Pirouettes and Wonder

Last night I took my daughter to see 'The Nutcracker' in Bunbury. It was her first ballet experience after starting ballet herself this year. We had the hour long drive to chat on the way. The excitement in the car was almost tangible. McDonalds was her choice for dinner, but we had to go through the drive thru as we were apparently seriously overdressed to go inside. After picking up the tickets and buying the program we sat in the foyer thumbing through pictures that increased the anticipation more so. The announcement that the doors were opening found us at the front of the line ready to find our seats. 

We were in the third row back and the man sitting next to us joked that we could have ballerinas falling on us if they were not careful. Eventually the lights dimmed and the overture began. It was way too long for my girl. 'When will the curtain go up, Mum?' Soon enough the magic began. I would have paid the money for my ticket just to watch my daughter's face as the dancers came to life; close enough to see the detail of their beautiful costumes and the glow on their skin as they floated across the stage.

The real show, however, was happening on my daughter's face. Wonder and awe were written all over her. Pristine pirouettes, graceful arabesques and stunning pas de deux treated us all evening. I wondered if anyone could ever become bored of such beauty. Was it possible to lose the sense of wonder and awe at the amazing skill and grace of these dancers? My daughter certainly had not lost it and I hope she never will. 

How easy it is for us to become complacent and comfortable with such beauty surrounding us. We take it for granted and lose our sense of wonder. Maybe the answer is to spend a little time introducing the children in our lives to these things of beauty. Watch their faces. Delight in their smiles. Rediscover our own sense of wonder at the beauty in our lives. 

Fed up with fear

Yesterday, during our Bible study in Augusta, I came across one of those passages that you just don't hear in church. We are working our way through the latter part of Isaiah. There are some beautiful, very famous passages and some absolute shockers. Isaiah 57 was about the people worshipping other gods and doing some pretty awful things to get their favour. Verse 11, after hearing about all their terrible ways, has God asking them, "Whom have you so dreaded and feared that you have not been true to me and have neither remembered me nor taken this to heart?"

God knows what motivates us more than anything - fear. It is not that these people have just decided to be rebellious. They are afraid not to follow this path. Christianity is a faith tradition that is motivated by love, but how often has it used fear to motivate people. Many churches have used lines like, "Repent now, or you will go to hell." What better way to fill our church pews with people?

But I see myself getting caught up in similar games also. Fear of not having a job, the church not having enough funds, having a small church that doesn't look successful - all of these fears can become my motivation if I am not careful. I must not let my own personal fears creep up on me like shadows. One of the biggest challenges in ministry is to remain grounded in love. It sounds simple, but it is a challenge that requires taking time to bathe in the presence of God - who is love.

And so, I could hear God's question of the people in Isaiah as a question asked of me afresh each morning, "Whom have you so feared and dreaded that you have not been true to me?" Today I choose to name my fears and not let them become my motivation.

Rachel - Midwife of Change

The theme for the recent Common Dreams Conference was "Midwives of Change". Since returning from the conference a couple of week's ago I have been reflecting on what this theme might mean in my own life. There have also been some moments in my ministry where I have felt like I am playing the role of midwife in people's spiritual journeys. An amazing privilege! Out of these reflections I have written a poem that encompasses some of the feelings and realities of being a "spiritual midwife" at the births in the lives of others. For whom are you a midwife?

Rachel

Rachel, come quickly,
the moment is nigh.
The moaning and writhing begun.
Gather your healing herbs,
sing soothing songs.
Come quick in the dead of the night.

Rachel, speak sweetly,
while watching the pain.
Stand by and let nature give birth.
Offer your wisdom,
keep light for the lamps.
Speak sweet in the soul's darkest night.

Rachel, hold closely,
the woman bears down.
New life is rearing it's head.
Mop her wet brow,
take the heat of her fear.
Hold close to your heart through the night.

Rachel, leave swiftly,
the babe's wailing now.
Mysteries of child birth realised.
Mother and child
did not notice you leave.
Leave swift, the dawn breaks out of night.

One with the Wind

Yesterday, I became one with the wind. At least, that is what my certificate of flight says.

"Let it be known from this day forth that Cathie Lambert by means of hot air balloon ascended into the sky above the Avon River Valley in the fair state of Western Australia and became one with the wind. The Aerostat that graciously freed our earthly bonds was so named Rainbow Drifter IV."

I can too easily become critical of some people who tend to drfit through life, those people who seem to go with the flow with little planning or sense of responsibility. On the other hand, as a Christian, I have been known to talk about going where the Spirit leads - a Spirit that we often speak of as wind or ruach. There is an unpredictable nature to this way of living that makes us vulnerable.

Our balloon pilot explained to our team that he had no control over direction, only altitude and speed. He would alter our altitude to make the most of the changing winds at different levels. At one point, when we were very close to the earth, we were travelling at walking pace. Half an hour later, when the people below had become like ants, we travelled at a much faster pace. Despite the unpredictable nature of flying a balloon, our pilot was able to land directly on to the trailer that would tow it away. Amazing!!

Considering the numerous possibilities for something to go wrong, floating above the earth in a hot air balloon has an amazing sense of peace. It was an experience like no other. I had absolutely no control over my destiny or the path of my journey, but felt completely calm. Somehow each moment became sacred and still in time.

What a blessing it would be in my life to live at one with the wind. Not blown here and there with no care for the destination, but working with the wind as I adjust my altitude to make the most of the journey. There are times to travel slowly with my feet close to the earth and moments to pick up the pace with the higher winds. Uncertainty would be a reality, but peace would prevail. Every moment sacred, but surrounded in calm as I become one with the movement of the wind.

What's the point?

This is a question that often arises when hope seems thin. When energy runs low and we wonder about how wisely we are spending each hour we search for results and indicators of success. This is no different in ministry. At times there are so many demands on our time that some activities do not seem like good stewardship. It is at times like these that I need to remember that we do not always see the fruits of our labour.

Today, I had a beautiful conversation with a man at Tea Chat in Augusta. Carers and the elderly from around town come to have morning tea in our church every Thursday. I spend my morning making cups of tea and coffee and sitting chatting to people. Most of the time the conversations are around the weather, families or something that has happened in town. Occasionally, the words cut straight through the layers to some deeper level. This happened today.




I sat down next to this gentleman and straight away he told me there was something he wanted to tell me. "I feel very comfortable in this building", he said. "I feel comfortable talking to you even though you are a minister." He proceeded to explain how his ability to feel calm and peaceful in a church setting again had seen him attend the Catholic church last Sunday after 30 years away.

I asked him how he found it. It was like coming home. It felt good. At this point, I could have turned bitter that he had not chosen to come to our church. Instead my heart felt warmed. I had never dreamt that providing tea and scones would lead to someone returning to their faith tradition after so many years. It was never about gaining people for our church, but about relationship that leads to wholeness.

What's the point? Maybe we will never know. We can only plant seeds in faith.

How do we speak of God?

One of the topics that has arisen at times during the Common Dreams conference is how we speak of God. The opinions amongst the delegates were extremely diverse. Some have gone to the extreme of describing God as a human-made construct, while others want to hold on to a God that is real, perhaps even tangible. This, of course, has implications for many aspects in our faith life. One of these is prayer. 

One of the lectures we had was on the topic of "Praying when God is not a person: Non-theistic prayer". Although it was an interesting presentation, I was left wondering what the purpose of prayer might be and who or what God was in order that we would even choose to pray. Today, I got some clues.

Margaret Mayman, from New Zealand (but soon to move to Sydney), spoke about critical realism when speaking of God. She shared an excerpt talking of God that included the following. "Not as real as daisies, but as real as 'I love you'" God is certainly real, but cannot be expressed or even given evidence for. There is something about this way of trying to understand God that is more... More than I  can get a grip upon. 

Bruce Sanguin also offered a very helpful reflection. He expressed that "God is not a person, but is deeply personal". He concludes that God cannot be less than personhood, but is also more. Sanguin told us about Ken Wilber's "1,2,3 of God". God is described in three persons; the one speaking (first person "I am"), the one spoken to (second person "beloved other") and the one spoken about (third person "source of life, energy, light etc."). What a fascinating way to reinterpret the Trinity. 

Sanguin expressed his concern that the progressive movement has tended to forget about the second person of God, the beloved other. This is the God to whom we devote our attention. To reclaim and remember the beloved is to find a place for prayer and contemplation. This image of God does not have to be like a person, but is deeply personal. This person of God is the object of our love, attention and devotion. This is the God that is more than words can express, but closer than our heartbeat.

Apocaholics and Seeing Beauty

One of the speakers that I have enjoyed learning from here at the Common Dreams Conference is Bruce Sanguin. Before arriving, I had heard of Sanguin but never read any of his material. During tonight's public lecture he encouraged us with some recommendations for moving into the future. He listed and explained ten different points, but a few of them,for me, were centred around a similar theme.

I learnt a new term during the explanation- apocaholic. This describes a person who is obsessed with what is wrong in the world. They see no goodness or beauty around them, only doom and gloom. They see oppression, injustice, pain and suffering almost exclusively. Sanguin encouraged us to open our eyes to the goodness, the beauty and the love that surrounds us. We need to be aware and ready to see. We need to offer hope and tell the stories of beauty from our own life experience.

I found it very easy to see the beauty in life today. I was fortunate to be able to catch up with an "old" friend from my days in Tonga. We shared lunch together and I got to meet her husband and their six day old baby. Memories of a beautiful country and a people, familiar smiles and the hope and potential bundled into a new born all lifted my heart and warmed my spirit. For a few hours, any despair I may have felt about the situation in Syria, the plight of asylum seekers, the decline of the church or anything else were put aside as I bathed in the goodness of being in the present moment. 

And tonight, on returning to our apartment we watched the last quarter of the AFL preliminary final. This may not seem such a big deal, but I am not a footy person usually. For those of you unaware, the Fremantle Dockers were playing Sydney Swans for a place in the grand final next week. Fremantle won convincingly! But what came next filled me with hope as I watched the beauty and goodness unfold. The crowd erupted, united in support of their team who were to play in their first ever grand final. The players graciously congratulated each other on a good game. And the winning team payed tribute to an opposing player who was retiring from the game. Goodness, beauty and love abounds!

So lets keep our eyes open to the beauty around us lest we become an apocaholic.