall some areas of my life with an understanding of how seemingly small choices turned into God honoring habits. I can also look back at other areas and recognize how off-course I wandered as a result of what I thought were insignificant choices with supposedly short term consequences.

We are all Asher Levs.

Cooow!

2010-05-27T23:40:00.000-04:00

Tonight Maria Folsom-Kovarik, our director of adult ministry, treated staff and ministers to dessert at Cow, an independent Italian ice and gelato stand in Reisterstown. The trip (which was significant-about 25 minutes away) allowed us to avoid the storms in Northern Baltimore County, and gave us the opportunity to see Nativity people (and some of their offspring) outside of the church walls. It was a very nice time, as Maria fulfilled her Advent Conspiracy gift to those who volunteered for Nativity's Christmas Eve at the Maryland Fairgrounds.

The Italian ice was delicious, even though mine was partially eaten by Nativity minister and all around agitator Jack Bovaird, and the company top notch.

It is nice to do spontaneous and even strange things with your church friends.

What's Next?

2010-05-23T09:58:00.002-04:00

On this dreary Sunday morning, I am at church. I have been reading about discipleship and listening to other church podcasts about how churches expose new members to what next steps for these new members.

Some churches have very extensive flow charts that set forth detailed steps of discipleship. They are impressive, but not terribly understandable to me. Some have nothing that is articulated. I am somewhere in between those two extremes at this point.

Though, maybe neither extreme is ideal. What's the point of a plan that no one can understand? Likewise, when you can't articulate your "next steps" plan, you really don't have one, at least not one that is useful.

Here was the most interesting plan I heard so far: your job as a Christian is to love one another (John 13; Matthew 22) and therefore, the natural consequence of loving everyone is that you come for the lost (Luke 15) to the ends of the earth (Acts 1). That means finding those away from God, introducing them to his son, and never stopping until you get everybody (which won't happen before you die).

Seems too simple. Maybe that's the genius of it.

And so my research continues.

The Best Experiences in God's Creation

2010-05-19T20:36:00.000-04:00

Here is my list today:

1. Freezing ocean waves on your bare feet.

2. Beautiful flat stones made smooth by the turbulent sea.

3. Razor clam shells.

4. The sun on the back of your neck.

5. A dolphin swimming next to you.

6. Salt water in your hair (but only for a few minutes).

7. The stinging of broken shells under your feet.

What's on your list?

"Are You Kathleen from Nativity?"

2010-05-08T09:07:00.002-04:00

I hear those words more than I used to--"are you Kathleen from Nativity?" And when I do, my heart sinks.

Not because I don't like seeing people outside of church, but usually because I am quickly backtracking in my mind to make sure the words and behavior that preceded this recognition are Nativity-worthy. Was I being pleasant and patient right before (both traits I struggle to enforce in my character)? Was I rolling my eyes at the sky, or worse yet, another person? Did I do something silly?

I am a private person, a luxury I am being stretched to offer up to God, and he is taking away my anonymity. I recently started swimming on a masters' team ("masters" in swimming means "old," not "professional," like in golf). There are no fewer than 3 people swimming there with me who know me from church. Yikes. And in a swimsuit no less.

I can be at my most thoughtless in the swimming pool. I have often been accused of swimming down the middle of the lane, a major breach of lap swimming etiquette. I have very long arms and often slap others' hands while swimming. I have little patience with people who don't follow intervals or the practice workout to a tee. I've tended towards "this is my lane and you are lucky I'm deigning to share it with you."

This new lack of anonymity is God's check on my character flaws, I think. Not a test, but a check. To keep my tendencies to be sarcastic, impatient and sometimes just thoughtless in check, to keep these behaviors at bay. Hopefully, this means that as I have fewer times in my day when I can behave badly, new habits will form, habits like being pleasant, patient, and thoughtful of others.

If only I didn't have to do this in the swimming pool. It's just an hour a day, God. And it's early in the morning when many people are irritable. Who'd notice?

Oh, I guess You would.

Sabbath

2010-04-16T18:46:00.000-04:00

Today is my day off. Kids were at school and Eric was working, so I had most of the day to myself, until 1 pm when my first child arrived home. I went to two bookstores (and only bought one book!), Starbucks, and Trader Joe's for some fun shopping. I came home, and while waiting for Devon to arrive from school, I took a nap.

I never take a nap, because if I do, it usually turns into a 3-4 hour sleep. But today I only had an hour, and it worked! I was only slightly groggy afterward I awoke. It seemed like a real Sabbath.

I even managed to stay away from my emails, work and personal, until about 3 pm or so. I'm working towards not checking emails at all on my Sabbath, but this is certainly a promising start.

Why is rest so hard for us as a culture? For me, there are 2 core issues:

1. Worth: I tend to mistakenly believe that if I am not productive, at least "productive" as our culture defines it, then I'm not worthy. Worthy of what? Worthy of value as a person, of love by others. Sounds so silly, but many of us feel like that deep down.

2. Arrogance: I also tend to think that things might crumble to the ground if I am not working at my job, running my household or stressing over financial matters. After a day of rest today, it is my observation that a) my place of employment seems to still be standing, b) my house has not been condemned by the authorities; and c) I am still solvent.

When was the last day you experienced an actual Sabbath? By that I mean, not working at all, not making yourself do things that you didn't want to do, and instead choosing activities you wanted to do, that would rejuvenate you for the week ahead (or even choosing no activities at all). Well, I'm still not there, but I'm closer. Obviously for parents, a full 24 hour Sabbath really isn't in the cards until the kids are out of the house. And I need to stay away from technology on my Sabbath as well, since the lure of email popping into my Inbox while playing on the computer is simply too strong for my weak self. Small steps.

What small step can you take this week to move closer to taking a real Sabbath, as God commanded us to do?

P.S. One last note: typing my blog is not work to me, at least when I am not forcing the issue and trying to write when I have nothing to say.

Peter and Me

2010-04-07T21:46:00.002-04:00

Tonight I was reading the Gospel of John. I was struck by Peter: his actions, his words, and the words he didn't say. Peter did two things in John 18 that lingered on my mind:

-He cut off the ear of Malchus, the Roman soldier who was part of the attachment that seized Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane; and

-He denied Christ three times while Christ was being questioned by the high priest.

Commentary I was reading revealed interesting interpretations of these events:

-Peter shows courage in a situation where it was not desirable (Christ rebukes him for assaulting Malchus, instructing him to put his sword away as Christ is prepared to "drink from the cup" the Father gave him-in other words, to embrace his suffering and death soon to come); and

-Peter lacks courage in a situation where Christ desired support (he lied to others three times about being a follower of Christ).

I've never cut anyone's ear off (not counting an accidental snip of my oldest daughter's ear while trimming her hair when she was four) and I've never publicly, out loud, denied being a follower of Christ. But I have exhibited overconfidence and "courage" out of proportion to the perceived slight of another either to me or a loved one, and I have certainly failed to lead in areas where I need to lead. In fact, I can think of very prominent instances of these behaviors in the past week. And I have engaged in such apparently contradictory behaviors in close proximity to each other, just as Peter did.

As often as I hear or read historical accounts in the Bible, it always surprises me to see how closely I act similarly to people who lived with Christ. I tend to see my faults first, so I often identify with the foibles of the disciples as well as those in opposition to Christ. I don't punish myself over it, but I do try to own those foibles.

It is comforting. Even the disciples engaged in spiritually immature behavior. I'm in good company.

But I'm challenged to not stay there. It's my job to move away from that immaturity. Some days that goes well. Other days, I feel like I am taking three steps backwards for every two forward.

One day at a time, I guess.

Best of Times, Worst of Times

2010-03-31T22:23:00.006-04:00

At dinner on school nights, I ask my daughters what was the best part of their day and what was the worst part of their day. It usually sparks some conversation (the best part is often lunch, the worst some classwork or test).

It is a useful exercise to do myself. Today the best part of my day was taking my youngest daughter and my nephew to dinner and cute kid movie, and listening to them giggle in the car; they can be so silly together. The worst part was realizing there were some areas in my life where I have not led as well as I could.

This exercise is useful because it prompts me to be thankful to God for good things, like sweet moments with dear children. But it is probably most useful when I use the worst part of the day as a learning tool. Whatever the worst part was, I need to ask myself why it happened. Sure, sometimes the worst part is out of my control, like waiting in a line at a store. But often the worst part is not only in my control, the fact that it happened is my doing.

This exercise is helpful only if I am forgiving with myself, as my heavenly Father is with me. If it becomes a tool to berate myself, it’s harmful. We all know behavior doesn’t change by self-loathing. It comes, ever so slowly, by recognizing what we have done or said--owning it, and as dispassionately as possible, discerning why we did it or said it (or failed to do or say something we should have).

I’m trying to do this more. It is hard. It is much more comfortable to simply get angry with myself for being so darned flawed. But if the goal is to be a better person (and I think that is at least a goal of any Christ follower), then, being success-driven, it only makes sense to take the course that might actually lead to a change of behavior, and hopefully a change of heart too.

It’s a long road, and today I feel like I’m in the driveway. But luckily there is someone who loves me more than I love me, and who forgives me even when I struggle to forgive myself.

Angry Much?

2010-03-21T16:55:00.002-04:00

As Nativity wraps up its series called Sfumato, which is all about the tie between our spiritual health and our emotional health, I am fielding many emotions-anger and self-pity high among them.

That got your attention, right?

Let's back up: this series has focused on how we cannot view our emotions in a spiritual vacuum. The way we handle our emotions and how they play out in public are directly tied to our spiritual life. I've been on board with this concept; I believe it is true. And I've been contently listening to the series, understanding that, while I don't have it all together, I'm pretty well off in this department.

Or so I thought. And then...the bomb dropped. In a nutshell, I found out on Saturday that I owe a huge tax sum to the IRS as a result of being a partner in a law firm. I won't bore you with the details (as if I could even explain them) but suffice to say that money I never saw was technically a "profit" to me in 2009. Which means it is income. Which means I have to pay self-employment tax on this amount. Which means I'm in trouble.

Not real trouble, mind you. I believe in paying my taxes, and after I check with the accountant who I suspect will tell me I have to pay it, then I will (gulp) pay it.

Here's the emotions part. I am so angry and feel like there is no justice. I've worked pretty hard over the past 6 months to run a tight financial ship, and I was happy with the results. I've never been one to complain about having to pay taxes. So something in me felt as if it was totally unfair that I have to deal with this.

But, as they say, facts are facts. It appears this is simply a complex business issue that requires me to pay taxes I didn't count on. Knowing that is probably the case, what was my reaction?

Intense worry. Immediate anger and contempt. Enormous self-pity.

And . . . I didn't pray about it for a long time that day. I simply kept trying to figure out a way that I could extricate myself from this situation, on my own. I can tell you that when I finally did pray on Friday, I prayed a lot of "why me????" prayers. Actually, I guess you could call them more "loud statements" to God than prayers.

It wasn't until after I'd made all the calls that I could make, reviewed all the records that I could review, and (probably most significantly) dumped this on my husband who grounded me in healthy emotions and faith more than I could at the time, that I accepted the very unsettling fact that there was nothing more I could do about it on Saturday afternoon. Nothing.

I hate that feeling, that powerless feeling that you simply have to deal with your emotions rather than force them into nonexistence, magically. That's a speciality of mine over the years-trying to make emotions disappear, harboring under the consistent fantasy that I actually have that power. So, needless to say, I didn't handle this news well, emotionally or spiritually.

It made me realize that it is fairly easy to feel like you have it together when your emotions aren't terribly threatened. Yes, I've been angry at my children and irritated at my spouse over the past month, as they surely have been with me in return. Those are real emotions, but it is not until something bigger than the every day stresses of life hits you that you are really tested in your emotional health.

The benefit (and yes, I really do believe there is one in all of this) may well be that I now realize this: you can't stop working on your emotional health when you finally have your everyday emotions in check and they are in tune with your usual Sunday spiritual experience. In fact, there appears to be no "graduation day" from Emotional and Spiritual Health 101.

I'd like to close by saying that I now rejoice in God giving me the gift a big, unexpected tax bill that will make me grow spiritually and emotionally. But I can't, because I still wish this didn't happen at all.

And yet, in a strange way, it is comforting to know that there is no graduation day for me, at least not on this side of heaven. It will keep me from being so disappointed the next time I think I've aced the "God" exam only to find out that I need another tutoring session.

Last, I am thankful that God listens to me in my yelling, and that he can take it when I can't.

10 Reasons Why I'm Weird

2010-03-16T17:01:00.002-04:00

I read a book recently that was actually a compilation of blog posts, and this writer used lists often for his blog entries. I liked reading his lists, and so I wanted to do one of my own. Lacking anything insightful to say, I came up with the title above.

On to the subject at hand:

1. I like lists. I will write down things I've already done on my "To Do" list and then cross them off. Then it looks like I've accomplished more.

2. I love popcorn so much I would eat it for dinner every night. But that is not allowed because it models poor behavior for my children. Also, my dog loves popcorn too, and since he has a weight problem, I have to refrain.

3. Sometimes I read the last page of a book before I start the book. I don't know why, and I often regret doing it.

4. I love to watch the National Spelling Bee on television. Also the Westminster Dog Show. Ironically, I am poor speller without SpellCheck, and my dog is no show dog.

5. I have a mouse in my house and don't know what to do. So I stomp going up and down the stairs so it runs away and never shows itself to me. I recognize this is not a long term solution, yet I am waiting for my husband to solve this problem. I rely on old sexual stereotypes when it comes to rodents and garbage duty.

6. I hate umbrellas. I refuse to use them unless there is simply no other alternative.

7. I have an addiction to hand lotion.

8. If I get another dog, I am going to name it the name I selected for a son (which I don't have): Daniel Asher. I don't care that it is not an appropriate dog name. I'm using my "boy" name someday on something alive.

9. I don't know my left from right very well. This is especially challenging when I am driving and my copilot tells me to turn right, followed by "No! The other right..."

10. I don't miss practicing law at all. I feel guilty for not missing law. I get mad for feeling guilty about not missing the law. I spend too much emotional energy on this whole exercise.

Here's hoping that next week I'll have something deeper to write about in list form.

Plastered

2010-03-10T16:19:00.004-05:00

Today I spent my afternoon plastering "Change Your Mind About Church" cards up and down York Road on community bulletin boards in various businesses. It felt strange. I have never put anything on a community bulletin board before. My husband chauffeured me around, which made the job much easier. I still have a pile in my car, along with thumbtacks, so that I can seize other opportunities when I am out and about.

This is so far out of my comfort zone. But we must lean in to these challenges, or rather, lean out of our comfort zones, to move forward. Forward mobility is never characterized by true comfort, at least not in my limited experience. Training for a sport is not "comfortable." Having a child is certainly not "comfortable." Even great life experiences that we don't usually associate with pain, like getting married, are not marked by great comfort all of the time, and the discomfort of learning to become one, when we used to be two, can be significant.

If you have the guts, step out of your comfort zone and email, Twitter, or Facebook this blog post to someone who you think might be in a position to change their mind about church (and maybe even those who aren't, but might be curious about what the heck we are up to).

If you are the recipient of this blog post against your will, thanks for reading this far. Now read this:

Change Your Mind about Church

What if you could change your mind about Church?

What if you could find a Church that's not even in a Church and definitely not for Church people?

What if you could find a Church for people who don't like Church?

Church of the Nativity is hosting casual, contemporary worship services where you'll find a friendly, low key environment, good music and a relevant message that's not about Church or religion. It's about getting to know God.

Join us Sundays at 10:30am beginning February 21.

Crowne Plaza Hotel

2004 Greenspring Drive
Timonium, Maryland

Dislike

2010-02-28T16:58:00.003-05:00

I met someone recently that I didn't like (I'll refer to this person as "him"). It was sort of an immediate feeling I had. As time went on, my initial reaction became stronger. I didn't like that I didn't like him, and wished I felt differently. But I didn't like him, and I still don't.

As time passed, I couldn't let go of this reaction. My biggest beef was that he did not listen to others. It was all about this his opinions, and no one else's mattered.

In our current message series at Nativity, entitled Sfumato, we are digging down into the truth that there is a connection between what's going on in our lives, and what's going on in our hearts and our emotions. In that context, we focused this Sunday on our fundamental need to listen to those we are in relationship with, and to be listened to in return.

So, what was going on in my heart recently was that I didn't like this person I encountered in my life, and I felt he didn't listen to anyone. But there was something more that I couldn't put my finger on. This recent acquaintance reminded me of someone. But who?

Me. This person reminded me of me. That's what was bothering me-I was looking in a mirror, and I didn't like the reflection. It felt as if I was observing the worst version of myself. Of course, that made me dislike this person more and want to avoid him.

I will encounter this person again, at least in the short-term. So what would be the emotionally healthy thing to do?

I think I need to lean into my feelings and ask myself whether this dislike is more about him or more about me. It is always good to get to the core of visceral reactions, but regardless of the answer to that question, more can be gained here. I can also hope that this relationship could be fruitful in some way, perhaps helping me learn better listening skills, which I desperately need, and maybe modeling better listening for others.

We don't have to like everyone we meet, but we do have to love them. I think that includes listening to them. We are not all born with the natural gift of selfless listening, but that doesn't mean we can simply let the empathic people of the world do all the listening for us.

I will lean into my own weaknesses (not listening as well as I should; thinking I'm always right) in hopes that I improve my character in these areas.

This doesn't mean I will end up liking this person. Frankly, I don't see that happening. It does mean that I will commit to making an effort to listen to him.

I will try to be the person I could be by modeling myself after the Person I'm not.

21093

2010-02-19T16:42:00.003-05:00

Mark Batterson, pastor of National Community Church in Washington, DC, tweeted this today:

Your zip code is your mission field.

I wish I could think of catchy statements like that, but if I can't (and I can't), I'm glad Mark did and put it out there for the Twitter world. It captures the essence of Nativity Crowne Plaza, launching this Sunday morning.

It is easier for me to think about the mission field being another country, even another city or another cultural experience. It is hard for me to want to talk about Christ in my own cultural experience (suburban lawyer/mom world), with neighbors, friends and family. It is a real struggle, but evangelization in Scripture is just that: telling those you meet in your everyday life about your experience with Christ.

I know a lady named Mary, and she knows her mission field. She has an easygoing way of telling her friends about her faith and her church, and inviting people to check it out. My goal is to be more like Mary.

If your zip code is your mission field, what kind of missionary are you? Are you one at all?

Why not?

Cleaning House

2010-02-12T08:44:00.001-05:00

Today I am going to my law firm (still affiliated there, not paid, don't do anything for them) to clean out my office. Why? It is bothering me. My office there is the last stop for every document and exhibit from any trial we have ever had. That's pretty much what I did the last few years-manage huge pieces of litigation, which is a euphemism for taming paper. I literally managed paper and its digital sibling, databases (yes, it was as exciting as it sounds). No one kills trees like lawyers.

It is bothering me that I haven't left that office as clean as I would have liked. I don't know why. Perhaps because it is technically still my office and I like neat offices. I am that person who can't take on a new project unless my physical environment is tidy. It's as though, if I get my physical environment in order, then my mental environment will follow. It usually works, too.

We'll see if I can transfer a clean lawyer's desk to focused thinking about church membership and what that means...

Blizzard Church

2010-02-08T21:41:00.001-05:00

I did something really different this Sunday. I didn’t go to church.

It’s no secret why, of course. I couldn’t get there, and even if I could, it wasn’t open. So I did something that plenty of other Christians do weekly. I worshiped at home.

I hear a collective gasp in cyberspace! No, I didn’t have a priest visiting my family for the weekend who could celebrate a Mass. I didn’t play church like I did when I was young by taking Wonder Bread and slamming it in an Encyclopedia to make flat, circular “hosts” in order to play Communion. I didn’t convert to another denomination that has thousands, even millions, of members worshiping in homes every Sunday.

It just hit me (read: God put it in my heart) that having some kind of group worship at home would be a good idea.

I had a model for putting this together. We have a weekly prayer time among the Nativity staff every week, led by our Creative Director of Live Presentations, Kristin. She selects worship music and Scripture to complement the prayer, for a very nice and rejuvenating prayer group.

I married this prayer group experience with the pattern of the Mass, at least the part that involves readings from the Bible. I looked up the Scripture readings for that Sunday (easily accessible on the internet) and I read them. After that, I searched my iTunes library for a few songs that were thematically similar. Turns out, most of worship music is based on Scripture. Who knew.

One reading from this Sunday was from the book of Isaiah, when the Lord puts a hot coal on Isaiah’s tongue to purify him so he is an appropriate vessel for God’s word as he begins his life as a prophet. Isaiah submits to God’s will, declaring, “Lord, send me.” I then found a song by Downhere, one of my favorite Christian bands, called “Here I Am,” which appears to be based on this chapter of Isaiah.

After this, I corralled my family. We sat at the dining room table. We read the readings, listened to/sang a few songs, and talked about the similar messages in Isaiah (“Lord, send me”) and the Gospel from Luke where Christ tells his first disciples to put down their fishing nets and become fishers of men (“and they followed Him”).

I really liked it. My oldest daughter tolerated it. My youngest daughter enjoyed bringing her enormous stuffed Clydesdale horse to it. And my husband participated in it (he read the Gospel). It was pretty cool.

It is such a weird experience for Catholics, I think, to do something like this. It seems strange. But it was a nice experience that, at the very least, communicated to my children that Sunday is a special day, and that despite “acts of God” like blizzards, we can take a few minutes to listen to God’s Word and pray.

Homebound

2010-02-06T13:37:00.000-05:00

It's 1:30 on Saturday afternoon and I am beat. Snow shoveling for me and my neighbors is exhausting. I still have my neighbors' drive way (like they are going anywhere) and their front walk.

This is a short post because I am too tired to type. Here are my goals today:

1. Pick up my Bible. No excuse not to.

2. Don't eat all day. Snow is a big excuse to eat all day.

3. Play another game of Trivial Pursuit with my kids. What the heck. I can find 3 extra hours today, the average length of a Trivial Pursuit game in my family.

4. Pray.

This is one of those days I can justify doing things I shouldn't do, and not doing things I should do. I'm going to make an effort to spend some time reading, playing and praying.

Stay safe.

GO

2010-01-26T12:25:00.001-05:00

This past Sunday, we had our "soft launch" of Nativity Crowne Plaza, a worship service that is specifically for people who don't go to church and might not even like church.

It went very well. There were definitely areas we can and will improve, but overall, it was a great first showing. I attribute this to God's grace, which includes the gifts he has given our terrific ministry team at Crowne Plaza. They were very excited before and even more excited after we finished. They provided great feedback and positive reinforcement for this Sunday's second "soft launch." We have three "soft launches" before we go live on February 21.

I've been asked, "why are you doing this?" If you know Nativity, then you know we are full at prime church time, on Sunday mornings. We can't welcome more people to our Ridgely Road campus and hope they have an irresistible experience given the current crowds. We need to start finding ways to deal with this (good) problem.

Also, and really more importantly, when Christ spoke to his followers before he ascended into heaven, he didn't say "go and make disciples until your pews are full," or "go and make disciples until you get complaints about crowded parking lots," or "go and make disciples until you get a group of satisfied, complacent customers." He said, "go and make disciples of all nations." Mt. 28.19. I think his use of the phrase "all nations" probably means he wasn't interested in people stopping discipleship efforts when there was no more room in the building.

Do you know someone who doesn't go to church, and might not even like church? Help us reach them. Help them change their mind about church. Click here to get the details.

Go.

Apply the Message

2010-01-22T12:59:00.000-05:00

Today I had a cup of coffee and nice conversation with a fellow Christian who is discerning her spiritual gifts and where that might take her professionally and personally. It was nice. God orchestrated a meeting for me with someone I did not know very well who has some of the same personality characteristics and life experiences that I have had. As a wise person once told me, there are no coincidences.

It has also been affirming because through this conversation and others, I have found that people are applying the messages preached in Nativity's current message series, YOU. Last week, we heard about spiritual gifts, and I continue to think about that message and the scripture passages that give us insight to the spiritual gifts we receive at baptism.

I'm still not clear on it all, and I'll never be. The key for me is to be okay with not fully understanding it. By the buzz at Nativity surrounding spiritual gifts, many others are okay with not fully understanding spiritual gifts either and are open to what God has gifted them with and using those gifts for God.

Pretty cool.

Gifted-who, me?

2010-01-19T17:02:00.009-05:00

This weekend at Nativity, the message was about spiritual gifts--what they are, what we are supposed to do with them, and how we are uniquely gifted by God. This subject has always confused me, and I don't think I saw the distinction between an ability and a spiritual gift before. After listening to the message, I hounded fellow staff members, who fielded my questions throughout the weekend.

The subect of spiritual gifts is one that I never bothered to understand. It seemed like a topic that only famous, long-dead saints needed to study. I don't speak in tongues, I can't heal people, and, to my knowledge, I have no miracles to my name. I once drove from my house to BWI airport in 17 minutes, but I think that qualified more as a law violation than an actual miracle.

After listening to the message, and grilling others about their understanding of spiritual gifts, I decided it might be helpful to actually read the parts of the Bible that deal with spiritual gifts. I know--what a concept. I don't read directions that come with new electronic devices either.

Particularly, I read 1 Corinthians 12:8-11 and Romans 12:6-8. I reviewed the listings of spiritual gifts (there are many and these passages are not exhaustive). Some gifts jumped out as NOT applicable to me (I always manage to go negative first). In the process, I experienced an internal, guilty pull against trying to identify my gifts.

Then it occurred to me that there should be no guilt in identifying one's spiritual gifts-after all, they are spiritual (from God and for God's kingdom) and gifts (freebies, not earned). So, identifying them is not an exercise in flattering myself. I decided that maybe I should read the Scripture passages and think about what seems to come easily to me, even though I can't explain why.

After I relaxed about the process and let the Scripture speak to me, I did identify some spiritual gifts that I thought came more easily to me than others.

It's a useful process--try it. It makes you think about whether you are actually using your spiritual gifts as you should be, and how you can better serve God. Using our spiritual gifts is not only what Christ wants us to do, but it also puts us at ease because we are working within our natural areas of competence.

Win-win.

Fear of Failure

2010-01-12T21:24:00.006-05:00

This picture shows me at age 15, at my first nationals competition, in my first race. I was so nervous that I lost my swimming brain and ducked my head under the water at the end of the race, a rule violation. I was disqualified from the race. My mother and I flew to California for me to be disqualified. I remember this race as if it was yesterday (it was 27 years ago).

I have spent a lot of my life fearing failure. I remember that in my senior year in high school, I had the opportunity to compete in the state-wide forensics competition (public speaking, not the dead body kind of forensics). I was so sick to my stomach on that day that I thought I would have to run to the bathroom while standing at the lectern to give my speech. That same year, I lived in fear of losing the state swimming championship. I did get sick right before my race, actually running from the locker room to the starting blocks.

I swam in national and international competitions, always in fear of coming in last. I decided to go to law school, and took the LSATs (the entrance exam for law school), sure that I would bomb. After law school, I took the bar exam, convinced that I failed.

There is something wired in me, and in many of us, to expect failure even in the face of success. I can remember telling people, "I'm sure I'll come in last place" or "I bet I failed the bar exam," and they looked back at me as if I had two heads. It is amazing the distance between perception of self and reality. Yes, sometimes I failed, but when that happened, I simply chalked it up to the "real" reality. When I succeeded, something deep inside of me always believed that I had inexplicably managed to fool the time clock, the forensics judges, the law school examiners.

After those experiences, you would think I would choose less stressful paths. Nope.

Now I live in church world. It might seem that in church world, all is safe and there is no fear or risk of failure. Nothing could be further from the truth. After living through swimming competitions, national and international rankings, college NCAA championships, law school entrance exams, bar exams, and lawsuits with hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, I can tell you that fear of failure in church world might actually be more acute than in those other scenarios.

Why? There is more at stake. People coming into a relationship with Christ is more important than any of those other situations that are, at least in the long run, rather meaningless.

And yet fear of failure is no excuse not to take risks. Where would we be without people taking risks even though fear of failure was almost debilitating? Where would the church be? There would be no church. When Christ said, in Matthew 28, for his followers to go and make disciples of all nations, fear could have paralyzed them. We can all be eternally grateful that it didn't.

I'm a small part of Nativity's exciting, scary, unknown endeavor to host a worship service (not a Mass) for those people, especially cultural Catholics, who do not have a church and who might not even like church, in an effort to offer them a worship experience that meets them where they are. To hear more about this effort, join us at Nativity on Sundays in January.

I've calmed with age, so I don't think I'll have to worry about the distance between the bathroom and the worship service. But it is scary, in a good way. It's unknown. It might be a success. It might not.

But we are certain to fail if we don't make the effort.

Get Ready

2010-01-07T23:56:00.000-05:00

This is a big weekend at Nativity. It's a new year. We begin a new series, You. We welcome new members to Nativity at Access Point, as well as those who are discerning the Christian faith in a 12 week small group called Vantage Point. Children and youth programs gear up for the spring semester, and we hear a big announcement this weekend that you won't want to miss.

As we look back at 2009, we can be pleased with what Nativity has accomplished. But we can never be finally satisfied. There is much ahead of us. As Sir Winston Churchill said, "Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."

Courage.

"Jesus Wept. Amen."

2010-01-06T12:08:00.000-05:00

When I was a child, I had a friend whose father was a Lutheran pastor. In fact, this pastor married my mother and stepfather. Her name was Sarah, and I remember that she and her brothers all had names from the Bible. I thought that was the weirdest thing I ever heard (even though the names were not really out there-no Rahabs or Nicodemuses). My name is not biblical, and neither are my brothers' names (except for my oldest brother, James Michael), so it was a strange concept to me.

The other thing I remember about Sarah is that she told me the shortest verse in the Bible: "Jesus wept." (John 11:35). I thought about Sarah last night because I was reading John 11, which details Jesus' journey to the sisters of his friend Lazarus. Lazarus died, and the sisters sent for Christ, who mourned his friend's death, signified by this shortest verse in Scripture.

I prayed very little when I was young, but after Sarah told me this, a combination of guilt over not praying and laziness lead me to pray nightly, "Jesus wept. Amen." I never read this verse in Scripture until I was an adult. But I prayed this nightly for a long time. I had forgotten all of this until last night.

The only significance of this seemingly insignificant story is that I don't remember praying much at all when I was a child, but in actuality, there are tidbits of my youth that remind me I did pray (at least for 1.5 seconds).

Most of us who don't think we are spiritual or reaching for God in any way, probably have had moments, even years, where we made some effort to have a relationship with God. Maybe it was a half-hearted effort, or a self-interested one, but some effort is better than none. And it is these small building blocks of "kinda-like-a-prayer" moments that may be the stepping stones to a real relationship with Christ.

So keep praying. Don't be discouraged if your children pray the same rote, prayer every night (my youngest prays for the safety of all animals, "wild and domestic"). I've tried to add some ad lib praying with my children so they don't get into a habit of only reciting without connecting to God.

But these efforts do mean something. "Jesus wept. Amen."

A Book For Christmas

2009-12-27T11:53:00.000-05:00

My husband and I didn't exchange Christmas presents this year, not really. But we decided to buy a book that we wanted, and label as a gift from the other person. Lame, I know. But we don't trust each other to pick out books for ourselves. I'd end up with a Clive Cussler espionage-type book and Eric would get a theology book. This way we don't have to switch books.

I love to get a book for Christmas so I can hunker down and read for an extended period of time. That time is today, since Christmas Phase I ended last night, and Christmas Phase II (in Virginia) doesn't commence until later in the week. A head cold will keep me inside for much of today, so assuming my headache doesn't prevent it, I'll get some quality book time.

I bought myself Prophet of Purpose-The Life of Rick Warren.

Let me digress briefly. I've noticed lately that Christian-types seem to be viewing Rick Warren with friendly distain, more so that before. I've read that he's too simple in his theology or fluffy in his application of theology.

Christians, me included, can tend to want an academic challenge after they believe they have "mastered" a simpler theology of, say, a guy like Rick Warren. When I start to think that, I've conditioned myself to hear alarms, see flashing red lights, and envision "WARNING" signs.

When that happens, it is time to remember the first line of Warren's most famous book: "It's not about you." It's not about my intellectual fulfillment, or whether I am encountering a bored phase with religion. It's about Someone else. And if the intellectual snobs among us will suspend our distain long enough to read A Purpose Driven Life, we will be focused on truth that is simple enough for all of us and challenging enough to never be mastered this side of Heaven.

Ok, enough defense of Rick Warren. The book Prophet of Purpose is pretty good so far. The beginning is a bit of history of Protestantism in the United States, which is not bad given that it is straight history. Now I'm reading about Warren's early life.

I'm intrigued by anyone who can do what he has done. You can think of Rick Warren what you will, but no one can deny that he has turned millions of people towards Jesus Christ. That can be a good thing or a bad thing in your book, but regardless, it is surely an amazing thing.

Walk the Walk

2009-12-22T11:36:00.003-05:00

Ok, let's face it. It's easy to preach about making Christmas less about crazy spending and crazy living, and more about relational giving and relaxation. But now it's crunch time. It's December 22, and I'm feeling it. I'm feeling like these smaller piles of gifts will induce pangs of inadequacy on Christmas morning. I'm feeling stressed that we might not buy the flavored coffee for Christmas morning (remember, no hazelnut! My father-in-law doesn't like it).

Come, Lord Jesus. It will be fine. My kids understand about the Advent Conspiracy, and they participated themselves, out of their own little savings accounts. My father-in-law would not make a fuss if the coffee was hazelnut.

So, I admit, it's really about me. It's about me feeling inadequate on Christmas. I think we tend to hide behind other people's supposed disappointment, when really it's our own ego on the line. What if . . . there are not "enough" presents (whatever "enough" is)? What if the food isn't amazing? What if the beverages run out?

The sun will not plunge into the earth. The children will recover if they complain about fewer gifts. My father-in-law will suffer through a cup of hazelnut coffee with a smile on his face.

If we focus less on these minor blips, we can focus more on the reality of a Savior.

Come, Lord Jesus.

SNOW

2009-12-17T13:09:00.002-05:00

I love snow! Growing up in Southeastern Virginia, I saw precious little of it as a child. One year, when I was in 7^th grade, we got a foot of snow and we didn’t have school for ten days. No snow plows in the south.

I have found that in church-world, snow is problematic. It can affect the numbers who come to church, and as we all know, Baltimore is a not-so-southern city that behaves like a very southern city totally unaccustomed to the white stuff, when it comes our way.

So the snowfall predicted for Saturday may cause some problems, for church-world and for my personal world. I only have two parties a year, and I am having them both on the same day. I am indeed insane, to answer your unspoken question.

Early Saturday is my cookie party for children and their parents (and a few Nativity people who like tiny, sticky fingers so much that they want to come and be a part of it). Saturday night is a small get together for my extended family living here in Maryland. Despite the fact that they all live less than an hour away, I have been quite remiss in seeing them with any frequency. Sometimes I only see them once a year.

So, it was time to get relational. My relational gift to them this year is a small (easy) get together at 8 pm on Saturday for the Dixons (my aunt and uncle, and their offspring and grand-offspring), where we will catch up with each other. We will also engage in two behaviors that my family members are instinctually born with: eating junk and being irreverent. We are good at both and proud of it.

I hope the snow doesn’t keep them away. They are, after all, originally from the real south. I’m counting on my cousin who grew up in Baltimore to get them to my house in his truck.

Get ready for snow, hon.

Humbug

2009-12-16T17:16:00.002-05:00

My kids and I read A Christmas Carol out loud each year during the Advent season. We take turns and we read in (bad) British accents. The problem is that my girls are now ages 10 and 14, and, you guessed it, this tradition is too lame for them. Even homework takes precedent over our annual reading. What's up with that? What’s killing me is that this is such a relational thing for us to do that it seemingly fits in so well with Advent Conspiracy (plus, I love to hear my kids read and I like to try to read in my decidedly cockney accent).

I love reading the opening line, "Marley was dead . . ." I love the cutting exchanges early in the book between Scrooge and his nephew, and Scrooge and the men seeking a charitable gift. I love the prayer over the Cratchit dinner when Bob has to chastise his wife and children when they don't wish to pray from Scrooge himself. And, of course, I love the ending when Scrooge turns towards the light, becomes a generous giver to Bob Cratchit, and makes merry himself with family and friends.

Despite this, I’m going to let go of this tradition. Why? Because holding on it is stressful for my kids, who don’t want to do it anymore, and disappointing and irritating to me, when the kids’ lack of enthusiasm is palpable. So, following the Advent Conspiracy directive of give more, I’m going to give my kids a break. In a sense, this will be a relational gift from me to them-the gift of a break from an old ritual that they don’t enjoy anymore, and hopefully the gift of time for a different holiday ritual that we all enjoy.

After they are in bed, however, I might secretly read to myself in my Liza Doolittle voice.

Blimey.

Cookie Heaven or Hell?

2009-12-16T12:04:00.003-05:00

On Friday, I bake. Not fancy stuff-I bake cookies (from a mix, gasp) and I bake a lot of them (about 250). These are for my annual cookie party on Saturday, an event where little kids that I know and their families decorate cookies any way they want. Some cookies are beautiful, some are crazy, and most are gloppy messes that no one other than little kids would eat.

I intend to make my pre-party baking ritual fun, laid back and not stressful. In light of the intended audience, there is no need to stress over this process. Little kids don't care that I made the cookies from a mix. They only care if they get to decorate them and eat them. One neighborhood boy makes only one cookie, but it has about 8 inches of icing on top, which is gray as a result of mixing all the icing colors together to make the masterpiece.

When I start baking, the cookies look great, carefully cut and placed on the baking sheet. By the end of the day, however, the angels look like laborador retrievers, and Santa's hats are elongated in a Suess-like fashion. I usually get stressed about this, but this year I will make it relational. I'm going to have my daughters help me make the cookies, and I vow not to care if they look less than professional.

The point of my cookie party is fun, fellowship and sugar overload. That will all be accomplished without any Martha Stewart touches on my part.

Good thing. I flunked Martha Stewart in college.

Going Postal

2009-12-07T18:52:00.004-05:00

Today I mailed out my Christmas cards. I hadn't bought the stamps yet, so I drove to the Post Office to get Christmas stamps. The line was out the door, of course. I was not as put together as I would have liked, so I hoped I wouldn't see anyone I knew. I didn't, but time was not on my side. I waited for 20 minutes to buy the stamps and then had to stand at a table and place them on 55 cards. This took a long time, longer than I hoped it would.

The experience was not great. The federal government apparently believes that 107 degrees is the optimal working temperature in Post Offices. Despite that, customers were quickly and loudly reminded to shut the door immediately upon entering, lest the oven-like atmosphere be compromised. People in line were testy. The postal workers were not exactly full of Christmas cheer (when I finally paid, the woman who "assisted" me gave me what might best be described as a "death stare" when I failed to fish out my money in as timely a fashion as she would have liked).

It was time for me to pray the "Come, Lord Jesus" mantra that we were reminded of in the weekend message, that simple, short prayer that makes things like waiting in line bearable. Advent is all about waiting, but it's not supposed to be about waiting in line. It is about waiting for the coming of Christ and the celebration of his birth 2000 years ago. It's also about remembering his name, Emmanuel, and what it means, "God with us."

When we feel the stress of the season hitting us, we need to take a breath and remember Who this is all about. And maybe to reassess whether we should be in the Post Office line on Monday at 9 a.m. in pajama bottoms.

Just Hit Delete

2009-12-03T09:29:00.008-05:00

Since the holiday season began, I have received roughly 100 emails from retailers promising me great joy and related calm if I take advantage of their sales. Harry & David, Barnes & Noble, Lillian Vernon: these are not friends of mine, but you'd think they were, as often as they populate my in box. Lillian apparently believes I am just not getting the 16 emails she sent me since mid-November. She hounds me like a bill collector--how can it be that I've ordered nothing from her yet? The grand prize goes to Pottery Barn, however: 23 emails in just 2 weeks.

Now, I know that I have created this situation, because in years past, I have treated these vendors like friends, based on how often I contacted them. I'm sure Harry & David wonders if I converted to a faith that does not celebrate Christmas, and Barnes & Noble assumes I have joined a campaign to promote illiteracy.

Neither. I'm buying less (a lot less). And buying less is stressful. Let's just admit it. It stresses us out to think that Christmas will look smaller this year. But that stress is balanced, even overtaken, by a prevailing calm that sets in when I realize that I have paid and will pay cash for every single thing this Christmas. There is really no choice, since Dave Ramsey (my real friend) made me cancel all my credit cards. I know what you are thinking--that's crazy, that's anti-American, that's conspiratorial...

Worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. Now is the time to work on #2, spending less. Why? We are in that fragile period before Christmas where we carelessly dropping things in our actual and virtual shopping carts because:

~we've spend $20 less on child #2 and need to "even it all out"

~the teenager's pile looks smaller because it's filled with (expensive) tiny electronic gadgets and gift cards

~the little one asked for something that we didn't buy, and we've convinced ourselves that he or she will surely end up in adult psychotherapy if we don't relent.

These are lies. Lies told to us by well meaning family members and friends. Lies told to us by my old friends Lillian Vernon and her posse.

I just wish that old crowd I used to hang out with would stop bothering me. Peer pressure apparently does not know age limits.

Strangled by the Advent Wreath

2009-11-27T22:36:00.011-05:00

My family has many Christmas traditions, but one is not a happy one: the annual Advent Wreath Misery. My guess is that my husband, if he is reading this, has slammed his computer shut upon seeing the words "Advent wreath." That is how ugly of a tradition this is.

I am not laid back about my Advent wreath. I don't know why. Growing up, my family had an Advent wreath that my mother made. It looked very nice and I remember it fondly. Since returning to church about 8 years ago, I reinstituted the tradition. However, I am never satisfied with my Advent wreath. I have spent countless hours tinkering (and ruining) Advent wreaths. One year, I decided to do a modern version with chunks of purple and pink glass surrounding the candles. You have never beheld anything uglier than that creation. I remember chucking it in the trash, as Eric huffed to the basement to find the old, tired Advent wreath we had used for years, the one that simply was not good enough, the one that he told me we should use in the first place.

I cannot tell you how much money I have spent trying to make the perfect Advent wreath, but it is too much. I flirted with buying a very expensive one from Trappist monks in North Carolina made of a tree trunk (yes, that is how out of hand this obsession has gotten).

But this year, at Nativity, Advent is about a conspiracy-worship fully, spend less, give more, and love all. It seemed anti-Advent Conspiracy to spend a lot of money and time I didn't have fretting over a less than perfect Advent wreath that really only meant something to me (for the record, I have logged a total of zero complaints from family members regarding the appearance or functionality of any previous Advent wreath).

So I didn't repeat old habits. I went to a store I knew would have Advent candles, and bought the candles, a candle ring and a wreath to go around it. It was not expensive, it's reusable and it was easy.

The crazy thing is that it looks better than any Advent wreath I've ever had, and better than the monk-made tree trunk wreath. This is just another example of God's sense of humor. Let go of perfection, and you come pretty close to finding it.

And if you don't like my Advent wreath, please don't tell me. I'm in a good place right now . . .

Coffee and Christ

2009-11-23T12:01:00.004-05:00

I am downing a cup of coffee this morning to get a jolt for the start of my work day. I like mild coffee. I know that is an embarrassing admission in the world of Starbucks and espresso drinks, but it's true. I'd be very happy with a cup of diner coffee and cream.

I still go to Starbucks though-they've tapped the market for people like me. I can get a misto, which is nothing more than a dressed up, milky cup of diner coffee. Yet I like the atmosphere there, the people are pleasant, and the snacks are great. They marketed a coffee product I will buy, which causes me to come back again and again. They got me in the door, and in the process, I have branched out into drinks that I normally would not have sampled. I'm not a "fancy coffee" girl, but Starbucks got me into the a "fancy coffee" store.

Perhaps that is a poor segue to Christ, but I hope that at Nativity, we continue to employ the same modus operandi. I hope we continue to attract people who aren't "church" people, but are interested in what we have to offer, or at least are curious what all the fuss is about on Sunday. The bottom line is that what we have to offer is the gospel of Jesus Christ, but hitting them over the head with the Bible or a Catholic missal is not the answer, as we well know from history. The solution is to create an environment where non-church people are comfortable entering, even if they don't fully understand what we are about.

Nativity is working on creative ways to continue to reach out to non-church (even anti-church) people. Stay tuned; there is something in the works for that neighbor, co-worker, friend or family member whom you haven't yet coaxed into visiting Nativity.

One more cup, and then I'm outta here.

Day of Rest

2009-11-13T13:02:00.004-05:00

I'm watching Judgment at Nuremberg while I rest from housecleaning. I've never seen this movie start to finish. Actually, there are many movies I haven't seen start to finish. I get antsy.

Today is my day off. I fantasize about taking my day off and just relaxing all day. But that's not really fun to me. I wish it was, but it's not. So my husband Eric and I cleaned. By the way, Eric can relax all day, though he rarely gets the chance. Usually I start cleaning and he joins in, out of guilt. Today he started the cleaning after I said we should clean. I was probably content to find something else to occupy my time since I didn't start the cleaning jag, but dust and laundry were piling up, so what are you going to do?

The command that we rest one day a week is, of course, Scriptural (Genesis 2.2). Sunday, however, is a day of great joy for me but not really one of rest. I come home on Sunday evening exhausted. I'm finally learning not to plan an elaborate meal on Sunday night. Generally now it's pasta, which my family would eat hourly if permitted to do so.

So, now that I'm done cleaning, I'll try to finish watching my movie and actually relax. Yet I have to buy my coat for Project Thanksgiving. Oh good, something else productive to do. Perhaps I'll get half way through the movie this time.

At least my floors are clean.

Lies My Catholic Mother Told Me

2009-11-01T22:00:00.007-05:00

"Lies My Catholic Mother Told Me" was the name of the informational session held at Nativity a few weeks ago after all Masses, and again after one Mass today. Let me start with a very necessary statement: my Catholic mother told me no lies. (Well, with one notable exception: that one of my favorite meals as a child, which my mother called "cornish game hen," was actually rabbit. That is a true story, and no, I'm still not over it).

The title "Lies My Catholic Mother Told Me" was an attention grabber with a nugget of truth in it. We have all heard myths (if not lies) from friends and family members about the Catholic Church and what it actually teaches on the subjects of marriage, divorce and annulments. In response to this, the Nativity staff worked to provide some small measure of information and pastoral care for people who (incorrectly) believe that there is no mercy in the Church for people who have been divorced or are remarried, and who perhaps have been the recipient of a lack of mercy from individual Catholics, or worse, their own family members.

As Director of Membership, my job, at it's most basic level, is to help people in their search for a church home, and to serve seekers as they come to Nativity to worship, grow and eventually serve. That can be a tall task when people have been told by other Catholics, even clergy, that they are unwelcome in the Catholic Church. I heard no fewer than four stories this weekend that showed how unmerciful "church people" can actually be. How sad, and how utterly opposed to what Christ meant his church to be.

My take-away from this experience is that I need to work harder to discern the issues that affect people's hearts and may serve to keep people away from church instead of draw them into the mercy of Christ. I wonder what Letter Paul would write to us, the modern Christian "church people," if he was here to observe our practices and our words as they related to welcoming people (or not) in the doors of our places of worship.

It's a great rhetorical question to ask myself, to check myself, in this great job that I have. Perhaps the question might be not only, "What Would Jesus Do?" but also, "What Would Paul Write?"

Don't Hate

2009-10-22T23:13:00.004-04:00

"I hate money."

I used to say that all the time. I hated that it was necessary. I hated that I typically had none. When I had it, I hated that I mishandled it. I thought this position, the view that money was something to treat with great distain, was noble. It meant I wasn't materialistic, right?

Actually, I was so materialistic that I constantly dwelt on my financial status, or lack of. I didn't like being poor (who does?) After law school, I wanted that all to change. I spent my legal career in private practice. At first, I made a meager living and worried about how to pay the bills. When I started to make a decent living, I worried it wasn't enough. When I started to make a nice living, I felt guilty about what I had and yet still managed to worry if it was enough. (By the way, that phrase, "making a living," is strange. It directly ties money to life. There is something wrong with that statement and the culture from which it developed. Money ≠ Life).

By my mid-30s, I had some money. Not millions, but some. I could do things I couldn't do before. That was nice. I had gone from having very little to having more than enough. But it turns out that money doesn't buy happiness ("Awe, Kathleen, that's it? That's your deep theological point for this posting? You should have studied harder").

Everyone knows that platitude, but few people actually believe it. I actually believe it now. I believed it when I finally acknowledged the obvious: every dime I make, every thing I own, it was never mine to begin with. It all belongs to God.

This should make sense to anyone who even marginally acknowledges the existence of God. If God created me, then he is the one who gifted me with whatever talent I have that allows me to earn a wage. Therefore, the fruits are his.

The ironic part is that I have never had a more secure feeling in my life than when I finally acknowledged that my money is not my money, but God's. It's actually not all that hard to live like it's his money, either. He has never asked me to give it all up, every dollar and every thing (he did do that to a few people in Scripture, but he did that for specific reasons, sometimes seemingly because he saw how much they loved money and possessions). He never asked me to stop having fun. He just asked me to act like it was his money when I made decisions about that money.

This weekend, we are starting a new five-week series at Nativity, Forecast, about faith, finances and the future. What if, during this time of reflection about your finances, you actually suspended your disbelief in, or your distain for, the idea that your money and possessions really belong to God?

You have nothing to lose (not even your money). Just suspend your disbelief or distain, and be open every day to the suggestion that your money is not yours, but God's. Just listen to the message each week. Just read the Message Guide. Just take it in. For five weeks.

After that, if your heart hasn't changed, go back to the old way. The way that left me waking up in the middle night worrying about how to pay the rent, how to pay for college, how to get a higher paying job, how to get any job.

You always have a choice.

A Musical Lift

2009-10-18T22:06:00.008-04:00

It's Sunday night, and my family is asleep. I am so tired on Sundays, but often have trouble winding down on Sunday nights. So the glow of my computer often keeps me company until I force myself to go to bed.

I am listening to my new iTunes playlist, which consists of every version of "God of This City" that I could find (four versions, to be exact). Al Walsh and the Nativity band were practicing this song today in between Masses; it will be debuted at Nativity next week during the new Forecast series. I heard it for the first time today, and came home to supplement my music library with this song. However, my playlist needs Al and the Band's version. Because it's the best. Just wait to you hear it during Mass. You will be blown away.

Nativity is very blessed to have the deep talent and authentic voices of the Band as a part of our worship. Hearing them practice today rejuvenated me before noon Mass, when the caffeine was wearing off and the yawn domino effect was setting in. They don't just pump up the congregation and lead worship in musical form during Mass. They keep me going during the marathon that is Sunday. It's a long day for the staff, and for some, it's a 12 or more hour event, on the heels of Saturday events and Mass. It helps us keep serving when we can enjoy their music during Mass, and continue leaning on that worship experience after the music stops.

I'm not one for gushing. But I must say, many thanks, Al, Chris, Andrew and the rest of the Nativity Band. You guys are a real gift.

Those Who Won't Read, Study

2009-10-08T21:21:00.009-04:00

I went to Borders this evening with my youngest daughter, Devon. She scurried off to the children's section, and I made my first stop in every bookstore, the Religion section.

I go through the aisle as if I haven't just seen all of these same books, like, a week ago. And I always end up in the same place-the Bibles. I peruse the stacks, seeing if there is a new translation out since Monday.

Right next to the Bibles are books about the Bible. These are actually my favorite books. I know I should read the Bible more than I do, but what I would truthfully prefer is to read books about the Bible-books that tell me how to read it, in what order I should read the books of the Bible, who the players are, what the stories mean, how to teach it. I could have read the Bible three times over in the time I've spent reading books about the Bible.

It's a real weakness. The Bible confuses me. The stories are out of chronological order sometimes. Often the details given seem completely irrelevant (to me). So I naturally want to turn to a book that makes me feel more academic. I recognize now that purely academic pursuit of the Bible leads to academic pursuit of God, which is a path away from where He wants us to be.

My desire to be well-read in the Bible is longstanding. I want to want to read it. I bought cool tabs for my Bible and spent an hour and a half placing them at the beginning of each book of the Bible. When I was done, I was to tired to actually read it.

I'm getting better. But I've made it through Genesis and Exodus probably five times, before falling off the program and starting all over again three months later. Actually, I have two different jumping off points: Genesis and Matthew. As for my New Testament forays, I have made it all the way through the four Gospels and Acts, but then Paul's letters don't hold my attention for too long.

Don't misunderstand me. This is my flaw, not Scripture's. I caught myself again tonight, and didn't allow myself to buy yet another book about the Bible.

Soooo. I guess I need to get off this computer and crack the Good Book, the one I spent about 10 minutes photographing and photo-editing to post on this blog. You see, I love the Bible. I'm just lazy about reading it.

In the beginning...

Schedulitis

2009-10-08T00:25:00.004-04:00

I should be asleep-it is 12:15 a.m., but my mind is not ready to power down. It's a lovely night for sleeping, though, even though I have to do it on the sofa. No, I'm not in the doghouse with my husband. I am dog-sitting my chocolate lab, Hunter, in the living room downstairs since he is not allowed on our newly refinished hard wood floors upstairs, and he'll whine all night if he is left down here alone. It's like having a baby who sheds.

So, while my mind is alert, I decided to take a look at my calendar through the rest of 2009. Working at Nativity has me planning my time out so far in advance. I concentrated on the week before Christmas, and realized Christmas dinner has to take place after Christmas! These days, calendars rule my world. My lawyer calendar had events on it, but these events were always changing, or getting canceled, or simply being deleted as not worthy of doing (like meetings; lawyers hate meetings).

No longer! The events on my calendar almost always happen when they are supposed to. I don't dread the entries on my calendar anymore, though. I don't fantasize away a court appearance or a deposition that I'm too busy to handle or too bored to prepare for. I generally look forward to my schedule. That's a huge blessing.

Blessing or not, however, I better go to sleep before I decide to organize my calendar through Easter Vigil.

Cooking Kathleen

2009-10-03T20:42:00.003-04:00

I am cooking a lot these days. I am not a great cook, I must admit. Never have been. I make only a few things well-you know, the meals you make that people ask you to make again. One is popcorn, which is not a meal, so that doesn't count (although, if I may toot my own horn, I make some crazy good popcorn). I made my risotto tonight (I LOVE risotto). It is a light version of a calorie-intense recipe. I'm a fan of rice in general.

Cooking has helped me control what I'm eating, of course, although the tendency to eat in the evening is still there. Tonight's confession: I really like to snack at night. Since it had taken on the character of a hobby, I decided I need to change that. So, I've really cut down on the snacking. Eating shouldn't be your evening hobby, although it has been mine at times.

I did OK exercising this week. It was family visitation this week-in Virginia to see my mom and clan, in-law visit for a few days, and a day trip to see my Dad on Friday. It cut down on my exercise time, along with a wedding at Nativity this week. Nonetheless, no one chained me to my sofa in the evenings, so it's one me. Two days of exercise this week is not enough.

I had fits and starts with prayer helping me in my healthy living "experiment." Good on some days, neglectful on others. This week took on a tone of me being in charge of my week instead of seeking guidance from One wiser. This happens all the time to me. I truck along as the one in charge, and then I get a reminder in some seemingly small, trivial way. "Oh, right. I'm not the decider" (to quote our last President).

So, I'm still at it. It's slow!

Devon and I just made a 9 pm date to do some yoga. Gotta go!

Smaller Jeans, Sorer Joints

2009-09-30T16:02:00.005-04:00

Week 3 of healthier living went well, save a trip to Virginia for birthday parties and football games. Weekends prove to be a problem.

Nevertheless, eating healthier felt good most of the time. When you start to accept that your body is not your own, but rather that you are a steward of it for your lifetime and it is really God's creation, it makes it a bit easier to care about yourself. At least for this week, it worked for me most of the time.

Working out is making me chronically sore and tired. However, it looks like it is time to buy a pair of smaller jeans. So, I'll celebrate this small victory.

I don't really like posting this stuff, but it is providing some accountability, which we all need when we are changing long-ingrained behaviors. I can't promise every week will be filled with happy tales of weight loss, vegetable ingestion and abstinence from buffalo wings. But I hope God gives me the courage to post even if I walk a bit off path.

Direction, not intention, determines destination. This past week was fairly directionally on target.

Here's to next week...(sadly, there is no Corona for me to toast with, though)...

Healthy Living-Week 2

2009-09-23T09:18:00.004-04:00

I get a B- on healthy eating this past week. It went pretty well but I had some lapses. The kids made brownies one night, and well, they called my name about 10:00 at night. Not my fault. I should point out that there was no eating out this week, which really helped with healthier eating. Turns out that healthy financial plans can go hand-in-hand with healthy eating plans. Another first: I cooked all of the family dinners over the past week. For my culinary grade, you'll have to ask my family.

Exercise went well. I didn't do any extreme workout regimens and I mixed it up with swimming, biking, yoga and dog walking. I lifted weights too, which I hate. But people healthier than me say I should "at my age." (What??? When did 42 turn into an "at your age" age???)

But I'm tired. So today is a day off. If I get too tired, I won't keep it up. Here's to a day of physical relaxation. Tomorrow, back to the pool.

Fork in the Road

2009-09-15T08:50:00.007-04:00

This week I continued my journey down a different path. I have wanted to lose weight for a couple of years, since I blew out both of my feet running too much. After the injury, I gained weight. Turning 40 didn't help, but those were both excuses for me to intend one thing (lose weight) but fail to direct myself down the path towards being healthier.

I intended to lose weight initially by substituting other, strenuous exercise for running. One thing I don't mind, and actually thrive on, is strenuous exercise. But if I am honest, part of the reason I ran for hours or swam long distances was so that I could eat more or eat whatever I want. The truth is, it is harder for me to lose weight while exercising heavily. I think the reason is simple. It makes me too hungry. Plus, I don't really love moderation. Not my style.

So in the past 2 weeks, my exercise has consisted only of 1) walking the dog, 2) moderate swimming and light weight lifting and 3) some easy yoga.

The path I need to be on, and am working towards, is healthier eating and portion control, and moving my body but not excessively.

I don't like that path. That path, excuse my language, sucks. I like to exercise a lot. I like to eat a lot. But neither will help me shed extra weight.

I write this because I need accountability. As we heard this weekend in the first message of Nativity's Drive Series, direction, not intention, determines destination.

My direction in the past has been play hard, eat hard. That doesn't help me get where I want to go. I have tried to force that square peg into a round hole for years now. Always the obstinate individualist, I will now try God's way.

So, get behind me, Satan (and Corona with lime, buttered popcorn, and Rita's Italian Ice).

Do Not Make False Idols

2009-09-07T22:35:00.007-04:00

It's almost 11 pm on a Monday night and I am watching college football. I have work tomorrow, and I should be in bed, but I'm not. The Miami/Florida State Game is close, and that keeps me watching even though the combination of orange and maroon uniforms is quite visually distasteful.

Sports have always been important to me. Sports certainly ruled my young life. I did a few different sports when I was in elementary school and junior high (the term du jour for middle school back in the day) and then concentrated on swimming until the end of college. I am embarrassed to admit I picked my college based on the swimming program and my option to be a big fish in a moderately sized pond. I turned down my what I thought was my first choice because of the possibility that I might play second fiddle to another swimmer in my events.

In my 5 years at Penn State, I never missed a home football game and I never left any game early-not even some freezing, snow blinding November games (let's be honest: no real fan ever leaves a game early). Even now, sports get the best of me. In March, I am ruled by the television and the college basketball schedule. During the last summer Olympics, I took a week of vacation to watch sports. For real.

I'm as guilty as any crazy male pro football fan of teetering on the edge of worshipping sports, of making a god of athletics. And yet, when my daughter's lacrosse team announced fall practices every SUNDAY MORNING, I got irritated. Not even Sunday morning is sacred anymore. I commiserated over telling my daughter that she would simply not be able to make many of these practices. Sunday is God's day. Sunday is actually a day of rest for those in my family who don't work at a church.

And then she shocked me. She said no. She didn't want to do it at all. So we advised the coach she wouldn't be playing any fall lacrosse. This team costs a lot of money, money which we have already paid. This team gives my daughter access to college lacrosse coaches and first class goalie coaching. And she said no.

Because she doesn't worship sports. She really enjoys sports, and soccer is giving her great joy this year. But she doesn't make a god of sports. And she deeply values her ministry at church and the relationships she has there.

Should I feel pride that my daughter has learned something I wish I knew, or should I be ashamed that I'm still guilty of near-sports worship when she clearly has her priorities straight?

I feel a bit of both. And I'm going to bed. Uh oh, Miami's on their own 2 yard line...

Begin Again

2009-08-28T11:28:00.010-04:00

My best friend Paige has been haranguing me for years to read East of Eden, John Steinbeck's 1952 novel often described as a modern retelling of the book of Genesis. So, I purchased the book a year ago. In typical form, I am just now reading it, and along side, I am also rereading the book of Genesis. There is no question which book I will finish first-East of Eden is about 600 pages long, a fact which was the main contributor to me putting off this read for a year. This is a change for me, to pick up a really fat book and agree to read it at this time of year. And frankly, I'm not all that excited about it. But I know it will be good for me.

Change is all around us right now, being as it is the start of a new school year. My oldest daughter enters high school this year, and my youngest will enter 5th grade. One will be a peon in a sea of near-adults, and the other will rule a school full of tiny children. It is also the start of a new Church year (of course, the liturgical calendar starts the new year with Advent, but for practical purposes, all churches tend to launch their new year in line with the rest of the world, which is driven by cultural timing, which is in turn driven by the school year).

"In the beginning" will be an appropriate prepositional phrase for this fall. It is a time to start new, and to make new changes. Without change, whether it be in school, in church, or in our own personal habits, we do not grow. We do not improve. Cells without change are stagnant. They die.

Many people are afraid of change. In fact, if we are honest, we are all afraid of change. Change is scary. We don't know if the changes we make are the "right" changes. But the worst thing we can do in this fear is to let it rule us. I think many of us over a certain age could take a lesson from my daughters, who are so very open to the new changes that are going to happen in their lives. I know I can.

I respect people who are simply not open to change if they are honest about it, and if they don't make it all about their anger or throwing stones because others do school, or church, or home life, differently. I cannot respect those who don't like a certain way of doing things and instead of finding their own path of doing, they simply stick around to cause chaos.

So, let us begin again. Choose your goals for this fall. Mine include actually finishing a long, fat book that Paige guilted me into reading (not the first, by the way), launching new or improved groups at Nativity to help people grow in their relationship with Christ, and being a more available wife, mom, daughter and friend. Oh, and it is also my goal to be quiet about the way other people make their own changes, unless it is to praise them.

What are your goals? And are they about actually being a better person, as Christ would have us be, or are they about causing chaos in the lives of others who embrace change, or different change from you?

This is not a rhetorical question.

Stuck in the middle with You

2009-08-23T22:14:00.014-04:00

Ok, all you older people out there, I have a song reference for you that relates to my musings tonight. This is for all you who “smoked” candy gum cigarettes purchased at the 7-Eleven for 25 cents, remember Watergate, were born before the Ford Administration, and bought the Iran-Contra Tower Commission Report in college the day that it came out (that last one might have been the action of just one dorky Poly Sci major at Penn State). You’ll remember this song, Stuck in the Middle with You, by the relatively obscure band Stealers Wheel. This song struck me today because of the title. I feel stuck in the middle. Stuck between two worlds:

1. My “old” world of hanging out with cynical attorneys who all dislike other attorneys except their present company, are constantly unimpressed by the performance of everyone around them, and are blessed to have incredible financial resources. Hey, that's just who we are: the hard to please, grouchy, highly compensated lawyers of the world.

2. My “new” world of hanging out with relatively young people who are not cynical (or at least far less cynical), and who are constantly energized and yet intimidated by working to glorify God. These people would be horrified to find out how much money I in fact did waste in my “old” world. They might also be horrified to know what I allow my kids to read or what I watch on TV.

I feel pulled between two worlds, and I dance between them sometimes. On Saturday, I spent the day with my law school friends at an upscale spa in Manayunk, Philadelphia. The four of us get together once or twice a year to catch up with each other, not to mention spend money at a spa. Of the four of us, all of whom have been practicing law just 15 years, making us relative youngsters in a profession where practicing into your 80s is a norm, no one is in love with the law. Two tolerate it and appreciate the financial security of the profession, one barely tolerates it and has gone part-time, and one has walked away from it altogether. It’s always great conversation, and sarcasm prevails. We laugh hard. We crack each other up. Hey, we're witty. But it is, by its very nature, not joy-filled conversation. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy seeing my good friends, but we are lawyers. Joy is not in our lexicon. And as for faith, that is not a safe topic of conversation. There is a wide chasm between our individual beliefs (or lack thereof) in God.

The next day, Sunday, I prepared myself to work towards being as joy-filled as this crusty lawyer can muster, and was honestly excited at the opportunity to reach people for Christ. I spent no money (Saturday was enough spending for both days). At Nativity, the purpose we all share drives us even through challenging Sundays, and that purpose also gives a measurable amount of peace.

Sometimes it seems like my life choices, and the choices I make for my family, can never be reconciled in either of these two worlds. I can’t make both worlds completely happy. One circle might disagree with the way I spend my Sundays (and most other days of the week, for that matter). The other might disagree with my remaining attachments to world, its money, and its institutions. It’s a lose-lose situation. Right?

And then it hits me. It’s not my job to please either circle, not ultimately. I was not put where I am to please lawyer friends or church friends. My purpose is not really tied to people at all. When I get frustrated that others might not respect the choices I have made (and I know some do not), it is my own fault for losing focus of whom I am working for. I’m working for God.

With snarky apologies to my great friends in both worlds, and to quote Stealers Wheel, "clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with You."

I’ll take that over being anywhere else.

Lettuce Pray

2009-08-18T21:23:00.004-04:00

When I was little, at the end of Mass, I would hear the priest say, "Lettuce Pray." I knew what he meant, but always in my mind, I pictured a big head of lettuce. And away my mind would wander. What's for lunch? When are we getting out of here? Concentration has never been a real strong point.

I also was a bit of a trouble maker as a child. I got in fights quite frequently (getting suspended for a day from elementary school in the 1970s took some serious effort), and I liked to cause discontent for some reason. I remember getting in trouble when, during my CCD class, I joked, "Hail Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow..." My teacher was not amused.

Prayer had a tendency to make me nervous and sometimes still does. As a staff, we pray every Wednesday for about forty minutes. At times I feel 8 years old again. I fidget. I have to redirect my mind again and again.

Lately we have been praying for specific staff members. This is good in so many ways, and it is good for me personally, but I can't say it is completely comfortable. It's so powerful sometimes it makes me feel like I might cry. I don't like loss of control. Not anywhere, and especially not in a group setting.

I marvel at people who seem to pray ceaselessly, as Paul commands the Thessalonians. I wish I was someone who could sit still for more than a few minutes and not allow my mind to wander.

But it turns out it's not just me. Paul tells the Romans, "we do not know how to pray as we ought." (Romans 8:26). We'll never get it perfectly right. God doesn't demand that anyway. He wants effort, not effortless words. I keep telling myself that, and then as you would a small child, I redirect myself back to Him.

So lettuce pray.

Isn't it Ironic?

2009-08-14T08:39:00.013-04:00

If you have ever heard Alanis Morrissette's song, "Isn't It Ironic," and you are me, then you are irritated. Why? Because that song is not about ironic events. Having a fly in your chardonnay or rain on your wedding day are events that would be considered unfortunate, a "bummer" if you will, but not ironic. I have to comment on that song every time it plays, and my 13 year old daughter always emits a well-rehearsed teenage sigh and says, "YES, Mom, WE KNOW, the song isn't ironic . . . it's only a bummer . . . you've told us like a billion times!" The other well-rehearsed part of teenage speech is the tendency to overestimate the number of times things occur.

Well, I do think Alanis Morrisette owes her high school English teacher an apology. But I bring up this song because right now, I'm wondering, isn't it ironic that I can still worry as much as I do when I pray and believe in the power of God to take care of me?

Now, I've really gotten better about worrying as the years go by. However, it seeps back into my daily life sometimes. I've got a lot to do at work. My oldest daughter starts high school in a few weeks. My nine year old is now officially as tall as I am. I've been working out steadily now for a couple of months and the weight is not magically disappearing like it would have five years ago. And my dog ate six bagels that were left out on the counter. The last one is not a worry, just a huge annoyance.

To top it off, last night, for no good reason at all, I decided to look up the costs of tuition at various college websites. Suggestion: do not do this. Even if you have kids eventually going to college. Because you can't pay for it anyway.

I think it is disingenuous for people inside churches to tell you they don't worry anymore. "If you just follow Christ, you'll never worry again!" Bull. They worry. But they hopefully have a better mechanism for dealing with the worry. They read Matthew 6, where Jesus tells us that we shouldn't waste our time and energy worrying because our Heavenly Father knows what we need. They pray. They ask God to help their memory improve so they don't leave food on the counter for their slobbery Labrador retriever to inhale.

It will all be alright. Because, of course, the war is won for us by Christ. The small battles of life (and they are small compared to His sacrifice) are just that, battles that will pass. This weekend at Nativity, we will hear a message asking us to reflect on this question: "How big is your God?" When we let worry completely overtake us, when we let the battles of life rule us, the truthful answer to this question is "not very big at all." At least, that is what we reduce Him to in our minds.

So, yes, we need to fight our battles, but while doing so, we have to remember that ultimately, the war is won.

Isn't that ironic?

Performance Review

2009-08-11T07:47:00.008-04:00

I have been in my new job for 8 months after 15 years of practicing law. Here is my 10 point self-performance review, which includes assessments, admissions and self-incriminations.

1. I am the Director of Membership, and yet I struggle with what the word "membership" means. It is a slight comfort to learn that apparently most/many/all churches struggle with this question. Turns out there are electronic tomes out there in cyberspace about this very issue. I continue to study what it means, or should mean, at Nativity.

2. I was raised in law to believe that meetings were bad and a huge waste of time. So we never had them. I now know that was wrong. Yes, meetings can be poorly run, but you need them to function as a team.

3. I work harder at this job than I did at practicing law (at least during my law partner years) and I was not known as a light or even a moderate worker at my law firm. I am always thinking, assessing, what could or should be done differently. My To Do List keeps growing. In a good way.

4. Like all work, there are aspects of church work that aren't engaging or entertaining, but they need to be done. Like returning phone calls, only to have to leave another message. Which I hate. Returning phone calls is usually the first thing I do, simply to get it over with. If you need me, by the way, please email me.

5. I am still an obsessive list and chart maker. I thought that would stop with the job change, but it didn't. I keep a chart of every phone call I get, the subject, and when I returned it. It's a sickness.

6. My favorite weekday is Monday. Really. Lunch meeting!

7. It's hard to find the kind of pro bono legal work that I would like to do. I've switched from foreclosure law to adult guardianship. We'll see.

8. I am not nearly as good at this job as I thought I would be. There is a lot to learn and unlearn. I can't be self-sufficient and rely only on myself for results.

9. Don't write in the Church Calendar in pen. You'll regret it.

10. I'm embarrassed to admit that it's easy to forget God in the equation even at church sometimes. After an hour or so, when I'm spinning my wheels, it occurs to me that I need to pray and invite Someone else into the work.

Speaking of prayer, time to get ready for this morning's staff prayer meeting. More thoughts later.

With me in Adversity, With me in Prosperity

2009-08-03T18:40:00.009-04:00

It's going to take me awhile to get to my point, so bear with me.

On Friday, a good friend from my high school days visited. We had plans to go kayaking. I was looking forward to this all week. When she arrived, we checked the hour-by-hour weather forecast, and found a window during which the weather should have been fine for kayaking in Middle River. We left my house and I promptly took a wrong exit and got stuck in commuter traffic. We arrived at the state park later than expected, paid the entrance fee, and parked our car. At that very moment, a deluge of rain, followed by loud thunder, began. We sat for awhile hoping it would subside, but it didn't. We left (and no, the park ranger would not refund my entrance fee).

Driving home, the weather began to clear up. By the time we returned home, the weather was very nice. We didn't want to drive back at rush hour back to the park (and pay again!) so we looked for a place to kayak locally. The only place was Gunpowder Creek, which I had seen from the trail next to it but had never kayaked.

At 6:30 pm on an overcast evening, we put in our kayaks at Monkton. We finished about an hour and a half later in Sparks.

It was the ride of our lives. It turns out that the deluge of rain caused amazing rapid conditions, but not unsafe conditions. We were the only people (fools?) on the Gunpowder. Never having navigated it before, we had no idea what was around each bend in the Creek. We might never get a ride like that again. The conditions were perfect for an amazing, unforgettable journey.

This weekend, the message at Nativity was about (Old Testament) Joseph and how he always trusted that God was with him, even when things were apparently not going well for him. Betrayed by family, sold into slavery, imprisoned, and accused of sin he did not commit, Joseph always had God with him. And, at the end of the story, we see God had a plan throughout the adversity for Joseph to be perfectly placed for a greater good. Check it out-read Genesis 35-47.

I'm not Joseph and his story was more intense and more intentioned for global good than my recreational jaunt this weekend. But it struck me as coincidental. Or not.

We planned a trip. I got lost. We arrived at a place at exactly the wrong time. We left just in time to miss the good weather. We didn't get our money back, and were not willing to suffer traffic or further money loss to go back when the weather improved. We found another place to kayak (which scared us a bit since we are not whitewater kayakers and didn't know the body of water) that was perfectly positioned, because of the previous downpour, to give us the kayak ride of our life. My friend and I talk about faith often, and on this trip down the Creek, we talked about God and silently witnessed his creation.

We thought God wasn't with us early in the day, and we couldn't figure out why he seemingly didn't want us to kayak at the scheduled place and time. But he was with us. He gave us the gift of an unforgettable journey.

Not just on the kayak. But in life. Sometimes he has a different plan. And it's always a better plan.

Experiments

2009-07-26T11:36:00.005-04:00

Experiments move society to bigger and better things. They are the only way to progress. No matter your industry, innovation is the mode of survival. Without it, you will eventually lose your audience, your market, your focus, and your worth. Not every experiment works. But all experiments are worthwhile in some way. If they fail, they teach you something. If they work in some respects but not others, you learn and innovate at the same time. If the experiment is an outright success, you’ve accomplished your goal.

This summer, we are experimenting after Mass. The Mass remains the same (reminds me of "The Song Remains The Same," for you over 40 Led Zeppelin types out there who read my blog, all 2 of you). There is a brief homily during Mass, but after Mass, a full message is given by the Pastor via video feed. Being a pessimist, I didn't think people would stick around to hear the message, but they are, in large percentages. This experiment not only serves a current need (it provides us with a great way to give the staff some bench stretch while keeping aligned with “one church, one message") but it also helps us try out some preaching methods that may serve us well as we grow.

Let us know what you think. And remember,

This:

Eventually led to this:

Random Thoughts from Vacation

2009-07-13T17:39:00.007-04:00

I am lying in my bed, listening to the ocean waves. I’m on vacation.

Last week, I did not touch technology at all. I stayed away from email, and I didn’t blog. Today it rained, so I thought I would catch up on some email and then blog some very random thoughts. Let me stress the word very here. Remember, I'm on vacation.

One

I should never live at the beach full time. I would be a complete bum, not in the sense of being physically lazy, but in the sense that I would tend to do activities I love but not serve as much as I should. I have had a great time swimming and kayaking in the ocean (twice right among the dolphins). I love it so much and tend to think that being a beach resident would consume me. I guess that’s why God plopped me down 3 hours inland after having grown up a half an hour from the waves.

Two

The ocean is a great symbol of God—vast, beautiful, scary and dominant. It can always remind you Who is boss.

Three

Out on the sea in a kayak is a great place to pray. Careful crossing yourself-don’t lose your paddle.

Four

When you like what you do, you miss your job when you are on vacation (after a week, at least).

Five

I coat myself with sunscreen (at least 50 SPF) all the time and sit under an umbrella much of the time that I am not in the water, so I don’t want to hear from anyone upon my return that I am a “sunbather.” Anyway, I don’t get a nice golden tan like real sunbathers, but rather appear as if I have rolled in dirt.

Six

On a vast number of people in this world, tattoos simply do not stand the test of time and gravity.

Big God

2009-06-27T01:04:00.006-04:00

I am so sore. My lower back is screaming at me. My neck is tight. My calves are fatigued. Even my elbows hurt (that one I can't figure out).

I didn't do a long swim. I didn't run a marathon. I haven't been on my bike. I spent about 20 hours this week with a group of six kids at Vacation Bible School. And I'm more exhausted than if I did all of those previously mentioned athletic endeavors in one day.

I've decided that Vacation Bible School is not for the faint of heart. It is (and was) an incredible experience that I really enjoyed. I had the greatest group of kids. The worship aspect of it was amazing-adults can take a big lesson from kids in terms of how to worship and mean it.

That said, it's an absolutely draining experience.

But all worthwhile things are draining. Running a race. Creating a garden. Giving birth. And while I'm absolutely beat, it's 1:00 a.m. and I decided to post about VBS. Even though I'm drained, I can't stop thinking about what a great experience it was. So I needed to unload my brain.

The thing that I learned this week is that kids totally get how big God is. Andy Stanley has a preaching line I love: "How big is your God?" He asks this rhetorical question when he preaches about how people limit God, when they express doubt that their life, their physical condition, their financial health, can ever change. When we express that kind of doubt, we limit God.

Kids don't do that. They get that God is huge and can do anything. When my campers walked through the parted Red Sea today (blue tarp strung from the ceiling, with toy fish on the ground and teenagers spraying water from small holes in the tarp), their big eyes and their lips making perfectly round "Os" was a physical sign to me that they got how big God is. They asked me how God actually parted the Red Sea. Of course, I told them that I don't know, a perfectly acceptable answer to any question that begins, "how did God . . ." They never asked me "did God really do that?"

We adults take that beautiful child belief in God and dilute it over time, becoming cynical about God's power, if we ever even take His power into account. Even if we don't say it, we often act as if God is too small or impotent or disinterested to help us.

In the back of my mind, I had doubts that we could effectively handle 270+ children from ages 3-9 and help them worship God in a corporate setting while having one-on-one interaction within our small groups. But it happened. One of my campers told me today, "thank you, Miss Kathleen, for being my crew leader. I had so, so, so, so, fun!" (I'm pretty sure he meant it was so fun, not so-so fun).

How big is my God? Huge. I just forget how big sometimes.

I Shaved My Legs For This?

2009-06-22T05:18:00.013-04:00

Deana Carter had the greatest album title ever. I have never listened to her music (from the 90s, I think) but I remember the album title that is also a true life statement, a rhetorical question that all women have asked themselves, even if only in sentiment.

Did I shave my legs for this? It is the question that ruminates in my mind while experiencing an event that is a total letdown.

This was the question that I thought of as traveled this past weekend to my husband's 26th high school class reunion (they weren't organized enough for a 25th reunion). My expectations were very low. I remember my 20th reunion, where after an hour I realized I lost my husband and found him holding up a wall with the rest of the spouses, looking bored to death. The difference is that my husband likes to meet people, so that experience, where he really couldn't find a way to scream to strangers over the music, was not very satisfying for him. I, on the other hand, don't like to meet strangers all that much, so I actually ditched my husband while he was involved in a conversation with a former classmate, got a Yuengling (it was a Pennsylvania high school reunion, after all) and listened to the greatest 80s cover band I ever heard: Velveta (because they do 80s cheese, I presume). So, despite my predicted level of enjoyment, I actually had a really good time. But this was because I gave up participating in the purpose of the event, meeting people, and went off on my own for awhile. Always the loner.

We have all had experiences where we can't believe we actually put in time to attend a lame function, much less engage in any grooming effort in the process. I imagine men say, "I shaved my face for this?" or "I put on a tie for this?" In college, I had this experience just about every time I attended a party (which, admittedly, was rare). My friends would drag me out at some crazy hour to stand on a sticky floor in a smelly place with people acting like idiots. Ok, yes, I was born 80 years old.

I also think most New Year's Eve celebrations fall into this category, and many Proms. These events try too hard and usually fail to live up to the hype, in my opinion.

I think about Deana Carter's question now in a seemingly strange context. At Nativity, we want to be an environment so irresistible to people, especially those who don't have a church and are searching or lost in the crowd, that they want to come back even though, maybe to them, "God talk" is scary or has negative connotations. We want to be a place where women don't think to themselves as they leave, "I can't believe I shaved my legs for this." We don't want men to leave Nativity thinking, "I can't believe I put a tie on for this" (which is a misplaced example, perhaps, since you can count the men in ties at Nativity on one hand). We want people to leave Nativity feeling like they made a good decision to get out of bed earlier than they wanted to on Sunday morning.

Nativity's mission is to cancel out the feeling many of us have as we try a new experience or event that is outside of our comfort zone. Nativity wants people to want to come back, even if they don't know Christ or perhaps even if they are resistant to entering any relationship with Him. At the very least, Nativity wants to provide an environment where even the toughest skeptic would be willing to come back with his or her family.

The hardest part is when we seem to hit the mark, we quickly turn to thinking of ways to improve the experience. We recognize that we never get it perfectly right and there is always room for improvement.

But that's the nature of church (at least good church). There is always a great challenge ahead.

Man in Black

2009-06-17T19:46:00.007-04:00

I'm usually about 5 years behind all pop culture. So I was right on my own schedule when, earlier this week, I watched the movie Walk the Line, the biopic about Johnny Cash and his wife, June Carter Cash. It was good, so naturally, being me, I threw myself into reading about Johnny Cash and his life.

I'm not a stranger to Cash or country music. My grandmother and great-aunt listened to country music when I was growing up, so I got large doses of it when I would stay with them. When people turn up their noses at country music, I simply bask in my superior knowledge that country music has turned out the best vocalists, hands down, in the last 100 years. I was reared on the Statler Brothers (and watched their really cheesy variety show), and loved Roy Clark (the banjo guy) and Buck Owens (with his red, white and blue gee-tar) from Hee Haw (which, music aside, had no redeeming value other than being a link to my childhood).

But other than Cash's big time hits and some of his gospel music, I didn't know too much about him except that he wore black. So in my obsessive study of Cash this week, I looked up the lyrics to his song, Man in Black. I had heard once that he wore black as a reminder to himself of the rough life he had and poor choices he made. But in this song, he explains that he wears black for the poor, the hopeless, the sick, and the imprisoned. That's not all:

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

It is sad that many will never know Jesus or his teachings. And I think Johnny is right-sometimes He's talking straight to me in Scripture. Did you ever read a Psalm or a Gospel passage that hits you in the chest, convicting you about your life or your choices? It's scary.

I wear black a lot too. I wear it out of a combination of laziness and a lack of sense of style. I like Johnny's reasons for wearing black more. It is also a physical reminder, when we "church people" get spiritually content, of two things: 1) so many people haven't heard Jesus' words; 2) His words will always be speaking directly to everyone.

Some of Scripture is for all of us, and some of it is clearly for "church people." Why is there Scripture specifically "church people?" I think it might be because the sins of "church people" can have a further reach than the sins of others, and therefore can be more harmful. Paul's letters make that clear. If I ever get to the point where I am not being hit in the chest by Scripture, I had better be careful and back up. I had better ask myself why I don't think it applies to my life.

Johnny said it well. He's always talking straight to you and me.

Seaweed and Supplications

2009-06-14T20:17:00.005-04:00

This morning I did something I haven't done in 20 years--an open water swim. It was full of firsts--first wetsuit swim, first time wearing a timing chip on my leg for a swim instead of a run, first time entering a swimming race and not knowing what the heck I was doing. I needed help getting my wetsuit zipped up. I had to wear my bib number inside my swimming cap to turn in at the end of the race (???). And let's just say that figuring out when and how often to go to the bathroom prior to coating myself in latex was a challenge.

I like ocean swims and pool swims, but I don't like weird, big-leaf seaweed. Which was, of course, ubiquitous in the Chesapeake Bay this morning. And the bottom was mushy-silty mud, which is not as nice as hard packed beach sand or the smooth tiled bottom of a chlorine pool. In a word, blech.

Other wisdom from this experience: I've decided that swimming with a wetsuit is like putting a tourniquet around your neck and then doing jumping jacks. Next time, no wetsuit.

I did this swim at a leisurely pace (really, those who know me from my college days, it is true--no racing). The first one-third of the swim was a free-for-all, arms and legs battering me from all around as everyone positioned for 6 feet of open water all to themselves. The second one-third was the best, with mostly open water, and the last one-third was confusing (I couldn't find the bouys and zig-zagged most of the way to the finish).

Half way though, it occurred to me to pray. Here I was, on a really beautiful summer morning, and I was in the Bay, and I hadn't thanked God for the opportunity to be healthy enough to participate in this event. Now, it would have been holier to pray before the race, but I can't lie-I didn't. In fact, during the last third of the race, I actually prayed for the shore to come out and meet me, because I was over it by that time.

I dragged myself out of the Bay, ran across the electronic time mat, and was happy to have simply finished. I didn't care about my place. All good. Then I checked my place and it was higher than I thought I could do, not having trained for it and surely not being in good swimming shape for it.

What happened then? I was really happy for a few minutes, and then I was mad at the fact that I should have, could have, trained for this event and then placed higher.

Here is a truth about me. I can always kill my own good time.

I should have prayed (before, after, in the middle of the race) for the grace to be happy with myself and the events of the day, whatever they might be. But God graced me with that peace later in the day, even though I didn't ask, and surely don't deserve it.

He's a cool God.

The Living is Easy?

2009-06-09T20:59:00.009-04:00

In my southern family, children were sung "Summertime" as a lullaby. This song, from the 1935 opera Porgy and Bess by George Gershwin, has a slow, lazy tune and really dated lyrics-good economic times were signaled by the fact that "the fish are jumping and the cotton is high." It comforts the child with the knowledge that everything will be alright if your father is wealthy and your mother is not unfortunate looking ("your daddy's rich and your mama's good looking, so hush, little baby, don't you cry"). All of this adds up to the idea that "the living is easy" in the summertime. Presumably, during the cooler seasons, the parents weren't doing as well in the money or beauty departments.

With apologies to Gershwin, I disagree. Ask any parent (rich or poor, handsome or ugly) who has tried to work out a summer camp schedule for a modern-day child. Coordinating the schedules of the President's cabinet members would be easier. When summer arrives, the whole structure of the school year, as rote as it can become, disappears and chaos reigns. Kids want to stay up until midnight to watch TV, at which time the commercials are more inappropriate than the shows. I know I am up too late when I am invited to call a certain number to meet the "hottest people in town" or to buy "medication" for frightening purposes.

I don't know what I thought the Nativity staff did in the summer before I joined them, but I am amazed at how the work and planning never stops. As for me, I will be focusing on growing Vantage Point (for people who want to become Catholic) and improving that curriculum, growing the Access Point ministry (for new members) and overseeing the publication of a booklet to give those who attend, and improving the fall session of Nativity's 2:24 (for engaged couples preparing for marriage). In between, I'll be continuing with baptismal preparation and prenuptial planning. I'm looking forward to (and am resting up for) being a volunteer for Nativity's Vacation Bible School in a few weeks.

On the law front, I will be doing some pro bono work with the Maryland Volunteer Lawyer Service in the area of foreclosure prevention (I just had training on this, and it made me wish I had actually read my closing papers when I bought my house).

I'll attempt to continue my workout schedule, which will make me bathing suit-ready by, oh, November. I have scheduled an open water swim race for mid June. I get myself to exercise by paying money to run far or swim in shark infested waters, and then fear coaxes me to get in shape for these races. It works sometimes (not this time--haven't been in the pool in weeks).

I don't do well with long periods of nothingness. God knows this, so he has gifted me with some satisfying work, but has also challenged me to keep my schedule feasible. I am sandwiching a vacation in there-beach time with family and friends, but otherwise, it's challenging as usual.

So, I must disagree. It's summertime, and the living is not easy. But it is satisfying. Bring it.

Organ-ization

2009-06-03T18:05:00.010-04:00

Have you ever known an organization that just seemed to have trouble thriving? (I guess in these times that is like asking if you have ever seen a traffic jam or a long line in the grocery store). Some people on staff have read books about organizational performance, and I think I would like to read some of those too. I'll have to get some recommendations.

One thing I know is true, though, from my own experience with various organizations, is that they will not be blessed until they interact outside of their business sphere and do something for others, give back. They will struggle unless they focus, at least a tiny part of the time, on something other than themselves. When you think of organizational greed over the past decades, that is always a consistent theme-executives thinking of their own wealth and self-preservation over the well being of the lower level employees, the investors, or the consumer public.

I'm not an etymologist, but the obvious root of the word "organization" is "organ." And an organ is interdependent; your heart is just a blob of tissue and blood, useless altogether without the rest of you. As amazing as bodily organs can be, they are as functional as roadkill unless they are part of a bigger whole. That interdependency is a trait of any healthy person. The organs are relying on each other to keep a body functioning.

It would follow, then, that an organization that is completely self-absorbed and perhaps relying on itself alone for "success" (however that may be defined) will be an unhealthy organization. It will be a human heart lying on the side of a road-not being fed by any other organ, and not feeding any body.

Paul reiterates this to the Corinthians in his first letter to them: "if the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be?" Paul cautions this group, this organization of people, to make sure that there is an interdependence among them so that they can act as a body. So they can act as the Body.

So if your business is struggling, what should it do? Consult a marketing professional? Maybe. Reign in unnecessary spending? Probably. Act outside of itself, and give money or services to those in need? Absolutely.

Otherwise, there's a good chance your business will be roadkill.

Who then is this?

2009-05-26T22:31:00.007-04:00

Today in a weekly prayer meeting, we read Mark 4, where Jesus calmed the storm. Jesus directed that they (he and the disciples) should take a boat to the other side of the water, and while sailing, a great storm came upon them. Jesus was sleeping in the boat during the storm. The disciples woke him and said, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" Jesus spoke to the sea, commanding it to be still, and of course, the storm ceases. Then he asked his disciples, "Why are you terrified, do you not yet have faith?" The disciples were in great awe, and asked each other, "who then is this that even the wind and the sea obey?"

Now, up to this point, the disciples had already accepted Jesus was divine. By this time in the gospel, Jesus has selected his disciples, and given them the power to cast out demons. The disciples were following Jesus and clearly accepted he had great power. Why else would they have believed that, through his authority, they could cast out demons? Yet when he commanded that the storm subside, they were still questioning who he was and how he did what he did. This is not the last time that they will, on some level, doubt Jesus' divinity and power.

This passage resonated with me. I have been asking myself, "who then is this....?" as well. Yes, I say I believe Jesus is divine and he is placing a path before me that he wants me to follow, but I still question my safety on this path, much like the disciples in the storm. This is what he has put before me lately: he gave me the discipline, which I heretofore had lacked, to pay off debt so I could take a cut in pay to pursue ministry; he gave me more time with my kids and husband; he gave me a work I feel passionate about and he took away work that I had lost my passion for; he gave me a schedule that allows me time to exercise after a year of near-sloth. And yet I question if this is the path I should take. I keep thinking, "boy, wouldn't it be easier if I made more money?"

So when I read this passage this morning, I again felt a familiar kinship with the disciples displaying stupid human myopathy. It was kind of a "duh" moment for me (I have a lot of these, but this one was a big "duh" moment).

I don't know what is in store for me professionally. The events have caused me to examine my situation and forced me to give up power I had before. I wish I could say that this has been an easy transition. It hasn't. But that's because of my humanity and not God's divine plan. Whatever his longer term plan is for me, I hope I can avoid asking, or at least ask less often, "who then is this?" who is placing this gift of a new path before me.

If We are the Body

2009-05-22T19:39:00.009-04:00

Nativity is doing a message series now called "Bread," about Catholic worship and specifically, the Eucharist. The words, "the Body of Christ," have different meanings to different people. To Catholics, it means many things, and also just one thing. It's a completely inconceivable mystery, but it is also a reality. I'll leave the deep theological discussions of the subject to others. But I want to write about being the Body of Christ to others.

This has been on my heart lately. Some dear friends of mine just got laid off from my law firm (I'm not there either-I'm on sabbatical for some indeterminate amount of time). I'm sure everyone can think of people in need right now-I know people going through cancer treatments, dealing with marriage issues, and struggling on spiritual levels, as well as the many who are worried about finances. It can become overwhelming.

Do you ever wish you just didn't need to help? Do you ever think, if I just don't pick up the phone, then I can avoid helping at least for another day? Or, I'll pretend I didn't get that last email and that will buy me some time. I'm not going to say "shame on you." If I did, I'd have to say shame on me too.

It can be hardest to be the Body when we are suffering on some level too. "I'll just take care of myself and my situation right now, and when things are great for me, then I'll help others." Maybe I've never said it, but I've thought it.

The truth is, being the Body of Christ when we feel like a broken limb ourselves is a triumphant move on two levels: we help someone else, even in some very small way, and it helps us too. I don't understand how. I just know it works.

A friend of mine, one of the attorneys who just got laid off, has 3 kids, a mortgage, and all of the headaches of life. I met her for lunch recently, and we talked about her job search. But we talked an equal amount of time about some things on her heart that she wanted to accomplish--helping with some pro bono work in a few different areas of the law. It amazed me. She really showed me what being the Body of Christ is all about.

Casting Crowns has a very convicting song called "If We are the Body." It takes a harsh but sometimes truthful look at people in the pews. They might be receiving the Body of Christ, but they aren't being the Body of Christ.

But if we are the Body

Why aren't His arms reaching?

Why aren't His hands healing?

Why aren't His words teaching?

And if we are the Body

Why aren't His feet going?

Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

Just sitting in church for an hour, even if you are authentically worshipping, is not all there is to being the Body of Christ. In fact, if that's all you're doing, I submit you aren't being the Body at all. You don't have to be smart or wealthy or healthy or even mobile to the Body of Christ. You can call someone struggling. You can pray for people in crisis. You can make a meal for a family in need. You can be nice to people who, frankly, you feel don't deserve niceness.

It's tough right now for so many people. Maybe it's tough for you too. Acting like the Body of Christ, though, will give you strength for the journey, even if you can only act in a seemingly small way. When I think of being the Body, I think of different ministries I have witnessed, some that seem hard and high profile, and some that seem more accessible but also impactful. Nativity will be sending another crew to Nigeria this year (check out the NativityNigeria blog at: http://www.nativity-nigeria.blogspot.com/). It's an amazing outreach that continues to grow and has a great crew of hardworking ministers. While Nativity ministers will be the Body in Nigeria, at the very same time, other Nativity ministers will be the Body at home, helping people find parking spaces at church or take care of children during Mass so adults can worship. Visiting local sick people. Praying for small group members. Serving coffee.

A wise old Albanian nun who lived in the gutter with the poorest of the poor once said, "we cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love."

Be the Body.

Good Cop

2009-05-12T22:04:00.005-04:00

This is the Good Cop counterpart to my diatribe on tithing. To the extent you thing that post was harsh (and it was, but that's me), here is my salve.

My biggest pet peeve on the issue of tithing is not that people don't tithe (although I stand by my assertion that they should). It's that people, and Catholics in particular, deny that they are supposed to tithe. If someone says to me, "I know what the Bible says, but I just am not willing to do it," I give them kudos for honesty. That's always the first step. That was certainly my first step-accepting what Scripture says and that it applies to me. Or maybe some people will tell me "I just can't do it." I can't get into their hearts or their bank accounts to know if that is true. But there is an honesty to people's acceptance that they should do it and that the Bible is authoratative.

Tithing is hard. I could lie and say it's not hard, but it is. And I really fought, intellectually, that I needed to do it. Someone told me to read a book by Randy Alcorn called Money, Possessions and Eternity. This book is a treasure trove about what the Bible says about money and, well, eternity. One central premise is that the tithe is law.

And I so didn't want it to be true. I'm a lawyer, and I attempted to argue the position of the devil's advocate on the issue. But I determined that it was true, that tithing was something people of God are called to do. And I started doing it. It was very scary. I still had student loans, and car payments, and of course a mortgage, and a family that needed food and had come to expect a certain level of entertainment.

A bizarre thing happened, though. I had more money after I started to tithe. No, I did not win the lottery. I did not inherit money from a rich relative. I did not get a raise. I just became more responsible with money, and somehow, we didn't even really feel it. We didn't go without.

It's still not easy. Last December, I was an equity partner in a law firm pulling in a very comfortable six figure income. Now I'm on leave from that job, and I try not to think about the money I'm not making anymore because it makes my palms sweat. Now I work for a church, and suffice it say that "six figure" and "church" are not terms used in the same sentence.

With this transition, I was very tempted to stop tithing. I realized that it is easy to tell people they should tithe when you've got plenty to do it with. I am sure God, in His infinite wisdom and sense of humor, wants me to take something profound away from this experience. I'm not sure, but I think "now you know the pain" is something He is thinking.

It hurts to tithe right now. I feel it. My family feels it. Yes, they still have food and a roof over their heads and even some entertainment. But life has changed.

For the better. Really. Don't ask me how. Ask God.

Oh, Really?

2009-05-07T16:04:00.035-04:00

I recently read an article that misrepresented Catholic and Christian teaching. It made me mad. This occurred at the same time I was reading a particular Old Testament book that I found very convicting. So here is my diatribe. Get ready.

I'll start with my recent reading of Haggai, one of the shortest books in the Old Testament. Haggai is prophet, meaning he speaks God's word to people directly. He lived about 520 B.C., right after Jews had returned from their exile in Babylon. They lived through really bad times, they returned to their homes, and they got comfortable. They just start ignoring God's requirements of them.

Haggai confronts the religious and civil authority because the Jews were supposed to build a temple for worship when they returned from exile. They started to do this, but politics intervened and they stopped. But when the political climate allowed the rebuilding of the temple, the Jews never started the job again. Instead, they built up their own houses into showplaces, while God's temple-under-construction sat "in ruins." (Haggai 1:2).

I think I like this book because Haggai is direct and uses really great language in his speech. Read this book-it will take you about 7 minutes. Haggai says to the leadership, "You have sown much, but have brought in little; you have eaten, but have not been satisfied; You have drunk, but have not been exhilarated; have clothed yourselves, but not been warmed; And he who earned wages earned them for a bag with holes in it." (Haggai 1:6).

What great images and word juxtaposition. The Jews have worked for their own kingdoms, not God's, which of course is in vain. It just ain't gonna work, to use language of my youth.

The application of this passage to our lives, as Christ followers, should not go unnoticed. Even though we have some tough economic times, for the most part, this is still a time of great material wealth. Despite that, we find ourselves eating to excess and consequently being an overweight society, but never being satiated. We wear high tech, expensive clothing but we are not spiritually warm. We live in big houses with nice toys in them yet we have tragic credit card debt. The formerly massive 401k accounts and recently nosediving investment portfolios of today are nothing more than the hole-ridden bags of Haggai’s time.

And yet, despite the relative material wealth we have amassed, the vast number of people who are supposedly a part of the “the Church” do not adequately, if at all, support the Church or the spread of Jesus' gospel. The physical building of the temple in Haggai's time mirrors modern day efforts to build up the Body of Christ, which takes money. It means having some physical facility to hold worship and having money to support that facility and its ministries. All throughout Scripture, not just in the short book of Haggai, we read of people giving money (or being told to give money) to build God's kingdom.

Yet we know that Catholics give far less than their Protestant counterparts. Why? Why do we think Scripture doesn't apply to us? What about the Old Testament tithe, the mandate throughout Scripture that people are to give 10% of their earnings to God and his Kingdom (if you don't believe me, type "Tithe" into Google and you'll have enough reading material, including scores of Bible passages, to last you for days). In all of that, where does it say, "and God decreed that the tithe applies only to Jews and Protestants?"

Catholics are often confused by writings of other Catholics, one of whom recently published that Catholics do not need to tithe. So, here's my argument for the Catholics out there who do not tithe or do not believe they have to tithe. You are wrong, and to the extent that you need formal pronouncement from your Church to tell you so, here it is.

Giving is not optional; it is one of the six precepts of the Church. (CCC 4043). Nowhere does the Catechism of the Catholic Church say there is no obligation to tithe. But the Catechism is very clear on the authority of the Old and New Testament--all of it, not just some of it. The Old Law is preparation for the Gospel (CCC 1964), and the purpose of the New Law is to fulfill, refine, surpass and lead the Old Law to its perfection (CCC 1967). If anything, then, we are called to give more, not less, than 10%.

Church documents dating back to the First Century contain positive legislation of the tithe (letter of bishops assembled at Tours in 567; canons of Council of Macon in 585), and writings from as far back as the Fourth Century state the tithe is "divine law, instituted not by man but by the Lord himself." (C.14, X de decim. III, 30; Apostolic Constitutions XXX, 4th Century). The Catholic Encyclopedia states that "[t]he payment of tithes was adopted from the Old Law, and early writers speak of it as a divine ordinance and an obligation of conscience.” Doctor of the Church, St. Augustine, taught "tithes are required as a matter of debt, and he who has been unwilling to give them has been guilty of robbery. Whosoever, therefore, desires to secure a reward for himself, let him render tithes, and out of the nine parts let him seek to give alms."

It's not just ancient or formal Church teaching that tells us to tithe. Priest and canon lawyer, Fr. Mark Gantley, JCL, recently wrote, "I find that most Catholics do not give very generously to their parish, certainly fall far short of the usual Biblical tithe, and are usually very unrealistic as to the costs involved in running a parish."

For much of history, the tithe was taken care of via civil law, with payments being directed through the civil authority to the Church. That is no longer the case in modern times—this practice obviously had a tendency to result in abuses. The fact that abuse resulted, however, didn't somehow erase Scripture and its mandate.

Christ came to fulfill the old law, not abolish it. (Mt 5:17). We have been given the beauty of sacramental worship and the fullness of the Holy Spirit. Do we really think we are allowed to give less money to the Church than the people of the Old Testament?

What would Christ say? Oh, wait, He already spoke on this subject. "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him much shall be required." (Lk 12:48).

Hitting the Motherload

2009-04-30T21:20:00.015-04:00

My mother emailed me tonight and asked why I had not blogged in about a week. Which made me feel guilty. Which is her job. So here I am, blogging.

I wrote her back and told her I was out of topics. Then it occurred to me that it is almost Mother's Day. So here is a post about my mother. Remember, Donna, you asked for it.

Oh, I could tell you funny stories about my mom. Like the time she gave herself a home pedicure treatment by dousing her feet in corn oil and wrapping them in Saran wrap; problem was, we had hardwood floors in our house and we slipped and slid all over the place for days.

Or I could tell you about my mom's quirks. I could tell you about her complete failure to keep track of things, a trait I'm sorry to say that I have inherited. Car keys, purses, jewelry, you name it, she's lost it. One year, I got a Christmas gift that she purchased for the previous year and found just one year later. The highly esteemed comedian Father Guido Sarducci (what ever happened to him?) once quipped that in heaven, you get back everything you had lost in life. My mom is in for the "motherload" of lost things being returned to her, which will include hundreds of single earrings, scores of key rings, and a couple dozen umbrellas.

But I think I'll tell you about her heart. She epitomizes the Great Command as much as anyone I know. She loves God and she loves her neighbor. How do I know she loves God? Yes, she goes to Mass, but that's not proof. She strives to stay on that road that none of us can fully stay on, the path of righteousness, and prays for His help to do so. She believes in Him even through her doubt.

And she loves her neighbor. She stays at homeless shelters overnight to care for people. She hires poor people to work around her house on projects that maybe don't really need to be done. She is not rich but gives. She has a heart of generosity that I try to emulate.

And she loves her kids. She hasn't had the easiest road--it would have been easy to check out on her kids through the hardship, but she didn't. She was a single mom for a good bit of my young life. With three kids (none of whom were shrinking violets), she worked as an accomplished nurse and kept a roof over our head and food on the table.

She encouraged without pushing. I never got in trouble for getting Bs or even Cs (and one D in 9th grade science), but I did get confidence that I could do better. After one day of swimming with a year-round program when I was 12, I cried all the way home because it was "too hard." She didn't tell me I had to continue. But she asked me to try it for the rest of the week only, and if I didn't want to do it after that, I could stop. She wasn't mad or domineering but rather calm and confident. Because of that, I agreed, and got a college scholarship and a lifetime of great memories as a result of her wise advice.

Yes, she made mistakes. I will too. But she gave me a great foundation to work from as I raise my own daughters.

So, thanks, Mom. For everything.

Except for the scar on my leg when I oil-surfed down the hallway and into the air vent.

Semper Fi

2009-04-23T08:55:00.010-04:00

The Nativity message guide's weekly Scripture reading directed me to James 1 today. I am back on track with daily Scripture reading (full disclosure- this morning is when I read all the message guide's suggested passages from Monday to today). The theme of the readings is faith: Jesus leading Thomas and the disciples to renewed faith in the risen Lord in John 20, faith as the victory that overcomes the world in 1 John 5, and a recounting of the acts of faith from salvation history in Hebrews 11 (read this, by the way, if you read nothing else--it's a concise history lesson about faith from Abel to David, with great eloquence about conquering the world with faith).

In James 1, we are assured that we will meet trials, but that this testing of our faith produces steadfastness. The words "trials," "testing" and "steadfastness" are words we expect to hear about the strong Old Testament figures, like Moses and Abraham, and those that surrounded Christ, like the disciples and Mary. But us? We are lacking, right? We don't have that kind of wisdom and fortitude.

Maybe not right now, but we have access to wisdom: "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives to all men generously and without reproaching, and it will be given him." (James 1:5). When we ask for wisdom, we need to do this in faith and not as a "double-minded man" who is "unstable in all his ways." (James 1:8).

I've asked God for help, for wisdom, in the past, but it wasn't necessarily from a perspective of faith. I'd call it more the "begging God" to help me clean things up in my life or the lives of others. It was more of an "I'll-hedge-my-bets-by-praying-for-help-in-case-He's-there" theory of operation. I was a "double-minded man." I lacked faith, and then when God didn't step in and clean up all the mess of life, or at least give me the tools to do it, that added to my doubt.

I do think God graces us with assistance even when we pray as a double-minded man. He meets us along the way. He rejoices in those tiny steps we take towards Him, even when they are laced with doubt. If He didn't, I wouldn't be writing this blog. But full-out wisdom? We need faith and the ethic to consistently talk to Him and ask His guidance for that.

The goal is Semper Fi. The reality for many, me included, is Ocassio Fi. If we want wisdom, we need faith first.

Here's praying that we can work through doubt and become single-minded.

Lead or Follow?

2009-04-18T15:31:00.008-04:00

What is leadership? Why is it important? Is it more important to be a good leader or a good follower?

These are questions that have come up recently in my mind. This morning, the small group leaders had a very fruitful discussion about how to be an effective small group leader and facilitate an environment where people can grow in their relationship with Christ. Tom Corcoran said one thing I found worth remembering (before I get hate mail, let me rephrase-Tom said more than one thing worth remembering): "Everything rises and falls on leadership."

That's a tall order and may cause some of us to swallow hard. I want that NOT to be true. I don't want my failure as a leader to be a stumbling block for anyone. At the same time, there is truth in this statement, real truth. As Tom also pointed out this morning (see, I told you he said more than one thing worth remembering), God works through leaders. We see it throughout Scripture-Moses, David, Samuel, the apostles, John the Baptist, Mary (yes, I see her as a leader; though we don't have a lot of text about her dealings with other women, she was with them, even at her Son's death, and surely she led by word and example). The picture above shows a statue of the early Church leader Paul, at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls in Rome.

Leaders are vital. God selects them for a reason. Where would the Israelites have been without Moses? What Church would even exist without Peter and the apostles? Christ ascended into heaven. Our ultimate Leader left this world for a reason. Though I don't fully understand why He left, we know He did. We know He established leaders in His place and He told them to be leaders-to go out into the world and to baptize people in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and to teach them all that He taught to these selected leaders.

At the same time, I recognize that there is real merit in being a godly follower of the right leadership. I know one very good minister who struggles with being a leader and wonders if there is too much emphasis placed on leadership. Now, I think she might just underestimate her ability as a leader. She's actually a very powerful leader (maybe in a quieter way than others, but that can be more effective than us blowhards talking all the time).

I guess the answer is that we are supposed to be both. We are supposed to follow Christ and those that are in rightful authority under Him. However, at some point, we have to accept that others are watching us and listening to us. Even if we feel unworthy of leading, eventually we are thrust in to some area of leadership simply by virtue of adulthood, parenthood, or career.

Will we be good leaders or careless ones?

Will we be self-serving or Son-serving?

Easter Hangover

2009-04-14T23:15:00.014-04:00

I feel an Easter hangover coming on. No, I did not overindulge in alcohol this Easter. What I mean is that, typically after an intense Lent and Holy Week, I go backwards spiritually. During Lent and Holy Week, I tend to cultivate pretty good habits regarding prayer and Scripture. This year was no different, except for one thing: I am going to try not to succumb to the yearly Easter Hangover.

Last year, I fell completely off the wagon right after Easter, not picking up my Bible for weeks and filling up my free time with unworthy causes like sitcom watching and internet surfing. (It would be more honest to say I filled up my free time with more sitcom watching and internet surfing). Seems harmless enough, right? You can't read the Bible all the time, and we all need mindless time with Ray Romano. But each year I notice that, during an extended time during which I am neither praying nor reading Scripture, my behavior suffers too. I am grumpier and less productive. I don't exercise. I feel generally lazy.

We are supposed to be "serious and sober for prayers." (1 Peter 4:7). That sounds severe and off-putting, but I think it means we are supposed to be focused on what we are praying about and what we are reading in Scripture (which of course is a form of prayer). We are supposed to mean it. We are supposed to be authentic with God during this time with Him in His Word.

If I am reciting a long-memorized prayer without a thought in the world about what it means, then it means nothing. If I am reading Scripture in a race to finish a chapter or book of the Bible (yes, I've done this) without being in the moment, I'm reading nothing. Example: I used to say the rosary in my car when I would commute to DC on Fridays for court conferences. I had a CD to help me. I got really good at it (that's the goal, right?) One day, in the middle of the Hail Mary, another car cut me off on I-95. I completed "full of grace" before I let a number of expletives rip from my mouth. I was shocked by my behavior. But why? I wasn't really praying. Turns out that the rosary, a beautiful, meditative prayer, doesn't work for me. No doubt that is my own failing and not the prayer's. Nevertheless, with such a lack of focus, it was meaningless to me and, I'm sure, to God.

So, what's my plan? To give myself the first week after Easter to read less Scripture and even pray a bit less. It feels wrong to type that, but I think it will help. Because right now I'm drained, and to keep up my pre-Easter prayer and Bible reading regimen would be form over substance.

But I get just one week. And then I will begin again with a nice, moderate schedule for Scripture and prayer.

This might not be the optimal post-Easter regimen, but having a plan is an improvement. And maybe a reader will call me out on it next week to give me a little accountability.

Thoughts on the Weekend

2009-04-12T15:05:00.005-04:00

It's Easter Sunday. I'm in my favorite chair, satisfied from a tasty brunch and a great day of worship. I had easy tasks today--greeting people and signaling Kristin when the sermon was almost over so she could wrap up the Praise Party for the young kids during Nativity's three Easter Masses this morning. While my feet are worse for the wear, my spirit is lifted from watching amazing ministers in action, listening to moving worship music, and being fed by a great message.

To those ministers who read my blog (all three of you), I want to thank some Nativity ministers in particular. First, all Nativity ministers serving this weekend did a great job. I have a "thank you" list brewing in my mind, but for now, I want to say a quick but heartfelt thank you to all who served!

In particular, I want to thank those who served during Easter Vigil. You made this celebration so special for the newly baptized and confirmed. It was really a beautiful Mass, well executed from start to finish. I give a big thanks to Brian Crook, donning sacristan garb for old time's sake while still running the operations end of the event flawlessly. I was the recipient of undeserved praise for the beauty of the Vigil Mass, so I want to pass that along to Brian and his ministers. Brian's mom, Sharon, made the stoles for the newly baptized; as with all of Sharon's needlework, the craftsmanship was elegant and beautiful. Mary Lou Toohey and her crew put together a lovely reception for the newly initiated and their guests after the Vigil Mass. It was a great finale to a great evening. Thank you!

One amazing minister, a jack of all trades AND a master of many, who served at every Mass this weekend (you know who you are), jokingly promised me that he would enter the Church next Easter Vigil. I'm holding you to it!

As I come down from the Easter Sunday (and caffeine) high, I feel blessed to be a part of such a Christ centered church.

Nap time.

Depleted

2009-04-10T10:08:00.010-04:00

It's Good Friday. My routine today involves a little bit of shopping (yes, I left Easter Bunny purchases for the last minute), Good Friday service and Rise, the worship program presented by the Nativity youth, and, after everyone goes to bed, watching the Passion of the Christ.

I'm on the tail end of what I think was food poisoning, which means God gave me the perfect physical condition-depletion-to contemplate this very holy day. The up side is that fasting will be easy, for the first time ever! Of course, a few days of a stomach bug is not worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence with the Christ's suffering and crucifixion. But we all have our own crosses, some tiny, like a stomach illness, and some great. We can use these experiences to think of Christ.

What must it have felt like for Jesus to be that physically, emotionally, and spiritually depleted? In the Passion, the scene that impacts me the most is when, during the Way of the Cross, Christ falls, his cross crushing him, and he turns his head to see Mary looking at him with great angst. And in all this depletion, he says, "see, Mother, I make all things new." Maybe it's the Mom in me that makes me choke up at that scene. But it's also my unbelief that anyone can take such an eternal view in such a painful situation of apparent doom.

Only one Person can do that-make all things new in the midst of the greatest depletion ever suffered.

Engagement Bike

2009-04-06T22:29:00.016-04:00

I'm reading marriage preparation materials in order to launch Nativity's group for engaged couples, coming this summer. Anyway, it got me thinking about the fact that I have been married a really long time for my age, at least by today's standards. I got married when I was 23 (yes, collective gasping would be appropriate here), making me married about 18 years. I think. I was not a math major.

I went to another church's marriage preparation program this weekend to observe, and there was a blessing over the engagement rings. That struck me as funny for many reasons, not the least of which was the visual of 20 couples facing each other holding hands, resembling that group wedding event they used to host at Rash Field on the outdoor ice rink. Mostly, though, it made me think of the fact that, while I received an engagement ring, I never wear it and I don't consider it my real engagement present.

My real engagement present hangs in the basement by a large metal hook--my engagement bike. It is a white Nishiki mountain bike, circa 1989, that weighs about 40 pounds, made in a decade when bikes were not constructed of light titanium. It is so outdated, a behemoth of a bike with terrible gears and a severely ripped seat. I don't ride it anymore (I have a much cooler bike now, a Trek with shocks). Yet I keep this dinosaur. You can't get rid of your engagement present! Luckily, when Eric and I did our marriage preparation, there was no blessing of anything--it would have been quite cumbersome to lug that monster bike in. Although I could have ridden it to the class.

It is funny the material things you cherish, and don't cherish, in marriage. I like my engagement ring, but I'm not a diamond girl. In fact, I'm not a ring girl. So, I pull it out for special events and push it on my finger (push really hard--it doesn't fit too well anymore). But even though I never use my old white bike, I love it. Eric set it up in my apartment while I was away at my last college swim meet, a very disappointing finale to my swimming career. When I opened my apartment door, there it was. I never asked for this bike--it was as total surprise. He just knew I would like it.

As I structure the Nativity marriage preparation program, I hope I can reflect on important things about marriage that will be helpful to newly engaged couples. But I also hope I can point out the seemingly small things that partners can do for each other that survive the passage of years. I don't think Eric foresaw that I would keep an outdated piece of sporting equipment for 20 years. It takes up a lot of room, and frankly we could use the space. But it's not about the bike. It's about the fact that it was a thoughtful gift, and it is about the memories attached to it. That bike has taken me on rides with my husband on Pennsylvania mountains, Maryland trails and North Carolina beaches. The beach was a disaster, by the way. Who knew that bikes don't work well in sand?

So, for my 20th wedding anniversary, don't expect me to sport a new bracelet or anniversary band. I've got my eye on a kayak.

Little is Much

2009-04-01T15:57:00.010-04:00

Moderation. Such a good word. So inviting. So elusive.

There are probably a number of words to describe me, some good, some not so good. Most would agree that moderate is not one of them. I am always on one side or the other of the moderate, well ordered path of life. I can't do anything just a little bit. And this is not a good thing. We are used to hearing people praise such "dedication" (meaning, lunacy). But it's really a character flaw.

It is such a gift to be a moderate person. I look at people who go out and run 3 miles and they are happy. I run none because I can no longer run 26. I took up knitting a few years ago. I bought all of the supplies, had someone teach me how to do it, and took off, knitting about 4 hours at night. My hands were literally injured from knitting. I stopped to recuperate. I still have a bag of unfinished scarves in my house. I also love to ride my bike on trails. But my husband always looks defeated when I suggest we go ride. That means 20 miles at breakneck speed.

Most of my lack of moderation is comical (I won't even go into my fixations at various times in my life with scrapbooking, house cleaning, and my obsessive but ultimately failed attempt to organize a dodgeball team at work). Some of it is not comical. In college, during swim practice one season, the team did a long-distance set, 7,000 yards nonstop (that's approximately 4.5 miles). I decided to do it butterfly. The next year, to up the ante, I did 8,000 yards, butterfly again, with the additional "rule" that I had to breath every other stroke the whole way. This is not dedication. It's nuts. I hurt my shoulders doing this. The point? To say I did it. To knock myself down if I failed.

Funny, though, God has helped me settle in to some level of near-moderation these days. Through prayer and, frankly, the ability to laugh at myself (which I also attribute to God), I have actually acquired a bit of moderation--just a bit. I learned to swim for exercise somewhere between floating and Olympic Training Camp. I manage to maintain my house at an acceptable level of cleanliness, neither a pig sty nor an immaculate show place. I've even taken bike rides with my nine year old daughter Devon, whose idea of cycling is brief pedaling followed by frequent stopping to look at and talk to every woodland creature that scurries by.

Downhere, my current Christian rock obsession (OK, so I'm not cured), has a song called "Little is Much."

What is the measure of a life well lived

If all I can offer seems to small to give?

This is a song for the weaker, the poorer

And so-called failures.

Little is much when God's in it

And no one can fathom the plans He holds.

Little is much when God's in it

He changes the world with the seeds we sow.

I think God was not impressed with my "big" feat of long distance butterfly. I think he was well pleased with my ability to spend time with my daughter, biking at something other than competitive speed.

It's little. But it's much.

Following

2009-03-31T00:09:00.028-04:00

It's after midnight, and I can't sleep. This is happening more and more these days. I am not sure why. So, I've started to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) during these times. I usually try music first, but that never works anymore. I think that is because I listen, almost exclusively, to Christian rock. The lyrics are so much more compelling than the music I used to listen to; consequently, I stay up thinking about them. Love him though I do, Jimmy Buffett and Cheeseburger in Paradise will not keep me up contemplating God.

Tonight I was listening to a Canadian Christian band, Downhere. They haven't made it really big yet (I checked their concert schedule, and they are playing next month at a rural Pennsylvania high school gym-for free). Nevertheless, they marry great voices with compelling lyrics. One of their songs is entitled "I Will Follow Your Voice." The lyrics caused me to reflect again on Nativity's preaching and small group series entitled Tug of War. We just completed this series, which covered, among other things, the constant negative, even evil, messages that barrage us, and how we have to fight through the noise to hear and follow Christ. This song really gives us great examples of the junk that courses through our brains, creating white (or black) noise keeping us from the truth:

I can hear the questions

The answers that breed doubt

The spiritual poison of hecklers and demons

Who whisper in corners, hoping for a sell-out

I can feel the pressure

To filter everything I say

To sit down in silence

Put up with injustice and turn the other way . . . .

I hear about a war

I lose with tragic force

I hear I'm going down

I'm headed for the ground

I hear I should panic

I should be afraid

I hear through all the noise

A still and steady voice say "Wait."

With every channel on

We don't know where we belong

Help me to hear Your voice

Above all the other noise

The refrain of this song is, of course, I will follow Your voice. It's more like a conviction than an always-truthful statement, I think. At least for me. That's what I want: to be constantly following Christ's voice.

In Scripture, those who follow are called sheep. But when we use the word "sheep" to refer to people, we usually don't mean it as a compliment. Our culture labels followers as weak, dumb or indecisive. But interestingly, when Christ used that term, he did not mean that people were weak, dumb, or indecisive. Because, in fact, actual sheep discriminate. They follow, but only the right leader. They won't follow just anyone, but only the leader they are supposed to follow. Sheep are actually savvy.

So our comparison to sheep in Scripture is not derogatory. Christ is the Good Shepard. He doesn't herd dumb animals but savvy humans. Besides, Christ is a little too important to be given the task of herding the simple minded who lack any choice or individual will. He is grossly overqualified for that useless task.

So my goal? To be a sheep. The alternative is not appealing--who wants to be the wolf?

Holy Week, Batman!

2009-03-27T09:42:00.011-04:00

In the wee hours of the morning, I woke up in a panic, concerned about how we will get over 20 adults around the altar on Holy Saturday. Backup: Holy Week is coming up for us Christians, and at Easter Vigil (the night before Easter Sunday), new Catholics will enter the Church during the Vigil Mass. Luckily, I don't have to do much at the Vigil Mass, except read the names of the people entering the Church and attempt to stay on my feet as I exit the podium stage right (last year I did a very graceful near-tumble down the three steps surrounding the altar, arms up in the air). I do, however, have to figure out how all these people will fit around the altar, OH NO, with their sponsors (so make that 40+ people). Now I'm really worried.

Most of the paperwork component for this event is completed (and there is a staggering amount of it). It's the little niggling details that keep popping into my mind: where will everyone stand? I need to get new shoes so I don't surf the stairs again. Is black, my standard color of dress, really appropriate for Easter? And on, and on, and on . . .

So when this administrative stuff starts overshadowing the beauty of the real event, especially while interrupting my sleep, I have to step back. I have to hit "stop" (or at least "pause"). I have to remember that tiresome, trite saying that is nonetheless very true: "He is the reason for the season." The reason for all of this, the paperwork, the choreography, the planning, the rehearsal, is Christ.

People have chosen to follow Christ and have given up their time this past year to make that journey. They have met throughout the fall, winter, and the beginnings of spring to be in a small group called Vantage Point, where they talk and discuss what it means to be a Christian and a Catholic. They listened to a teaching podcast and then worked out their concerns and confusions as a group.

They are not similar by any other affinity other than their commitment to Christ. They are men and women; baptized and unbaptized; those from a strong faith tradition and those from none at all; married and single; parents and not. All adults, they all came to this journey on their own will, with no parental threat or nagging involved.

They did not fail to ask and argue the hard questions, the politically charged issues that the Catholic Church confronts all the time. They questioned and they doubted. In the end, they respected and loved, and submitted to Christ.

Sounds like a healthy group to me. Sounds like a healthy church to me.

A Eulogy of Sorts

2009-03-25T14:04:00.012-04:00

I am writing my last post from my trusty PC, a Sony Vaio that I have had for over three years. If I was eulogizing my Vaio (which I guess I am), I would say that it was a very good friend.

Oh, it's worse for the wear. It looks pretty shabby. Like most of the aged, its joints are wiggly and make noises when moved. The H and M keys are completely blank now from my constant pounding on them, the disc drive whines perilously loudly when it is used, the touch pad only works half the time, and Word has stopped running altogether (the death knell). Someone wiser than me has diagnosed it as a "motherboard event." I don't know what a "motherboard event" is, but it sounds frighteningly like an alien terrorist attack.

Vaio was patient while I wrote and revised the Vantage Point curriculum for non-Catholics attending Nativity who wanted to explore the Catholic faith. I have saved hundreds of Word documents that comprise my thoughts about God and life, and Vaio never once criticized the writing (except that it caught many typos for me, thankfully). It didn't balk at my burgeoning iTunes library containing far too many audiobooks, and never complained when I downloaded yet another C.S. Lewis book. It never let on that it was haunted by the spooky British guy who read Dante's Inferno. It was forced to house far too many photos of my children, churches in Rome and moss (I take a lot of pictures of moss. I like moss. I don't know why).

But it wasn't all work for Vaio. It did have a life of travel. It has been to New York, California, Texas, Arizona, Rome and various East Coast locales, as well as on many airplane and train trips. A few times, it got to go First Class.

I must admit that I wasn't always good to it, either. I yelled at it, sometimes using regrettable language. I dropped it a half a dozen times, and spilled numerous cups of coffee on it. I was always letting its battery run to the very end before recharging it.

Vaio was patient with other people, too, especially children. My girls played a lot of Jeopardy and Club Penguin on it. Tom's kids watched Aquaman videos on it and subjected it to mild abuse on Sunday mornings.

I feel a pang of betrayal, as I move from a PC to a Mac. But I think my Vaio does not know. It might have been suspicious while I was transferring hundreds of files last night, but it's pretty sick, so I think it is blissfully unaware of its fate.

At least that's what I tell myself.

I Solly, Solly, Solly

2009-03-21T09:13:00.010-04:00

This morning I read Psalm 51. This is a great Psalm to read when you are struggling with a particular sin or have recognized something in your behavior that needs to change. It's about cleansing and pardon. This is actually the Scriptural source for the lavabo, the washing of the hands that the priest does before the Eucharistic prayer, where he quietly says to himself, "Lord, wash away my inequity, cleanse me of my sin."

The part of this Psalm that resonates with me is "Create in me a clean heart, O God." I love that term, "a clean heart." I tend to worry about cleaning my house, my desk, even my mind, and these tasks are good, but I don't always work on a clean heart. And I don't ask God nearly enough to create that in me. I need to ask Him to do that, because I can clean my house, my desk and my mind (the latter only with a lot of effort), but I can't clean my own heart. Me trying to clean my own heart is as futile as me trying to make the sun rise. It's in Someone else's job description and far beyond human ability.

The cleansing language of this Psalm is beautifully coupled with the acknowledgement that "the sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit." (Psalm 51:17). This doesn't mean God wishes us to be in despair, but rather contrite. He wants us to recognize our wrongs and be sorry for them. This, as the Psalm tells us, is the acceptable sacrifice. He doesn't ask for eloquent prayers or constant begging for forgiveness. He asks for simple sorrow for our sins against Him.

My younger brother Jeffrey had a speech impediment as a child, and when he had done wrong, he would walk right up to your face and say, "I solly, solly, solly." He meant it, too. It was really a beautiful way of making amends, though he surely only needed the one "solly." That was Jeffrey's way of emphasizing when he was little--to repeat words. I think that would be the only gentle critique God would have given Jeffrey. He only needed to say it once.

Praying to be a Better Listener

2009-03-17T18:56:00.022-04:00

When my youngest daughter, Devon, was three years old, she loved to plunder through my jewelry box. I'm not a big jewelry person, but I did have a few things of sentimental value in this box, include a rosary my mother gave me. Devon loved this rosary and would sneak into my room so she could put it around her neck like a necklace. She knew better, however; it wasn't valuable but it was a gift and easily breakable. I repeatedly told her to stay out of the jewelry box and not to touch the rosary.

One night, after I had given her a bath and put her in footy-pajamas, she padded off while I attended to other chores. A while later, I walked into my bedroom and found Devon sitting on the floor, looking like a freshly scrubbed angel, with one exception: she was holding my rosary, a piece in each hand. She had broken it! Reacting harshly, and I said, "Devon, WHAT are you DOING?"

Her cherubic face looked up at me, and without missing a beat, she said, "Mama, I'm praying to Jesus to be a better listener."

This is now a favorite story that gets retold at every family event. What amazes me is that, at such an early age, she was able to manipulate the situation to appear saintly while acting like a tiny devil (and it worked--it was such a cute encounter that I simply overlooked it and immediately called my mother to tell her). Devon not only disobeyed me, she lied to cover it up, and even invoked God to get her off the hook!

I've done that too (but of course it is a lot less cute when adults do it). I've disobeyed, fudged the truth to cover it up, and made it seem like I was acting rightly in the process. Maybe I've never used God specifically in one of these scenarios, but I've certainly given the impression at times that do-goodery was my hobby when really skirting the truth or responsibility was my true occupation.

This story reminds me of a sermon I heard by Andy Stanley. He talked about the Second Commandment: do not use the Lord's name in vain. Most of us think of this Commandment as regulating speech and cautioning us to retrain our profane tongues so we don't use God's name as a cuss word. It probably does mean that. But Andy Stanley pointed out something really interesting--using God's name as a cuss word is offensive, but mostly to other people who worship God. It's wrong, but is this slip of the tongue (we never literally mean the phrase spoken) the worst violation of the Commandment? Andy Stanley argues no--that this Commandment really means that we shouldn't invoke the name of God in an effort to deceive, or to forward an agenda that is not a godly agenda.

For instance, we shouldn't call a business "Christian" and then cheat people. Actually, I am opposed to businesses advertising themselves as "Christian" or "following the Golden Rule." I'm not opposed to businesses BEING Christian or following Scripture, of course. But show me by your actions and your speech that you are a follower of Christ first. Just putting it on your letterhead or your radio ad, without any effort to be Christ-like, is a violation of the Second Commandment, I think. And if you use that kind of advertising, you better be darn sure your business is beyond reproach. The consequence could be a lot more severe than customer dissatisfaction.

But it is not just in business where this Commandment comes into play. In ministry, two events are sure to happen: we will encounter people and we will make mistakes. When these two events combine, we can be tempted to use God's name or our ministry to excuse or cover up errors ("Sorry, John, I wasn't able to help you with your problem this week because I was so busy praying for others!!")

Tiny children, prominent business people, and busy ministers can violate the Second Commandment, and not just by letting a cuss word slip. Combining a quick tongue and a little knowledge of Christ can be dangerous, unless we temper that with authentic prayer and honesty in our encounters with others.

I need this reminder as much as anyone--I know where my daughter got her quick tongue.

March is Madness

2009-03-13T11:02:00.016-04:00

I love basketball. I love to watch it and read about it and listen to sporting news dedicated to it. I loved to play it and wanted to be a college basketball player. The goofy picture here is embarrassing, but it conveys, by my silly facial expression, how much I loved playing the sport. But I need to admit something here--one might take from this that I was an accomplished basketball player myself. I wasn't.

I am 5'3" (with shoes on). In junior high school, I was a point guard (read: not allowed to shoot). In my last season as a basketball player (7th grade for the Western Branch Bruins), I was 10% from the foul line. I have said more often than my husband cares to hear, "if only I had height and talent . . ." He then reminds me that EVERYONE with height and talent probably could have made it past being a bench warmer for her junior high team.

And I'm not one of those basketball fans who hates other teams. I just love the game, especially NCAA basketball. I'm a Duke fan who does not hate UNC (which is enough for people to start questioning my sanity). To me, a great college basketball game is physical poetry, and a poor one is aesthetically irritating. I will even watch classic basketball and cheer out loud, as if the outcome is uncertain.

But this love can get out of control, and we are about to enter that time of year when I lose control, especially in light of the fact that my alma mater, Penn State, perennial cellar-dwellers of the Big Ten, likely will receive an NCAA Tournament bid.

Things we love can be curses. We do them to the exclusion of other (good) things we should do. I usually don't exercise enough during March, and I surely don't get the sleep I need (how am I supposed to see West Coast games if I am asleep by 11:00??) Something in me knew I should give up basketball viewing for Lent, but I was just too weak to even try it. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to do that. Easier for me to give up carbs than to go basketball-free for 40 days.

My admission here is related to reading Romans 12 today, as suggested by the Nativity Message Guide. "Do not be conformed to this world . . ." (Romans 12:2). This time of year, I really fail at this. I am so conformed to the world during basketball season. Normally an active person, I sit and watch (and yell). And this year I am doing it without my usual bowl of popcorn (the one sacrifice my weak self was able to forgo during this sacrificial season). Romans 12:2 continues: "but be transformed by the renewal of your mind." The Message Guide is helping me this year, as I have been faithful in doing the "outside readings" and praying about how I can use these readings to be transformed.

If I have one piece of advice for people this Lent, it is to pick up the Message Guide, and use it for more than a place to jot down your quickie grocery list after Mass. Spend some time in prayer, read the short passages suggested (which are selected to dovetail with our Message Series, Tug of War) and use the questions provided to go deeper into the Scripture passage and your own heart. It really helps.

These readings surely renew my mind. I feel more energetic, and at the same time, more peaceful after this prayer time.

And I need that, because Duke is playing Boston College tonight . . .

What's Love Got To Do With It?

2009-03-11T17:20:00.015-04:00

The "outside reading" for today from the Message Guide is Phillipians 4:4-9. In it, Paul tells us to have no anxiety about anything, and to let our requests be known to God. Take a minute to read this passage. The first instruction is hard to do but easy to understand; the second is easy to do but hard to accept when what we ask for isn't delivered.

I know people whose hobby it is to worry. When they don't have anything in their immediate life to worry about, they go outside their bubble and latch on to other perceived problems. Grandmothers are really good at this skill, I've found. One I know worries when her grandchildren don't use the bathroom as often as she thinks is healthy or the kids fail to wear a coat outside when it is 68 degrees. Another I know stayed up all night worrying when her daughter left a purse at a wedding reception. Are these events worth that kind of worry? No. Is it easy to turn off needless worry? No.

Even though I poke fun at these ladies (and I will give them up; they are my mother-in-law and my own grandmother), like most of us, I also let anxiety overtake me. I usually reserve it for big things, since other family members are handling the bathroom, coat and purse problems that plague my family. And here is the hard part--when the problem is big, we think anxiety is worth something. But it's not. It just works us up more and more, and tends to lead us to believing that by worrying, we can fix a problem. False.

We can't. We can't undo other people's mistakes. We can't make other people sober, or honest, or faithful. Only God can do that, along with a willingness, the free will, of the person who is the object of our worry. Again, easy to understand; very, very hard to do.

But another part of this passage helps us with our anxiety--ask God to intervene. Make our requests known. Ask for healing, for mercy, for a change of heart and behavior in our troubled family or friends. Ask for opportunities to lead that person to Christ. Ask for your own anxiety to ease.

Some of us out there are in real battles right now. Maybe our families are falling apart. Maybe our jobs are in jeopardy. These are big things, anxiety-causing events. Just step back. Ask God to help you.

Pray. Pray. Pray.

Just try it. The worst thing that happens is that you stay right where you are. No one has ever fallen deeper into a hole by praying.

God doesn't promise us a rose garden (or maybe that's country singer Lynn Anderson). And he doesn't promise us that these worries will evaporate for us, or even be fixed. He only promises us love. But, to turn another musical phrase, it's all we need.

The Peter Principle

2009-03-08T21:50:00.019-04:00

You have probably heard of the Peter Principle, the theory that in organizations, workers tend to rise to the level of their incompetence. This phrase was coined in the mid-1960s by a educator, Dr. Lawrence Peter. We, chuckling or perhaps cursing under our breath, can all think of a boss or co-worker who fits this theory. "How did he get that job?"

But before I read about Dr. Lawrence Peter, I always wondered if the Peter Principle was biblically based. When I first started reading the Bible, Peter struck me as one of the least likely to be chosen to be the rock of the Church. Sometimes he certainly seemed incompetent. He wasn't the guy who always caught on the fastest (when Christ was going to wash his followers' feet, Peter asked for a whole bath--"wash my hands and feet as well") (John 13:6-11). He was also not fully trusting--he balked when Jesus told him to lower his fishing nets after a night of fishing without results (Luke 5:5). He was not even honest with Jesus all the time. Peter promised Jesus that he would never deny Him, but we know that he denied Christ three times (Matthew 26:35; 69-75). He could be very impetuous, for instance, cutting off the ear of the soldier when Christ was seized by the Roman officials (John 18:10-11). For this misdeed, Jesus reprimanded him, reminding Peter of Jesus' fate--"shall I not drink the cup that the Father gave me?"

In my mind, Peter seemed incompetent at times, less likely to be chosen the leader of the Church than, say, John, the beloved disciple of Jesus. So, how did he get that job?

In our current message series at Nativity, Tug of War, we are talking about the spiritual battle we all undergo. The message discussed how God speaks to us with specific, perhaps firm, but loving thoughts when we don't live up to His expectations or our talents, but the devil speaks to us with vague generalizations about ourselves, like "you're bad" or "you're stupid" or "you're incompetent." God's message is always laced with mercy; the devil's message is always heavy with condemnation and despair.

This past week, I felt quite incompetent in something I was handling. I had two different strains of thought. The first was "you are truly incompetent. How did you get this job?" These thoughts were vague, too general to be helpful, and full of despair. Later, I had some other thoughts. I thought, "you could have handled that situation differently if you were more merciful to another's situation" and "you could have controlled your tone of voice a bit better" (I also had flashbacks to my wise mother, telling me in my teenage years, "Kathleen, it is not what you say, it's how you say it"). Those thoughts were specific and firm but also laced with mercy and understanding that I am still loved even though I made some mistakes.

The first thoughts I had were not of a godly origin. They were unhelpful, and in fact, sent me in to a few-hour period of feeling angry and not worthy of the job was I charged with. The later thoughts were from God. I know that because they were healing, though not necessarily easy to accept, because I had made some mistakes. And I hate to admit that.

God spoke to Peter as he spoke to me in my thoughts--with a firm, guiding love to help me improve myself. So maybe we can recast the phrase "the Peter Principle." I propose it have a new meaning: that we are human and in that sense, we are incompetent compared to God, but if we listen to his positive yet firm direction, we can be the kind of disciples that Christ wants us to be.

It worked for Peter. Maybe it will work for me too.