Re-retired. Who knew there was such a thing? I thought out to pasture was rather permanent, and you couldn’t get called up for a rodeo from way out there. I was wrong. The call came in the form of a mildly panicked District Superintendent, but it felt like it came from a slightly higher power. From somewhere I heard, “You wanna go one more time?”

So it was off to First United Methodist Church in Marion NC as interim pastor.

How hard could it be? Just pull out thirty-six or so sermons from the greatest hits file, and coast on home. Well, when I looked at those sermons, I realized that my theology had shifted a little. Those oldie goldies just didn’t fit so well anymore.

That shouldn’t have surprised me. I don’t see how your way of seeing things couldn’t move a bit after fellow-shipping frequently with trees and crows, traveling to a couple of holy places, spending more time with friends who are just over the accepted edges, and listening to folks that made me feel like I needed to stop trying to be a duck, cause they didn’t think I was ugly at all, and probably not a duck anyway.

Oh, and since I had tagged out the first time, two presidents had been elected, I had learned what the word “pandemic” means, and I had to get some new clothes.

I showed up anyway. And this happened:

– I baptized a baby. I whispered to her through my mask that God claimed her, and when I dripped water on her hair and crossed her ridiculously soft forehead, I remembered that God claims me too. God claims us all.

– I sat with some folks when their mother died. I told them hurting is okay. I reminded them that Jesus was pretty serious about death being more a graduation than an end. I said, “She’s truly a part of you. The connection is unbreakable. Love connects and is stronger than everything, even death.” Then I went home, thought about my Mom, and reviewed all that.

-When my time was up, a couple of folks said that I had helped them grow in their relationship with the Spirit. I thought, I’m thankful for that, but all I did was say in some form or fashion, thirty-six or so times: “God loves us, that’s nonnegotiable. Our task is to figure out ways to love God and others. Yep, those others.”

All to say that in nine months of showing up and welcoming, Christ was present. We got to know one another and we were changed. We did a rodeo. One I’m so thankful for.

But it’s my last one. Back to the pasture, way out there.

(In memory of Reverend Warren Owens. I am proud to join him on the list of pastors who served First United Methodist Church of Marion.)

This post is not complete but I am posting it anyway because I don’t believe it will ever be complete.

I have been working on creating a Rule of Life and I want to go ahead and share it, even though it’s work in progress, in the hope that it may prove helpful to you but mostly to increase my chances of living into it.

First, some of the sayings, mini rules if you will, that have inspired me. Many will be familiar to you:
– Love God and love neighbor
-Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly
-Seek to see more clearly, love more dearly, and follow more nearly
-Practice a life marked by prayer, being present, generosity, service, and witness
-Do no harm, do good, stay in love with God
-Show up, pay attention, cooperate with God, release the outcome

Now,
A Rule of Life
1) Seek God in all things, pray always.
2) Endeavor to keep the question, “What would you have me do?” ever before me.
3) Pay attention, notice, observe creation and remember that you are a part.
4) Be kind, hope in all things to do no harm. Leave a small footprint.
5) Don’t cling, especially to material things.
6) Seek the simple and true in every encounter. Remember to breathe and stay centered.
7) Pursue compassion and love.
8) Welcome others, especially those who may not feel welcome. Practice hospitality.
9) Respect. Honor. Listen well. Hold fewer opinions.
10) Be honest with self and others, seek to dissolve bias and see clearly.

During the first week of every month I spend some time reading over the previous month’s journal entries.

Here are some thoughts from January that jumped out at me.

1/1 Just realized that when I made my list of prominent events in 2020 that I left seeing the Grand Canyon off. What kind of year does it have to be to forget that?

1/12 Finished reading the book of Judges this morning. Probably won’t do that again for a while.

1/15 Pandemic, day… actually one of those biblical days, ballpark a thousand years? Dentist appointment today. Frankly, it feels good to have something scheduled that requires a shower.

1/17 I’m not lost, I’m just entering unfamiliar territory. So, I will pay attention, enjoy the trip, notice, trust, love, listen, embrace the pilgrim’s way.

1/19 Watched, not saw, the sun rise today.

1/20 A new day

1/26 In the Presence, on the Path, I am there; doing all that needs to be done, going where I need to be.

I don’t ponder the Trinity every morning but when I do it sometimes takes me to a place I wasn’t expecting.

What If?

What if the One who created the galaxies, the mountains, oceans, chickadees, tadpoles, daffodils, raindrops, and life;

And the One who welcomed children, gladly ate with sinners, lived compassion, and died trying to convince us that we are loved;

And the One who persistently calls us and inspires us to live in love;

Were One? One.

And what if that One contains us, and we are a part of that One? And what if we aren’t islands, alone, opposed, or separated but One?

Oh, and what if “love your neighbor as yourself” doesn’t mean to love yourself and then love your neighbor like you love yourself? What if it means that your neighbor and you are a part of one another, One?

On the lower part of our property there is a waterfall. Okay, it’s not really a waterfall. It’s where the small creek that runs along our western side takes a steep drop and in one place the water falls almost two feet. Not exactly a tourist attraction but it’s my property and I’ll call it what I want. Waterfall.

I’m not sure where the creek starts but it is too consistent to simply be run off so I’m guessing that if I followed it upstream far enough there would be a spring involved. As to where it goes, considering the general slope of the territory, which is always a good thing to consider when wondering where water is going, I am confident that it eventually connects with the Catawba River.

Recently I cleared a path to a small sitting area on one side of my waterfall so people, and perhaps forest creatures, could sit and ponder there.

It feels like a mini pilgrimage when I walk down the hill from our house, into the woods, and follow the path to this spot. On sunny days, the southern exposure makes it easy to find a warm spot to sit and listen, and look, and feel, and smell, and even taste the stuff of the forest.

Sitting there brings an illusion of solitude until my thoughts turn to the activity below the earth’s surface, or the lives lived in the trees that surround me, and the salamanders who hide under the rocks and perhaps on some level wonder if that little boy that captures them and holds them captive until I make him return them to the creek is with me.

The beauty of this little spot, a tiny spot on this crazy beautiful planet, is more than I can take in. The extravagance of the Creator never ceases to overwhelm. One would think that I would sit there all day simply breathing the forest filtered, mountain air just like Thoreau, Emerson, or Oliver.

I do that a little, but then I notice that bush that could be cut back a little more to improve the visual, maybe those leaves should be swept off that stone, and the water would be prettier if I removed those sticks. Also, I wonder how far our property goes on the other side of the creek. That pole to the south marks one corner but I can’t see the marker to the north from here or remember the angle the line takes. I wonder if twenty minutes is long enough to say that I spent some time meditating at the falls of if I need to go for thirty to give myself full credit…

Dear Jim, stop.

During the first week of every month I spend some time reading over the previous month’s journal entries.
Here are some thoughts from November that jumped out at me.

– Nov. 2: Being still before God doesn’t mean extending a lot of effort to be still. Just. Be. Still. Nothing. Not waiting, not concentrating, not trying to reach some state of consciousness. Just. Be. Still. Not even worrying about listening. God will get your attention if there is something you need to hear.

-Nov. 3: Picked up Fisher two years ago today. Only dog I ever had that wasn’t submissive or aggressive toward other dogs. Who knew dogs can be a non-anxious presence?

-Nov. 6: Noticing that when stressed or fearful I am tempted to hide in magical thinking (“Lord, give me a sign” and such). Need to take a breath and act with wisdom, competence, and practical action.

-Nov. 10: Sometimes I sit outside and think how wonderful it is to own seven beautiful, wooded acres in the NC mountains, to be able to call it mine. Then I notice that the squirrels don’t mind me and the stones that were here when these hills were being pushed up are chuckling at me.

– Nov. 27: Watched a leaf fall this morning; a big yellow one, one of the very last from the tulip poplar outside my window. It banged into a couple of branches on its way down and came to a rest to the right of a stone I had placed there a while back. The entire summer on the tree, breathing and taking in light. Just a few seconds from limb to earth.

A chickadee perched above it and pooped, missing it to the left, but not on the stone. Close one.

This leaf came from a tree that I have watched grow for over ten years. A tree I will, regrettably, most likely have to take down one day as it’s on a hill and too close to the house.

Maybe I saw this leaf, without really seeing it, in the spring when it budded and announced, along with its fellow leaves, the changing season. It was certainly a part of the foliage that blocked my view of the road I will be able to see clearly through the winter.

Now it lies in the sun, awaiting rain, snow, colder days, and its decomposing. Most likely the wind will move it to another spot or two before it finally rests and becomes becomes a part of the soil, then a part of another plant, perhaps a leaf that will bud, bring shade, then fall.

I watched a leaf fall this morning. Not leaves, a leaf.

During the first week of every month I spend some time reading over the previous month’s journal entries.
Here are some thoughts from October that jumped out at me.

– It’s apparent that love has nothing to do with what we have done or what we may do in the future. I loved my daughters and grandchildren when I first saw them, actually before I even saw them. They had not done one single thing to benefit humanity. And, I love my father, mother, and others who have died even though their race is run. Why is it such a struggle for me to accept that I am loved? Why do I think my being worthy of love is connected to what I have done or promise to do in the future?

– “Be still and know” The more still we are, the more we know God is God. Anxiety, fear, control, or vainly seeking to become worthy, all scramble the signal.

– No matter how the election turns out, my job description remains the same. Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God.

– “Be still and know” Could it be that the gift of death is that we are finally still enough to truly know. To know that we have been in God’s presence; living, moving, being all along.

– If God suffers with us, is it making God too human, too vulnerable, to say to the Creator, “I’m sorry for your pain?”

– Finally, one of my favorite quotes from my father, whose memorial service was in October. He said this countless times from his wheelchair in the nursing home where he died. “There’s a blessing in every moment and every moment is a blessing.”

As I mentioned in my last post, over the last few weeks I have been spending an inordinate amount of time arguing with folks in my head. Actually, I guess any amount of time doing this would be inordinate.

My best guess is that this is a symptom of our divided times. Apparently this stuff is starting to wear on me more than I thought. Most days I like to think my friends who see things differently than me and I are looking at the same rock but from different sides. Occasionally though, and there seem to be more and more of these occasions, it feels like some of us are looking at rocks that don’t exist at all, imaginary rocks that serve only to affirm our fears and biases.

Like I said in the post, it is my hope to somehow redeem this compulsion of inner arguing by using it as a trigger to call myself to prayer. Those people in my head aren’t actually present so speaking to God, who is, would be infinitely more beneficial. It is my hope that pursuing this new habit will improve my chances of passing any pop tests measuring my sanity but I think I may require a bit of heart work and refocusing as well in order to fully recover my balance.

My plan is to spend more time heeding the “higher angels” and not give so much air time to the lower ones like self interests, party, and camp. Higher angels remind us that the call is to love others as though they are a part of us and that is a call that makes winning arguments a poor goal.

The lower angels pull us toward separation and division. They allow labeling that leads to discounting and they herd us toward a loyalty to party and camp that make us defensive. Its a loyalty they don’t deserve. Respect and true listening are out the window when these lower angels are in the driver’s seat.

Full disclosure, I find this stance to be pretty doggone hard, especially when I am being lumped in with “you Democrats,” “you progressives,” and “you Trump haters” and truth is, I am likely to vote with Democrats, stand with progressives, and while I don’t hate him, I can not imagine the circumstances that would cause me to vote for the president. But, somehow I need to find a way to transcend these labels and stay in touch with my heart’s mission to find the best way to love neighbor as myself and remember that my vote is only one part, perhaps a small part, of the total life I desire to live. Labels make us little. Following our heart’s mission makes us human.

Since that previous paragraph has some of you muttering “stupid Democrat” and others screaming, “No! Don’t diminish the importance of this vote!” let me try to get in one sentence before you go. Obedience to the way of love is the call, not camp loyalty. Hopefully the only label we accept for ourselves or use when thinking of others is something along the lines of “Child of God.” (Okay, two sentences)

One of my favorite, and slightly mysterious, scenes in the Bible comes from the book of Joshua, chapter 5. Joshua has a vision in which he comes upon an angel of the Lord and it’s not one of those Valentine cherubs, it’s a bad ass angel. Joshua notices the angel’s sword and as you would expect asks, “Whose side are you on, ours or our adversary’s?”

Hear the angel’s answer, “Neither. I am commander of the army of Yahweh. Remove your sandals for you are on holy ground.” Can you see that even Moses’ successor was called to lift his vision beyond camp and sides? Later, Jesus must have somehow made this stance clear when he called tax collectors, who partnered with with Romans, and zealots, that occasionally assassinated Romans, to come and follow him in the way.

I guess it comes down to what it always seems to come down to. It’s not about me convincing you that I’m right. It’s not about our puny parties and camps. It’s about me following as closely as I can and hopefully that’ll bring a little more justice and mercy into my corner of the world.

Oh, and doing my best to make sure I’m not looking at imaginary rocks.

During the first week of every month I spend some time reading over the previous month’s journal entries.
Hear are some thoughts from September that jumped out at me.

– Read the story of the Prodigal Son this morning. I’ve often heard that when we read this passage it is helpful to ask ourselves which character we identify with. This morning I’m the father, waiting for me to come home.

– Why and how did the song, “Kum Ba Yah” become something silly and not worthwhile? Someone’s praying, someone’s crying, come by here; that’s silly?

-As the election draws near I find that I am spending an inordinate amount time arguing in my head with people who aren’t actually here. I am hoping that when I catch myself doing that in the future I will use it as a trigger to remind myself to pray to the one who is here.

– We went camping with my daughter and her two children. One morning my daughter looked at me and asked, “Why are you smiling?” I answered, “I have a better question, why wouldn’t I be?”

– From Mary Oliver’s, “Just Lying on the Grass at Blackwater,”
“My thoughts simplify, I have not done a thousand things
or a hundred things but, perhaps, a few.”
I add, perhaps a couple more.

During the first week of every month I spend some time reading over the previous month’s journal entries.
Hear are some thoughts from August that jumped out at me.

– I wouldn’t give even a tiny piece of the wisdom I’ve earned through the years via failure, pain, and loss to be able to do a forward roll without fearing I’d make Humpty’s fall look like a skinned knee.

– Blue days are inevitable but it’s amazing how a little time with your dog, a walk in the woods, and a friendly hello from one of your neighbors can lighten things.

– Sure it’s often said that just when you think things couldn’t get worse they do but it’s kinda cool how often I think things can’t get better but they do.

– If you are seeking signs that prove bears live in your woods look for marked trees, paw prints, and scat. Cigarette butts have nothing to do with bears. If you are seeking signs that affirm God’s presence in your life look for the signs that God actually leaves. Sometimes the things we look for have as much to to with God as cigarette butts do with bears.

– And in closing, a poetic lament I call, “Upon Reading Your Letter to the Editor.”

When we came to that fork in the road, I took it. I guess you took the other one.
We walked together for some time:
adventure, set-back, celebration, pain, occasionally lost, occasionally found.
Together we (we were we) wrestled Spirit while journeying through sacred texts.
I chose my fork because it called true, hopeful, loving.
I know you would not have chosen yours because you sought other.
But our paths angle far from one another and upon reading your letter to the editor I can now barely see you.