Category: Resurrection Life

Covid Journey: Christ With Me

The following blog post is part 3 of my journey with Covid this summer.

During the journey, I ended up in the emergency room with breathing difficulty and high blood pressure.  It was my 60th birthday – not exactly my idea of a party.  After a variety of tests and examination, the physician told me that one of the blood tests indicated that the pumping of my heart had been affected by the virus.  All I could think was Daddy’s cardiomyopathy started when he was in his early 60’s.  I knew his road for the next 20 years – one that involved multiple medicines and procedures.  When I moved the scales to our kitchen to monitor my fluid retention, I remembered Daddy doing the same thing.  My fears were quickly taking me down this road. 

Thankfully I was not admitted to the hospital.  “Take the fluid pills and rest.”  I began to feel better in a few days.  Yet, the fear of damage to my heart still nagged at me.  Was my heart pumping like it should?  Was this the beginning of long-term cardiomyopathy?  Was this something that would go away? 

From my journal – 8/12/20 – Yesterday I had the echo and an EKG.  Good results!  No issues with my heart – function has returned to normal!

Thank you, Lord.  It’s still going to take time to be 100% – yet it can happen slowly – I am so thankful for the community of faith.  So many people rejoiced with me. 

One of the holy moments yesterday was the medical assistant who checked me in.  She talked with me, asked all the questions necessary (including what I did for a living) and then she said she was going to do an EKG.

Then her voice became very quiet and she said, “and while I do this test, I want you to say Psalm 91 to yourself and then I want you to remember Isaiah 53 – ‘by His stripes you are healed.’ ”

She was looking at me directly, eye to eye.  She said “You are accustomed to give and give to others.  Now you need to receive.  Receive the healing – receive the blessing – Yes, you have symptoms and yes, God is with you.”

It was like God was speaking directly into my soul through her.  God – You were indeed doing this – speaking directly into my eyes.  From behind my mask, I told her if she could see my mouth, she’d know that I was smiling.  She said she could see it in my eyes.

Lord Jesus, thank you for this holy moment!  It was so reassuring.  So important in the moment!

It was not preachy words to me – She was with me – She was Christ with me!

The medical assistant had no knowledge of my nagging fears.  She didn’t know that I was imagining a path of long-term cardiac issues.  She didn’t know that I was fearful of having stamina to coach, lead a retreat, play with future grandchildren, plant flowers or just walk upstairs without shortness of breath.  She didn’t know how my fear was clouding my future. 

She simply responded to God’s movement within her and allowed herself to be an instrument of Christ.  She didn’t preach to me.  She didn’t “guilt me” that I shouldn’t be fearful.  She just reminded me that Christ was with me.  Indeed, she was Christ with me.

She will never know how Christ used her in that moment.

She responded to Christ’s leading.

May I do the same.

Covid Journey: The Prayers of the People

The following blog post is part 2 of my journey with Covid this summer.

Journal entry – July 30 – We are definitely better.  Praise God!  Noah and I are both feeling better.  I could smell my soap this morning!  I couldn’t taste my coffee but maybe tomorrow!

I’ve been thinking about all of the prayers of the people.  It’s another time in my life when I couldn’t pray and needed the prayers of the faith community. 

The prayers of the faith community have often been water to my thirsty soul.  Sometimes the prayers of others have been my link to God when I have been unable to pray.

When I was in Divinity School, Noah and I lost a child in miscarriage.  We were devastated.  I was angry with God.  I could not pray. I did not want to pray. 

During my recovery, my worship and liturgy professor called and offered me two thoughts that I have held close to my heart over the past 30 years. 

 “Trish, when you can’t pray, pray the Psalms.”

“Trish, when you can’t pray, this is the time you let the faith community pray for you.”

So many people were faithfully praying for Noah and me while we were sick.  Covid isolates people physically – as evidenced by the sign on our front door warning of entry into our home:  “Warning:  Do Not Enter.  We have Covid.”  The sign did not stop the community of faith from texts, emails, calls, cards and prayers.  People that we will never know were praying for us, not because of us, but because of YOU . . . the people of faith who believe in prayer.  People from all over the county, maybe the world, prayed for us. 

That’s what the faith community does.  They pray for one another and with one another.  I’ve experienced those prayers when I’ve been sick, tired, thankful, searching, angry, afraid . . . in all times. 

Thank you for believing that God hears the cry of our hearts.  Never underestimate the hope and love that others experience through your prayers – the prayers of the people of God.

Thanks be to God for you and your faithful prayers.

Covid Journey: Tears in Your Bottle

For many years, I have journaled my prayers, thoughts, questions and experiences.  I’ve never shared any of these writings.  Actually, I’ve joked with Noah that when I’m gone from this earth, he should promptly burn all of my journals.  Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe there’s reason to hold onto the journals.  Maybe they will give my grandchildren or great-grandchildren a glimpse of my spiritual struggles and joys.  Some entries are not “pretty”.  They clearly show my junk.  They also reveal my desire to follow Jesus and understand more fully who God is calling me to be.

As I’ve journeyed through Covid-19, I have continued to journal.  Some days I was too sick to write.  Some days I didn’t want to write.  Yet, through all of it, God journeyed with me.  

I should say that these are my thoughts and prayers – not Noah’s.  Yes, we were sick at the same time and sometimes we voiced to one another some of the same sentiments.  Yet, I don’t write for him.

The Psalms express the emotions of humanity.  We hear the cry of the heart in these sacred words – the pain of suffering and the joy of praise.  They give us “permission to express our own words of anguish, anger and praise.  With this permission in mind, I share portions of my journal as I journeyed through Covid:

July 10 – Holy Lord, thank you for this day. . . Noah just left to get tested for Covid . . . Lord Jesus, protect us – keep us dependent and reliant on You. 

July 11 – Holy Lord, thank you for this day . . . Noah and I are in quarantine for at least 14 days.  We are both sick – similar symptoms . . . Lord, may this time be a time to draw closer to you in all the ways I can.  Help us to be wise.  Lord Jesus, it’s going to be a lot of time in stillness – self-imposed – may I sense your presence and peace in the midst of quarantine.

July 13 – Lord, I’m just having trouble thinking clearly.  Help me hear You, O Lord.

July 15 – I’m just so tired, Lord!  My chest feels tighter today – my lungs are getting a workout with Covid.

Scripture for day – Psalm 56:8 – “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle.  Are they not in your record?”  (NRSV)

“You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights.  Each tear entered in your ledger.  Each ache written in your book.” (The Message)

O Lord, what a great Scripture for today.  This is a great reminder that you know how we feel.  Thank you, O Lord!

July 18 – Holy Lord, it’s been 3 days since I have written in my journal . . . Noah and I have been so sick with Covid.  We are still not on the other side of it but I pray we are moving towards it.  There have been a few times that I have just cried – that I thought I would not make it.  I’m probably being a little dramatic . . . I just feel so bad.  So does Noah.  Help us, Lord, to get energy.  How long, O Lord, how long will this last?  Help us, Lord, help us to recover.  Give us your healing power.  Thank you, Lord!

July 25 – Holy Lord, it’s been a week since I’ve written anything in my journal.  Every day Noah and I have had fever.  It’s been such a journey and we want to be on the other side of it.  . . . Lord, help us keep our eyes and heart on you and you alone.  Thank you, Lord!

July 29 –  Noah and I are moving forward in the Covid journey.  We pray the meds start to help with our breathing. . . I’m praying we will soon feel better.  Cognitively I pray for return of my concentration so that I can do all the things I’m called to do.  Thank you, Lord, that you have been with us through this entire ordeal.  Help us, Lord, to continue to trust you.

July 31 – This is the first day since July 10 that I’ve sat at my desk to write in my journal.  My handwriting is not good because I’m so shaky.  My breathing is still not good.  My concentration is not good.  Just help me take it one day at a time. 

Colossians 1:11-12 – We pray that you will have the strength to stick it out over the long haul – not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives.  It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy . . .  (Message)

Thank you, Lord, for these words!

August 2 – I sat down yesterday to write in my journal for my 60th birthday.  I was reading James 5:13-18 and my breathing was getting faster.   Noah checked my respiration rate and my blood pressure . . . I spent the afternoon in the ER.

I wasn’t scared in the ER – more wishing Noah was with me.  He had to just drop me out at the ER.  I kept hearing a phrase from my prayer time on Friday – “filled with all the fullness of God” – (Ephesians 3:19)

August 7 – Today marks 4 weeks since Noah and I were diagnosed with Covid. . . It feels so long ago – I think because we’ve been so sick.  Noah’s back to work.  I’m trying to get that way.

It’s been a journey.  Some days I sensed God’s presence so close that I felt as if I could touch Him.  Other days I wondered: “Where are you, God?  Please make this go away!  I’m so OVER this!” 

No matter the emotion, God knew my struggle and “caught my tears”.  Even if I felt alone, I was not alone.  My heart aches for the number of lives that have been lost to this horrible virus.  As I write this post, I am praying for my friend who is currently on a ventilator.

I don’t know why some people have few symptoms, some are very sick, and some lose their lives.  The only thing I know for sure is that God is with us – in the pain, in the sorrow, in the joy. 

Thanks be to God!

*************************

Note:  This post is the first of three related posts.  The other two posts are forthcoming.

Could Not He . . .?

“Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

This question leapt out to me in my time of reading this morning.  A question of why couldn’t Jesus heal Lazarus?  We just saw him heal the man born blind in John 9.  Why didn’t Jesus do a long-distance prayer to Bethany and heal Lazarus before he died?

But that’s not what happened.  Lazarus does die.  People don’t understand.

The question of “could not he who . . .” struck me this morning because my guess is some folks might be saying “could not God who resurrected Jesus from the grave stop this COVID-19 pandemic?”

The short answer is yes.  The longer answer . . . for me is much more complicated and yet very simple.

My thought (and this is my thought.  If you disagree with my thought, that’s your thought):

The longer answer for me:

God sometimes does that instantaneous healing miracle.  One word and the healing happens.   Evidence in scripture – evidence throughout history.

My experience is that God calls us to “participate in our healing”.  We take the medicine.  We practice good health habits.  We practice social-distancing or maybe a better word “physical-distancing”. *   We wash our hands.  We think of others when we are shopping for bread or sugar or gracious, toilet paper!

None of us have been through what we are going through right now.  I’ve said several times this week that I feel like I’m going to wake up and it’s going to have been a dream.

But we are awake.

We are living through a time like never before.  I would not be telling you the truth if I didn’t say it makes me uneasy – to say the least.  Every time I see the news or an alert comes across my phone or my watch, I feel that uneasiness.  Every time I watch the stock market descend or the emails come to say my favorite stores are closing temporarily, I feel that uneasiness.  Then I remember that there are people – my friends, my family, my favorite server – who are touched by the latest alert.

It became very real in one simple action this week when my husband shaved off his beard that had been there for a LONG time so that he would have a good seal on his mask when he worked at the drive-through respiratory clinic (for people with concerning symptoms).  That’s real, folks.

Yes, I believe that Jesus can and does heal AND I believe that He calls us to be part of the healing for ourselves and for others.

So, what do we do?

  • We remember what we already know. The God who journeyed with his people in the desert for 40 years is the same God who journeys with us now.
  • We hold on to the faith that sustains us in the midst of all of life.
  • We hold on to the love that says, “nothing will separate us from the love of Christ Jesus.”
  • We pray – for all, particularly for every medical profession you know and those you don’t know. They are doing the very best that they can in the midst of an ever-changing landscape of health information.
  • We hold on to each other. Be comfort to one another.  Be the person who calls someone else to say I’m praying for you.
  • And my clergy friends, know that you are not alone as you figure out what to do. Support one another and know that I am praying for you.
  • And congregations, pray for your pastor. She or he is taking care of you AND they have family and friends who need them.

So back to the initial question of “could not he who . . .?

If you read on in John 11, Jesus does heal Lazarus.  He is resurrected.

Jesus says, “take away the stone” and people move the stone

(even though Martha reminds Jesus how much this will smell).

Jesus asks the question, “did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

Jesus commands “Lazarus, come out!”

Jesus tells others “unbind him and let him go.”

This healing involved Jesus, Lazarus and the others.  Jesus commanded, Lazarus obeyed, and others participated.

May it be so for all of us.

 

*”Don’t call it ‘social distancing’  – opinion article by Menjivar, Foster and Brand.  CNN, 3/21/20.

 

 

Space for God: A Thought and a Request

Out of brokenness comes life.

Out of heartache come new possibilities.

Sometimes it happens quickly. Most of the time, it’s a journey.

This summer, I’ve been going through my sermons, my teaching plans, and devotions I’ve written in preparation for several retreats I’m leading this fall and spring. Even though I’ve written or spoken on a diverse group of topics and scriptures, there seem to be several consistent themes:

  • The extravagant love of God
  • Hope in the midst of loss
  • God always meeting our needs
  • The abundance of God (thus the name of this blog – “Something More”)
  • The need to make space for God

The last theme, space for God, shows up time and time again. I’ve taught classes at church, spoken to ministry workers at professional conferences, led weekend retreats, led day retreats, written devotions and sermons and the list goes on. It’s not that I’m an expert on the subject. Far from it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t really know anything about the subject the first time I sent a proposal to a national conference. I sent it out of my own desire to create some space for God in the midst of the brokenness of my life.

The theme began to show up in my work around 2005, just a few years after one of the hardest battles of my life – depression. It’s a long story that I probably will tell one day in more detail. For now, just know that I was broken – some days hopeless, some days anxious, and most days trying to smile on the outside but crying on the inside. I doubted my own faith: “Maybe I wasn’t spiritual enough. Maybe my faith wasn’t strong enough. Shouldn’t I be able to pray this away? Didn’t I believe that God could heal me?” Healing did not happen instantly. It took prayer, time, therapy, medicine and support from my husband and friends.

Yet, God did what God does – redemption. From this painful time, new possibilities came forth. From my own brokenness, came new life. And God continues to redeem my brokenness.

I’m still learning about what it means to create space for God. I learn from you, from my experiences, from my failures and from my wonderings.

So there’s the thought: from my own brokenness, God gave me experiences to share with others. He continues to redeem my brokenness for new possibilities.

Now my request: I’ve learned from years of preparation that I have better understanding of creating space for God when I listen to the stories of the people around me – those I know and those I don’t know. There are similarities in stories as well as new expressions and examples of meeting God. Would you be willing to share your experience and thought by completing a short survey? You can find it at the link:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/SpaceforGod-anonymous

It is completely anonymous (no names or identifying info – unless you write it). Someone asked me yesterday what I was doing with the research. Good question. I’m looking for themes, new possibilities and clearer understanding of God’s movement in the lives of those around me.

Maybe by completing the survey, you might hear God speak to you of His movement in your life. Maybe your experience of Christ is a story that needs to be told so that it might touch someone else’s life. Maybe today is the day to share it.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.

Step into the Water

It’s been almost a year since I left my local church appointment and moved into my extension ministry appointment. So much has changed and yet, so much has stayed the same.

On most workdays, I get up, shower, dress and yes, put on makeup.   I have coffee, a breakfast bar and then I’m in my “office” (the room beside the kitchen). I spend time in Bible study, prayer, journal writing, and preparing for the day. Around 9:00, sometimes a little earlier, sometimes a little later, my “work” begins. Phone calls, video calls (one of the reasons that I don’t stay in my pajamas all day as thought by some folks), emails, writing, reading and “pondering” fills my day. Before I know it, the day has flown by and it’s time to figure out the dinner menu (the Archer’s home menu or the restaurant’s).

This ministry work is different from serving the local church and yet, it’s the same.   It’s a little more 9-5. I sit at my desk a little longer each day. My schedule is a little more predictable.   The other staff person in my office is Hank – who just lays on the couch beside me most of the day and announces the UPS person, the exterminators, the yard crew, really anyone that walks on the street in front of the house. By now, every person on the other end of the phone or video screen knows my receptionist.

It’s also the same: email, phone calls, unexpected calls, paperwork, budgets, billing, reading, preparation, writing, and most of all, people. People seeking to answer God’s call, people burdened by family concerns, people trying to make ends meet, people celebrating joys in their congregations, people angered or confused by the Church and people empowered by the Church. These people just happen to be clergy.

When I began my work as a ministry coach, I thought I would be working with folks in the ordination process (and I do have a few folks). Programs changed and now most of the folks with whom I work are clergy (and a few laity) who have been serving the local church 5-25 years. They are people with fruitful ministry who desire to follow God’s call towards more fruitful ministry. They seek to be resilient and adaptable in this changing world. They seek to honor Christ in all that they do.

My call? My job? – walk alongside them, encourage, pray for, listen, ask questions, help them open up the possibilities, invite them to see where God is moving in their lives, ask them what they want more of in their lives and in their ministry and pray some more.

A pastor told me recently: “Trish, you have a way of mudding the water, stepping into it with me and helping me clear it before you step out.” Yep! That’s what I do.   I think that’s an affirmation – maybe sometimes not.

As I think about it, isn’t that what we as the Body of Christ are called to do for one another? Help clear the water. Walk alongside folks, encourage, pray, listen.

Some days I feel like someone felt a little less alone in ministry, someone was a little more encouraged after the call, someone saw a possibility that God was waiting to show him or her . . . some days not so much.

No matter who we are or what we do, everyone needs someone to step into the water with him or her. No matter who we are or what we do, all of us are called to step into the water.

 

“Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.”             – 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Changing the Filter

 

 

“Resentment is drinking poison and waiting for the other person to get sick.”

I don’t know who said this originally.  I just know it’s true.  Resentment eats you up on the inside.  It damages relationships.  It puts a filter over everything that you see.  It’s like the filters that you put on your pictures: mono, vivid, silver-tone, dramatic cool or noir.

A bad filter can make a picture worse.

A good filter can take a so-so picture and turn it into something far better than the original.  Take the picture from yesterday’s post.  Add a little “noir” filter with a little more brightness and voilà!  a better picture!

My problem?   I don’t always know how to change the filter.  Sometimes it’s rather easy. Forgive and move on.  Sometimes you can’t do it so fast.  It eats at you and starts to wear you down.  It can make us see every fault, every fallacy, and every action as a deliberate attempt to hurt us.  Resentment can ruin us.

Henri Nouwen wrote in his book on spiritual formation:   “When you cling to your complaints, your heart is full of resentment, and there is no room for God to enter and set you free.  Resentment curtails the movements of the Spirit and diminishes the kingdom within. It replaces faith, hope and charity with fear, doubt, and rivalry.” *

Maybe we change our filter by seeing with the eyes of Jesus.  Maybe it’s every time that I think of _____________ (fill in person, situation, action), I also see the face of Jesus.  Maybe our filter needs to be Jesus beside, behind, in front of ________________.

Maybe everything we see needs to be in the filter of “grace and forgiveness of God”.

It might be hard to change the filter all at once – forever.  Maybe it’s every day to change the filter just a little more in the light of the grace of God.

I may not be able to change _______________ (fill in the blank) but I can ask God to change me.

Change my filter, O God. Help me see with Your eyes of grace and forgiveness. Amen.

 _______________________

* Nouwen, Henri. Spiritual Formation: Following the Movements of the Spirit. Harper One, Henri Nouwen Legacy Trust with Michael J. Christensen and Rebecca J. Laird, 2010, p. 59.

The Day After

It’s the day after.

The day after the tags have been taken off the new clothes or the old spring clothes pulled from the back of the closet to be worn on Easter morning

The day after the baskets have been picked through and the egg hunts completed

The day after the hallelujahs have been sung

The day after the responsive greeting has been exchanged in worship:    “Christ the Lord is risen!  He is risen indeed!”

It’s the day after Easter.

Has anything changed? Has anything changed in the way we live?  The way we speak to one another?  The way we look at the world and the people around us?

Has the new life – resurrection life – of Easter touched us in a way that we are changed?

Has anything changed? YES – Everything!

We now live in the light of the Resurrection – on the other side of the empty tomb. We don’t take trips to the Holy Land to view the sealed tomb of our Savior. We walk into an empty tomb. No old bones to revere. No words craved on a tombstone. Only an empty chamber.

As the hymn declares, “every day to us is Easter with its resurrection song” *.   We now live as Easter people.

Frederick Buechner said it well: “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing.”

It’s the day after . . . and everything has changed.

Christ the Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!

__________________________

* “Easter People, Raise Your Voices” – Hymn #304, United Methodist Hymnal, Words by William M. James, 1979. Music by Henry T. Smart, 1867.

The Great ‘I Told You So’!

No one likes to hear “I told you so . . .”

Whether it’s the “suggested” route to some address that is either correct or incorrect or the outcome of the Super Bowl – no one likes to hear “I told you so!”

Unless . . . you’re talking about the Resurrection. Today is the day that we hear loud and clear from the empty tomb the proclamation of Christ: “I told you so!”

Good Friday is the day that the ‘sun refused to shine’, the day that the One to ‘save all history’ was killed, the day that the world as the disciples knew it fell apart.

Holy Saturday is the in-between day. It’s the day that the disciples wondered “what do we do now?”

and Resurrection Sunday is the day that sorrow is turned into joy, mourning is turned into dance. It’s a new day!

and I’m so thankful that I hear the words “I told you so!”

Christ the Lord is risen. He is risen indeed!

The In-Between Day

It’s the in-between day. The day between death and resurrection.

The disciples don’t know it’s the in-between day. They just think “it’s over – the One that we thought would save us is crucified.”

The disciples have placed Jesus, their Savior, in a tomb. Now they’ve gone home with heads hung low, tears in their eyes, shoulders drooped, leaning on others for support.

The women have seen the tomb – where Jesus was laid.  Friday has been the Day of Preparation so they have gone home to prepare – for the Sabbath and for a return visit to the tomb on the first day of the week. When the women return, they will anoint the dead body of Jesus.

Hope . . . gone.

The very people who condemned Jesus to death have a faint memory of the promise made by the “imposter”: ‘After three days I will rise again.’

“Secure the tomb, Pilate. The disciples might steal the dead body and say he’s resurrected. Then the last deception would be worse than the first.”

Soldiers seal the grave and stand guard.

The Sabbath comes. The disciples rest, believing that the world as they’ve known it for the past 3 years is over.

On this side of the resurrection, we know that Holy Saturday is the in-between day – the day between death and new life. We know it’s NOT over.

We live so many of our days as in-between days. We believe in the resurrection. We know that Jesus is alive but it just feels like the in-between goes on forever.   The unexpected has happened, devastating our world. The diagnosis comes out of nowhere, the job is gone, security is rocked . . . everything changes. Sometimes it’s the big stone that seals the tomb of our pain and loss. Sometimes it’s just the little rocks of disappointment and heartache that cover our path.

We just need to hold on. It’s an in-between day. The rock will be rolled away. There is the faint whisper of the promise made by our Savior . . . “I will rise again . . .”

Hope is not gone.