Frozen by perfection

It's Day 2 of Lent.  Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and I was involved in meetings at the Med School all day so I had no opportunity to go to an Ash Wednesday service.  I did spend a fair bit of time THINKING about the liturgy of Ash Wednesday.  "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." "Return to the Lord your God for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love."  These phrases have been passing through my mind over and over the last couple of days.

Meanwhile, I haven't for the life of me been able to figure out what to write about.  I can't work out a "perfect" blog post to start off my Lenten journey.   And so I have been frozen into inaction, a sort of "writer's block."  But in my readings and prayers these last few days I have come across this concept of perfection more than once.  Lent isn't about being perfect.  It's about being REAL.  Being naked before God.  Letting God heal us from our imperfection.  Knowing that God has already redeemed us and healed us and accepts us as we are.

Lent isn't about empty piety either.  One of the listed readings for Ash Wednesday is Isaiah 58.  The prophet is talking about fasting as a self-serving exercise so that others and God might take notice.  But, the prophet, notes, these same people are oppressing their workers and stirring up trouble.  Instead, he says,

"Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? 

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am."

All of my Lenten discipline and striving for perfection is a big waste of time if I'm only doing it to for the sake of perfection or to look good.  If all I'm doing is trying to write a clever blog post to show you all how pious I am then it's all about me.  But Isaiah is saying that the fast that God wants is to break the bonds of oppression and injustice.  What am I doing today for the sake of justice?

That's not to say that I should give up this blog-writing discipline as meaningless. I'm not letting myself off that easily.  But in so many areas of my life I have allowed my own perfectionism (a very egocentric attitude) to get in the way of working for the cause of justice, of simple acts of sharing my bread with the hungry, clothing the naked, sharing what I have with the poor and homeless.  I make the same excuses that we all make.  "My little bit won't make a difference." "They're probably taking me for a ride, how do I know that person is really needy." "I can't afford it." "I don't want to pry into someone else's affairs." The list goes on.  Because I can't do it MY way, because I'm not rich enough or clever enough to come up with the PERFECT solution, I am frozen into inaction.

The opportunites are often subtle and small.  They usually do not involve making a big splash and getting our names out there for all to see.  And that's good.  Once my ego gets involved then I stand in God's way.  If I get in God's way then I frustrate all possibility of perfection as only God CAN make things right and perfect.  Likewise, if I turn my back on the opportunities God puts before me, it's quite possible that God will simply start giving the opportunities to someone else.  These opportunities to serve are opportunities to see Jesus, "God with skin on."  If I miss them, I miss God.  I miss the point of the journey to the cross.

What opportunities might I have today or tomorrow to meet and serve Jesus, to break the bonds of injustice, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked? How might I have to step outside of my comfort zone to do so? And how might my obsession with perfection get in the way of these small acts of service that might present themselves before me?

Almighty God, the Redeemer of all who trust in you; give heed to the cry of your people, deliver us from the bondage of sin that we may serve you in perfect freedom and rejoice in your unfailing love; through Jesus Christ our Saviour. (NZBB p 572)

"Baking the Loaf"

I like to bake bread.  When we came to New Zealand we left behind a lot of cookbooks but I scanned in my favourite pages from my favourite bread cookbook so that I have those recipes and directions on my computer.  I have used them many times, most recently this evening. So when I was listening to my Daily Audio Bible podcast the other day and I heard the story about the “Widow at Zarephath” in 1 Kings 17, it struck a cord with me.  Perhaps what really hit home was the commentary after the reading in which the reader, Brian Hardin, summed up the passage with the directive to “Bake the loaf.”  What does this mean?

Some of you may recall the story.  There is a drought and famine in the land and God sends the prophet Elijah to live by a brook where he is able to drink water and eat bread and meat brought to him by ravens.  Then, the brook dries up and Elijah is told to go to Zarephath, where there is a widow whom “God has directed” to give food to Elijah.  Now, first of all, it is not at all clear from the story just HOW God directs the woman to give Elijah food.  It almost seems as though the first the woman hears of it is from Elijah himself.  Perhaps.  God works outside of our constraints of time and space.  In any case, he goes and finds this woman gathering sticks to make a fire to bake her last little bit of flour and olive oil together to make a meal for herself and her son.  She believes this will be their last meal.  There is no food anywhere in the land and so she is prepared to eat this last little bit of bread with her son and then wait to die.  It’s a heartbreaking story, really.  The woman is hopeless and yet so full of love for her son that she is going to make the effort to make the most of their last tiny meal together.  So, as she is in this frame of mind, along comes this prophet of God who asks her to get him a drink of water and a piece of bread. She tells him her story.  Remarkably, the first thing Elijah says to her is, “Don’t be afraid.”  These are the same words that Jesus uses over and over.  These are words that I have come to understand as “a miracle is coming, wait for it.” Or, to put it another way, “Trust me, and watch how things turn out.  You’ll be amazed.” Elijah proceeds to tell her that IF she trusts him and does as he asks, her flour and oil will not run out until rain comes to the land, signaling the end of the famine.

Now, I don’t know about you, but if that were me, I’d be pretty skeptical.   I realised as I listened to this story and to the commentary afterward, that this is something that is played out in my life in so many ways.  On a very literal level, what is my response when a homeless person or a panhandler asks for money?  What if they “promise” something in return?  I’ve found that more often than not I am tempted and, indeed, often succumb to the temptation to turn away or to offer excuses as to why that person isn’t “worthy” of “my” charity.  And then there are the more metaphorical examples where I may hear a call to do something or to go somewhere and I make excuses for why I can’t do it or why the call may not be a genuine call.  But beyond that, what’s really going on is that I don’t TRUST the outcome.  I don’t believe that whatever it is will turn out the way I want it to.  I can’t imagine how it could ever turn out in my favour or how it could ever “be right.”  And this lack of faith can paralyse me into doing nothing, staying with the status quo. 

This theme plays out in other places in the Bible.  There’s Abraham and Isaac, when Abraham actually takes his son to sacrifice him to God, all the while TRUSTING God’s promise that through Isaac he will have a nation full of descendants. (Genesis 22)  The story seems so barbaric and gruesome to us, sometimes to the extent that we miss the point entirely.  Abraham LOVES his son and he KNOWS that God knows how much he loves his son AND he TRUSTS that somehow God will see him through this.  And God does.  [Why God would put someone through a test like that is beyond the scope of this post and, frankly, beyond the scope of my theological imagination to answer at present.]

The other story that comes to mind is the parable of the talents. (Matthew 25 14-30)  In this one, a man gives “talents” (or money) to each of 3 servants.  He goes away and comes back and finds that while he was gone two of them have invested their money and doubled it while the third hid his under the mattress (so to speak).  He is very angry at the third son for his  laziness and obvious lack of shrewdness in investing.  This parable could be (and probably is) used as justification for the “rich getting richer” approach to politics and economics.  However, I see it a bit differently.  I think the reason this parable came to mind when I was hearing the story of the widow is because PERHAPS there is a parallel.  Quite possibly, this parable is about the third servant’s lack of FAITH.  He hangs on tightly to the status quo, to what he’s got, instead of investing it (sharing it, sowing it into a world of great need), and by playing it safe, he helps no one, including himself. 

And so, Brian’s commentary admonishes me to “Bake the loaf,” to give it all to God, to take risks in order to share the God’s grace and mercy and unfailing love with those who need it.  I need to do this EVEN (or especially) when I feel like I might be down to my last cup of flour, my last measure of oil, my last penny, my last nerve, my last bit of compassion. 

These thoughts have been swirling around in my head, mixing it up with the images and reports I’ve received from various friends on Facebook of the events of the Montana Gay Pride event this past weekend.  Montana Pride has a history of being very unlike other Pride celebrations.  The first time I went to one I was fascinated that they held WORKSHOPS.  Most of the Pride events I'd been to  in other places involved a big, flamboyant parade and parties.  Maybe there were outdoor bands and concerts, a dance, a drag show or two, but never workshops.  Last year, I went to a workshop on faith and sexuality and met some amazing people there, including a woman named Michele whose son is bisexual and who shared her journey of coming to accept that.  I’ve gotten to know her a bit more over the past year and she has shared some of her experiences on her blog, Rainbow Icecream. This year, my friend and “little brother” Tom was director of the whole thing and apparently did an amazing job (not surprisingly) and a woman whom I know from GCN (Kathy at CanyonWalker Connections) came to speak and to meet people and to do her amazing work of reconciliation between the Church and the gay community, especially those (most of us) who have been so wounded by the Church.  I believe it took someone like Tom, a passionate Christian gay man, to bring this most unique aspect to a Pride event.  I would imagine this must have been, in a sense, Tom’s “Bake the loaf” moment.  As I described in a previous post, it’s often not popular for gay people to be associated with Christians or Christianity because of how we have been wounded and rejected by many Christians.  Tom and Kathy and Michelle and many others have responded to that call to reach out in faith, knowing that it might (and does) bring abuse and ridicule and rejection from both sides.  It’s humbling, really, to see that kind of courage.  And yet, just like the widow, just like many of the people whose lives Jesus transformed, just like Abraham, many of us have found ourselves at rock bottom with nowhere else to turn and out of that brokenness has come the gift of truly knowing, believing that it really all comes down to GOD. 

I am challenged by the story of the woman who gave her last little bit of food to a man of God, TRUSTING that God would come through for her and her beloved son.  I am challenged by the story of the Apostle Paul who suffered all kinds of abuse for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and truly believed God when he said, “My GRACE is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  I am challenged by people who suffer unimaginable hardships to bring that grace and compassion to others.   It all comes down to trust in God to work things according to a plan that I don’t need to, or really even want to know.  Just “Bake the loaf.”

Watch and Pray

As I write this, it is the afternoon of Good Friday, in New Zealand.  Liturgically, symbolically, Jesus has been betrayed, handed over to an angry mob, beaten, mocked, and crucified and then buried in a tomb.  It is that time of tension, waiting, sad but anticipating the joy of Easter Sunday.  I spent the morning doing a variety of “worship” activities. The first was a contemplative worship service at St. Mark’s Anglican, the church I have tentatively called my “home” while I’m here.  Following that, members of most of the congregations in town gathered outside St. Mark’s for a procession in which a large wooden cross was carried to each church in town, some readings and prayers were offered at each place of worship, and then we ended at the Town Hall, where there was an ecumenical service for Good Friday.  That was much more contemporary and, frankly, a bit jarring.  However, the whole experience was quite powerful for me.  It engaged all of my senses in the process of reliving Jesus’ final journey and act of overwhelming, all-encompassing love and grace.  And I have been left with a feeling of sadness, of emptiness deep down inside.  I think that feeling is meant to be there…when I reach in and examine it; I find that it is a sense of profound loss and grief, of rejection, fear and guilt.  And then I find that all of that is encased in a deeper feeling of hope.  All of that grief and fear and emptiness is being laid to rest in the tomb.  It is what Jesus took upon himself so that I can finally be free of it all. 

That raw feeling of grief must be what Jesus’ mother and the other women who were there with him at the cross felt.  It is likely what the disciples felt before they fled in terror.  It had all come down to this.  They had placed all of their hopes and trust in this man.  Hope fed by the miracles, the acts of mercy and justice, now all broken to bits as their hero, their saviour allowed himself to be unjustly condemned to die a horrible, shameful death.  In their grief, they didn’t know the ending of the story.  They should have, given all the hints Jesus dropped.  They should have been able to trust, to hope, to believe that this could not be the end of it all.  And, as I sit with these feelings, I know what they could only dare to hope for.  I know of what lies on the other side of the cross and the tomb.  I know, but it’s not time to go there yet. 

These spiritual exercises are far more than just memorials or nice things to do.  When I allow myself to turn inward and examine what happens when I take this journey with Jesus to the cross, it becomes real for me.  I think that’s what is meant by a “Sacrament.”  Somehow, the real presence of God comes into my heart and my soul in a real and tangible way.   And I have to sit with it.  I have to stay here and experience what I would be feeling if I were literally there with Jesus at Golgotha.  We live in a “fix it now” world.  We find it almost intolerable to sit with pain, with fear, with uncertainty. And we are not alone in that.  Jesus begged his closest friends to come with him to his darkest hour. “Watch and pray,” he said, and then he found them sleeping.  They couldn’t tolerate the intense loneliness, fear and pain that Jesus was about to endure.  Perhaps they didn't believe he would really go through with it.  Perhaps they were thinking that this time, like all the others, Jesus would pull a well-timed miracle out of his hat or find just the right searing words to say to his persecutors to put them in their places.  Ultimately, of course, Jesus forgives them of their lack of fortitude and their unbelief.  That is indeed good news, but it doesn’t let me off the hook.  In due time, I will get to rejoice in the glorious celebration of the resurrection, when all of the pain and suffering and death is turned upside down.  But if I jump the gun, I miss out on a critically important part of the process.  I miss the point entirely.  Easter means nothing if Jesus was not crucified.  And Jesus’ death means nothing without Easter. 

I think there is a bigger, broader lesson here.  We are often taught that Jesus took all of our guilt and shame and suffering upon himself and did away with it, once and for all.  I believe that is true, to a point.  However, there is more.  See, when Jesus was with his disciples, both before and after his death and resurrection, he didn’t tell them that life was going to be easy for them from then on.  He told them that they were going to be left behind on earth to continue Jesus’ work.  They were promised everything they needed for their work but they were also promised that they would suffer immensely, just as Jesus did, for doing that work.  So what was the point, then?  I think the point is that in walking with Jesus, in taking that journey into Jerusalem, to Gethsemane, to Golgotha, to the tomb and beyond, the disciples and we can see to what lengths God has been willing to go for our sake.  We have seen Jesus take on ALL of that sin, despair, hatred, and fear.  Our lives and our hearts have been split wide open.  Jesus has seen into the deepest, darkest places in our souls and has said, “I forgive you, I love you, I want to be with you forever and I want you to walk with me and continue my work.” In the resurrection, we know that we will never be alone and that we have the strength to go to those hard places, wherever they may be.  


Jesus didn't simply take away all of that grief and pain and suffering.  Instead, he gave us the assurance that we are clothed in God’s grace, we are forgiven, we are PART of Christ’s body and we have been given the strength to bear each other’s burdens, to suffer with the oppressed, and to cry with the broken-hearted.  This is “compassion:” "feeling with."  As we do this, we are healing the wounds of sin and separation from God, in whose image we are ALL created.  But, I believe, we can’t truly do this unless we spend some time with Jesus in that place of emptiness and isolation.  In order to know joy, we must walk through sorrow.  In order to fully appreciate the joy of the resurrection, we must suffer some of the grief and pain of death, knowing that nothing we suffer comes close to what Jesus went through for us. It is through the hope of the resurrection that we are able to endure such suffering and pain.  Like Advent, this is a past, present, and future event.  I must live in the present reality, while at the same time celebrating the past event of Jesus’ death and resurrection and anticipating the future promise of eternal life with Christ in Glory.  Watch and pray.

Conformed? Or Transformed?

I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."Romans 12:1,2 (KJV)

For some reason, my Lenten meditations have led me to this passage.  I decided to quote it here in the King James Version for two reasons: one is that that is how I memorised it as a child.  The other is that it uses the word “beseech” and, well, I just like that word!  Just to clarify, the word “beseech” means to “urge” or “implore.”  It’s a word which gives this passage a sense of importance, that this is something that Christians really MUST do. 

A few weeks ago, I heard a sermon (or, perhaps more accurately, a lecture) on “Christianity Lite” in which this passage was used.  The idea was that many of us “go through the motions.” We go to church, we say some prayers now and then, we perhaps enjoy the fellowship but we don’t really RISK anything.  We haven’t surrendered our lives to the service of Jesus Christ. We haven’t allowed ourselves to be TRANSFORMED by God’s spirit working in our lives. 

Then last weekend, I met with a friend whom I had met through the Gay Christian Network.  He brought me some CDs of various messages that had spoken to him in his faith journey.  One was a keynote address to the 2009 GCN conference by the late Rev.Peter Gomes, who had been a professor at Harvard. Rev. Gomes was an African American gay man who grew up in the 1950s.  He loved Jesus and was devoted to preaching the Gospel, the scandalous and offensive Gospel as preached by Jesus Christ himself while he was here on earth. (An excerpt from that speech can be found at GCN Radio on the 28th August 2009 episode.)

I listened to that CD yesterday while driving around the beautiful New Zealand countryside.  Rev. Gomes pointed to this passage in Romans as a call to action for gay Christians.  Interesting and significant, since it had already been on my mind. 

The thing about being a Christian, while at the same time, understanding oneself to be gay or lesbian or in some way “outside of the heterosexual mainstream” (to quote WendyGritter), is that we are given a lot of grief by both sides.  The Church, in many cases, has been a hostile environment for us.  We have been told that, on the one hand, Jesus loves all of us, BUT, on the other hand, we aren’t welcome in the Church unless we try to change.  Sometimes we are told that it’s ok that we are gay AS LONG AS we are committed to celibacy.  But even if some of us have chosen that path, we are then told (perhaps not in so many words) that we are defined by who we sleep with, so if we are celibate, we are no longer gay.  The implication there, of course, is that we must not TALK about our attractions to those of the same sex.  Those are merely “temptations” that must be avoided and overcome.  The clear messages for many of us have been that, not only are we disordered because of our orientation; we are also “worse” sinners than anyone else.  Why, then, ask our gay friends, do we stay?  Why do we put up with the rejection and abuse in the name of Christ? 

That is a very good question.  For me, it comes down to this:  I have come to realise over the years that my sexual orientation, who I am fundamentally attracted to romantically, sexually, and spiritually, is not a choice. I believe this is the case for most people. I have also come to realise that my faith is also not a choice.  This realisation came later out of some very powerful experiences and spiritual conversations with God in which I came through with a very real sense that God had a hold on my heart and my life and was not going to let go.  At different times in my life I have suppressed, hidden, or denied either my faith or my orientation.  At those times, my spirit has been deeply troubled and I have not been at peace.  When, finally, I was able to reconcile those two aspects of my life, and live them out with integrity, I was able to find peace and joy in my walk with God. 

In listening to the testimonies of other gay Christians, I have found that their experiences, while not identical, have within them some version of my own.  We are in a place where we are called to be NOT CONFORMED to what the world thinks of us.  We have been called all kinds of names by the Christian community: promiscuous, idolatrous, God-hating, amoral, rebellious, etc.  By the Gay community, we have been accused of having “Stockholm syndrome,” of identifying with the oppressor, of selling out, of betraying our gay brothers and sisters who have fought so hard for equal rights and freedom from oppression and abuse. 

It’s interesting to note that Jesus was accused of similar things.  The religious establishment of his time accused him of being a glutton, a drunkard, a friend of prostitutes, tax collectors and sinners (as if that were a bad thing), of not having proper respect for the laws and traditions of his faith.  Those who wanted him to be their Messiah were quite disappointed that he took the path of humility and meekness rather than riding into Jerusalem on a white horse, sword drawn, ready to drive out the occupying Romans and save the people of Israel from oppression once and for all.  I’m not at all implying that gay people are analogous to the Messiah.  What I am saying is that, by not conforming to the expectations of the world around us, whether it be the Christian world or the Gay world, or any other sector of the world, we may be closer to walking in the footsteps of Jesus than we ever imagined. 

But there’s more.  We are called to be TRANSFORMED.  I would submit that it is impossible to truly have an encounter with the risen Christ without a transformation occurring.  I am not a Greek scholar, but it is my understanding that the verb tense used is sort of an ongoing one.  The transformation is happening, as our minds are renewed, as our ideas and our beliefs are changed to see each other and ourselves as Jesus saw us.  The remarkable thing about Jesus is that he had a choice.  As God, he created us in God’s image and we went astray. We have chosen our own self-interest over relationship with our Creator.  God could have said, “I’m very disappointed with what I have made, they haven’t turned out as I intended.  Oh well, let them go their own way, I’m done with them.”  But instead, God said, “I love these people I have made SO much; I’m not going to let them go.  I’m going to become one of them, to show them that I know what it’s like to suffer what they suffer, to feel what they feel. Not only am I going to become one of them, I am going to become one of them in the most humble and poor circumstances and I am going to really get to know the outsiders amongst them and bring them back into community with each other and with God. In fact, I’m going to take it the end, to suffer torture and execution as a criminal, though falsely accused.”  Talk about being TRANSFORMED! 

That is the Gospel, the truly good news of Jesus, the Christ.  God wants all of us back in relationship with God.  And to do that, God needs us to continue in the path of Jesus, all the way to the cross and beyond.  God needs us to take the oppression, the pain, and the abuse and transform it into love, repentance and forgiveness.  We are not called to change people’s hearts and minds. That’s the job of God, the Holy Spirit.  We are called to love our enemies and forgive our oppressors.  We are called to set an example of humility and meekness while working for justice and peace for the oppressed.  We are called to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ that ALL are loved and welcomed and forgiven by God and that we can come as we are to the throne of grace and let God change us according to God’s own will and purpose. 

This is truly good news.  And it is the challenge of the journey of Holy Week.  Today’s collect from the New Zealand Prayer Book reads: 

 “Jesus, when you rode into Jerusalem the people waved palms with shouts of acclamation.  Grant that when the shouting dies we may still walk beside you even to a cross.  Amen.”

What does that mean for us?  Will we conform to the image of the world around us?  Or will we stand out as agents of transformation in this broken and finite world?  Jesus overcame the pain and suffering and was resurrected so that we can know that we are forgiven and reconciled to God and so that we can see that this world CAN be transformed to be what God intended.  When we see in others the face of God, in whose image they were created, we must respond with those acts of love and service that Jesus carried out when he touched the untouchables, spoke to the outcasts, forgave those whom everyone else wanted to condemn and write off. 

I beseech you, my sisters and brothers, to not be conformed to the expectations and images of the world around us but to be agents of transformation as we walk with Jesus in love and service to those who oppress us and those who are oppressed by others.  May God bless your Holy Week journey.  

Guided by Grace

This was going to be the title of my blog...in fact, it may still be.  I'm not sure; this is a work in progress.  However, I wanted it to at least be the title of a post; and what better time than at the start of a new journey?

The title, "Guided by Grace" is a bit of a pun.  On my Android, I have a navigation app and I have voices to choose from.  I've chosen a pleasant, female voice called "Grace."  Partly I liked the voice and partly I liked her name.  So, whenever I am trying to go somewhere, I "ask Grace" for directions.  I have joked with travel companions about going where "Grace" tells me to go or about "Grace" guiding us to our destination.

To me, though, "Grace" isn't just a name or a voice.  Grace is REAL.  Grace is something hard to define but I know it's there.  In this way, Grace is a lot like God.  Grace is undeserved forgiveness, unconditional love, and what gives me the faith to trust that I am following the path that I am meant to be on, even though I have no idea where it is taking me.  I am being guided by grace, as long as I choose to follow and to listen to directions.

In some ways, this journey began several years ago, when someone confronted me with the question of my "calling."  This was in reference to ordained ministry but as I've contemplated and studied that question, I have realised that there are other ways a person can be "called" in life.  I feel a call to service to God and to others.  This is a call that is not easy to answer and requires a lot of grace to discern and to follow.  I found myself meditating on faith and found that I was being directed to take just one, sometimes tiny, step at a time.  The way would unfold and all I needed to do was to take the next step, not knowing where the path might be leading.  Since then, the path has taken me through some very rough and rocky places.  At times, I thought I had lost my way.  I felt stuck in the mud, mired down by fear; fear of losing my security, my income, my family, my life.  These fears threatened at time to overtake me and cause me to quit trusting God and grace to lead me and to try, instead, to forge my path on my own.  I have learned in life, and often need to be reminded, that going it alone simply does NOT work.

It was at one of those times, that I was beaten over the head with what could either be seen as a roadblock or an opportunity to change direction.  Last August, when I was told my contract with my employer would not be renewed, I was faced with a difficult but exciting opportunity.  I recognised it immediately as the "sign" that I needed to get unstuck and follow a different path.  Grace was "recalculating" my route, so to speak.

That all led me here, to New Zealand.  Frankly, I have no idea why.  It sounded fun and exciting.  It's also scary. I will have an opportunity to do something I have always wanted to do:  teach medical students.  I will get to learn about a different healthcare system.  I will meet new people and experience a different culture and way of life.  If I keep my eyes and ears open, I will be given the grace to answer the call to serve and to act.

In the recent past, I have found that opportunities to serve others present themselves in strange and powerful ways.  A few months ago I met a homeless woman named Rebecca, and her daughter (whose name was a derivative of "Grace") in Las Vegas.  I talked to them and bought them a meal.  It was a powerful experience for me.  Rebecca had lost her job and then her home and was living a very difficult life.  Talk about being guided by grace!  She had to live one moment at a time, humbly asking for help to feed her child and find shelter.  I helped as best I could and I pray for them still.  They touched my heart and my life for a reason.  I may never know what, exactly, that reason is, except to show me that I need to keep watching and stay alert to where grace may be guiding me next.

Not too long ago, when I was hoping, praying, and wishing for some help with lugging stuff to the dump, a man came to my door asking for help.  He needed some money for dog food and gas. A house painter, his work had been slim during the winter.  Immediately, it came to me, that this man could be the answer to my prayers.  I asked him to do the work which he happily did and I gave him money and food.  I know him, and I know it was very hard for him to ask for help and I never ever want to discourage someone from asking for help.  It seems people are being told far too often to value self-reliance and "pulling themselves up by their bootstraps."  What a gift it can be to be able to move beyond self-reliance and ask others to help us when we need it.  I am grateful for the opportunities that I've had to help others and I would not want to deprive others of that opportunity as well.

I know that these opportunities will continue to present themselves.  As Bishop Brookhart said at my friend Donna's ordination to the Diaconate, we don't do these things because they make us "feel good," we do these things because Jesus told us to.  We do them because when we serve others, we serve Jesus.  Many people are waiting anxiously for the second coming of Jesus, praying for Jesus to return and "fix this mess."  I think Jesus is here and we are called to be the hands and feet of Jesus who, through us, IS "fixing this mess."

And that is where grace comes in.  I cannot begin to even KNOW  how to begin the job of "fixing" things in this world without following the directions that I am given, without the faith to take one baby step at a time and without the courage to act, even if it means that I get off track.  I will never get anywhere if I am paralysed by fear.  I must be willing to take the wrong road, mess up, fall down, skin my knees, break my neck, whatever it takes to keep following this call.

I am reminded of a verse of a very popular and favorite hymn, "Amazing grace."

Through many dangers, toils and snares,

I have already come.

'Tis grace that brought me safe thus far,

And grace will lead me home.

May it be so.