I am thankful for

Today I am thankful for cold weather that reminds me of the seasons of life and makes me remember how much I hated the heat of a Memphis summer. And especially getting in to a black car with leather seats in the dead of summer.

I am thankful for the opportunity to work with young people who continue to teach me about the world out there and the person inside, much more than I ever imagined possible when I answered my call to be at Holy Communion.

Tomorrow I will be thankful it is the weekend. And I can spend some time with my dad.

I am thankful for my father who yesterday turned 56 and can still put on an orange bandanna around his head and through up peace signs. I am thankful for my father who can forgive me and be understanding that sometimes I have meetings until 10pm and that the 30 minutes we spent last night from 10:15 to 10:45 was special to me.

I am thankful for my friend Logan who is unconsciously so brutally honest it can be hurtful from time to time, but because his honesty comes from love, keeps me in check and helps me to be honest with myself.

I am thankful for my friend Kat. She has really yummy Cupcakes. Her grandmother’s nickname was Muddy.


I am thankful for the Clergy at Holy Communion, for their guidance and for their support both in my work life and my personal life and all that they do to support my ministry and me as a person.

This thanksgiving Holiday I am thankful that my parents will give up their plans to go out of town so that I may spend thanksgiving with them.

I am thankful for my roommate Large. I am thankful that we often disagree on many issues but have learned how to respectfully listen and be in conversation with each other so that we can encourage our own growth.

I am thankful for my sister Ann who I can struggle to get along with and be in relationship with more than anyone I know, yet can support me and be loving through all that we endure.

I am thankful for the parents at Holy Communion who go out of their way to do all that they can to support the youth program from driving vans to cooking meals.

I am thankful for the many girls of St. Mary’s who smile and say hi and make my day better and better each time they do.

I am thankful for the Gospel according to Beuford and his often prophetic voice and his words of comfort and support each morning as I walk into my work space.

I am thankful for today, because I believe it is a gift from God.

I am thankful for music not only the music I get to create but the music I listen to that helps me express how I feel and know that others feel that way too.

I am thankful for my cat Meriwether also known as Flannery O' Cat. She also suffers from FRAP (frantic random activity periods). And she is a brat but I still am thankful for her.

I am thankful for JK Rowling. Because by reading her books I can live out my childhood dream of being a wizard and doing magic.

I am thankful for my mother who always has enough time to listen to everything I have to say.

I am thankful for the cafeteria downstairs. It really is a wonderful convenience to work at a school and have access to lunch every day during the school year well except for the days they serve breakfast for lunch. Not a fan, and I know I'm not the only one.

I am thankful for all of the volunteers who put a few thousand hours a year into working with the young people of this parish. And make youth ministry successful here.

I am thankful for the staff of Holy Communion. They have to put up with me and it is probably not always easy. From the messes that our groups make, the spills on the carpets, paint on the walls, and food in nearly every corner of this building. Sorry staff.

I am thankful for basketball and the opportunity to coach and share with 5th graders from my grade school something that I really love.

I am thankful that we lost our basketball game last night. And I am proud of the boys they way the handled the loss. You learn a lot more about your character when you fail then when you succeed.

I am thankful for St. Mary's and especially your new middle school. Now I have a really sweet office. Thanks.

I am thankful for the many opportunities I have to serve others here by being present in a faith community.

I am thankful for my dear friend Debra who really seems to know how this world works and is willing to share her advice with me.

I am thankful for my friend Jules, who always calls me at the worst time possible. And forgiving me for not always calling me him back.

I am thankful because today I have a job. I am thankful for the roof over the head and that I have a warm place to sleep. I am thankful for rain, for the sun, for espn, for my seersuck suit, for bowties, for my all of my friends, and so so much more.

I am thankful for this opportunity to write this, because by writing this reflection, I have realized how much I really have to be Thankful for.

What are you thankful for?

Heaven vs. Hell

Hell

I heard a story, an old wives tale about Hell a long time ago and then it showed up in a book I read a few weeks back. Hell was this beautiful dinner gathering full of people sitting around a table. The table was round and filled with really really hungry people. In this place each person has this unbearable hunger in their stomachs. The kind that leaves the space and noise around filled with a low grumble. It is the kind of hunger that causes food to smell better than it has ever tasted before and allows you to taste new subtle little flavors that you never knew were really there.

In the middle of this round table is a big cast iron cauldron filled to the brim of what smells like a meal for the gods. The cauldron is heated, and the stew is simmering with a small low boil. The aroma fills the room causing pain in everyone’s stomachs as they crave nothing more in the world but a taste of this heavenly stew.

Each person at the table has a special spoon crafted to their own hand. This spoon allows each individual to get the perfect amount of soup to quench their hunger and is exactly two inches too long to get into their own mouth. Everyone is seated around the table and they are trying their very best to feed themselves, but each time they take a spoonful of soup to their mouths, they miss and spill the soup all over themselves.

Hell

Heaven

In this story, heaven is the exact same place. Really really hungry people, with an unbearable hunger are sitting around the best meal you could ever imagine. Hunger rumbles in the bellies of each person at the table. And each person has a spoon crafted to their own hand, a spoon just a little bit too long to feed themselves. But instead everyone is feeding the person next to them and all are well fed.

Imagine that, heaven and hell, the same place. The only difference is how we treat one another.

A few years ago, I participated in an experience called the Global Village at the Heifer Camp in Perryville Arkansas. I was with a group of people and we drew straws that sent us to different sites that represented regions of the world. Some people ended up in Guatemala and had a rabbit, electricity, and even running water. The four people here had beds to sleep in and a house to keep warm. Another group ended up in Zambia and had access to firewood, a few vegetables, and some cornmeal. Zambia wasn’t quite as wealthy but still had some valuable resources. I was in the largest group which drew the slums. We ended up sleeping on a dirt floor tin shack in a storm that night and the only food we were given was a little bit of rice for all six of us in the slums. The idea of the project was to do a simulation to understand how resources are distributed in the world and to gain a better understanding of world poverty. We were told to use what we had and barter with the other groups to try and get something to eat. Water and firewood rights could even be bartered. I didn’t think it was fair and thought for sure I would go hungry just as so many of those who live in similar situations around the world do every day.

Something miraculous happened that night. Everyone shared all of their food and made one big stew. It wasn’t the best tasting, kind of bland but everyone was invited to attend and all ate and all were well fed. Our guide from Heifer was amazed, and had never witnessed this before. There was a good chance this happened because we were such a small group and realized that we could feed each other, but usually groups hoard the resources because they feel there is not enough to go around.

A friend of mine participated in this same simulation a year later. He was with a group that was a much larger group and he was placed in the refugee camp. He went hungry that night and didn’t even have access to safe drinking water. Guatemala had an unlimited amount of water, and he went thirsty. The experience for him was very transforming and painted a much more accurate picture of how the world really works.

Heaven vs. Hell

I love the image of the dinner table to help me understand how to help bring the Kingdom of Heaven to earth. This story is very real. We are all hungry and there is food right there in front of us. All we have to do is help feed the person at the next seat. We all have resources that we can share with each other and by reaching out in the world, recognizing that we are blessed and freely giving of the blessings we have, we can bring heaven to others.

Pilgrimage to Santiago

It was a damp and chilly Tuesday morning as our group of twenty youth and their leaders from Church of the Holy Communion gathered on the Camino de Santiago in the town of Sarria in Northern Spain. With a few unexpected difficulties changing our US currency, we were taking much longer than expected to begin our journey to Santiago de Compostela. We were to hike between fourteen and sixteen miles a day and arrive in Santiago on Saturday afternoon. We had been preparing on Saturdays by hiking at Shelby Farms and our spirits were high and enthusiasm strong. Although we were hiking to Santiago Cathedral, the reliquary of the body of the Apostle St. James, we were also hiking to grow closer together as a community, to find the many ways that the Spirit is present in our lives, and to learn more about our own selves and our relationship with Christ through the struggle of being in a foreign environment, uncomfortable, and physically in pain. We were walking in the footsteps of thousands of others all on a spiritual quest trusting in the path that others had walked before us.

By four in the afternoon we began arriving at the town of Portomarin. A few of our group were really beginning to struggle. One even believed at that point that he would not even be able to finish the first day of hiking. I have to admit, I was very surprised with the high degree of difficulty of our walk and had little faith that our whole group would be able to complete our journey.

Wednesday’s hike led us through Hospital da Cruz which owes its name to an old pilgrims’ hospital that existed until the late 18^th century. We hiked, still in high spirits today as our pilgrims sang songs and recited prayers to pass the time as we hiked to Palas de Rei. Those that struggled the day before during the hike had made peace with their pain and pushed on today, at a slower pace, but none-the-less moving forward one step at a time.

On Thursday we began hiking to Arzua, passing through ancient yet hospitable villages such as Furelos where we visited the Parish Church of San Juan which dates back to the 12^th century. Thursday brought different spirits within the group. People began to really spread out and hike at different paces, and pilgrims who had previously been the pace setters began to settle in at the back of the group. There were moments of joy and wonder when our group lifted each other up through songs and words of praise and our weaknesses were exposed. By this point in our pilgrimage, most everyone had some sort of physical problem. The only young person who didn’t have problems with his feet, caught a stomach bug.

Yet through the blisters, bloody feet, sore knees, ankles, calves, hips, and Achilles tendons, we marched into Santiago de Compostela on Saturday afternoon, silently reflecting how five days and seventy five miles of hiking had changed our lives. We stood in awe before the massive Santiago Cathedral only to stand next to another pilgrim from Memphis who had been hiking for six weeks to get to this point. He was one of only three pilgrims from the United States we had met but helped us to understand how connected we had become to the whole world.

Our pilgrimage to Santiago, this Journey to Adulthood pilgrimage, was beautiful and challenging, painful yet full of joy, causing us to trust in those that had gone before us marking the road with yellow arrows and leading our way to God. The five days on the Camino helped us to better understand the earthly pilgrimage we are on, trusting in those who go before us to lead us and keep us on the path to God, through pain and joy, and through beauty and hardships. It caused us to rely on the support of our friends who came back to walk with us and help pull us through the stretches of walking that we were unable to do on our own. And by that support of those friends and fellow pilgrims, helped to show us the presence of Christ in our lives.

Arzua to A Rua

We left early and farther behind the other pilgrims today which gave us the feeling of being crowded on the way to Santiago. As we hiked through Arzua, many pilgrims were stumbling sleepily on the Camino and we begin to see that many more than we had crossed over the past three days were making their way to Santiago. We also began to recognize faces and names which helped to create a bond with the other pilgrims, at least the ones who valued us a real and legitimate pilgrims.
It only took a good half hour for my body to begin to feel all of the pain from the many hours of hiking over the last three days. And our group was beginning to look like pilgrims. No longer did everyone sing and dance along the way. We walked by puting one foot painfully in front of the other in silence and in prayer. I began to pray the prayer our group has been using all week to help get me through. The prayer goes as so:

Bless to us, O God, the earth beneath our feet.
Bless to us, O God, the path whereon we go.
Bless to us, O God, the people whom we meet. Amen.

I have been saying this prayer for hours of the last few days but today, it feels new and different. I begin to be able to say other prayers over this prayer and more and more beauty and meaning comes alive. The first time our pilgrims prayed this together, I had no clue how it would work, but now the prayer has become alive and organic and helps me become one with the way. As I pray for the earth I submit to the whole world in the way I live that I open up being compassionate to all that God has created. As I pray for the path whereon we go, I pray for myself, the journey that I am on, and where God is leading me, today, tomorrow, and the rest of my life. And as I pray for the people whom we meet, I pray for all whom I have been blessed to meet in my short life.

I am learning how to pray in silence and in pain as I work on making this journey to Santiago. The road has become far more challenging and difficult but every step and every breathe of this prayer helps me recognize that this journey is just another day in my life and this prayer is all that I need forever. Help me to take care of God´s creation. Help me to take care of myself. And help me to take care of others.
Amen.

And now as I have just walked into A Rui, my feet are badly blistered, but I will walk into Santiago tomorrow in less than twenty four hours hours and tears will probably fill my eyes. And my journey will continue.

Palas de Rei to Arzua

I wonder what really makes someone a pilgrim? Is it leaving home in search of something greater? Is it journeying to a sacred place in which you find great value. As seven of us stormed up a hill with many hot spots, all with sore feet and probably 26km down on this beautiful Thursday, an Italian family looked at us and screamed, "No mochilos, no mochilos, no es pilgrims, no camino!" We have vehicle help and do not carry all of our luggage.

I understand that there are many people on this trail and on this journey who believe that only real pilgrims carry their own packs and sleep in Albergues. But why? As the Italians began cursing me, although I am sure they were in a way joking with us, with lots of truth behind what they were saying, how could it be in the pilgrim spirit to judge others? What makes one person´s journey better or more justified than someone else´s journey?

All of us were still in good spirits. Even a bunch of high school students understand that people only say things such as that to make themselves better, but I wish I hadn´t heard it none the less. Apparently a German pilgrim had told a few others in our group they weren´t real pilgrims. By the end of the day we had hiked 70 kilometers in three days and I was beginning to feel as a pilgrim. Many songs, jokes, and improve raps had kept our spirits high and the pilgrim bond between our group was beginning to pull each other through. I honestly believe at the end of the first day that several pilgrims in our group wouldn´t make it, but by the end of the day, I am sure, baring no major catastrophes, that our group will finish in Santiago by Saturday afternoon.

Portomarin - Palas de Rei

I had the opportunity to be the lead hiker today. The whole experience is radically different. The Camino is well marked with yellow arrows on buildings and the ground and scallop shell markers yet I still find myself doubting the markers from time to time and wondering if I have stumbled off the beaten path. I am one of those who often questions if I really have my wallet or I wonder if I have left the stove on. I question my own judgment all of the time, yet usually I use very good judgment. In fact, I have a great sense of direction and rarely get lost. I suspect things would be different if I had been hiking from the border of France for a month. My ability to trust the markers and the path of others would be greater but with each step and with each new marker I grow.

When I leave my home, I will probably continue to worry about the oven and the lights, but I hope that I am learning something more important than just about hiking. I am hoping that I am learning the importance of those who come before me to mark the trail and the path which I am on. It is not by myself that I have made it to this spot, but because of the help of others.

And even though we left a good hour and a half earlier today, we are still not making it to the end until 4pm. Our guide Debbie told us that their is a good chance we will all cry when we get to Santiago. My legs are beginning to really hurt. Could she be right? Our whole group of twenty moved much slower but everyone of made it the full 25.06km and the two who really struggled yesterday began to work unbelievably hard and rally together. I could not have been happier to make it all the Palas de Rei and although the church with the Frescos was closed by the time we arrived, everyone of us was two tired to be disappointed. Tomorrow will be our longest day and the rest is needed.

Sarria to Portomarin

I am in pretty good shape. I workout several times a week, recently ran a marathon, and have been expecting twenty to thirty kilometers a day to be pretty easy. We started out quite a bit later than we expected having a little bank trouble and finally hit the road by 10:15am.
About noon we came across a truly beautiful 12th century church, te Church of Barbadelo. Pilgrims at this point who we had seen on the path had gotten out to a late start and all bypassed this church, so we walked in, and were completely alone. Our feet were yet to begin hurting and everyone felt drawn to the peace, quiet, and beauty of this wonderful church. Yet we knew we were behind and needed to keep a stride to make it to Portomarin by four in the afternoon.

Most everyone in our group was able to keep a good pace but by two in the afternoon, we had a few who were moving at a much slower speed than I wanted to keep. By this time our group had spread out. I decided to keep the group together by staying the back and found myself walking much slower than I wanted. I keep reminding myself to be loving and sympathetic but I was becoming frustrated. I know deep down that it is not about my pace, and this is not my time to enjoy being alone, yet I have to keep myself going with this mantra: "Jesus, help me love others!" It sounds simple, but it so easy for me to forget to lend a helping hand when others struggle. Is today about helping me slow down? Am I learning that my time is not always God´s time and helping others is for more important that helping myself? By 4pm we finally arrive in Portomarin almost an hour behind the others and cross the scenic bridge into the old town. Those who have been struggling seem happier than ever to have arrived at our hotel 22.75km later and more satisfied than myself, which in a way is a true blessing and gift. At the end of the day, hearing the sense of accomplishment of everyone is teaching me that pace is not imporant but the way we help others is.

A Scallop Shell

I arrived with nineteen others to Spain yesterday. We are here to hike the last one hundred fifteen Km from Sarria to Santiago de Compostela, a famous pilgrimage hiked by tens of thousands every summer on the way to see the bones of St. James and follow in the footsteps of millions of others who are all on a journey for some personal reason, many of which are spiritual. I have been struggling to figure out myself why I am here and why I feel called to this walk. I hope I have a better idea in five days time but know that it could be revealed to me much later if ever.

We pilgrims hike with scallop shells around our necks. The scallop shell is the symbol of the pilgrims on the way to Santiago and we are beginning to see the shells. I knew the shells were used to drink water for thirsty pilgrims but what I didn't know was the greater metaphor of the shell. A scallop shell has many lines that all lead to the same center just as many roads and many pilgrims travel from all over, all on the way to Santiago. Some come from their homes in Norway or Italy and hike from their doorsteps. Some hike along the route in Portugal. More start in France and many take different paths yet they all end in the same place. Am I to learn this pilgrimage that my way is not the only way? Am I to become more sympathetic, compassionate and understanding of the different ways and paths in life?

A Thin Place

As soon as I walked into the sanctuary of Christ Church in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, I felt I was in a “thin place.” A “thin place” comes from Celtic spirituality and is a place where you are closest to God. The idea of a thin place is that the veil between this world and the other world is thin. The structure of Christ Church was destroyed and all that is left today of the physical plant is the original bell tower. In place of the old church stands an air-conditioned Quonset hut and the original concrete floor. The inside of the church reminds me of a down comforter. One of the original stain glass windows rests upon the only window in the hut. Besides that, there is very little to decorate the church. Instead of pews, there are fold up metal chairs and instead of an organ, there is a PA system and an electronic keyboard.

Yet as soon as walked into this church, I felt I was in one of my own “thin places.” Goosebumps came over me and I started to tear up as I sat down in the church. Almost every spiritual home I have stepped foot in before has been in some way or another very elaborate. So I was surprised to feel this way in an air-conditioned Quonset hut.

I wonder sometimes if I fail to be connected with God in a world filled with accessories. My experience traveling to Christ Church continues to reaffirm that my God doesn’t need all of the lavish and ornate decorations, the old buildings, and fancy pews. When we strip off all of the decorations in life, and are left with nothing but what is underneath, raw, uncovered, we have God. I have spent the majority of my adult life acquiring things, goods, status, and of course money. Yet I am reminded today as I reflect on my time in Mississippi, that it is underneath all of this that I connect with Christ. Do I really need the big screen TV, the art, the Wii, the Vineyard Vines bow ties, or could I do without?

An Attack on Spirituality

I was reading a blog yesterday about one hundred simple ways to improve your life. There were two points out of one hundred which touched upon spirituality.

26) Go to church: Make new friends and get in touch with your spiritual side at church or temple.

31) Consider religion: If you’re not a spiritual person, consider becoming more involved with religion to improve your emotional well-being.

Being what I call a professional Christian, I couldn’t agree more with the writers point. These two points out of one hundred are just tips on how to possibly improve your life. I continued to read after the blog at all of the comments people had posted. Over one half of the comments were targeted at these two suggestions. One reader even commented that he or she was so offended that they would never read another post by the writer. This person obviously feels very passionately about religion and my guess Christianity.

In a blog about improving our lives, why does the suggestion of finding faith anger so many people? What is it about the Christian message that upsets so many others? If being a Christian is about loving others as we love ourselves, seeking peace instead of violence, and treating all people with dignity, could this really be that bad? I mean would our lives not be improved if we could do just this?

The Road to Santiago de Compostela - 4 Months Away

There is a road that leads to the mortal remains of the apostle St. James. He was buried in a field where a shepherd had seen a bright star. Legend says that not only did St. James, but the Virgin Mary travel here shortly after the death of Christ. This place known as Compostela, Spanish for the star field, has been one of three major pilgrimages for Christians for over 1000 years. This summer I will travel the last 115 kilometers of the road to Santiago de Compostela with twenty youth and their leaders from the church I work at in Memphis.

Something is stirring inside of me that draws me to this place. Every summer thousands of people walk this path with scallop shells around their neck all on their way to the Cathedral in Santiago. As I have been preparing for this journey, I wonder even now what it will feel like as I gather for the pilgrims mass with others who have taken this sacred walk. Destination is what I am concerned about four months before I get on a plane and fly to Madrid.

Yet, would I feel the same way about Santiago and being in the Cathedral if I didn’t take the walk? Would the pilgrim's mass be as important if I was invited to attend it without first taking the walk? Sometimes in my life, I focus so much on the destination that I forget about the beautiful journey that leads me there.

I have become I cycler over the last year and half and even bike the six and half miles to work sometimes. Moving so much slower than before, I begin to notice the wonderful sights that I take for granted each day as I stare straight ahead on my way to work. I miss the beautiful houses along Tuckahoe, or the students quickly crossing the street to get to their classes on time at the University of Memphis. And then I find myself lost in memories of my college days at Purdue and rushing to class across Northwestern Avenue. I see people working in yards and the care and love it takes to have a beautiful yard, and the enjoyment I get from someone else’s hard work.

All of this I miss when I drive to work. The journey is beautiful, and when I finally get to work I am ready to embrace the day and once again fall in love with my work. As I prepare for my little hike along the Camino de Santiago, I am trying to pay more attention to the journey that I am already making, because without a journey, arriving at a destination is not nearly as meaningful.

Life as a Musician

I think of myself as a musician. I love playing music. I have been playing piano for almost twenty years, guitar for fifteen years, and I attempt to play every other instrument my hands touch.

So I was watching this sermon by Rob Bell a few weeks ago called Rhythm. In the video, a symphony is playing in the background and he starts to talk about how he believes God to be like the music of the world and that it is our job to listen, hear the song, and play in harmony so that we can grow into the person that God has in store for us. As a musician this rang true and I have been thinking about this metaphor ever since.

But something has been bothering me for these few weeks as I think about this metaphor and as I try to better articulate my understanding of God. I believe I have been making the same mistake in my spiritual life that I have been making with music. Since I started playing piano and guitar, I have been focusing on getting faster, learning more complicated rifts, and learning fancier scales. When I played in bands in college, often I found myself playing too many notes and trying to do too much. I only listened to music that was theoretically complicated and never would have caught myself listening to simple songs such as I enjoy listening to now.

Something has shifted in the way that I hear music and my hope is I find that same shift in my spiritual life. I am listening a lot to a band called Iron & Wine which their early stuff is played on guitar alone and is very simple. To me their music is absolutely beautiful. What I am beginning to realize is that there is nothing wrong with sitting down at the piano and practicing for hours and hours, and for many years, until I can play complicated jazz or classical music. In fact until I do that, I won’t be able to. But the point is even at my own skill level which is closer to the level that Iron & Wine plays, I can make beautiful music. I can play in tune with the songs and in rhythm and do things that other people find more beautiful than any fancy jazz tune I might be able to play down the road.

This gives me much hope. Let us go back to Rob Bell’s image of music. God is playing a song and it is our job as musicians, or more importantly as humans, to stop and to listen to the song and to play in harmony. For any of us who have played any instrument at all even if it is the recorder in your third grade music class, we know that we are not always going to play in perfect harmony. But at this moment, wherever we are on our spiritual journey, we have all the gifts and skills to play a beautiful masterpiece. There is nothing wrong with wanting to get better at this thing called life, to practice and practice and maybe one day we will do something extraordinary, but it doesn’t mean that right now we can’t change the world. It doesn’t mean that a single and simple random act of kindness towards someone won’t be a beautiful masterpiece that changes their life.

For me this image has transformed the whole way that I embrace ministry. I don’t worry anymore about building some big, super youth program at the church I work. And it’s not that I don’t try to learn more and get better at my job, but I have embraced that sometimes less notes on a scale sounds wonderful. When I meet someone new, that single encounter might be more important than anything I could ever say in a sermon at a church or school or to my youth group. Sometimes the simplest actions we produce can lead to making a beautiful masterpiece and if we are aware of this, we can be better prepared when it happens.