Barbara Edema's Blog, page 5

May I Help You? (For those who have endured abuse)

May I help you?
Some people may have suggestions.
Even if you didn’t ask.
Some may say you must be strong! You must be fierce! You must fight! You are tough!
But you didn’t ask.
They don’t know you have fought far too long. You are tired of wars.
Some may say, “Forget your sad story and move on with your life.”
Nope, you didn’t ask. Some people need to believe they know all the answers even when they know nothing about you.
Some people talk so they don’t have to listen.
Some may ignore you. This can hurt. But it is their own insecurity. Perhaps their own immaturity. This is not a reflection on you. You are beautiful. They are uncomfortable.
So, may I help you?
Take your time.
I might not have any answers. I probably won’t.
Personally, every survivor has their own distinct horror story. I respect you and your story.
Would you like to talk about it?
Is it easier to whisper? Or shout? Or let your tears do the talking?
What would comfort you?
You may ask for what you need. Always.
You may tip-toe or stomp or curl up on the couch.
Your answers are the right answers. Take all the time you need.

If you need to fight, I will go to war with you.
For now, I will sit with you. I will make the tea. I will be present. I will listen.

May I help you, dear one?

The Burden of Being Human: Blessings and Woes

The Burden of Being Human: Blessings and Woes
Blessed are youwhen you leave everything behind, including your homeland to protect your family from violence.
Blessed are youwhen the violence you left is waiting for you in the country you hope will protect you, as soon as you cross the border.
Blessed are youwhen your local school is shot up by a gunman as he fires and kills your children and friends.
Blessed are youwhen your son, who was alive yesterday, was gunned down in the street near your home, and now you are planning his funeral.
Blessed are youwhen your government shuts-down, leaves you without pay, but your needs for food, medicine, and shelter are still a stark reality.
Blessed are youwhen you find your daughter overdosed on opioids.
Blessed are youwhen those with money and power take your money and power too.
Blessed are youwhen you work full-time as a teacher but must have another job so you can pay your bills.
Blessed are youwhen your skin is any color but white.
Blessed are youwhen insults, racial slurs, foul language, and other word-atrocities are hurled at you.
Blessed are youwhen you don’t know where your child is and you are in a foreign land.

Blessed are you when your baby’s cries ring in your ears. The cries you heard when she was ripped out of your arms.
Blessed are youwhen you have been abused in mind, body, or soul.
Blessed are youwhen the burden of a government, which should care for the people, weighs heavily on your own shoulders.
******
Woe to youwho take food from the hungry. In a country where many are over-filled – woe to you when you do not give to those with little or nothing.
Woe to youif you think one race is superior to another. No skin is different from another in the eyes of God.
Woe to youif you spend your money to comfort only yourself and your family. Give to others generously and often – or you will be emptied by your selfishness.
Woe to youif you use your power to destroy creation, lives, hope, the future. If you cause destruction, your own soul is gone.
Woe to youif you condemn, make fun of, or abuse someone who is different from you. Do not harm sisters and brothers. Each one has God’s handprints on them.
Woe to youif you use the name of Jesus Christ to promote bigotry, racism, or misogyny. Jesus Christ loved the stranger, the enemy, the outsider, the criminal, the sinner. Do not use his name against anyone. Ever.
Woe to youif you scheme and collude to enrich yourself, while letting others suffer at your dishonesty. You will be relieved of all you take. Sackcloth and ashes will be your clothes and food.
Woe to youif you lie. Liars are always revealed.
Woe to youif you if you follow a corrupt leader. Your heart is on full display. Woe to you.
WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! STOP!
Where is the comfort in this? Where is the Good News in this? Where is the healing, wholeness, kindness, openness, and love in this?
In 1968 Martin Luther King Jr. preached a Lenten sermon at the National Cathedral in Washington DC two Sundays before Easter. In that sermon he said this:
“We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. For some strange reason I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made, this is the way it is structured.”
Thankfully, we have this entire sermon on record. His words live forever. He was dead before the next Sunday, Palm Sunday.
We can’t just throw blessings and woes around. We can’t say, “Be filled” to a starving person without filling them with the food they need.
We can’t say, “It’s too bad about you and your family being separated,” unless we act on the behalf of all the families suffering from separation right now.
We can’t say, “So sorry about your loved one who was shot dead,” without lobbying for laws to protect innocent citizens from gun violence.
We can’t say, “Love who you love,” if we don’t fight to uphold the rights of the LGBTQ community.
Love is a verb. It is an action word. We, as the followers of Jesus Christ, are the action-takers.
So…
Blessed are youwhen you uplift another with a kind deed and thought-filled words. For you are other-focused.
Blessed are you when you shed a tear with another, as you wipe their own tears from their eyes. For you have empathy.
Blessed are you when you share food with those who hunger – for food. You will always have insight into the needs of others.
Blessed are youwhen you give more than you think you can, or should, to benefit someone who has little or nothing. For you have compassion.
Blessed are you when you aren’t afraid of being taken advantage of and give generously no matter what. For you will not be owned by material things.
Blessed are youwhen you stand up for someone being persecuted because of the color of their skin, who they love, or their history. For you have an open heart.
Blessed are you when your daily goal is to make someone’s life (someone you don’t know) a little easier. For you will gain wisdom.
Blessed are you when you hear stories of abuse or neglect, and you believe the story and love the teller. For you have chosen not to judge.
Blessed are you when you tear down walls of bigotry and hate and build beautiful bridges for easy crossings. You will lighten the burdens of those trodden-down.
Blessed are you when you speak the truth to power, especially when power has become corrupt and harm is being done to the masses. For you will have harnessed your own power.
Blessed are youwhen you marvel in the goodness of Jesus Christ and don’t argue over the dogma of Christianity. For you will understand true love.
Blessed are youwhen you see human beings as human beings. Each one a sister or brother worthy of respect and love. For you will know the true meaning of being human.
Blessed are you when the security of who you are, and the sureness of the God to whom you belong, allows you to invite and welcome “the other” to be a member of the family. For you will have a peaceful soul.
Blessed are you when you set fear aside and care for your neighbor with reckless, love-fueled, abandon. For you will have joy.
Blessed are you when you are able to live as you ought to live, because you have allowed others to live as they ought to live. And we are “one single garment of destiny.” For that is God’s good plan.
God in heaven recklessly loves us with complete abandon. God showers us with forgiveness, mercy and grace. Each of us is made in the image of the Almighty- our patient and purposeful God. The one who has redeemed us all.
Blessed are we when we live as redeemed people and spread that Good News lavishly.
Everywhere.
Amen.

Powerless

Powerless
I was asleep. With alcohol on your breath, you scared me awake.
I was powerless.
You were more than twice my size. I was twelve.
I was powerless.
I saw you in church twice a week. Youth group. Worship. Church was supposed to be safe. Holy.
I was powerless.
I babysat your sons. You scared me awake. You stunk. You hurt me. Over and over.
I was powerless.
Confusion. Silence. Fear. You used all these things. Your power.Your power took away my being. Your power destroyed my security.
I was powerless.
I went through more trauma. Another abuser. Deep pain. Crisis of my body and soul. In silence.
Silence never heals. Silence hurts from the inside. Silence hovers in the darkness.
Words bring power to silence.
I grew up. I spoke. Words poured out. Someone listened. Someone asked questions. Someone listened again and again and again.
A trickle of strength wiped away confusion.
A supportive ear brought truth to light.
Insecurity was still my only dress. Shame and guilt clung to my spirit.Being powerless is heavy. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to walk.Deep breath. One foot in front of the other.
Power.
Words. Support. Air. Breath. New paths.
Power.
I can say yes. I can say no.
Power.
I love my body and love that it is loved.
Power.
My spirit has been restored and renewed.
I can listen to other stories. I can cry with another. I can remind a friend to breathe air that has no stench. I can help another find security to wear – new clothes of wholeness and light, and yes, holiness. We will throw away shame and guilt. Too heavy. They don’t fit. We never should have had them wrapped around us. We can put one foot in front of the other. Together.
Power.
Those who took away our being have lost. They are…
Powerless.
They are ghosts. We won’t be harmed. They are…
Powerless.
Because we breathe fresh air, and put one foot in front of the other, and find love and acceptance, they are…
Powerless.
We choose to take back every ounce of our power.
Those who tried to destroy us, they are…
Powerless.
POWERLESS.

Dear Mr. President - January 2019

Dear Mr. President,
It’s January 2019. We are completely through the holidays and our government is shut down. Happy New Year to no one.
You are exhausting. The members of your diminishing base are rude and irreverent.  Everything you touch is poisoned and dying. Two years in your role and you have done nothing to make America anything but a suffering embarrassment.
The Republican Party in congress have shown not only how desperate and dirty they are for votes in two years, but also how spineless and cruel they are to the American people. What a crowd.
You’ve lost thousands of immigrant children. Others have been wretchedly abused. You smash families. You judge transgender soldiers who fight for freedom. You are trying to take away women’s rights. You are hollow and bleak.
I’m a preacher. I’ve was told once by a professor to preach the Good News every Sunday when I set foot in the pulpit. You make my work hard.
But I don’t follow you. I adhere to nothing you pretend to believe because you believe in nothing but your lies and deceit and chaos.
I personally follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. I’m sure you only know his name as a swear word.
Other people claim to follow him, but I’ve watched and listened to the same people who profess to love and follow Jesus attack immigrants, mock the only true natives of our country, and spew hatred for anyone who isn’t white and ignorantly conservative. Their hatred and fear bring darkness wherever they open their putrid mouths.
How do I preach Good News?
How do I keep my anger in check when I see faithful federal workers going to food banks to feed their families, instead of being able go to the grocery store with their well-earned paychecks?
How do I care for the “least of these” when you and your followers tear them apart piece by piece?
How do I protect the world and nature while you do everything possible to destroy our God-given creation?
You and your crony-filled administration and your thickheaded right-wing media make every day a bad news day.
But the day of reckoning is coming. Call it karma. Call it retribution. Call it victory for righteousness.
You are death to life. But death never wins. Life overcomes death.
You are darkness in the light. I know the Light of the World. Darkness cannot keep the Light away.
You are brine in fresh water. But I know the true Living Water.
You scatter those who need the most care. I know the Good Shepherd.
You starve those who are so very hungry. I know the Bread of Life.
My work of Good News is not just done in the pulpit. That would be too easy. The work of preaching Good News is more about doing than speaking.
If I believe in the Light, then I must share light with those living in darkness.
If I believe in the reviving Living Water, I must quench the thirst of those who are so very parched.
If I believe in gathering and uplifting those who have been scattered and lost, then I must find them and reclaim them in the name of the Good Shepherd.
The hungry must be fed, no matter what.
We don’t have to be Christians to do these things. But we must be decent. We must be generous. We must focus on others who are invisible in this world. We must empathetically pay attention to what is going on around us.
That might be where you and your followers get tripped up. Sad.
Ultra-conservatism doesn’t have a place in this country. We are country of human beings with human rights. We are a country of hopes. We are dreamers.
As you and your followers attempt to take away rights and hopes and dreams, the rest of us will resist and persist and be relentless in restoring goodness, righteousness and peace to our ailing land.
You know nothing of these things. The vocabulary of kindness confuses you.
You and those who speak your language will eventually be taken away to a place where you can’t hurt people anymore, and finally we will mend. We will heal.
And that is some very good news.
Pastor Barb

Dear Mr. President - Christmas 2018

Christmas 2018
Dear Mr. President,
It is the day after Christmas 2018. It sounds like you were somewhat lonely this holiday. I guess when you shut down the government right before a big day like Christmas, you have to stay in town instead of going off to play golf. Pity.
Yes, I pity you. You must be the loneliest man in the world, besides your two buddies – Kim and Vlad. Men who play the risky games you play don’t have friends. Staff and family members play your demanding game of flattery and obeisance. You isolate and are isolated.
As for our once-was-great-now-not-so-much country, you have wreaked one devastation upon another due to your revenge on Barack Obama, a President who brought greatness to the next level.
You make ridiculous promises you cannot keep. A promise is just air to you. No substance.
You have enraged our allies and friends. You have given secrets away to our enemies.
We’ve discovered (already knew) Russia elected you. Fake election. Fake President.
You have done all you can to destroy the environment.
You have the blood of dead children held at our southern border on your hands. Those stains cannot be removed, no matter how many times you wash and scrub.
You are a fool who listens to fools. You make policy based on crazy-talk by people of no morals and skeletal characters.   
But enough about you.
On Christmas Eve, my family and I worshiped. We heard the Christmas story. We sang Carols. I preached a sermon using white and black cloths. I won’t go into it here. We lit candles, and in the darkness of our sanctuary, we each held a flickering light as we sang Silent Night, Holy Night to the gentle music of a guitar.
And it was holy. And for a moment we had the opportunity to be at the coarse, dirty manger which held a helpless babe. The one who came to this earth to save us all.
It was a poignant reminder that we have someone more powerful than any earthly leader who has decided we are creatures worth saving. Even in the midst of our messes, unbelief, anger, fear, and pain, we still have hope.
We have a tiny flicker of a light that won’t be overcome by darkness.
Our hope will outlast your hate.
Our hope will outlast your revenge.
Our hope will make the change you can’t begin grasp.
Our hope will make known your secrets and darkness deeds.
For light exposes everything that lives in the darkness. That’s the purpose of light.
I believe you will be gone from power soon, as well as those of your ilk. All the cowards and takers. All those who towed a party line and tossed the most vulnerable of our society overboard. You will all unravel, as evil does. Sadly, you will leave chaos in your wake.
Humankind was created free. We each have choices we can make, for good or ill. We can reject God altogether, but he never rejects us. Some people don’t believe that either. Pity.
I pity those like you who live and work in darkness.
But because light overcomes darkness, we will overcome. We will clean up your mess. We will shine with justice and righteousness and goodness.
Christmas Eve is a beautiful evening and makes us feel warm and cozy inside.
In reality, it was a night when a cosmic and violent revolution began.
God decided to risk everything one holy night to redeem all that was wrong with creation. I wouldn’t bet against him. God keeps promises.
A dear friend of mine wrote me a sonnet this past year. In it he gave me a name: Relentless Dove. It’s the most powerful and moving name I have ever received. My husband had our talented work-working neighbor put this lovely name on amber wood with a dove in the center. My husband gave it to me privately yesterday morning and I cried at the beauty of it. I don’t feel I deserve such a name or work of art. It is hanging next to my desk. I will see it every day over and over and over again.  
In closing, here’s to 2019. After two years of your petulance and tantrums and destruction, we will carry the light into a better year. We will wait you out. And when you’re gone, there will be rejoicing and celebration, but also much work to do. The work of love, compassion and reparation.
With absolute sincerity,
Relentless Dove

Wait with Hope - Becky's Story

First Sunday of Advent“Wait with Hope – Becky’s Story”Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36
I think we’ve all heard the saying, “Hope is not a strategy.”
But what is left when we do not know which direction to go? For a lot of things in life we can “plan the work, then work the plan.” (That’s one of my husband’s favorite sayings.)
How do we plan the work of the end times? It’s not our work to do, and to be honest we couldn’t do it anyway. It’s God’s plan. It’s God’s work.
We just make the tea.
Our passages today come as promises from the prophet Jeremiah and Jesus. Jeremiah, imprisoned at the time, is speaking to the Israelites who are watching and waiting for a Messiah. The prophet tells the people that God will keep all the promises made to the houses of Israel and Judah. They will return from captivity in Babylon and a “righteous Branch” will spring up for David. And there will be safety and salvation. While Jeremiah is promising light in the darkness, Jesus is promising a time of darkness before the light of his power and glory in his second coming.
In advent, we wait for the second coming of Christ.
Every generation has had prophets and speakers of doom. Every generation has seen nation rise against nation. Distress and the roaring of the seas have brought fear and foreboding to the people of earth.
We live in that today.
It is not worth preaching advent if we pretend we are not living in scary times. There is ugliness assaulting us every day. The worst of humanity doing the worst to humanity. (I’m not being political this week, but you can read my thoughts!)
It is out of our control. We can not plan the work, then work the plan because so much of what happens leaves us in despair. We grasp but we cannot hold.
If I asked you a time in your life when you had to wait for something, good or bad, I know we could fill a book with the stories in this sanctuary today.
For me, there is one powerful story when our family was in darkness waiting for the light.
Doug and I have a blended, extended family. He brought two adult children and I brought four not-quite-adults into our marriage. We were not the Brady Bunch.
But last year, 2017, our family came together around my stepdaughter, Becky.
Becky’s story…
Becky’s wedding. After going through a divorce, Becky found a brand, new, true love when she met John. A perfect match. They were married in January of 2017. They created their own blended, extended family. Becky has two children and John has three. It was a wonderful wedding and a truly joyous occasion.
One month after the wedding, Becky was diagnosed with breast cancer. The glow of the wedding dimmed. This was not right. This was not fair. We were all shocked and scared.
Becky had surgery and needed time to heal from that before beginning chemotherapy. 
We watched and waited and waited some more. It was a helpless kind of waiting. There was no plan. No work. Except for everything Becky had to go through. None of us could take her disease from her, it was hers alone.  
Treatments began. Becky began her chemotherapy and every Thursday she and John went in together. John was Becky’s supporter and protector. A chivalrous man if there ever was one.
Doug and I felt more of helplessness that comes with watching a child suffer. We tried to figure out what to do to let Becky know we were praying for her. We wanted her to know how much we loved her.
We fully understood that it was not Becky’s responsibility to relieve our fears and anxieties about her cancer. She didn’t need more phone calls asking her how she felt. She didn’t need uninvited visits from people who just wanted to look at her. She didn’t need more food brought to her front door.
So, we decided to send a white rose every Thursday to be delivered when she returned from chemo. Every Thursday chemotherapy, a rose, and a word.
Words:
PerseverancePeaceStrengthExpectationConfidenceCourageSteadfast faithAssuranceOptimismAnticipationHallelujah! The Final Rose!
Every Wednesday I ordered the rose for Thursday. After the first two or three orders for a single white rose and a word, the young woman at the florist asked me who I was ordering them for. Who was “Becky?”
I told her about Becky and how we hoped a rose and a word would cheer and comfort her after her treatments. She was very sympathetic and then shared with me that her mother had just completed chemotherapy for breast cancer. She told me some of the things Becky might want to be aware of as her chemo progressed. She was very compassionate.
Within a couple of days, I received an email from the young woman at the florist. She had told her boss about Becky. About the cancer, the chemo, and the single white rose being delivered every Thursday. Her boss was moved and said that on Becky’s last day of chemo, the flower shop would send one dozen white roses to Becky as a gift and a celebration for finishing the twelve weeks of chemo.
Doug and I were moved beyond words. We were witnessing HOPE being shared by strangers. We were witnessing HOPE that could be spread with care and generosity.
 One dozen white roses on the last day of chemo.
The very first rose we sent to Becky was the white rose of HOPE.
Pain and despair and illness and world affairs have the power to numb us to the good news of Jesus Christ. But we will not let ourselves be numbed by the creeping darkness.
We feel pain and fear and joy because we pay attention. We watch and listen and cry and rejoice. When we pay attention to our world, we pay attention to God’s activity in the world. When we pay attention, we know how to be more generous, more forgiving, more loving, more aware of the needs of those around us.
Becky has been cancer free for over a year. Our blended, extended family continues to rejoice. And this includes the people at the florist, who somehow became part of this whole light-shining-through-the-darkness story. A young woman who paid attention and asked a question. “Who is Becky?”
I say again, Becky’s husband, John, was and is a tower of compassion, strength, humor and support. John and Becky are a dynamic couple. Their love is fun to watch.
Maybe… hope is a strategy. Because our hope is so intricately entwined with our faith. We believe in a God who keeps promises. We are alert, with our heads held high. We pay attention to the signs, not just the signs of our time, but the signs of our lives. It’s the way we know spring will come again when we see the first tiny flower poking up from the snow. Hope is the strategy, and faith is the work.
We have hope knowing the God of creation is also the God of salvation. No evil or ugliness on this earth, or in any person, can dim the light of righteousness.
Jeremiah talks about a “branch of righteousness.” That was the hope he gave to the Israelites.
But I think more of hope in this way, “Low how a rose e’er blooming, from tender stem hath sprung.”
Because I believe hope comes from a tender and tentative place. To hope takes gentle courage. To hope means seeing light where there may not be light. Yet.
We will wait in this advent season, not just with hope. But expectant hope. We will see the light that shines through the thickest darkness. We will watch with our heads high and our hearts open.
For the true rose of hope.
Amen.

Not from Here

Because I don’t draw a line between my religion and politics…
Christ the King Sunday
“Not from Here”John 18:33-37
No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love. For love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. Nelson Mandela
With our current political climate, you may ask why the title of this sermon isn’t, “Testify to the Truth” Instead of “Not from Here.” I recently read someone’s concern that our country is being desensitized by the lies our President tells on a daily basis. A fear that we are worn down or worn out by the barrage of falsehoods and fantastical fiction that emanate from a man who fears the truth which is chasing after him each and every second. Truth that will catch him in the end.
“The truth shall set you free,” Jesus said. The truth will set us free. Truth will set our country free.
In our Gospel today, Jesus is on trial. He has done nothing wrong except bring truth and hope and redemption to a very broken world. The Jewish leaders are threatened. They are afraid of the one who says their laws and their ways of conducting life and law are done. There is a new King in town. The Messiah they won’t accept.
I don’t have a problem with the language of “king.” Some people don’t like the male language. Obviously, all the kings we have ever known are males. There have been good human kings and disastrous human kings. It would be foolish to compare Jesus Christ to an earthly king. He is the perfect King from the halls of heaven. We can’t begin to comprehend what this means. We only have imperfect words and images.  He is the Shepherd King. The forgiving King. The King of the heavens and earth. The Servant King. The King of Glory. The King of ultimate love. The King of salvation.
The King who knows a sheep from a goat.
Jesus is not the Messiah anticipated by the forever watching and waiting Israelites. He is not riding in on his trusty steed to turn the Roman Empire upside down. He is turning the entire way of life upside down. “Blessed are you if you are poor, mourning, hungering for righteousness, meek, persecuted…”
Jesus the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is healing the ones who bleed, who are sightless, who are voiceless, who are hopeless.
Jesus Christ the King of Kings and Lord of Lords speaks the truth to power. Tells those who are cheating the poor out of their pittance that they have to go! Those in the synagogue who wield power over the powerless will soon find themselves out of a job. Because Jesus Christ is the King of the World, there is no singular group of people he came to save. He came for everyone. He is the King of every nation and every tribe. Every race, color, and religion.
Right now, there is a caravan of people seeking hope in our land that has plenty of room and plenty of promise. At least we used to.
Jesus Christ, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords is walking in the midst of the caravan from Central America. He is walking with the young men who grow weary. He is walking with the mothers who can’t carry their babies another step. He is walking with the old, the infirm, the sick, the fearful, the desperate.
There are those in this country who did not need a feast three days ago. They have more food than necessary but won’t share a bite with the starving. There are those who believe their bank accounts will protect them from everything, even death. Yet, they won’t share a dime with the poor. There are those who spew hatred, lies, threats, violence, and other vileness. They won’t lift a finger to help someone in need. They certainly cannot claim to know Jesus Christ. They have no clue who he is or what he stands for. Everything they do and say is anti-Christ.
In our Gospel Jesus is on trial. He has done nothing but change the world for good. Pilate is unaware of who he is talking to. He only knows what the Pharisees and leaders have told him. Pilate has to decide whether he should let this innocent man go or keep the Jews from unrest by killing Jesus.
“So, you are a king?” Pilate asks.
“You say that I am a king…but as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”
No, his kingdom is not from here. The kingdom of Jesus Christ is the place where there are no more wars or rumor of wars. Where there is no more suffering. Where there is no hunger or thirst. Where there is no hatred, racism, or bigotry because we are all one race, the human race. The kingdom of Jesus Christ is where love is learned and lived because it “comes more naturally to the human heart.”
How surprised some people might be when they get to heaven and find themselves serving those they have ridiculed, attacked, or derided on this earth.
Because the Kingdom of God is not from here. Not from this place where a man, a leader of our country, so full of insecurity, small intellect, and zero empathy. A man with a bloated body and an ugly little soul. A man who would have a mother and child killed on the border or a young man beaten, or a baby caged like an animal. A man who doesn’t care of men of color are shot down in the streets of our cities. A man who wants to take away human rights – keeping people from being who they really are. A man intent on destroying climate and creation. Stealing from the poor and sowing hatred. No, these things are not Kingdom Living. These things are the lashings of hell.
When there is a president who is so anti-Jesus Christ, there is only one hope until he is taken away.
We are. We are the hope in the name of Jesus Christ. We are the ones who will teach love to those who have been taught to hate. We are the ones who share the food, the money, the time, the conversation, the love of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. We are the ones who follow in his footsteps, we carry his glory and grace to the world, we tell the stories of the Kingdom of the Good Man. Where there is no more pain, or tears, or despair, or prejudice, or bigotry, or cruelty. Our lives must be lived in doing all the good we can until that day when we are welcomed into the Kingdom-not-from-here.
Because the Kingdom-not-from-here is HERE now. The Kingdom where our King has saved us all. He saved us even though he was lied about, falsely accused, horribly beaten, and crucified on a cross. A King who rose from the dead.
A King who can tell the difference between a sheep and a goat.
He is the King of Glory. His Kingdom is here. His Kingdom is now. It is where we dwell. Right here. There is much work to do. There are people to feed. People to welcome. People to find homes for. People to protect. There is healing to share and love to teach. There is so much to bring in the name of the King.Amen.

For Her

For Her
When I can tell my story without tear or ache,In prose that ceases my heart to break,Is it not my road to trod,To find the one who lost her God?
I see her beneath the waterfallWhere tears cover her soul and all.The tear-stained one is sadly dressed,I slowly sit by her and rest.
My dear one, do you want to tellThe story of your piece of hell?For I have all the time it takesTo listen again as your heart breaks.
We’ll gather each and every piece,And stitch them back, we will not cease.Forgiveness you do not need to seek,For nothing wrong did you do or speak.
I see the garment of shame you wear,It does not fit your frame, my dear.Whoever said it was your dress,Told a lie, caused your duress.
We will fling it far from here,Your brand new dress will hold no fear.For you will wear your lovely worth,No guilt, no stain, just your rebirth.
But for now, we can just sit awhile,For I have come this many a mile,To listen and to wipe your tears,To help you bid goodbye to fears.
To invite you when your faith returns,Come near the fire that ever burns.The fire removes the chill in bones,Returns light to eyes where it has not shone.
When in worth and dignity you are dressed,I’ll watch you rise from your sad rest.And walk the road where you must trod,To find another who has lost her God.

Planning the Funeral

For those who lost children and other loved ones this week, following the mass shooting in Thousand Oaks, CA. 
Planning the Funeral
Tell me about your daughter.
What?
So that we can remember her well. So, her funeral will do her justice. I’d like to know about her.
How much time do you have?
I have all the time in the world. I do.
She lived eighteen years. I have so many stories. Like the morning she was born, and I first saw her little face through my own tears.
Like your tears today.
No. These tears are nothing like those tears.
I’m sorry. Tell me more.
She won best costume when she was in preschool. She was an angel. I used so much glitter on that costume! Her halo was made of tinsel from the Christmas decorations. I wrapped it around wire and put it on the top of her head. It bobbed back and forth when she laughed.
So sweet. What else?
She played the flute. She was good, too! She practiced every night when she was in high school. But she could only get second chair in the orchestra. She tried so hard. The flute makes a pretty sound. It can be so gentle. Maybe heaven sounds like flutes. I missed hearing her play when she went to college.
Is there a hymn or song you would like to sing or have played at the funeral? Something she would have liked?
We sang Amazing Grace at my father’s funeral. She played her flute for the last verse, no organ, just her flute. You know the verse, “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun…” There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
I’m sure. That’s beautiful hymn. I’ll put it in the service. What else?
I think her brother might like to say something. They were very close. He was protective of his baby sister. He'd do anything for her.
Is there a scripture passage that meant something to her? Maybe a poem?
Let me think.  
She sounds like a wonderful girl. She was obviously very loved.
She was loved. Everyone who met her loved her. You know, she began a fundraiser for a boy in her school who had leukemia. She started it all by herself. All the money went to his hospital bills.
She had a big heart.
Yes. She did. But her heart stopped with the bullet. The gunman stopped her heart. When he shot her. Without a beating heart, you die.
I’m so sorry. This is such a tragedy.
Some people say we need more guns. I say, no more guns. Bullets stop hearts and steal children.
Yes.
Psalm 23.
What?
Psalm 23. I know everyone has that at their funeral. But I need to know she’s with someone who’s taking care of her. I need to know she’s safe. The Shepherd, right? It’s about the Shepherd who leads people and walks with people and protects them. He would be especially careful with children. Right?
Yes.
So, she’s with the Shepherd now.
Yes.
But she was my lamb.
Yes. Yes, she was. Are there other stories?
What? Oh, no. No more stories.
But I have all the time in the world.
There’s not that much to tell.
Why not?
She was only eighteen. Her life hadn’t even begun. It seems like yesterday when I put the sparkly wings on her back and set the halo on her head. You know, when she was in preschool. There was glitter everywhere. And as she laughed the halo bobbed back and forth, back and forth. 
The tinsel danced.
It sparkled in the light.

They Walk

They Walk
They walk forward with hope.
They walk away from pain and fear.
Horrors that haunt their dreams – they must escape.
Corrupt governments. Gangs of cruelty. Drug traffickers.
Children are not immune. They have been, and will be, tortured in front of their parents.
Some walk with holes in their hearts, loved ones lost.
Some walk with holes in their shoes. Or no shoes.
Some walk with their own scars.
With plastic bags holding all they own, they walk.
With children on their shoulders, they walk.
Thousands of people walk for thousands of miles. With hope. With relief to be leaving the horror and fear.
They are overwhelmingly Christian. They are Catholic and Protestant.
They are leaving their churches but taking their faith.
They pray to the God I pray to.
They sing the hymns I sing.
They want the safety I take for granted every day.
I wonder about the shoes they are wearing as they walk. They must be wearing out. 
I wonder how heavy a baby feels in her mother’s arms mile after mile after mile.
They are out of their country and away from their fears. They are away from corruption.
But they are walking to my country and I have great fears for them.
Because we have a cruel fool for a President. We have corruption everywhere. There is not a lot of hope for anyone who is walking here. The President is a maniacal liar and gleefully uses “the least these” for campaign-rally fuel.
His followers walk around in hate-filled ignorance.
Our Secretary of Homeland Security says there are no plans to shoot immigrants. Yet.
The military is on the way to the border. The military. Because moms and dads and children are so threatening.
Children are not immune. They have been, and will be, tortured in front of their parents. We lock babies in cages in my country. We rip them out of their mothers’ arms in my country. We lock children in refugee camps in my country. We separate families in my country. Innocent families.
So, there will be new horrors. New nightmares. New scars.
Who will hear their prayers? Who will wipe their tears? Where will they find safety? Who will help them sing again?
My country is going to have a vote soon. The majority of people in my country want different leadership and a sensible government. We want all people to be treated with honor and respect. We want a government that helps other governments who are troubled so that people don’t need to flee. 
We want a government that cares for “the least of these” here, and everywhere. We want a government that is colorblind, inclusive, supportive, and thoughtful.
I can rampage all I want. But my feet aren’t worn out from walking thousands of miles. My possessions would not fit in a plastic bag. I have an overabundance of “stuff.” I can pray and sing and live without fearing for my life.
Most of all, I can vote.
And I will. 
I will vote for the desperate and hopeful immigrants.
Because they walk.