Swinging on Rainbows

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The Twelfth Day of Advent

December 13, 2019

WOULDN’T IT BE GRAND TO BE AN ANGEL?

Wouldn’t it be grand to be an angel
and have as your address
“The Realms of the Glory of God”?

And swing on rainbows
and gather stars in your pockets,
winging in and out of earth
in a flurry of moondust
with the messages of God?

Comforting the distressed, warning the righteous
delivering the just, guarding little children?

Of course, we can comfort and warn
and deliver and guard.
Maybe, if we get that right,
we can swing on rainbows later.

— Ann Weems

I have to say that this morning I really feel as if I could swing on rainbows. I was released by Mayo Clinic today after my kidney transplant on November 12th, and I am happy to be going home to Macon. I have missed my friends, my Sunday School class, my family and my church family. And my kitty, of course, who probably wonders where we’ve been for a whole month!

Ann Weems’ poem today speaks of angels swinging on rainbows, gathering stars in their pockets, winging in and out of earth in a flurry of moon dust sharing God’s message. And then there is the work of comforting the distressed, warning the righteous, delivering the just and guarding little children. The poet’s overarching question is this: “Wouldn’t it be grand to be an angel and have as your address ‘The Realms of the Glory of God’”?

Wouldn’t it? The grace-filled truth is that God has gifted each of us with ministries of comforting the distressed, bringing sight to the blind, offering hope to those who have lost hope, guarding little children and hundreds of other works of compassion. We are the hands and feet of God — of Christ — in our world. I am always moved by this quote by Joseph B. Clower from his book, The Church in the Thought of Jesus. This is my imperfect recollection of his words:

If the Living Christ is not confined, then our hearts are moved with his compassion, our hands are coarsened with his labor, our feet are wearied with his walking among humanity.

In some way of holy mystery, when our hands reach out in compassion, we become the incarnation of Christ in the world. Advent is about incarnation, God incarnate in Jesus. In turn, Jesus left us as his embodiment — chosen, ordained, empowered to do the works that he did when he walked among us.

. . . The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. (Matthew 14:12 NRSV)

61A24E10-42F0-4043-829B-69B005A420E8And so Advent’s message urges us to do the work of angels and, yes, the works that Jesus did in his years on earth. What a divine and holy calling this is — sharing compassion, giving hope, comforting, caring, giving, working for justice, offering mercy. On top of that, Advent hints that we might also gather a few stars in our pockets, winging in and out of earth in a flurry of moon dust.

Swinging on rainbows is a possibility, too.

That just might be a glorious way
to journey through Advent 2019!

Baffled

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Art by David Hoffrichter Illustrations

At times, I am baffled by retirement and aging. It’s one of those “wonder-what-to-do-with-myself” times that is a part of life. Like so many people, I allowed my work to define me. On the other side of a life of ministry, there is a great deal of grief and loss, and mostly bewilderment. I constantly ask myself the question I should have answered decades ago: “Who am I?”

It is definitely true of me that I no longer know what to do. Oh, I keep myself busy enough with trivial pursuits. I cook. I write. I paint. I garden. I do crafty things. But none of those pursuits are engaging enough to help me redefine myself as a person who has passed her years of full time work and ministry.

Certainly, many people say that once you are a minister you never lose your ordination, your gifts, your calling and your mission. But I wonder what that really means. There is no preaching or worship planning going on in my world these days, no hospital ministry, no funerals and no weddings to officiate. If my mission and calling is for life, what does that mean in terms of day to day living?

I have to admit that, though I am busy doing “stuff,” I no longer know what to do with myself. Fortunately, I recently found a smidgen of comfort in these words written by Wendell Berry.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

— ‘The Real Work’ by Wendell Berry, from Collected Poems, 1987.

So when all is said and done, perhaps it’s okay to be baffled. Maybe I can become that “impeded stream” and make a bit of music, filling these baffling days with singing. Just maybe, the writer of Ephesians had some very good advice for a person in my state of baffle-ment.

. . . be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

— Ephesians 5:18-20 New International Version (NIV)