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 “This is amazing,” Moses said to himself. “Why isn’t that bush burning up? I must go see it.” When the Lord saw Moses coming to take a closer look, God called to him from the middle of the bush, “Moses! Moses!”  “Here I am!” Moses replied.“Do not come any closer,” the Lord warned. “Take off your sandals, for you are standing on holy ground.  I am the God of your father—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” When Moses heard this, he covered his face because he was afraid to look at God.  Then the Lord told him, “I have certainly seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their cries of distress because of their harsh slave drivers. Yes, I am aware of their suffering.  So I have come down to rescue them from the power of the Egyptians and lead them out of Egypt into their own fertile and spacious land. It is a land flowing with milk and honey—the land where the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites now live.  Look! The cry of the people of Israel has reached me, and I have seen how harshly the Egyptians abuse them.  Now go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh. You must lead my people Israel out of Egypt.”   Exodus 3:3-10 (MSG)

I grew up in holy places...and so did you.  Holiness is inherent by God whose presence is Holy.  So in the places of our lives where God is, which I believe is everywhere, we find ourselves on holy ground. The story of Moses and the burning bush always comes to mind when I hear the words "holy ground."  And I remember that God tells Moses to remove his shoes.

I'm a barefoot kind of girl.  (Ask my mom and she'll tell you that growing up it wasn't rare to find me without my shoes and socks on at any time of the year.)  I always loved visiting our friends with the practice of taking shoes off at the door.  It was, for me, like a fancy treat to walk around barefoot in some else's home.  Something about it made me feel like I was "at home" there.  I am sure it was a practical thing to keep the floors clean but when you think about it...there is an implied intimacy to inviting people to remove their shoes in your home.  Instead of the impersonal shoe touching your floors, the person touches them.  The connections are made and illuminated when we make ourselves "at home."

Now back to Moses, I always thought that it was disrespectful to walk on the holy ground with sandals...but what if it was an invitation for closeness.  Imagine how different it is to touch the ground barefooted.  It's risky on the gravel, hot pavement in the summer, and in the woods with who knows how many branches and other things just waiting to stick you (no pun intended).  What if it was a way to connect more fully with God in the moments of the burning bush conversation?  What if it was God's way of saying find yourself "at home" with me?

 So in the stories about people walking on holy ground and taking off their sandals I imagine that they too had a sense of finding themselves "at home."  Although to be honest the thought of being "at home" with the Divine although amazing...also makes me a little wary of what I will be invited to do.  I know God to be radical and loving in ways that call me out of my comfort and into an amazing freedom of finding abundant life.  God has rarely invited me into the life I expected but I have always found that God's ideas were better than anything I could have imagined.  So I have learned and am learning still to let go of what I expect and to live into what God intends.

I want to be close to the Divine.  So shoes off and toes down...holy ground here I am, where do we go from here?

posted by Rebecca

I recently started reading a book on the history of Christianity. This might sound boring, but it’s actually been a very engaging read. The book, A People’s History of Christianity by Diana Butler Bass, chronicles the “other side of the
story” – sort of an unofficial history of the faith. It’s always intriguing to think of what has gotten left out of the orthodox narrative throughout the thousands of years of faith history, as well as enlightening to realize how many alternative points of view are actually represented in our history. 
 
Along these lines, I’m struck by what I’ve read of the approach to prayer of the desert fathers and mothers. Bass says:

"Prayer is much more than a technique, and early Christians left us no definitive how-to manual on prayer. Rather, the desert fathers and mothers believed that prayer was a disposition of wholeness, so that 'prayer and our life must be all of a piece.' They approached prayer…as a practical twofold process: first, of 'thinking and reflecting,' or 'pondering' what it means to love others; and second, as the “development and practice of loving ways of being.'…These ancients taught that prayer was participation in God’s love, the activity that takes us out of ourselves, away from the familiar, and conforms us to the path of Christ."

I love the emphasis on wholeness and on developing and practicing “loving ways of being.” Prayer, in this view, is not about asking God for things. No, it’s much richer than that. It’s about seeking out wholeness in ourselves and in our relationships. Taking the time to reflect on how we can show love. Then taking the practical steps to actually show that love to our friends, neighbors, and even enemies. This is prayer brought into our day-to-day lives, prayer that transforms who we are and shapes the way we act in the world.

I also love the phrase “a disposition of wholeness.” Prayer develops the posture we take in approaching our world and our relationships, and as we practice this type of prayer we gain a bearing of peace and wholeness that we reflect outward.

I have to admit that I rarely think in this way when I pray. Usually prayer for me is about seeking clarity on a situation or transformation of my own attitudes. But what I’ve learned from this passage casts this ancient practice in a new light…one I look forward to exploring more deeply.

Posted by Kari

_ As I consider prayer in the midst of what is a time of wilderness, in almost every aspect of my life and work, for me.   I realize that it's disconcerting to pray in the middle of the wilderness. I wonder if it is really wise for me to close my eyes or turn my back even for a moment on this place that I do not know, but have found myself led into. Is it safe to trust this place? What might I find if I settle in for some reflection? Will I even survive it? Here in the midst of the cacophony of voices, ideas, possibilities, and opportunities I wonder how to choose a place to focus. And by choosing do I follow that way instead of the others? These questions, among others, fill my thoughts and my heart so that it is difficult for me to conceive of any capacity to focus...

So I sought out words in a place I trust for guidance and direction.  On Sunday, December 4, 2011 the Biblical text came from Isaiah 40:1-11, here is an excerpt that particularly speaks to me. (With my somewhat snarky musing to follow...)

Isaiah: A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.

Me:These words are all well and good when they aren't directed at me. “Cry out!” Sure Prophet, it's so easy for you...you know what to say and to whom you should say it! You know your place in the story and the role you play for and with your people. But I am just somebody out in the middle of nowhere (everywhere) trying to find my way home or at the very least anywhere but here! And yet you invite me to have clarity of voice...to cry out as if I have something to say when I can't even find my own way!!  How is you imagine I have any idea of how to proceed?!?!

When I finally take a breath, I remember the beginning of my journey with the Divine.  When I began to travel on this road I didn't intend to follow my own path instead I wanted to follow God's path. Where is it that Jesus is going and how can I go with him? What does it look like for me to follow him in these moments where I find myself?  Maybe I should try to look at this wilderness from that perspective...maybe it is important that I focus not on the choices before me but on God. Trusting that God will give me the words to say, if they are needed, and the path to choose when it is time to make a choice.

It isn't all that glamorous or thrilling to find a mostly comfortable place to sit, breath, and listen for God when everything looks terribly prickly. (See photo below of Arizona Desert that I visited in Nov 2011 for a study tour of immigration, my image of wilderness as I reflect on the spiritual wilderness)  With all the stuff around, i can't imagine making myself comfortable but I have to rest.  So I find a place, take few deep breaths, and focus on God.  In the quiet of my heart I know that this prayer will help me find my way through this wilderness towards God's promises for me and for us all. 

Rebecca

It’s not just about me.  It’s not just about me.  For the past week I’ve focused on praying primarily for others, the fourth element under Prayer in our Rule of Life.  Why?  Too often, I pray for myself:  What do I want? What do I need? How am I feeling? I, I, I . . . As much as I try to resist, I fall into the trap of individualism that captures many in our culture.  I need daily reminders that the world does not orbit around me. I orbit with the world around something much bigger than all of us combined.  Self is important.  God loves each one of us individually but not just individually.  God loves us in community.  Too often, my prayer life does not reflect this truth.  I became keenly aware of this when my friend, mentor, and senior pastor at North Church, where I also serve in ministry, announced that he is taking a new position as the president of the Methodist Hospital Foundation.  I was happy for him but disappointed and heart-broken.  I would no longer be working on a daily basis with one of my favorite people.  My complaints to God sounded like the best laments from the Psalms . . . why now, God?  We were just getting started with some exciting plans.  I’ve only been at North for six months, could this timing be any worse?  Now I have to start all over with another senior pastor.  After a day or two of feeling sorry for myself, I finally woke to the fact that this was not about me.  Duh.  It was ok to express feelings of loss and frustration and even some anger but not without giving thanks for Kevin in his new role in ministry and for the Methodist Hospital Foundation’s ministry to the broader community.  My personal loss at North is the Indianapolis community’s gain.  It’s not just about me.  It’s not just about me.

From the rule of life...
We will pray for our neighbors and for creation.

It’s our first week with prayer as spiritual discipline focus. Let’s begin with a poll.

Raise your hand if you pray.

Okay. A lot of us. Keep your hands up.

Take a deep breath, we’re about to get real.

Now who thinks that God inserts God’s self into our daily affairs, responding to our prayers of petition?--that is, asking for stuff. Fewer hands are raised, I bet. Let’s take it a step further, Who thinks God gives preferential treatment to those who pray?

Whoa, heavy.

This gets us into the nitty gritty. We have two problems at hand if we stick with old paradigms: First, should we believe in an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnibenevolent God, wouldn’t this God be aware of our needs, desires, and wants, thereby negating the need to ask for these things in prayer? If yes, then prayer is solely to acknowledge a God who desires our attention--this seems odd. Like the God who knows the answer but wants us to say it.

The second issue, and the more straightforward, what if I don’t get what I’ve asked for in prayer? Is God angry with me? Did I not pray hard enough, genuine enough?

So why do we pray?

First, let’s get it out: The heavy sigh, the eye roll. You liberals are always deconstructing ritual and leaving us with bupkis when it comes to belief.

Let’s put the pieces back together.

We can get some help from the ancient texts on this one: Early creation stories affirm two things about us mortal folks: God is a creator God; humans have the divine image within them.  These affirmations are close to one another (proximity) in the text, so we can infer the authors and editors of the canon were fixin’ to teach us a lesson.

Humans have the ability to create.

The people’s exhibit A., B., C., and D., a few metaphorical-historical examples: World is created then humankind is created; world is destroyed in the flood story, and Noah, a human, gets the call to re-create; Israelite community nearly wiped out as slaves, Moses, flesh and blood, leads the Exodus; Hebrew identity nearly lost to the Roman occupation in the first century CE, and Jesus, a human, preaches a message that sustains the ancient covenantal language of love and justice to re-create the faith for gentiles (and affirming the covenant for non-gentiles).

My commitment this week was to pray with my nine week old son. I do this with earnest, not because I seek preferential Divine treatment for my little dude, but because I have aided in his creation, and he has the capacity to re-create the world for love, for peace, for justice.

I suspect we should not pray petitions to God, but we ought to pray for our own transformation to transform the world.


Posted by Adam Hayden
@adamhayden

I believe the three most powerful words put together in the second testament come from John 11:35 – ‘Then Jesus wept.”  It’s not only the human side of Jesus that we see here but the very human.  Then the people who saw Jesus weep went on to say, “This man healed a blind man, why couldn’t he keep Lazarus from dying?”  Good question.  And before Jesus wept, Lazarus’ sister Mary fell to Jesus’ feet and said, “Lord, if you had been there, my brother would not have died”. 

The reason I bring this up is because we are in a time at LCUMC where we are actively seeking  God’s presence as part of the Rule of Life and then writing about our experiences.  But sometimes God isn’t present in the way we are seeking.  When Jesus wept it’s as if Jesus’ grief goes so deep that it is for the whole world that Jesus is weeping and the tragedy of the human condition is to live in a world where again and again God is not present, at least not in the way and to the degree that man needs him. 

Well last Thursday I actively sought God’s presence.  I left work an emotional wreck.  I also wept.  I took a long walk and began questioning my place in life and where I should go?  I cried as I walked and hoped that God would comfort me in a  ‘way that transcends all peace and understanding’ and blah blah blah, the bible says that somewhere else I believe. 

Over the course of my weekend and in the process of trying to hear God’s direction for my life,  I thought of the opposite of the verse where Jesus wept.  It appears in Genesis and instead of crying, we see God laughing.  It begins in Genesis 18:12 and ends with God laughing at Sarah, Abraham’s wife.  Sarah just was told that she was finally pregnant.  Well into her elderly years and way past the time of being able to become pregnant, Sarah had to laugh.  The thought of being such an old lady and a new mother made her somewhat hysterical.  Perhaps the thought of getting into a job that she didn’t feel equipped with made her that way.  Who could blame her?  Maybe I felt that way last week.  I was working a job I felt I wasn’t totally prepared for and I freaked out.  There actually was a time when I was coming out of the downstairs catacombs and the railing to the stairwell broke off into my hands and I too let out a hysterical giggle.  As though, ‘this can not really be happening.’.  But it was happening and sometimes you have to laugh at the reality even though you really want to cry. 

And so in this passage in Genesis where Sarah laughs we see God as being quite human.  Sarah laughs and denies it and God confirms that she definitely did laugh and the exchange they make, back and forth, the arguing over laughter, is quite hilarious and quite human.  I need a God that I can relate to.  I seek a God that I can access and who will laugh and cry with me.  And although God doesn’t always give me the answers that I want nor does he always give me the guidance when I need it, I know that he’s out there laughing and crying with me and that feels pretty good.

From the Rule of Life:

We will be present to God, chasing after God’s heart with authenticity and vulnerability.
We will be present to ourselves, seeking wellness for our minds, hearts, souls, and bodies.

The challenge to presence can be a difficult one for me. Like so many other people, I have a tendency to fill my plate too full, always believing that I can schedule one more activity, fit in one more class a week, or have dinner with one more group of friends. I rush from one thing to another, every day of the week a different rainbow of commitments. I love my work, and a hectic schedule comes with it, but I recognize that at a certain point rushing around between obligations does not permit a life of true presence in any of the places that I have committed myself.

Because of this personality tendency and the hectic circumstances of my own life at the moment, our team’s focus on practicing presence has come at a perfect time for me. Over the past several weeks, I have begun to weave a thread of presence, or mindfulness, into my daily life. For me, this consists in the simple-on-the-surface, yet difficult in practice, habit of bringing my mind to rest in the one activity that I am engaged in at the moment. If I am teaching English to a class of Burmese refugees, then I seek to be fully present in the moment of teaching, not allowing my mind to wander to the running group I will participate in that evening. If I am on an hour-long drive to teach another English class, I let myself look out over the road, take in the sunshine, breathe, and focus on the drive (or at least on the book on CD I’m listening to) rather than thinking about the emails I have to return later that night. If I’m listening to a friend talk about her day at work, I focus on her story, looking at her face and listening to her words rather than mentally checking out and figuring out how to gracefully get out of the conversation and get on to the next item on my to-do list. This may sound like a very simple way to live…but it is very hard for me to practice consistently.

This practice of being present to the daily activities of my life is also a way of being present to myself. It slows me down and helps me actually live each moment of my day, rather than rushing through to the next thing. It helps me hear my own soul clearly, recognize and own my emotions, and choose what is best and right for me in each moment.

Being present to each moment also clears the way for me to be present to God. One of the most meaningful rituals of Christian faith for me is the communion table. I love the symbolism of sharing a meal, of bread and wine bringing people together, of Jesus choosing such ordinary things in which to make his presence known. “Every time you eat a piece of bread, every time you take a drink of wine, remember me.” I love to come to the table each week, knowing that just as I am, my community welcomes me to share in a meal of remembrance, deep friendship, and love.

Recently, I’ve been reading a book by Thich Nhat Hanh to learn more about the practice of mindfulness (or “awareness” or “presence”). And as I read this book, I found a beautiful section on presence and the Eucharist:

 “The practice of the Eucharist is a practice of awareness. When Jesus broke the bread and shared it with his disciples, he said, ‘Eat this. This is my flesh.’ He knew that if his disciples would eat one piece of bread in mindfulness, they would have real life…When we breathe, when we are mindful, when we look deeply at our food, life becomes real at that very moment. To me, the rite of the Eucharist is a wonderful practice of mindfulness. In a drastic way, Jesus tried to wake up his disciples.” (Thich Nhat Hanh, “Peace is Every Step”)

So as I live each day, I am seeking to be present to myself, to the activities of my day, to the people in my path, and to God, whose presence comes to us not only every time we eat bread or drink wine, but every time we bring our minds to rest in the unfolding beauty of each moment we live.

Posted by Kari

Over the past weeks I have had lots of things to think of, worry over, and get done.  I found some moments so overwhelming that I wanted to just let it all go and run away.  Then I was challenged once again to consider presence.  How in these overwhelming moments was I going to be present, especially when my initial response was to be absent?  As I spent some time thinking over being present to my life as it was, not as I wanted it to be, I realized that these were opportunities to "work" my patience. 

I was once waiting for a flight to board, delayed by weather and a few transfers the flight was boarding later than intended.  Most people were getting kind of agitated and this little girl, probably 4 years old was enjoying her happy meal.  She started talking to me and soon heard a woman behind us raising her voice to the airline personnel about the delay.  The little girl looked back at me and said, "My teacher always tells me I just got to work my patience!"  I think that may have begun to help me conceive of patience as an active process and choice in the way I live and have my being.  Patience is one of those virtues that I have thought of over the years as an unattainable reality for me...especially with myself.  While other virtues seemed to be something I could develop over time, patience was more of an idea than a practice so it always seemed to be just out of reach.  As I thought more about "working" my patience i realized that one of the reasons it had seemed so out of reach was that it seemed so passive but this invited me to consider being actively patient. 

So over the last week i have been working on the practice of patience.  I found that I tend to swing to the extremes.  I either worry and plan for things that are out of my control in a feeble effort to regain the semblance of control or I just let go of everything as if things don't matter.  So I have been trying to find some place in the middle...a place where I can consider the options that are before me but not seek to determine the future in a vacuum.  I have revisited the practice of taking a few deep breaths before I respond and react to conversations, ideas, or stress.  I have chosen to claim the mantra "I don't know" and remind myself that I don't need to know right now.  In the more "successful" moments of practicing patience I have found comfort in the waiting and greater compassion for my circumstances. 

It has been easy to blame other people in my life for the lack of answers that come to me when and where I want them.  But as I have taken on the responsibility of practicing patience with myself so that I can be more fully present to God and to the people in my life I haven't needed to blame anyone for the wait.  I have come to appreciate the space that is made when decisions aren't sought to alleviate stress but result from an accumulation of moments, fully lived.  While I still hope for some of the answers that so overwhelm me at times, I also have found a place to hold those possibilities with grace and a lot more patience for myself and the results that are coming.  "Working" my patience takes practice and while I hope to learn more as I go, i am grateful for these present moments of peace and hope for all that the future holds.    

Posted by Rebecca

I'm pretty sure I can blame the entirety of Western culture, but I don't know how to stop and be present. Work hard, play hard, sleep hard...and try to squeeze as much time with friends in there as humanly possible.

We don't slow down.

Which is why the Rule of Life gets me every time...especially the pieces regarding self and others:  
  •  We will be present to ourselves, seeking wellness for our minds, hearts, souls, and bodies.
  •  We will be present to our neighbors and creation, paying attention to their needs.

I typically am so focused on the task(s) at hand, that I plow right through my days in an effort to be as efficient and as productive as possible...and often miss the most beautiful moments - and people - life has to offer.

As we've made a point to live out portions of the Rule in weekly segments, I've spent a lot of time the last month working on being present to myself, slowing down, breathing, enjoying the moments.  It's been an incredibly valuable - and healthy - slowing down experience.

But perhaps one of the most valuable interactions I've had is not with myself, but with my roommate. He's a real sweet guy from India who spends his time working on his doctorate (apparently having to do with lasers? I think he's trying to take over the world).  We rarely find ourselves in the same room, and when we do I tend to be on my way to this, focused on finishing that, rushing off to the next thing.

This past week I determined to pause and connect with him in conversation.  It took some doing, but we found ourselves chatting Friday night. 

...and it was phenomenal.

His background is fascinating to me, and it's been really interesting to learn about the parallels we've found between American Christianism and Indian Hinduism religious systems.  Here we are, two young men with entirely different backgrounds (so different, in fact, that the steak I cooked for dinner last week was the first cooking of a slab of meat he'd ever witnessed) struggling with many of the same social implications that the corresponding religions of our respective cultures present.

We found in conversation a shared heart for active social engagement and creating the kind of communities that empower people rather than oppress them.  I left the conversation, excited, energized...

...and all because I took a moment to be present.

Posted by Jordan
@jordanupdike

From the Rule of Life:

We will be present to our neighbors and creation, paying attention to their needs.

As we have been focusing on presence, I’ve been wondering more about what presence really means. What type of presence are we practicing? What makes our presence a gift to others? How does perspective impact our ability to be present? When do we need to consider being absent?

David Whyte, author, poet and lecturer, hints at this in his book, The Heart Aroused. David describes helping to lead a weekend course for 33 medical missionary sisters in southern England. The weekend was part of a six-week rest and recuperation time for these missionary nuns who had returned exhausted from their work in the hinterlands of Peru, Indonesia, India, and whatever other country needed the benefit of their clinics.  The sisters’ work was difficult delivering babies, inoculating children, caring for the old and sick.  David described them as “all Martha and no Mary.” Every nun went out and worked herself into the ground for two years and then retreated for several months completely depleted from the effort.

Down in the basement kitchen of the retreat center, like Cinderella among the ashes, David writes, worked a saint.  This young woman prepared food each day for the retreating nuns. She cooked the meals, cleaned the dishes, tidied up – not what you would say is life-saving work.  Yet, David said she was a life-saver.  Being in her presence was a privilege and a joy.  Everyone felt it. She was like a bright, shining light in the dim underground dining hall. David said this woman brought an energy to her work in the basement kitchen. She had an inner joy that reflected in dramatic contrast to the exhausted sisters on retreat. The sisters lived every day saving lives yet they had somehow lost their lives in the process.  What was different about the young woman? The missionary nuns, he explained worked incredibly hard as if there was something wrong with the world that needed to be fixed. The woman who cooked and cleaned worked incredibly hard as if there was something right with the world that needed to be shared. Her perspective made all the difference.

Is our presence a sign for others that there’s something right in the world worth sharing or something broken that needs to be fixed?

Posted by Brenda