Ready

At 96 years old, Ong Noi has developed a new night-time routine. In the middle of the night, he would get out of bed and roll both legs of his pajama pants up to his knees like he was about to go catch blue crabs in the rice paddies. For light, he would always unplug his desk lamp, tucking it under his arm like the lantern he used to carry on those nights back in the '50s. To prevent him from wandering into the streets of Portland's suburbs in the middle of the night, his daughter has begun dead-bolting doors and securing windows. Sometimes, she wakes up to see him standing ready in front of the locked doors with light in hand, lost deep in the roadways of his memory.

Thank God for my Grandfather. 

Every journey begins with a single step

Colors of autumn discovered at every turn

Ever since I moved to Saint Louis from Berkeley, I've been guilty of reliving the glory days of living in northern Cali. I am unable to resist speaking nostalgically about how great life was back in the Bay Area: the weather is temperate and the landscape is gorgeous; geographical diversity is unsurpassed (imagine being surrounded by ocean, desert, mountains, valleys -- all within a few hours); my loving, caring, attentive church family enveloped me and strengthened me spiritually; my work friends challenged me and supported me intellectually; my social circles gave me relief and joy and laughter and fabulous dinners; the great BART system allowed me to walk and ride everywhere without creating giant carbon footprints; the flagship Peet's Coffee and Tea shop fueled me with high octane coffee; Berkeley Bowl; Cheeseboard pizza; Napa Valley; Sausalito; Masse's bakery... Oh, oh, oh, should I go on...?

Life here in the midwest is nothing like life in California, and sometimes I feel sad that I will take far too long to discover the charm of living in Missouri. Can I see the autumnal beauty of the four seasons? Yes, but can I appreciate these wonders without comparing them to how great it was not having to deal with snow and heat and humidity while living in Berkeley? Are there lovely, kind people here in Webster Groves as in Berkeley? Yes, but I don't know anybody yet! As I'm driving to church, I think about the church family worshiping in Chinatown. As I'm driving to work on campus, I wonder about the students heading to class in another academic institution -- a seminary by the Bay. As I drive to Global Foods, I remember (with great envy) the shops along Shattuck Avenue and Gourmet Ghetto. I wish I could transplant all that here to Saint Louis. But I cannot, and they are long gone...Oh, the days long gone... Oh, the wonders that have ceased to be...

In today's reading from Haggai, we hear the questioning that comes after the time of great turmoil, after everything seems lost and forgotten, when the vague memories of "what had been" has been fictionalized beyond recognition... The prophet Haggai is instructed to ask the people "Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?" (2:3).

Even now, while surrounded by yellow, red, and orange trees of beautiful Saint Louis, a small part of me feels like these rich colors of autumn (something I did not often see in NoCal with so much splendor) are nothing, and I still pine for the days of the not-so-distant Berkeleyan past.

But continue on with the Haggai reading, and I hear the reassurance: "[T]ake courage, all you people of the land, says the LORD; work, for I am with you, says the LORD of hosts [...] My spirit abides among you; do not fear" (2:5).

This morning's sermon by our preacher reminded me that it is not the physical building that determines where God is to be found; God is located wherever we do the work of Christ and whenever we share God's love.
Would God be restricted, defined, summoned by a building? Pish posh... You can bulldoze it to the ground  (or, you can stupidly fight and fight against the construction of a house of worship or a community building two blocks away from Ground Zero), but if we continue with God's work, then God will breathe life back into even the driest bones, the emptiest of buildings.

Wherever we are -- whether it be Berkeley or Saint Louis -- the Spirit of God abides among us. We must take courage and explore the new. We must be open to inspiration and rejuvenation. We must be receptive to community and creativity. And we know far too well, don't we, that creativity means there will be upheaval, re-envisioning, change. There must be a shaking of the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land (2:6) before "the treasure of all nations" shall come...

Come, Spirit come! Come, Spirit come! Open our eyes; open our hearts... Come, Spirit come!