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!

Peach Pickin' @ Eckert's Orchards

From the first day I started this new job (actually, since I first interviewed for the job), at least 15 people have asked me why I was willing to leave beautiful Berkeley, CA, to move to Saint Louis. "It's so humid, and so bland," they said. Well, one reason is because I now live near a sibling who is willing to venture into a peach orchard to pick peaches under the killer midwest sun.

If you are in the area and would be interested in picking fresh fruits, visit Eckert's Orchards and you will immerse yourself in wholesome, fresh-fruity goodness. For September, it's not peaches, but Pick-Your-Own Apples!

Hide and Seek: Being Found is the Best Part!

Hide 'n Seek Print

When I was young, although I played it quite often with my young church friends, I did not enjoy the game of Hide and Seek. The trouble of searching for well-hidden friends was always too tiresome, and the risk of not being found always made me a bit scared of hiding too carefully. Even scarier was the possibility that my young friends with their short attention spans, having found some other game even more interesting than this one, would turn their attention away from seeking me out from my secure hiding spot, and I would stay so well-hidden that I would be completely forgotten -- left alone to my own devices.

Although the point was not to be "found out" too early in this children's game (it was for some a test of how deceptively they could hide and for how long), for me, the point of the game was in the discovery -- of me! I enjoyed being sought out, and in fact, I was many times relieved to be the first or second person discovered by the seeker. I didn't care too much about hiding, and was often intentionally careless in selecting a hideout.


In this Sunday's gospel reading (Luke 15:1-10), Jesus tells two stories of Lost and Found. I think the poignancy of the story is in the endings of the stories -- the rejoicing that occurs when the lost items are found. It is a collective joy, one in which the whole community participates. I like that emphasis much more than the one that I hear in sermons that I've heard in the past, in which the emphasis is typically placed on the fact that the Seeker (whether it be the shepherd or the woman with coins) never gives up. As listeners of the story, we are reassured that the seeker will always go searching for the lost, no matter how small, no matter how insignificant it may appear in the eyes of others. As the audience of this very familiar story, we are often lulled by the reassurance that Jesus is our Seeker, the shepherd, and no matter how much we stray, we'll be found.

At dinner earlier this evening with some colleagues, we talked about the communal and catholicity of God's universal church -- in essence, we can't be Christians alone. Believing this, I'd like to shift our focus to the seeker not as one individual -- one shepherd or one woman -- but as a community of faithful disciples. Remember the stories? The shepherd "calls together his friends and neighbors" (v.6) to celebrate with him; the woman who lost the coin calls her own friends and neighbors together, inviting them to rejoice with her - not by herself. 

Following their examples, how can we who are the body of Christ be a church that works together to seek out and celebrate the discovery of the lost? And, imagine how much more fun the game would be if we had an entire community of people looking for us, letting us know that we are special, wanted, sought after, desired. The rejoicing would never end. It would be like an infinite Jubilee!

"African women find God at prayer tree"

African women find God at prayer tree - UMC.org

An Excerpt:

Edith Bwawa, 49, and Rachel Mukoyi, 48, do not break stride as they veer to the left, along a smaller path barely visible under the tall grass on both sides. Reaching the side of a large hill, they wind their way up large rocks and slippery stretches of loose stones and dirt, holding on to bushes and boulders for support.

Nearing a clearing, they begin to sing, “Mwari mubastiri wangu,” or “God is our helper.”

At the top of this steep part of the hill is a small tree surrounded on three sides by walls loosely constructed from piles of stones. Bwawa and Mukoyi take off their shoes before approaching the open side. There, in bare feet, they kneel on rocks that litter the ground and pray.

Like generations of Zimbabwean women before them, they have made the pilgrimage to this natural shrine on the hillside to encounter God. Here, in the place called Chin’ando, they know they will not be disappointed.