Sunday, August 24, 2014

How We Spend Our Days (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

"How we spend our days is . . . how we spend our lives."
--Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

There is a story told about a Nobleman who comes upon a construction site. It goes something like this: He sees that the two laborers have distinctly different demeanors. One has a sour expression on his face, moves slowly, and appears to want to be anywhere else. The second man could not be more different. His face holds a radiant smile; there is the appearance of purpose in his movements, and he is singing! Curious, the nobleman asks the first man what he is doing. The surly answer: laying brick. Crossing to the second man, the nobleman asks the same question. The joyful answer: building a cathedral.

Lately, I have been reacquainting myself with Annie Dillard. I'm re-reading Holy the Firm, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, and, of course, The Writing Life. When I go a few years without "checking in" on Ms. Dillard, I find I sometimes have forgotten just how insightful she is.

And I don't find anyone writing about our inner life, our place in creation, and the state of our spirits quite like she does. Witness this selection from The Writing Life, the longer version of the above quote:

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living."

It often comes as a shock to people that their day-in-day-out life IS their life. It might not seem like it in the moment, but what you do with each day accumulates into your entire life. All of us long for things that are not part of our every day lives --that's why many of us have bucket lists-- but when all is totaled up, it is what we actually DO, not what we long for, that becomes our life. A tapestry is, at its most basics, a bunch of threads.

The lives lived by Shiphrah and Puah, the Hebrew midwives we meet in this week's Exodus passage, might seem pretty unspectacular to an outside observer. Their work was to help deliver babies. Day in and day out, year in and year out. And yet, it is to these two women that came the challenge: do as told . . . or DARE to thwart the plans of Pharaoh to kill all the male Hebrew babies.

Who stands up to the most powerful man on the planet?

These two, that's who. Two childless women; childless in a culture that, at best, pities barren women, and at worst shuns them. Their desire for children so strong that they did the next best thing: help others to have them. What was already, in many ways, a life of service, becomes far more important in the face of the Pharaoh's decree.

Each new day, each new birth, added to the ones before, culminating into something I doubt either saw coming: a life in service to God. By continuing to help bring Hebrew babies into this world, they jeopardized their livelihood . . . and their very lives. God honored those lives. In time, because they feared God more than Pharaoh, God gave them families of their own.

Alan Lakein famously asked, "What is the best use of my time, right now?" My answer: creating the building blocks of my life, day by day, moment by moment, crafting them into a life worth living.

What we do each day becomes our life. HOW we live each day becomes our legacy.

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I hope you can join us, Friday morning, for Lectionary Breakfast. We still meet at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I." LB ends at 9:00, but the glow lasts ALL DAY :-)

Enjoy the week!
Steve

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 16 (21) (August 24, 2014)

Exodus 1:8-2:10
Psalm 124
Isaiah 51:1-6
Psalm 138
Romans 12:1-8
Matthew 16:13-20

Saturday, August 2, 2014

My Thin Place (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Unexpected. That's the word. Everything about that morning was unexpected.

First, it was cool. That summer had been one of the hottest in recent memory; days on end of triple digit highs. So, by "cool" I mean it was a pleasant morning to take a stroll in a short-sleeved shirt. Also, I was early. Unexpected. Because of the timing for the commuter rail, I often needed to hurry from the station to my office. But not that morning. The sun had yet to crest the buildings, the tall sides of the downtown canyon. The morning was still dawning.

I was completely caught off guard by the birds.

Rounding a corner, i suddenly found myself serenaded. So, so unexpected. On my right was a small pocket park, and its trees were packed full of singing birds. Even though there was no melody, the collected sound of their birdsong was surprisingly harmonious. I stopped and just let it wash over me. For several long minutes, I was completely wrapped in those blended voices.

Many people, when asked to identify a place where they feel closer to God, will describe things like high mountains, majestic waterfalls, a peaceful stretch of ocean, or a moment of absolute silence in an ancient meeting place. But, these "thin places" are individual. Sure, people often erect edifices to mark those places. Jacob did that, twice; once, on the west side of the Jordan River where he had a vision of a stairway to heaven, and again, two decades later on the east side where he wrestled with an angel as he was returning to the land promised him by God. Jacob did not expect either of those encounters; they were arranged by God, on God's timetable.

Not many modern people claim to have encountered God, at least not like Jacob did; up close and personal. In modern times, we tend to describe it as "feeling closer" to God, or, as one friend suggested, "not as far from God as I usually am." However you want to describe it, that unexpected birdsong serenade was my thin place. I felt that God was there, in that moment, sharing a portion of His creation with me. I was moved to do something I rarely do; I wrote a poem.

Sun still coming;
Short-sleeve cool;
Birdsong peals;
Buildings ring.

I know there are many people who make sometimes long, arduous journey's so they can visit some "thinny," places where others have claimed an encounter with God. And I mean no disrespect for their choices when I state that, for me, I think there is great value in waiting for God to make the arrangements, for Him to chose the place of encounter . . . and the nature of the experience.

There is no stone to mark that spot of urban birdsong. Only the poem, and my memory of the experience, remain. It was transient, an unexpected moment in an unexpected place.

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I hope you can join us at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant Friday morning. We're in at 8:00 and out at 9:00. And, for that hour, we have our own little thin place in the "Egg and I" meeting room. We spend time in God's word and draw closer to Him.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

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http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 13 (18) (August 3, 2014)

Genesis 32:22-31
Psalm 17:1-7, 15
Isaiah 55:1-5
Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:13-21