Devotional

One of the most meaningful elements of belonging to a faith community is the chance to share in one another’s stories and lives. FBC McMinnville hopes to foster that sharing and the connections it creates through this devotional, with a reflection from a congregant each week.

April 28, 2021

After spending a month with Psalm 23 and hearing several different versions of it, some folks from our congregation crafted their own versions. The text/photos of those are below, and you can see all but the first (Muriel’s) in this video:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/15H4lu-7dx56crFtZfZycHP-K2d7dCNaJ/view?usp=sharing

God is my leader, my shepherd, my eternal friend.
God gives me all I need: rest, ease and peace of mind.
God gives me all the food I need.
God graces me with comfort—music, knitting and reading.
Though death becomes more of an issue as I age,
I still am not afraid for God is with me
and will be with me whatever trauma I encounter.
Goodness and never- ending love will surround me all of my life
Because God is with me.
-Muriel Dresser

God shepherds me; by this, truly, God meets my need.
God welcomes me to the comfort of pastures green,
to the peace of tranquil waters that I lay down beside and renew my soul.
God leads me on the path of justice and restoration,
as the one who Is with us, Always, always would do.
Even in depths dark as a final death I fear not; God is all about me.
With gentle guide and faithful guard, God comforts me with safety.
In sight of those who would do me harm, God gives me abundance.
God grants me blessing and belonging; my joy in God’s care overflows me.
Selfless love and boundless kindness go with me always;
with God I find a true and endless home.
-Geoff Clayton

Divine Mother is my Guiding Light; in Her, all my dreams are fulfilled.
She encourages me to rest and renew.
She reminds me that peace is my natural state.
She delights when my soul re-awakens.
Divine Mother guides me on a path of Truth.
Even though I sometimes wallow in self-pity, She reminds me that kindness and compassion go hand-in-hand, for myself and all others.
Through this holy connection, all fear dissipates, for Divine Mother is with me. Her gentle touch and loving spirit comfort me.
Divine Mother sets the table where all are welcome,
including those that I perceive as enemies.
As Mary Magdalene did to Jesus, Divine Mother anoints my head
with sacred oil, causing my heart to overflow with love.
Integrity and Mercy walk with me through all the days of my life.
Knowing this all to be true, I rest in the arms of Divine Mother,
forever and ever.
May this blessing be.
-Kathleen Verigin

My neighbor is my guide, I shall not be alone.
He calms me: She leads me to Nature’s restful waters.
My life is refreshed, restored to the paths of clear thinking
that will benefit us all.
Yes, though I might grieve, be depressed or fail to understand, I will not fear: for I trust you will be by my side to protect me.
You sit with me as I talk with those who do not think as I do:
you maintain my focus on a righteous outcome.
Surely mercy and love shall follow me all the days of my life:
you have taught me well.
-Danny Browne

Christ, the Shepherd, is my guide; I have everything I need.
He gives me rest in quiet places of nature and provides me
with food and water to help me thrive.
Because I live in Him and He in me, my inner spirit is renewed.
I follow as He leads me in the intricacies of truth and justice.
Even through corruption and hatred might surround me,
I do not fear for my soul
because the Trinity is with me and my true self is protected.
God feeds my soul even when I am surrounded by adversaries.
He anoints me with oil to repel the parasites that might make me ill
and to keep me protected from the elements.
Because of His love, my gratefulness and joy overflow.
Goodness, compassion, and grace will be with me until I leave earthly life
and live with my heavenly Family in eternity.
-Linda Watson

Creation, sun, earth, moon, and all nature,
my protector, guide, and sustainer,
diversity and abundance surrounds me.
Lush grass and tall trees let me breathe.
Clean water blesses life.
Taking in everything around reminds me this plenty is for all.
Danger and hardship require a response
from each who lives in safety and ease.
Dreaming of all of life’s bounty,
even as poverty, hate, selfishness, and other plagues
divert our attention, reminds us where we should be focused.
Made wholly of bits blasted from stars, fixed in the present
but longing for a version of the possible,
the beauty and blessing of goodness, mercy, kindness, and love
flows in a current toward that goal.
The ride ends with a return to dust.
-Joani Jernstedt

You, Creator God, have been there for me from the beginning;
protecting me, caring for me, guiding me, always within me.
You have blessed me with the desire to be in Nature,
where through plants, animals, trees, the sky,
rivers, the ocean, the sea, you speak to me,
restoring my body and soul.
You are Divine Love and through prayer and meditation,
I’ve been drawn to know You more deeply.
Even when I have encountered heartbreak, doubt, despair and fear,
You have been there to pick me up.
I have felt your arms around me, comforting me
and giving me courage to face my fears.
Whatever may come, I know I am embraced and cherished by You,
even unto Death, when I will rest forever, in Your Divine Love.
-Gloria LaFata

Green Pastures and Still Waters quilts by Susan Chambers

April 28, 2021

I am attending a conference this morning at the Yale Institute of Emotional Intelligence. The founder, Marc Brackett, led us through this centering exercise. I found it very impactful… I hope you do too.

Please get comfortable in your space and take a nice long inhale and a nice long exhale.

I’d like you to think of someone that you “work” with that you don’t really know that well, maybe even someone that you have difficulty with in your life.
Bring them into your mind and go through this compassion meditation.

This person has feelings, emotions, and thoughts…
Just like me.

This person has in his or her life experienced physical and emotional pain and suffering….
Just like me.

This person at some point has been sad, disappointed, angry, or hurt…
Just like me.

This person has felt unworthy or inadequate…
Just like me.

This person worries and is frightened sometimes…
Just like me.

This person has longed for friendship…
Just like me.

This person wants to be caring and kind to others…
Just like me.

This person wants to be content with life…
Just like me.

This person wishes to be free from pain and suffering…
Just like me.

This person wishes to be safe and healthy…
Just like me.

This person wishes to be happy…
Just like me.

And finally
This person wishes to be loved…
Just like me.

Absorb this and take a nice long inhale and a nice long exhale. And reflect.

I wish this person had the strength and resources and social support to navigate the difficulties in life with ease.
I wish this person to be free from pain and suffering.
I wish this person to be peaceful and happy.
I wish this person to be loved.
Because this person is a fellow human being…
Just like me.

Georgine Benner is on the Church Board and leads the Worship and Community Engagement Committee. She is also known for leading the Y.A.H.O.O. Mexico Mission trip. She is currently a school counselor at McMinnville High school. She and her family love the outdoors, rafting, biking, and hiking. She also can get lost in jigsaw puzzles and reading novels.

April 21, 2021

Life offers no guarantees… just choices; no certainty… but consequences; no predictable outcomes… just the privilege of pursuit.

We humans are wondrous creatures, breathtaking, creative, stubborn, and opinionated.

Who showed you how to love? Who taught you how to hate to feel superior? You’ve been offered so many choices in life, so many paths to take.

Be Loving & Forgiving OR Selfish & Judgmental

Sharing Cheerful Smiles OR Sharing Rude Comments

Be Greedy for More OR Grateful for What Is

Be Full of Joy, Hope and Giving OR Be Dried Out, Weary, Don’t Care

“Angelic” Good Troublemaker OR “Protestor” Breaking Windows

Reaching Out a Helping Hand OR Keeping Your Hands Stuffed in Your Pockets

We come in all shades and shapes chosen by our ancestors just for us, but inside we’re pretty much the same. Why do so many forget this?

We’re able to make loud or soft noises according to our volume dial. Some hear music in nature’s meadows, while some see a future subdivision.

You’ve been offered many choices in your life, paths that twist and turn, or someone that grabs your arm, leads you into trouble. Look for the signposts that leads you to a healthy, grateful life. Make a difference in your world.

Be a teacher not a taker.

Anne Engen has been a FBC member since fall of 1963. She taught 5th and 6th graders Sunday School class. Illustrated how Moses freed his people from Egypt using plagues. Brought in jars of grasshoppers, small frogs, fruit flies, a snake, jar of water and bottle of red dye. After class boys said they’d see Anne in church. HA. The boys freed the jars of plagues. Anne came back to a wild scene of happy boys.

April 7, 2021

In the mid 1970’s Linfield struggled financially, yet we wanted to provide a token of thanks to each person who gave to help the College continue. The decision was to enclose a bookmark, made in the college printshop, with each thank you letter. On one side was printed:

Education is a quiet, though

not always an easy and

peaceful, venture.

It takes place where books

are read, where people

come together to reason,

where ideas and beliefs grow.

It takes place at Linfield.

It is why we are here, and

we know it.

On the other side was a quote, thought to be worth sharing. Below are three examples:

If you want a child to improve,

let him hear the nice things you say about him.

-Haim Ginott

No matter what accomplishment you make,

somebody helps you.

-Althea Gibson-Darben

As long as man has a dream in his heart,

he cannot lose the significance of living.

-Howard Thurman

Maybe such short thoughts are still worthy today (with male pronouns revised). Hope so….a few important words, when believed, can change the world we live in.

Charlie Walker, a retired college president, grew up in Pennsylvania and now lives in McMinnville with his wife Cherie. They have two adult children, Douglas and Christy. He chairs the Church Endowment Committee, helps lead the Men’s Breakfast group, and is on the Care and Concern Team. He enjoys churning homemade ice cream, loves steamships and the ocean, and believes there is always more than one way to do anything.

MARCH 31, 2021

MARCH 24, 2021

Music is, for me, the easiest way I can express myself. This shows up in my love of music and in my love of sharing that with others as I play piano, organ, sing, or hum. Music is that “thing” that I can often turn to when I am tired, discouraged, or anxious. This can evoke many emotions: sadness, joy, satisfaction, and challenge.

Music often can remind us of important things in our life, and is often, for me, a spiritual experience. Bach, Mendelssohn, and Brahms have written settings of Biblical events, and today contemporary composers, i.e. John Rutter and Morten Lauridsen, have written wonderful Sacred Music.

When I think of scripture passages, I almost always relate them to any musical settings that I have heard, studied, or know about. Though I memorized a lot of scripture texts as a young person, I now hear them more in music than just the words.

For example, the Messiah by Handel opens with the words “Comfort Ye, My People” Isaiah 40, verse 1-3. My mind works so that I not only hear this scriptural text as the Tenor aria but, if alone, I will sing that piece of music. The familiar “Hallelujah Chorus” from the same work has one easy word (repeated a lot), but my mind works so that I hear the music, the rhythm, the crescendos (getting louder), and the retards (slowing down) more that I hear the words in an academic sense.

When someone reads Genesis 1:1, I think of Haydn’s Creation. When I hear of death, I hear John Rutter’s Requiem. Hymn or spiritual songs also resonate with specific pieces that, at least in my mind, make me hear the tunes that go with them. My favorite hymn is Joyful, Joyful We Adore You, because the music and the words complement each other.

I would encourage you to listen carefully to music and see if you can respond to its magic and spirituality. The type of music does not matter as much as it is something you enjoy listening to. Music often can be PRAYER.

Muriel Dresser has been part of First Baptist Church for six years. She participates in the music ministry and enjoys Knit-Wits.

MARCH 17, 2021

DEFINING MOMENTS

For my wife, it was the landing on the moon. For me, it was President Kennedy’s assassination. We and the other grandparents in this school-sponsored Zoom event a few weeks ago had only 20 minutes to write about one self-selected “defining event.” Priming our pumps, the activity leader asked what and where was the event? What were we doing? Describe the sights, sounds, smells, who was around, our reactions, and how our feeling and opinions changed over time?

When that man stepped foot on the moon in July, 1969, and the world’s attention was looking ahead to space exploration and travel, LeeAnn, her sister, and I were riding on a horse-pulled hay wagon at a heritage farm in Wisconsin. We were going back in time as the world was moving forward. Everyone on the wagon applauded when the news broke on the transistor radio.

LeeAnn wrote that later it was irritating to hear that “man had landed on the moon,” but now rewarding to see and hear about the contributions of women in space exploration and travel. “This is actually bigger, more significant accomplishment for our nation,” LeeAnn concluded.

I used my 20 minutes to write about the assassination of President John F. Kennedy that occurred in November of 1963. I had heard Kennedy speak at Vanderbilt six months prior and photographed him in his open car. On my way for a six-month internship at Everglades National Park, I was staying with my brother in Maryville, Tennessee, for several days when the news of the assassination broke. The indifference and malice of the local population made me uncomfortable. I made a phone call, then drove to Berea College in Kentucky where I had friends who shared my personal and societal grief. I wanted to be with a more supportive community. Kinship with those who shared my values was at that time the support I needed.

Our personal lives are very intertwined with our civic opportunities and responsibilities. I recommend that you use the “pump priming” questions listed above, take twenty minutes every now and then, and write about some life event that you have experienced. Then, share it with others.

Walt Parry’s ministry career took him into 5 national parks, a church ministry with youth, a national denomination staff position, a county council of churches, a university ministry, and a community public policy and leadership training ministry. Walt and his wife LeeAnn have been married for over 55 years. Their culturally diverse family includes two daughters, four sons, and nine grandchildren. Walt and LeeAnn live in Yamhill.

MARCH 10, 2021

I have an odd relationship with Lent. Wail, they say. Mourn, they say. Let yourself lean into the truth that life isn’t all a bowl of cherries, they say. Sit with the pain, give it respect and space, they say. But when I actually give that a go, I end up in a state very me-specific … grateful. Cheerful, even.

Why? That’s a story about how I got to the me of right now.

If you added them all up I spent years of my life, and not a few of them, in a Lenten mood, leaned all the way in – all stone, no rolling away. Yet that changed, in no small part because at some point I started to pay attention to what was really going on. The hard, bare ground on which it seemed I toiled to no end grew some marvelous things. Even what I once saw as my worst flaws, worst pains, were remarkable gifts. There are several; I’ll pick on a smallish one here.

One of the more curious mental-and-emotional wellness issues with which I’ve walked through life is an oddly specific thing called atypical depression. It gets the label “atypical” for a few reasons, but the one that shaped my life most deeply has a name only a lab-coat could love: “low interpersonal rejection tolerance.”

What that means when it’s at home – what it means, for example, to a smart and curious young boy without the concepts to wrap around it that might have done more kindness to himself – is a stark, soul-deep, stalking fear that something you – I – might do or say, or something another person would, will at any moment irreparably destroy an important relationship. Not a small deal for an only child who moved a lot; stayed that way as he – I – got older too.

That was never the whole story, though. In an effort not to be trapped or foredoomed by this misshapen perception, I opened myself up to the world. I taught myself to be an extrovert. I sought out friendships with people from all sorts of backgrounds, traveled, mobilized my curiosity to know as many people and places as I could so the loss of any would hurt less.

Because my presumptions might lead me astray about other people, I learned to put them aside, to watch and wonder and listen, learn from others who they were. Understanding the people and the world around me became a source of joy and energy. A little like a mountain goat, moving over rough terrain I built different muscles, learned different paths, and they led me to some wonderful places – people, too.

Then when, early in my forties, a wise doctor finally put a proper, specific name to it, the name of a natural process of human elements, it gave me a new, profound chance: to forgive myself for being … me. To know myself again as a seamless garment, not sundered into acceptable and unacceptable. To live with peace and inward kindness. To tackle some of my other larger … complexities in the same way. To meet such things in others with that much more warmth, welcome, and support. A gift, right there in a thing that had seemed to cause only pain and trouble for so long. There were other gifts like it, too.

So, I look at Lent differently now. Does that mean my dear friends with altars of burlap and rocks might look at me during these forty days and say, “you’re doing it wrong!” Maybe. That’s a chance I’ll take. Because, hey, I get to be alive today. All the things I am and have been, sometimes especially the painful ones, gave me that. With it comes a life I cherish, in which I find love and purpose, a future that excites me, a past with which I’m at peace because it got me here.

Give Lent a chance. That which sucks might surprise you in the end.

Geoff Clayton is a longtime member of FBC Mac and, for ten years, has been the church accompanist. He recently took on the work of Shelter Manager for the Community Low-Barrier Shelter at FBC. He loves his role as the father of four remarkable daughters and three incorrigible pets.

February 24, 2021

From my “bulletin board” of collated sayings:

Sometimes much energy is spent in a vain attempt to protect one’s self.

We try to harden our fiber, to render ourselves safe from exposure.

We refuse to love anyone because we cannot risk being hurt.

We withdraw from participation in the struggles of our fellows because we must not get caught in the communal agony of those around us.

We take no stand where fateful issues are at stake because we dare not run the risk of exposure to attack.

But all this, at long last is of no avail. The attack from without is missed and we escape, only to find that the life we have protected has slowly and quietly sickened deep within because it was cut off from the nourishment of the Great Exposure.

It is the way of life that it be nourished and sustained by the constant threat, the sudden rending.

Then… “Welcome each rebuff, that makes life’s smoothness rough.”

-Dr Howard Thurman, Church for the Fellowship of All People, July 3, 1955

Cherie Walker was born in Nebraska and has lived in Texas, Colorado, Utah, California, New York, Illinois, and Minnesota. She and her husband, Charlie, have been in Oregon for 45 years. They joined FBC in 1975 but had a 22-year break when they moved to the coast after Charlie retired from Linfield. Cherie has a BA from San Francisco State, an MA from Columbia University, and worked as a District Director for the Girl Scouts until she was fortunate enough to be able to be a stay-at-home Mom with their two children.

February 17, 2021

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

You spoke to us in the Winds

In the Burning Bush-and

through the Angels

Our lives were held in Your Hands

Our joys and our sorrows

Our desires and our disappointments

Were Yours to give

The Old Books tell these things

Where are You now?

The Son of Man came and asked:

Walk with You, humbly

Co-create with You

Love You, Love your Neighbor

Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick

Accept responsibility for Heaven-here

Through the son of man

Where are You now?

The Spirit, once the forgotten of the Three

The Breath of Life, the Essence of the Living

Different traditions with common beliefs

You are in the Waters, in the Trees, in the Animals

And all the Beauty that surrounds

Are You not also in Us?

But given so many ways of seeing You

Where are You now?

Are You-me? Am I-You?

What does that say of me?

Am I more than I am?

Am I ready for this?

I Am

Danny Browne has been with FBC McMinnville for almost 20 years. A “peasant cook,” he recently retired from the St. Barnabas Soup Kitchen. Danny enjoys coffee with friends, reading and discussing diverse literature, and spending time with his grandkids. He’s on his fifth definition of God.

February 10, 2021

This past year, it seems that a lot of people’s mental health has taken a hit. A combination of isolation, scary and depressing current events, and confusion about what is going to happen next is bogging us all down. I can go days without stepping foot outside, and making friends through zoom classes is not an easy thing to do. I am a person who likes to know what is going on in my life. I like plans and outlines of the day. Not knowing what this year is going to look like is stressful and it is hard to make long-term plans.

I was talking to a friend and she said something that really resonated with me: We have not been able to properly grieve what we have lost. Not the people who have died, but the people who we have lost contact with, those casual acquaintances who you did not really value until you realized you could no longer see them anymore. The plans and trips canceled for the good of everyone but still, a lost opportunity to make memories. The millions of seniors who did not get a graduation. All the kindergarteners who didn’t get to enter a classroom for their first day of school.

Last spring, the Y.A.H.O.O. Mexico mission trip was cancelled days before we left, and while the houses were still able to be built, there was a feeling of loss that I was not able to be a part of it. This year I was supposed to be on an exchange trip in Germany: two and a half years of hard work down the drain. Even realizing that I won’t be able to go to Camp Arrah Wanna for winter camp was a bit painful.

It is hard to properly mourn for lost opportunities and lost connections. It is hard to grieve for an idea; an idea of what we wanted this past year to look like before a global pandemic was added to the mix. It is difficult to justify feeling bad about these losses when millions of people have died, and more will continue to do so if we don’t keep canceling stuff. These losses are hard, and one can’t just “get over” them.

Mental health is difficult, and navigating through it more so. It can be hard to remember that we have a community that we can reach out to and there are still things in life to be happy about. I needed more schedule for my week and some social interactions, so pretty much every Monday since the beginning of summer I have been helping with the STAR room breakfast. (I also water the plants in the FBC Gathering Room.) Me and my dad totally crushed everyone in FBC’s virtual trivia last Sunday, which is not something we did before all this. I started going on walks with some friends, which got me both out of the house and some social interaction. My room has been accumulating more and more house plants as I cultivate that new hobby – I have five!!! There are good days and bad days and remembering that there are people out there who are waiting for me to reach out makes it better.

Never be afraid to ask for what you need…

Zorissa James is a junior at McMinnville High School. She and her family moved to McMinnville when she was seven and have been involved in the church ever since. She has been to Camp Arrah Wanna and on the Mexico mission trip. She is currently hanging at home social distancing.

February 3, 2021

There was a noticeable lightness in the air at music rehearsal this week. Fun has always been my watchword for making music, but that evening, Jesse, Geoff, Heidi, and I seemed more relaxed, almost giddy, laughing at our mistakes, having a blast singing familiar old hymns and learning new music for Sunday. On the way home, I wondered what was different. Was there something in the air? Had we all been temporarily transported to The Twilight Zone?

I’ve recently noticed this phenomenon in my friends and family, too. Well, maybe not my brother John. He seems to prefer a diet of chronic complaining. That’s okay. He’s my brother and I forgive him for being a bit too far to the right for my tastes. But there seems to be an almost palpable fresh spirit wafting through the atmosphere. Curious, I pondered this for some time and reflected on the events of the last few weeks, months and years.

And then it hit me.

We’ve all come down with Post-Trump-Anxiety-Relief-Syndrome.

The world is firmly in the grips of acronym mania, so PTARS it is.

Mental health counselors and psychiatrists use the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (The DSM) for wading through symptoms of various mental illnesses to arrive at a reasonable diagnosis and subsequent treatment. Researchers began compiling the manual in the fifties and have added (autism is now a spectrum that includes sub-categories) and subtracted (being gay is no longer a mental disorder) from the book over the last 50-plus years. I hauled my copy left over from grad school, off the shelf and flipped to the index to see if any of the many contributors had noted something resembling PTARS.

Hmmm….

Post Concussive Syndrome.

Postpartum Disorders.

Postpsychotic Depressive Disorder. (This seemed promising. Perhaps we’d all been freed of a long-term psychotic episode.)

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. (Close, but no cigar.)

I looked up Mood Disorders, Anxiety Disorders, Amnesiatic Disorders. Nothing seemed to describe PTARS.

Could the learned contributors to this esteemed tome have missed a malady that is now affecting some 80 million Americans?

“Of course!” I slapped my hand upside my head. “This a brand new disorder! What was I thinking?”

I ran to my trusty MacBook and clicked on Firefox. I should’ve thought of this sooner. Everyone knows everything on the Internet is true. There was bound to be a symptom chart, or an armchair psychiatrist with answers, among the cat videos.

Hmmmm….

Prime Time Access Rule.

Problem Tracking and Reporting. (Maybe this warranted further inquiry. We’ve certainly had some problems this last few years.)

Parent-Teacher Action Research.

Previous Thoracic Aortic Aneurysm Repair. (Seemed promising, but it was unlikely that 80 million Americans now needed heart surgery…or was it?)

Maybe I should pretend I’m a Grad Student again, write a thesis proposal and submit my findings to the Board overseeing the publication of the next revision of the DSM.

Something like this, maybe:

Literature Review

There is no known research being conducted on Post Trump Anxiety Relief Syndrome (PTARS)

Hypothesis

Post Trump Anxiety Relief Syndrome (PTARS) has been seen in nearly 80 million citizens of the United States. Further research is needed to determine wide-spread effects, particularly in heavily populated areas such as Moscow and the Ukraine. Post Trump Anxiety Relief Syndrome (PTARS) is a collection of physical and emotional symptoms in response to relief from years of oppressive mass misinformation policies perpetuated by a quasi-dictatorial government. Further study is needed to determine long-term effects and possible treatment.

No remedy exists. Symptoms seem to be long-lasting and have a positive effect on the subject.

I remember the dark days after the 2016 Election. Dire predictions were made, yet God brought us through those years with our Democracy bruised and battered, but far from demolished. There are lessons to be learned from those times and I believe we will be stronger for the experiences.

I’m filled with hope that our new leaders have come down with PTARS, just as I have.

After 50 years on the East Coast, Dave King moved to McMinnville. He recently retired from a career as a vocational counselor. He enjoys the fellowship of FBC and has been a member for more than 15 years. He fills his time with writing, singing, and camping with his fur-kid, Sam.

January 27, 2021

New Year always brings a chance to change, to try to do better, to start over. 2021 is the year, above all others, to Hope for a reboot, to get it right this time!

The last few years have been so stressful, so soul numbing, so outrageous, and so full of sorrow, I feel like America has been going through an unending, slow, Nervous Breakdown. It is time for Healing. It is time to decide, who we want to be as a Nation, as a People, as a Human Being.

This last year in particular, has been excruciatingly painful. Covid has taken over 410,000 lives in America, alone. Racial injustice in America has slapped us in the face and awoken us, once again, to this hideous truth of America’s legacy of White Privilege. The fires all over Oregon, Washington and California have destroyed lives, homes, towns and forests, due in part to Global Warming, Our Capitol on January 6th was overrun by hate, violence and anger, fueled by lies and conspiracy theories. Nevertheless, and in spite of all this, I still have Hope.

This time has taught us, we must do better, as a Nation, as a People, as a Human Being. Individually, I resolve to always seek the Truth and to Listen, especially to people who may have a different experience than I do.

I resolve to confront racial injustice wherever I see it, wherever I hear it, and I will continue to study our American History and look honestly at that history of White Privilege, and repent and mourn for that injustice.

I resolve to support the men and women who want to lead our Nation with dignity, respect, truth and justice for all people and who want to protect this beautiful planet we call Earth.

I resolve to spread seeds of hope, encouragement, peace, respect and love to everyone I meet. These seeds start small and they grow, with nourishment, kindness, positive energy and Light. If we are going to truly change our America, we must all do our part.

THE HILL WE CLIMB

BY AMANDA GORMAN, 22 YEAR OLD POET

“We will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one- there is always Light, if only we are brave enough to see it; if only we are brave enough to be it.”

Her prayer, and mine as well.

Gloria LaFata has been a member of FBC since 2003, saying, “I love our church and her people.” She’s been retired for four years, and loves that, too. She has served on the Church Board, the Social Team, and the Faith Formation Ministry Team. She is happily married to Danny and enjoys their life together. She loves hiking, reading, and exploring beautiful Oregon.

January 20, 2021

This week’s offering is an original song by Rob Porter that begins “a light is dawning in the darkness….”

“The Dark”

Rob Porter is the husband of Margy Porter and father of Katie, Jacob, and Rosie. He is an amateur singer-songwriter inspired by his love of family, friends, and creation. FBC has been his church home for almost 20 years.

January 13, 2021

Reflections on January 6, 2021

Today was Epiphany. It was also Parker’s 11th Birthday. It was also a historic day as Democrats took control of the Senate because of twin runoff elections in the state of Georgia. It was also the historic day when an angry mob of insurrectionists stormed the Capitol in D.C. and attempted a coup, the same day our newly elected President was to be announced through the official certification of the electoral college votes.

It was so hard to see people so violently disregarding our nation’s democratic process, a process we hold sacred. It was scary. It made us wonder, “How much more must we endure?” It was gross. And it was exacerbated by our unhinged, delusional, and narcissistic current President.

IT WAS HARD, AND YET… a black Senator – now – for the first time ever – will come from Georgia…

IT WAS HARD, AND YET… Republicans and Conservatives condemned the behavior of these white supremacist fascists. Senators, Democrat and Republican alike, re-entered the Senate Chambers with arms linked and a shared commitment to uphold their Constitutional duty to complete the process of certifying the American voters’ choice for President…

IT WAS HARD, AND YET… Everyday people, Capitol employees, had enough awareness and capacity to save the Electoral College boxes from the rioters, thus saving the symbolic receptacles that held the will of the people…

IT WAS HARD, AND YET… We have good news. As Sean wrote on Facebook, our kid “is kind, sensitive, open, empathetic, joyful, and accepting. He wants to do what is right and fair, and tries to respect and love all people. He’s what the world needs right now, and gives me hope that everything will be okay… this world needs him and people like him…”

I felt a little self-indulgent today, focusing on an 11-year-old’s COVID birthday party and setting up an outside living room, baking and cooking and wrapping. But I felt like I was NOT going to let everything outside of me beat me… This was my job for the day. I was going to control what I could control and make the best of it all.

And I was so grateful that his friends and his friends’ parents were so game for it all – for the party in a pandemic…. And they were so appreciative, so hungry for connection. These kids miss each other so much. So I think it was good for our souls.

IT WAS HARD, AND YET… All of this happened on Epiphany, the last day of Christmas, when the magi made it to Jesus… when all the world in its darkest night encountered the brightest light… when it becomes clear that the world needs something good and pure and true… when a revolution of love, a revolutionary love prevails. It prevails

in the hope of children
in the condemnation of violence
in the re-commitment to our values, to what matters, to a common humanity, to decency, to democracy, to our sacred proceedings
in our connections with each other, when we really see and love and appreciate each other
in our embracing of the things we can control
in our recognition of our collective strength and resilience

Epiphany is a reminder that the least likely and the most vulnerable, the least powerful and the most pure, will prevail and will lead us. “A child will lead us” is Epiphany’s promise. It defies logic and conventional wisdom. Yet, the magi, the most learned and wise men of their time, followed the star to follow the babe. A child might be counterintuitive to follow, but might be exactly what we need…

If they found hope in such a small thing, can’t we?

Jenn Williams is mom to Parker and Sybil, a member of FBC, an assistant professor of Religious Studies at Linfield University, and a big fan of anything chocolate. When she isn’t juggling teaching her college students on Zoom or helping her kids with their schoolwork, books and music, running, and her community keep her sane in these wacky days.

DECEMBER 16, 2020

The popular song “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” first appeared in the musical “Meet Me in St. Louis,” set nostalgically (for the 1940s) around the St. Louis World’s Fair at the turn of the 20th century. The film version debuted in 1943 as a Judy Garland vehicle, one of her big ones.

A film that came out in 1943, of course, appeared right in the middle of World War II. “Have Yourself…” shows up at the low-moment point of the second reel, and in the middle of the song come the lyrics:

Someday soon

We all will be together

If the fates allow

This was the middle of the war. Families across the country had been sundered, for so many different reasons all rooted in the conflict. Many, who found that cold, terrible telegram in the mail, would not be fully whole again. (My mother’s was one.)

After that snatch of verse, choosing to hope but with sleeves rolled up, the song goes on:

Until then

We’ll have to muddle through

Somehow

When people heard her sing it, they believed it. The way her warbling voice carried the “Somehow” by will alone, like an act of faith. They were already at work in the interiors of their own lives, trying to choose hope, to commit to fortitude, to – in the words of a much greater and much more recent movie musical – the next right thing, to muddling through.

Fast forward to the late Fifties. Frank Sinatra was at work with his usual pernickety perfectionism on his signature Christmas album. Like the man or not – and I don’t much like him but do love much of his work and admire his skills – Frank had a great ear for a good tune and wanted “Have Yourself…” on the LP.

Problem was, from the perspective of Mr. Ring A Ding Ding, the “muddle through” lyric was a downer. Not the kind of thing you wanted to put over to listeners during the shiny postwar suburban boom. So, he got a couple of Capitol Records’ in-house writers to come up with a new take. They came up with:

Hang a shining star

Upon the highest bough

Sinatra liked it. He especially liked that in this phrasing “star” was a much bigger word in the shape of the song – louder and fuller – than “have” was when Judy muddled through. Also one of those relatively high notes that he liked to show off with his almost-tenor voice, to indulge a little vanity, remind listeners why he was the biggest thing in popular music for the over-25s.

So, for quite a while, we lost the depth and empathy and honesty and humanity of the original as many other artists – everybody cuts a Christmas album, they’re guaranteed money – copied Frank’s delivery. It took the early Seventies wave of singer-songwriters for “muddle” to sneak back in through the margins. Even since then muddling has been a long struggle in the margins of the tinsel tide.

Now you do get occasional killjoys, folks who like telling others how they ought to behave, who side with “muddle” – one can’t always choose one’s fellow travelers in a big culture. But mostly “muddle” is there for the rest of us. Folks whose lives were never that shiny to begin with, but who knew what it was for things to be hard, to be sundered, to be lost, to come undone. But, also, to hope. To have a little faith – loving trust in the face of total uncertainty. And how to put one foot of that faith in front of another – to muddle. Somehow.

The shine came off 2020 a long way back, if ever shine there was. But, from the wide view, maybe that’s not all bad. Maybe if we see what’s there – the hard, the harrowing, the sundered, the uncertain – we also can see how to hope. See how to walk out in faith. How to muddle. And if nothing is impossible with God, maybe that means “somehow” is God’s specialty. As for the musical version, I’ll stick with Judy. All the way to Somehow.

DECEMBER 9, 2020

Christmas Message to our FBC Family

Life in the Time of COVID-19

“To those to whom much is given, much is required.” Luke 12:48

To those to whom much is given and are connected, comforted, and loved,

Remember those who are vulnerable, alone, and forgotten.

To those to whom much is given and who must shelter-in at home,

Remember those who have no home.

To those to whom much is given and have food and health care,

Remember those who must choose between nutrition and medication.

To those to whom much is given and have options for child/elderly care,

Remember those who have no option but to leave the workforce – women.

To those to whom much is given and have affordable transportation,

Remember those who have no transportation.

To those to whom much is given and have discretionary income,

Remember those who do not have a paycheck, pension, nor savings.

To those to whom much is given and must postpone vacations,

Remember those who do not have vacations nor a safe place to go.

To those to whom much is given and do not acknowledge American racism,

Remember those who feel the daily sting of bigotry, hate, and violence.

To those to whom much is given and are privileged,

Remember Frederick Douglass (1846) and Doc Rivers (2020):

“America will not allow her children to love her.” BLM

To those to whom much is given and view the others as the enemy,

Remember “you are my other me.” (In Lak’ Ech)

To those to whom much is given and feel relief and hope,

Remember we begin again: “We didn’t come this far to only come this far.”

May you and yours be blessed this Christmas season and throughout 2021.

George Cabrera retired after a 48-year career in education, during which he enjoyed teaching at all levels: elementary, high school, community college, college, and university. During his retirement, he has continued mentoring Latinos from high school students to doctoral candidates. He enjoys fishing, golfing, gardening, reading, OSU athletics, and, of course, his grandkids.

DECEMBER 2, 2020

As a school counselor, I have been participating in a class that teaches about emotional intelligence and why emotions matter. What I know is there are no wrong emotions. It is so important to recognize your emotions and to understand why you are feeling the way you are. Give yourself permission to experience the emotion and then determine if you need to shift.

During this season you may have feelings of doubt, fear, anxiety, or despair. Sit with those feelings. Recognize and try to understand why you feel this way. And then, with God as your guide, discover the possibilities of the feeling of hope, love, joy, and peace.

The Guest House by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them all at the door laughing

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

Because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Georgine Benner is on the Church Board as the Worship & Community Engagement Committee Chair. She led the Y.A.H.O.O. Mexico Mission trip with the high school youth for 15 years. She currently works at McMinnville High School as a counselor. For her self care, she can be found mountain biking, hiking, and white water rafting.

November 25, 2020

CRACK! Followed by a thunderous WHOMP! Another tall fir hits the ground so hard I feel the vibrations over 750 feet away. Over and over they fall, all along our western fence line. Next, another neighbor has a strip cut along our northern line. We offered money to save this strip, but to no avail. We are heartsick. We then lose trees along the western edge to battering winter storms.

But then, next spring, quiet wings descend upon our forest. I count three varieties of owls, Screech Owls, tall slender Long-eared Owls, and the small Saw-Whet Owl. More than we’ve ever hosted. In May I watch two baby Long-eared Owls in their “branching state” (meaning their mother has left them; their dad is in charge). The fluffy owlets hop from limb to limb playing while their dad tries to sleep. Every once in a while, his eyes open, his head swivels to give them the look, and they hop back beside him.

On a warm June evening we hear sharp calls and trilling coming from the brushy trees by our pole building. We walk down the driveway, shine a flashlight at the noise, and find ourselves magically in the middle of a family of Screech owls. Four or five fledglings are learning to fly, trilling to each other as they crash-land in the brush while their parents whistle to them. We click off the flashlight and just listen.

One evening we invite two birders, Marilyn Van Dyke and her friend, to join us. Climbing out of their car they say, “Probably little chance to see the owls.” Art, shining his light on a tree behind the ladies, replies, “Well, one Long-eared parent just landed on a branch and it’s got a large mouse in its beak!” “Oh, my, oh, my,” they said.

Our grade school-aged granddaughters come for a visit. They each scour the forest for owl pellets, coming back with full sacks. Our owls swallow their meals whole and do not have acidic stomachs so what they eat does not break down. Each night they must regurgitate a packed pellet of leftovers before they go hunting. On the picnic table the girls slit open their pellets, picking out mice skeletons, feathers, grass, fur, and teeth.

Within a few years most of our owls find other meadows and woods to hunt in and raise their owlets. And when we hear some owl hooting to another owl further out in the forest, we can’t help but join the chorus.

Anne and Art Engen designed and built their home on 16 acres 47 years ago. (They were pretty young.) They share their land with deer, doves, chipmunks, a large bobcat, a bear that visits on Mothers’ Day, and a hybrid squirrel named Tubby who comes to the back door for walnuts, peeled apple pieces, and grapes.

November 12, 2020

There is a piece of a song by that great American songwriter/poet, Kris Kristofferson, that has been haunting me for the last few years:

Am I young enough to believe in revolution

Am I strong enough to get down on my knees and pray

Am I high enough on the chain of evolution

To respect myself, and my brother and my sister

And perfect myself in my own peculiar way

To me, this is the challenge:

Am I always young enough to accept change

Am I strong enough to accept help when needed

Am I aware enough to respect myself

and to respect the self-awareness of my brothers and my sisters

And to present myself to the world with my own unique gift

What is my own peculiar way?

What is your own unique gift?

october 29, 2020

We currently face overlapping crises including COVID-19 outbreaks, wildfires and their results around our communities, challenges to the postal system, destructive riots nearby, gigantic unemployment, political unrest and deep polarization everywhere. The times are scary, and we can wonder what to expect next.

Nonetheless, we’re doing our best to support each other, be kind to each other, love each other and pray for each other. Our hearts are guiding us as we think and act.

George Kaufman of Eugene suggests questions and answers about our hearts:

What shrinks our heart?

Greed, grasping, dissatisfaction.

What swells our heart?

Love, compassion, patience, awareness.

What breaks our heart apart?

Separation, anger, hurts, grudges.

What holds our hearts together?

Memories, friends, laughter, tears, beauty, memorable experiences.

I want to be part of attending to who we are and who we want to be in our relationship with ourselves and with others. This is almost a sacred endeavor right now. We each deal with it privately. And that’s as it should be. But having heart is number one today.

october 21, 2020

GRATITUDE IS THE GATEWAY TO JOY

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.” -Melody Beattie

I was first introduced to the practice of keeping a Gratitude Journal around 2002, by the author Sarah Ban Breathnach in her book, “Simple Abundance.” She writes about being in her car one day, listening to Kathy Mattea singing “Standing Knee Deep in a River (Dying of Thirst),” and she had to pull over the car, because she was sobbing. It was a turning point in her life. She realized how blessed she was, every day of her life, and had not taken notice of those blessings. Thus, the practice of keeping a Gratitude Journal was born.

She suggests getting a beautiful journal to write in, and every night before you go to bed, you write down five things you are grateful for, that you noticed that day. For some important reason, naming what you are grateful for makes you aware every day of all the many blessings around you. I have tried through the years to remember to do this, and when I do, it makes a huge difference in my life.

In 2007, the year Victor died, I started the year diligently keeping the journal. Thank God I did, because when he was diagnosed with lung cancer in March and died in July, it kept me focused and sane. When I look back and read the Gratitude Journal from that year, I am amazed that each day I was able to find 5 things every single day I was grateful for.

This year, 2020, has been very challenging for all of us. I have found myself fighting depression, feeling sad and hopeless at times. This month, I started keeping a Gratitude Journal again. Already, I feel my Spirit lifting. If you have never thought about starting this practice, I would encourage you to try it. Some days, you may only think of the big ones: your health, your family, your home, etc. But some days, it is amazing and exciting, the little blessings you notice, just by paying attention all day. Gratitude does bring you to Joy.

october 14, 2020

There is an old saying that goes, “this too shall pass.” Wikipedia has this to say about the well-known phrase….

“This too shall pass” is a Persian adage translated and used in multiple languages. It reflects on the temporary nature, or ephemerality, of the human condition. Its origin has been traced to the works of Persian Sufi poets, such as Rumi, Sanai, and Attar of Nishapur. Attar records the fable of a powerful king who asks assembled wise men to create a ring that will make him happy when he is sad. After deliberation, the sages hand him a simple ring with the Persian words “this too shall pass” etched on it, which has the desired effect to make him happy when he is sad. It also, however, became a curse for whenever he is happy.

Ironic, huh? Something so simple that could make the king so happy and lift him from despair, could also remind him that sadness would not be forever banished… it would visit again. That is life. It is cyclical.

While making our bi-weekly grocery run to Winco, I looked around at all the other masked faces roaming the aisles around me. I’m sure that – like me – many of them were frustrated and worried by all that has gone on this year. The virus has impacted all our lives in far-reaching ways. Many have lost their jobs, or have been forced to quit or take reduced hours to home-school their kids. Entire industries have found themselves on the brink of collapse because of this invisible threat. And nearly 220,000 families across this country of ours have paid the ultimate price – having to say goodbye to loved ones stolen from them by this illness.

At times like this, it is hard to remember that “this, too, shall pass.” In time, Covid-19 will be just another of a centuries-long list of illnesses, famines, and wars that have left their scars upon our world and filled the pages of our history books. The singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell sang, “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?”

All the negative things that this virus has brought, all that it has taken away and disrupted in our lives has made me so much more aware of how wonderful all the many daily blessings in my life really are! For one, I AM ALIVE!… I have a roof over my head! I have a loving partner to share in the journey! I can afford to fill my cart at Winco with groceries! I am blessed to belong to a very special church, and to live in a very special town!

I look forward to when we can all worship together again. But, in the meantime, I will seek to find joy and hope in each new day, to FULLY live in the present moment and to always remember…. “this too, shall pass.”

Mark Bolden is a native Oregonian who is recently retired and lives in McMinnville with his partner, Liz, and their terrier mix rescue dog, Euri. Along with Liz, he is a strong advocate for the environment, the homeless, and groups that have been marginalized by society. He splits his time between house projects, writing and performing music, and enjoying the great outdoors.

october 7, 2020

I will sing this day a new song unto you… -Psalm 144:9

I’ve always loved the singing. In eighth grade I sang my first solo in church. I loved the sound of my voice reverberating off the walls of the little Quansett hut church as I sang “There is a Balm in Gilead.” Later I heard George Beverly Shea sing “How Great Thou Art” with the Billy Graham Crusade and that became my song. When I went to college, my songs became the songs of protest and cultural change as we sought justice and peace. Then when I became a youth minister and was leading camps and doing a lot of hiking the tune and words of “I am a Happy Wanderer” seemed to express the essence of my soul and spirit. As my life has progressed new songs have emerged as expressive of who I am and where I am going.

This is not to say it’s always been a smooth and easy progression. There have also been times when it seems as though the music has dried up and died—when there are no tunes and no lyrics that will touch, lift, and express the spirit. Lately my favorite song has been a combination of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “It’s a Beautiful World.” Anyway, I find it interesting that as I move through life new songs appealed to me while the old songs fade away and drop off.

Howard Thurman, who I encountered in Seminary, once wrote, “The old song of my spirit has wearied itself out. It has long ago been learned by heart so that now it repeats itself over and over, bringing no added joy to my days or lift my spirit….The words belong to old experiences which once sprang fresh as water from a mountain crevice fed by melting snows. But my life has passed beyond to other levels where the old song is meaningless. I demand of the old song that it meet the need of present urgencies…. The work of the old song, perfect in this place, is not for the new demand!

I will sing a new song… As difficult as it is, I must learn the new song that is capable of meeting the new need. I must fashion new words born of all the new growth in my life, my mind and my spirit. I must prepare for new melodies that have never been mine before, that all that is within me may lift my voice unto God.” (Meditations of the Heart p.206)

New times require new music! During these difficult times of Covid-19, economic turmoil, and political dissension it’s hard to not let the cacophony of the times drown out the music of the soul. The opportunity is to be present and listen to the new untried harmonies that surround us and to discern which ones lift the spirit and speak to the soul. It’s to be open to new untried melodies that can meet the needs of our present todays and our unlived tomorrows.

My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing
It finds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?
How Can I Keep from Singing:
Kerslake, Hedges, Lowry, Herbert

Mike Burr is a retired American Baptist pastor who lives in McMinnville with his wife Barbara. They have three children and four grandchildren. He chairs the Pastoral Relations Committee, works with the STAR room, and serves on the Matthew 25 committee.

September 23, 2020

Since I was in college, I have kept quotes posted on a board. I refer to them when I need a lift, a laugh, inspiration. I’m copying some of them here in the hope one may give you a lift, a laugh, inspiration.

“Which of you, by being anxious, can add one moment to his lifespan?”

-Matthew 6:27

“A haze of gray had settled over her once dark hair like the bloom on stale chocolate.”

-Unknown

“…if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new universal and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him….if you have built castles in the air your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.”

-Henry David Thoreau’s Walden; read at David Lett’s memorial service

“Man is man, the world over. This fact is affirmed and admitted in any effort to deny it. The sentiments we exhibit, whether love or hate, confidence or fear, respect or contempt, will always imply a like humanity. A smile or a tear has no nationality; joy and sorrow speak alike to all nations and they, above all the confusion of tongues, proclaim the brotherhood of man.”

-Frederick Douglass

September 16, 2020

BREATHING SPACE

All the long, bright plague summer my youngest daughter and I have read together. We’ve read many different things, old familiar book series and new, and more than any other one thing the Who Was?/Who Is? series of biographies. Who Was?/Who Is? aims their work squarely at smart, curious, older children with surprising skill; the life stories they tell are rich, and complicated, and real, not dry lines of facts or just-so morals with the messy bits left out. That makes them fun, and my daughter seems to have even more fun with them than I do, lapsed historian that I am.

After a run of distinguished women – Sacagawea, Eleanor Roosevelt, Julia Child – we lit on the volume about Jacques Cousteau. Just over midway through we reached Cousteau’s “Conshelf” experiments of the 1960s. On three separate missions, Cousteau and his merry band, with the help of their sponsors, built different kinds of living and working arrangements in which they lived for weeks at a time at different depths along the continental shelves of two continents … underwater. It seemed a bold, wild, weird thing to do, so my daughter – the youngest of four therefore a buoyant agent of chaos – asked why they did it.

That got me thinking. I answered her, “different things, I guess. But one important one is that they dreamt big. They’d lived through a lot. Just in Jacques Cousteau’s own lifetime two World Wars, the Depression, France invaded by the Nazis. Lived through so much. So after all that they wanted – needed – to dream big. Go forward. Start anew.” I hadn’t thought much about the question she asked, at least not in a long time, but in the moment of her asking that came to me.

It was barely half a notion from there, with all Cousteau and his “manfish” had been through and all they reached for (womenfish too, Jacques’ wife Simone swam in the first rank), to here, now. The cascade of disaster on disaster that compounds around us, bears us down, smothers us with danger, confusion, misdirection, pain, grief.

That struck me too: breath, the chance to breathe at all much less the right, binds so much of this together. The pandemic that, among its other deeds, consumes the lungs of its worst sufferers and steals the breath right from them. The lack of protective equipment for the medical workers and caregivers who face this plague tide with too little help (an old friend, a professional student of disasters, remarked back to me how that lack of gear condemned many of the brave souls who worked the rubble after 9/11, too, as the violence of inequity finds ways to rhyme.) The monstrous fires, unbound and unmatched in millennia, that pall the skies, remake the world, invade landscapes, homes, breath itself. The distance from all that to the last moments of George Floyd, and with the terrible unnumbered ranks of men, women, and children who for four centuries have met that same fate, is no more than a heartbeat.

At the same time there’s what breath is, what it can be. In the mishnah of Genesis, the mythic teaching-story the Hebrews used to explain even a glimpse, a notion, of how God made, well, everything, breath animates the whole. In some of the oldest versions of the Torah, God breathes on the face of the formless waters and makes substance. When humanity joins the picture, from the common earth God breathes life into these new-formed, perfectly imperfect children. God’s breath has cosmic substance and mystic power. Breath is the stuff of life – when stolen life goes with it, when Jesus heals the sick or even raises the dead breath brings life, Creation, and everything back with it. Every mystic tradition worth its salt centers in the breath, that central act of our existence, and with it in the present where we are, from which we move into the future with things to do.

So maybe in this suffocating moment, where breath itself is endangered, we can glimpse a little light ahead. If in God’s company, with God’s imparted strength, and in God’s service we can, together, find a way through this, we might come at last into some breathing space. Where, together, we can join in the act that makes Creation and then make it over again. Start new. Dream big. The Easter promise in a Good Friday world is that if we keep God and one another close, we can reach the time when we might breathe some new life back into the world as God’s kids ought more often to do. Now, when we center on the breath just to keep breathing at all, remember a little of what hasn’t been yet. Dream of some breathing space, so that when we reach it, we’ll know what to do.

Geoff Clayton is a longtime member of FBC Mac and for ten years has been the church accompanist. He loves his role as the father of four remarkable daughters and three incorrigible pets.

September 9, 2020

IT JUST KEEPS COMING

When my grandchild, then about 4 years old, came and met us at the Pacific Beach, he exclaimed, with eyes the size of saucers, “It Just Keeps Coming!” He had seen lakes because he lives near one at his home, but had never encountered the tides. He returned to the edge of the water, where he again could feel and see the constancy of the water’s movement.

It truly amazed him and made me think, then and now, that this is a good description of God’s Love. “It Just Keeps Coming.” There is no end, no way to make it stop, no way to earn it, discourage it, or make it appear only at our command. It is God’s precious gift, experienced often when we are lonely, defeated, fearful, discouraged, or out-of-sorts. It is there, too, when all is well, we are happy and aware of what we should do. It is all encompassing and often overwhelming. We may feel that we do not deserve it, but that has nothing to do with the fact that it is still there!

The challenge, of course, is to try to express that love from God to all creation. Do it in baby steps: smile at others, say hello and mean it, think of others, laugh and weep with others, and love others.

As Scripture says in Corinthians, “Faith, Hope and Love abide, but the greatest of these is Love.”

Prayer: Gracious Spirit, please make us able to accept the gift of your love as we try to give that neverending gift to others. May we help others to feel that amazing gift that “Just Keeps Coming.” Amen.

Muriel Dresser enjoys organ playing, reading, and knitting.