Spokane Friends Meeting

Good morning friends, I am excited to be back in the meetinghouse for the first time in many months for me. Hello and greetings to everyone who is in person here today, and thank you for what you all do to make this meeting possible.

I also want to say hello to our virtual friends, I am normally among you and I am stealing that idea of virtual friends, which one of my MBA professors used to describe students who were taking the class online and I loved that title of virtual friends. So greetings to our virtual friends as well.

On behalf of my family, which now includes our daughter Mila Rose, thank you for your prayerful support during our time as new parents. Some of you know that Krista and I have been on the adoption journey for several years. You have journeyed with us as we became foster parents, cared for the twins, Kylie, and then waited for 18 months to finally have Mila come into our world. It has been hard, stressful, full of heartaches and joys but so worth it. Mila has successfully had her cleft lip repaired which you can see on the screen, and she’ll have her cleft palate repaired when she is about 1 year old. 2020 has been full of hard stuff, but Mila has been a constant source of light for us.

I want to re-read the scripture that is central to my sermon today. Ephesians 4:32. “Be Kind and Compassionate to one another, forgiving each other just as in Christ God forgave you.”

I’ll be honest I didn’t know the actual definition of compassion until I looked it up in preparation for this sermon. It means “a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.” I want us to hold that definition in our minds as we talk about this today. I am going to challenge each of us to treat the people in our lives who frustrate us most with compassion. To understand that each of us suffers in our own way, and I think that Christ is calling us to exercise compassion with those around us.

Yesterday was a historic day in many ways; it looks like we will have a presidential transition. We will likely soon have our first female vice president, our first female African-American Vice President and our first female Asian-American Vice President. As the father of a Latina daughter, I am hopeful that these next four years will provide her with a sense of opportunity, that she can rise to any office or position that she feels called to fill.

However, what this election season truly revealed is that we are a deeply divided nation, even more so than anyone expected. For many people this weekend was not one that they celebrate but rather one causing stress and trepidation about what the future may hold for them. Whether we can imagine that for ourselves, that is what some people are experiencing.

I’ll admit that it is difficult for me to exercise compassion on a consistent basis. I certainly did not at this time four years ago and if the election had not gone how I hoped it would, I think I would have struggled to exercise compassion now. In fact as I have reflected on this election season, it has revealed a distinct lack of compassion within myself.

Krista helped me come up with a query that is appropriate for this time:  “What have I learned about myself during this election season? How have I exercised compassion to those with whom I disagree? Am I more pleasant to be around because my candidate was the victor? Why?”

As I reflected on who is the ultimate example of compassion, I wanted to highlight someone who offered compassion to someone who had personally harmed them in profound ways, and who still offered that compassion to them. The story of Corrie Ten Boom is one of the most powerful living examples of this type of forgiveness and compassion.

Corrie Ten Boom was a Dutch woman whose family risked everything to assist Jewish refugees escaping from the onslaught of racism coming from Nazi Germany. She was trained as a watch maker, her family ran a legitimate watch making and repair business, and their home served as a safe house for Jewish families seeking safety and asylum. In Corrie’s bedroom there was a secret room built behind a false wall, essentially the size of a large wardrobe, in which six people could stand huddled and hide during Gestapo searches of the home. It was called the hiding place and eventually became the title of her memoir. If you haven’t read it you absolutely must, her’s is an incredible story. In February of 1944 Corrie and her family were betrayed by a fellow Dutch citizen who informed on them to the Gestapo. Corrie and her sister were sent to Ravensbruck concentration camp; her sister perished but Corrie survived.

In 1947 Corrie found herself preaching at a church in Munich, Germany, and at the close of the service, a balding man in a gray overcoat stepped forward to greet her. Corrie froze. She knew this man well; he’d been one of the most vicious guards at Ravensbrück, one who had mocked the women prisoners as they showered. She wrote:

Was there anything super human about Corrie? No, and while I can’t speak for any of the rest of us, I personally have never experienced any wrong at any level of magnitude compared to what Corrie suffered. Yet despite this she chose to act with compassion and treat this man well. I am challenged by this story.

Which leads me to how this applies to us:  We would be well served to follow Corrie’s example, especially in this post-election season — regardless of political party, affiliation etc. We can always make a different choice.

To wrap up, I would like to share some ideas on how to handle hard conversations. This comes from Valencia College:

1.Create a hospitable and accountable community. We all arrive in isolation and need the generosity of friendly welcomes.

2. Listen deeply. Listen intently to what is said; listen to the feelings beneath the words. Strive to achieve a balance between listening and reflecting, speaking and acting.

3. Create an advice-free zone. Replace advice with curiosity as we work together for peace and justice. Each of us is here to discover our own truths. We are not here to set someone else straight, to “fix” what we perceive as broken in another member of the group.

4. Practice asking honest and open questions. A great question is ambiguous, personal and provokes anxiety.

5. Give space for unpopular answers. Answer questions honestly even if the answer seems unpopular. Be present to listen, not debate, correct or interpret.

6. Respect silence. Silence is a rare gift in our busy world. After someone has spoken, take time to reflect without immediately filling the space with words. This applies to the speaker, as well – be comfortable leaving your words to resound in the silence, without refining or elaborating on what you have said.

7. Suspend judgment. Set aside your judgments. By creating a space between judgments and reactions, we can listen to the other, and to ourselves, more fully.

8. Identify assumptions. Our assumptions are usually invisible to us, yet they undergird our worldview. By identifying our assumptions, we can then set them aside and open our viewpoints to greater possibilities.

9. Speak your truth. You are invited to say what is in your heart, trusting that your voice will be heard and your contribution respected. Own your truth by remembering to speak only for yourself. Using the first person “I” rather than “you” or “everyone” clearly communicates the personal nature of your expression.

10. When things get difficult, turn to wonder. If you find yourself disagreeing with another, becoming judgmental, or shutting down in defense, try turning to wonder: “I wonder what brought her to this place?” “I wonder what my reaction teaches me?” “I wonder what he’s feeling right now?”

11. Practice slowing down. Simply the speed of modern life can cause violent damage to the soul. By intentionally practicing slowing down, we strengthen our ability to extend nonviolence to others—and to ourselves.

12. All voices have value. Hold these moments when a person speaks as precious, because these are the moments when a person is willing to stand for something, trust the group and offer something they see as valuable.

13. Maintain confidentiality. Create a safe space by respecting the confidential nature and content of discussions held in the group. Allow what is said in the group to remain there. Do not post about face-to-face conversations online.

My simple exhortation to us this morning is to be compassionate to one another, and especially to those who test the limits of our compassion. This election season will reveal who we really are, and as friends of Jesus let’s reflect his example.

This message from Jon Maroni was begun on Nov. 8 during Sunday worship at Spokane Friends, but was interruped by a wide-spread service outage by Comcast. So Jon was asked to repeat his message on Nov. 15, so that Zoom attenders could hear it in its entirety.

There have been a few times in my life within the last two decades that I have pursued a study on the topic of hope. The first study came out of a time of conflict. I was deeply troubled and reading scripture for guidance and comfort. I stumbled on Romans 5 where I read that we can glory or rejoice in tribulation or sufferings because they produce patience or perseverance which in turn produces proven character and character produces hope.  And the hope produced is the kind that does not disappoint because God’s love gets poured into our hearts in the process. Getting from trouble and trials to hope. That is a message we need today.

We come to worship on this Sunday before our national election in the context of hope and fear. Our current political and cultural environment is and has been more contentious than any in most of our memories. This presidential election cycle seems to have brought about attitudes and behaviors that serve to deepen the divide among us on many issues. Whatever the outcome of the election there will be rejoicing for some and lamenting for others. Oh, yes, there is the Coronavirus pandemic too. Fear abounds. It’s hard to find hope today.

I have been considering how we can nurture a hope that does not disappoint in times like these. I’m not alone. I’ve read a book, listened to sermons and read many articles blogs from widely differing perspectives on the topic of nurturing hope. Some have had helpful suggestions. Most work with a definition of hope that is less than satisfying to me.

Here are several definitions of hope I’ve found:

From the great scholar Google: A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

Most of us hope that the election will have a certain outcome. For slightly less than half of us, our hope WILL disappoint us. So, that definition is not about a sustaining hope.

From the Center for Loss and Life Transition: Hope is an expectation of a good that is yet to be…It is forward looking yet experienced in the now.

Miriam Webster states: before the 12 century the meaning of hope was trust or reliance.

Dictionary.com offers: A person or thing on which one may base some hope, a source of hope.

This would be the meaning in the cry, “Help us, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re our only hope!” This comes closer to the archaic and biblical understanding of hope as a trust or reliance.

In Psalm 42 and 43 the Psalmist is giving himself a good talking to and says, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” Hope that does not disappoint is hope IN something or someone reliable, not hope FOR a particular outcome. I hear this thought in Romans 15:13 where Paul prays, ^“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Here are some of the Old Testament verses that talk about this kind of sustaining hope.

Psalm 33:20 We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.

Psalm 33:22 May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you.

Psalm 62:5 Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from God.

Micah 7:7 But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.

I hope IN God. I trust that God is, that God sees and knows all of us, and that God is with us. In troubled times I rely on that foundation to guide me through tricky decisions. That foundation leads me to rest, trust, or have faith IN God. And God is love.

SO, here, today, in the middle of our muddled and troubled times, how do we nurture a sustaining hope in God?

I John 4 tells us. “God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

One of the practices that nurtures hope in me stems from this juxtaposition of love and fear. Love casts out fear. Fear stops the flow of love. When I find myself reacting to ideas, words, or events in this perplexing environment, I ask, “Does this thought, line of reason, discussion, or action come from or lead to love or fear? Particularly in addressing my own reactions, the simple question, “Does this reaction come from love or fear?” has been helpful. At first, I thought the question too simplistic. My reactions come from many places. But in sitting with the question I have found that underneath other emotions such as anger, frustration, confusion, and hurt often lies fear. It has also helped to ask this question when I encounter opinions or perspectives that seem hurtful or antagonistic to me. Is this line of thought motivated by love or fear? Is this person doing their best to address what they understand from love or fear? Either answer evokes compassion in me.

A similar practice comes from the Ignatian spiritual principles of consolation and desolation. A state of consolation moves us toward God and community with other people. It moves us toward faith, hope, and love. It brings life and creative energy. A state of desolation moves us inward and away from God and others. It saps our joy and energy and evokes negative emotions such as fear, resentment, or anger. In my reductionist vernacular I ask myself, “Is this life giving or life sucking?” People, thoughts, activities, etc. may be classified this way. If something is life sucking, stop it! What brings you life and joy? What brings you closer to God and others? Do that!

1 Corinthians 10 contains instructions that seem particularly helpful for our times. I read, “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Taking our thoughts captive is a way of nurturing hope.

One way of taking our thoughts captive is to look for the good and beautiful in the present moment. This is a tool for practicing mindfulness, being present to what is right before us in each moment. Though not as fun as looking for the good and beautiful, looking for what is true about our condition which is sometimes dark or ugly is also helpful. Naming our condition such as, “I’m exhausted. I’m disappointed. I’m afraid. I’m mad.” can also be a starting place to take our thoughts captive by acknowledging our condition.

I think a lot of us are experiencing the grief of loss these days. Loss of freedom, loss of routine, loss of life-giving practices, loss of those we love, loss of community as we have known it, loss of almost everything familiar. How are you holding this loss and grief?

When we practice evaluating our thoughts and experiences and how we invest our time and energy, we are moving ourselves into spaces of life, truth and rest that nurture hope. Does this thought or action come from or produce love or fear? Is this activity or line of reasoning life giving or life sucking? What is my condition right now?

The notion of sabbath rest, taking a day to restore our energy and focus on our spiritual life, can nurture hope. It is a life-giving practice. Jesus took time away from the constant demands of people to be alone and pray. Even a short break for a walk or a nurturing conversation that reconnects us to someone can nurture hope. Psalm 121 begins,” I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

The practices of prayer and worship can nurture hope that sustains and grounds us. Isaiah 40:31 states, “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.” Is also translated, “Those who trust in the Lord” or “Those who wait on the Lord.” The Hebrew word translated hope, wait, and trust is qavah. It is a primitive root word literally meaning to bind together such as in twisting fibers to form yarn or rope. Figuratively it means to expect or look for, wait on. It carries the notion of gathering. When we gather with others in the presence of God, wait on God together, or individually engage in practices that bind us together with the Holy One, we can find hope that renews our strength. Worship restores our perspective by lifting our eyes from our current struggles to a larger picture where we can be grounded in grace and love. Prayer allows us to release our anxieties and reminds us that we are not alone. It is a place of internal rest in God that creates an opportunity for hope to arise within us.

Some days, however, it all just seems too much. Hope is elusive because our energy has been consumed by figuring out how to navigate life right now with integrity. Our compassion has been exhausted by the barrage of information bringing yet more bad news. The pandemic, the climate, fires, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, politics, we just can’t take it anymore. I like this idea from Alan D Wolfelt who writes about grief and loss. He says, “If hope feels out of reach right now consider borrowing a little to get you through.”

Solomon in Ecclesiastes 4 stated, “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?”

How do we borrow hope from one another? I think that happens when we share our stories. I grew up in a church that met Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night every week. Sunday night services always included a testimony time. We told our God stories to one another. I heard old ladies recount the many ways God had faithfully provided for them. I heard crusty old guys tell stories of God’s protection with teary eyes and grateful hearts. I tested my own thoughts and experiences of God as a child and young person and had a loving community that willingly listened to my words. Of course, one did not stray too far from the doctrinal guidelines without being called aside for correction.

As the demonstrations relating to racial justice turned violent in recent months, television images triggered my memories of the protests and civil unrest of the 1960’s. I had no one to help guide me through the emotions those images provoked as a child and young person. It occurred to me that many of the young people in our faith community today may be feeling similar fear and confusion. I took the opportunity to tell my stories from the sixties to them  and how though it felt like the end of the world, it was not. I was lending hope, if not borrowing it.

Scripture often called God’s people to set up monuments, create holy days and celebrations to remind each other of the stories of God’s provision and faithfulness upon which their faith rested. Jesus himself instituted the Lord’s supper and instructed, “This do in remembrance of me.” What practices do we have now that remind us where to find hope? How do we practice the borrowing and lending of hope today?

In the last two weeks we have had a family adventure with the coronavirus. This journey has brought to my attention a few realities. Despite our best efforts and intentions, we can’t control what happens. We CAN choose the attitude with which we respond. I had more symptoms than most of my family members who had tested positive for Covid. Yet, I tested negative twice. Didn’t I talk about liminal spaces last time I spoke for Spokane Friends? That not knowing is hard. Eventually my Dr. made a Covid diagnosis despite the tests. In the process I realized that I have done pretty well giving up the need for control. I have NOT given up the need to understand. The doctor who did contact tracing with our family said we would probably not figure out how the virus came to us. It was simply a gift from the community at large.

There are lots of things I do not understand right now. I do not understand why people do what they do. I do not understand how people can think what they think. I do not understand why as a country we seem to have given up on civility. It is easy to lose hope. However, we can choose hope. Here are some questions that help me navigate confusing times and lead me toward hope.

• Where is the truth? (In this report/conversation/discussion/comment)
• How could this change or be transformed to the good?
• What can I be grateful for?
• What does love look like in this situation?

Here are three suggestions about what love may look like from Romans 12. Bless those who persecute you. Bless and do not curse.  Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.  Live in harmony with one another. 

If I am rejoicing in the next few weeks, how will I weep with those who weep? What will love look like in that situation? If I am weeping in the next few weeks, how will I rejoice with those who rejoice? What will love look like then? What posture or act of love will allow me to live in harmony with those around me, even when I feel persecuted?

I have been intrigued with the statement in 1 Corinthians 13, the chapter on love that ends, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Here are three things that can be trusted in or relied on. How do they relate to one another?

In Colossians 1:3-5 Paul writes, “We always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all God’s people— the faith and love that spring from the hope stored up for you in heaven.” In Paul’s thinking faith and love spring up from the ground of hope.

This notion seems correct to me. Hope is forward looking. Without a grounding in trust or reliance in God, or some other basic good, how can we love? If I don’t trust in some greater grace or benevolence, what would I have faith in?

So, in the days and weeks before us, some will be rejoicing and others lamenting. Our hope is not in the results of this election or any other outcome. Our hope is in God. How do we nurture that hope?

• We choose love over fear.
• We choose life-giving activities over life-sucking ones.
• We engage in sabbath rest.
• We gather in personal and communal worship and prayer.
• We tell the stories that remind us what we place our hope IN.
• We choose hope.

This message was given by Leann Williams to Spokane Friends Meeting (via Zoom) on Sunday, November 1, 2020.

In the last few months I have developed a complicated relationship with the word blessed.  This bracelet that I often wear has the words, thankful, grateful and blessed.  I have no problem with thankful and grateful, and the bracelet encourages and reminds me to accept and reflect on these gifts.  But I am having more problems with the word blessed.  If I have been blessed — and looking objectively at my life I can say that I have been given a life that has had many blessings, a loving family, a church life and faith, a good education, friends, a wonderful husband, a job I enjoyed and economic security.  But to me blessed also seems to imply in some way that those blessings have been given because of some action on my part.  That I have done something to deserve them.  I find that hard to accept, there are so many in the world that apparently have not been blessed but I know their lives have been lived in honor to God and they are people of faith and belief.  Is my life “blessed” just because of my race, social and economic status?  As I began working through these thoughts it occurred to me that I was perhaps looking at blessed in too narrow and culturally centric view.  Did I believe as do those into prosperity gospel that blessings come down to economics?  Did I believe that my familial status was preferred and what others wanted?  Was I unwilling to look at what blessings were in new ways?  So my query is what does it mean to be blessed?

In conversation with my brother I also thought about the other aspects of blessings, that is to be the one blessing others.  With this thought I began thinking about what I do that offer blessings to others, what in my actions and life can bring blessings to others.  As we say it is better to give than to receive is it also better to be a blessing that to be blessed.  Can the act of blessing others be in some ways that best way of being blessed?  So my next query for myself is What is God calling me to do to bring blessing to others?  

As I contemplated that and did a little research on the concept of blessed and blessing I also began thinking about the gift of blessing that is defined by the verbal and occasionally physical offering of support. One definition of blessing is

BLESSING. Blessing is one of the most common religious acts in all belief systems.  Blessing nurtures hope and wards off fear; it is a companion and assurance in time of peace and a consolation and hope in time of crisis.

The act of blessing forms a bond between the supreme beings and the faithful. The contents of blessing reveal the hopes and fears of humankind.

When we offer a benediction, it is a blessing of the congregation; when we pray or offer comfort, we are offering a blessing to others and calling upon God to protect, comfort and support each other.  With words we can give hope and encouragement and invoke God’s presence.  With that in mind I would like to offer to you today some blessings that might help us get through these times of uncertainty, political unrest and unprecedented events.  One of my favorite books is John O’Donohoe’s To Bless the Space Between Us: a book of blessings.  I have chosen three blessings that I would like to share with you today.

The first is entitled For one who is exhausted.  I think that with the ramifications of COVID and our current status, it is easy to be emotionally, if not physically, exhausted and this blessing speaks to that.

For one who is exhausted

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,

Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

Then all the unattended stress falls in

On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.

The light in the mind becomes dim.

Things you could take in your stride before

Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.

Gravity begins falling inside you,

Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.

And you are marooned on unsure ground.

Something within you has closed down;

And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken in the race of days

At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells within slow times.

The next blessing is called for the Interim time.  We are caught up in a time when we don’t know what the future will look like, we are unsure of what direction our lives will take; this blessing speaks to that.

For the interim time

When near the end of day, life has drained

Out of light, and it is too soon

No place looks like itself, loss of outline

Makes everything look strangely in between,

Unsure of what has been, or what might come.

In this wan, light, even trees seem groundless.

In a while it will be night, but nothing

Here seems to believe the relief of dark.

You are in the time of the interim

Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;

The way forward is still concealed from you.

The old is not old enough to have died away;

The new is still too young to be born.

You cannot lay claim to anything;

In this place of dusk,

Your eyes are blurred;

There is no mirror.

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart

And you can see nowhere to put your trust;

You know you have to make your way through.

As far as you can, hold your confidence.

Do not allow your confusion to squander

This call which is loosening

Your roots in false ground,

That you might come free

From all you have outgrown.

What is being transfigured here is your mind,

And it is difficult and slow to become new.

The more faithfully you can endure here,

The more refined your heart will become

For your arrival is the new dawn.

The last one is called Blessing for Citizenship.  It seemed particularly relevant in light of our political situation.

For Citizenship

In these times when anger

Is turned to anxiety

And someone has stolen

The horizons and mountains,

Our small emperors on parade

Never expect our indifference

To disturb their nakedness.

They keep their heads down

And their eyes gleam with reflection

From aluminum economic ground,

The media wraps everything

In a cellophane of sound,

And the ghost surface of the virtual

Overlays the breathing earth.

The industry of distraction

Makes us forget

That we live in a universe.

We have become converts

To the religion of stress

And its diety of progress;

That we may have courage

To turn aside from it all

And come to kneel down before the poor,

To discover what we must do,

How to turn anxiety

Back into anger

How to find our way home.

So as we enter into more time of silence in the Quaker tradition, let us accept the blessings that have been offered and contemplate what we can do as individuals and as a community to be a blessing to others.

This message was given to Spokane Friends by Linda Pierce during Sunday worship service on September 28, 2020.

This is about my personal journey and hopefully is a chance for people to get to know me better.  I struggled with facts and timelines and quickly realized that those really didn’t define who I was or explain my worldview.  I loved Tina’s visual aids for her personal journey.  I realized that it is a little harder to do using Zoom. 

My walkabout is more of an Aboriginal Songline or Dreaming that meanders and intersects with inspiration and purpose (although you don’t know it at the time).  This Songline or Dreaming has no clear direction only an outcome.  Sometimes… just sometimes…. Wouldn’t it be great to start at the end! 

I recently took a facebook challenge from Mary Hansen that listed a bunch of words in a large block.  The first three words that you saw in the jumble were supposed to represent you.  My three words were:  purpose, connection, and strength.  (huh…… okay…..then) this was a great start.  Why were these words important to me? 

I have known some of you for many years, some for a few years, and some a few months.  I want this to be interactive.  Since I worked in technology, I thought I would put together a short game to see how much you really know about me. 

If you have a  Smart phone or smart device, you can go to www.kahoot.it on your internet browser if you want to play.  Ask if you need help.  It will ask you for a pin number and I’ll give it to you when I start the game.  Then it will ask you for your name. 

[Play game (questions on Kahoot!)]

1.  LaVerne is:  ;
   1. The oldest girl of 3 children
   2. The oldest girl of 5 children – correct answer
   3. An only child
   4. The oldest girl of 4 children

 2. LaVerne was adopted (T/F):

True

Four of us were adopted and my youngest brother was born to our parents after they were married 21 years.  This picture was taken at Thanksgiving 1963.  This is the last family picture before my mom died from cancer June 1964. 

 3. LaVerne was raised primarily where ?

• On a farm in Oregon
• In a suburb of San Francisco, CA correct answer
• Near Grant Elementary School in Spokane, WA
• Outside of Tacoma

(although I did live in all these place and lived with my grandparents during the summers). 

 4. LaVerne’s birth name was (pick one)?

• LaVerne
• Audrey
• Mary Jo – correct answer
• Doris

(I learned about my birth name when I was 31 going through my adoption information.)

•  LaVerne’s first job was: (pick one)
  • Working in a cannery
  • Washing dishes – correct answer
  • Working as a waitress
  • Working for a florist

(I worked all these jobs while I lived in Salem, Oregon)

•  In my late 20s (as a single parent) I struggled with:
  • Depression
  • Finances
  • Finding employment
  • All of the things listed (correct answer)
•  In what order did LaVerne perform office work (move colors in the right order and hit K to finish?
  • Data Entry
  • Receptionist
  • HR Compliance Officer
  • Finance/Sales (correct order)

•  I was raised by:  (pick as many answers that apply)
  • Traditional parents (mom and dad)
  • Grandparents
  • Dad and Stepmother
  • People from our church (all answers are correct)

•  I finished my undergraduate degree in 2003.  What was my degree in?  (pick one answer)
  • Management communication – correct answer
  • Theater Arts
  • Music
  • Accounting and Finance

Any surprises?

Finding my Purpose:  When I applied to Western Baptist University for my undergrad degree in 2001 they asked me to write a testimony.  I had the same struggle then as I do now with dissecting my life.  Now you know a little about my early family life I’ll read to you what I wrote about what happened after my mom died. 

I was 13 when my father remarried and we moved to the valley.  I was unprepared for my trip to the valley.  At first glance the Valley’s lush green walls, occasional blue skies, and running river were beautiful.  However, in time its high walls felt confining, the darkness oppressive, and the river turbulent.  The river divided my dad and us children offering us little protection. 

This described a harsh abusive household that was filled with mental illness, drug abuse, violence, and volatile rules.  Our family was shattered.  The good news was that God gave me hope during this troubled time.  (from my 2001 paper)

It was at his time that our church visited the Valley, and brought gifts of compassion understanding and love.  It showed me that Christ’s Church is really “the people”.  People who were Christ’s ambassadors.  They left me the gift of Faith. 

….I left the Valley with Faith alone. 

I left home at 17 and moved to Salem Oregon and then to Spokane when I was 20.  I had no other family here.  I wanted anonymity from my family and from God.  I ventured toward other faith practices and found them empty and meaningless.  I worked as a waitress for 10 years.  I believe I married in my early 20s because I thought it would provide me some stability.  I put my faith in a safe place but didn’t bring it out very often.  I thought I could pull the faith map out when I wanted it.  I discovered that the stability I sought didn’t come with love and acceptance.  The marriage gave me two wonderful kids, no self esteem, and no money.  This is another passage from my 2001 paper:

The isolation of the Desert appealed to me after my stay in the Valley.  It had vast open spaces, stark regal mountians, sparse plant and animal life, continual warmth from the sun and sand, and limited water. 

I had brought Faith with me to the Desert and my hat of Trust-in Self.  I left behind the armor of Trust-in-God because I believed that reason and logic were enough for my “walkabout”. 

I wandered in the Desert (although not for forty years) with my hat of “trust-in-Self” and discovered that the Desert is a deceptive place.  Its open spaces caused me to wander.  The place I was seeking turned out to be mirage.  Children were born, and my marriage dissolved.  The Desert mountains became unobtainable, and its insects crept into my camp.  In the cold and chilling evenings wild animals roamed freely.  Its sun and sand scorched me, and the water came only in drenching rains.  My hat of Trust-Inself had worn out. 

Armed with Faith alone, I crawled on my hands and knees out the Desert.      

Even now its difficult for me to read this.  I had been seeking God’s direction and putting together a plan on rerouting my songline.  My songline needed to pivot on God’s guidance, my children’s wellbeing, and obtaining some job skills.    

First I talked about my Purpose and now I’ll talk about My Connection:  I had people directing and guiding me.  One pivotal person was Larry Edmonds (he use to attend this meeting) who ensured that I got a job with the Soil Conservation Service doing data entry and directed me to this church.  From my 2001 paper:

During my climb to the mountains, I once again came across Christ’s Church.  This time it showed me the meaning of forgiveness, and I finally put on the armor of Trust-in-God. 

The view from the mountains was breathtaking.  From their vantage points I could clearly see the paths I had traveled.  They offered me protection from the winds, gave me warm rains, lush green valleys, blue skies, river lakes, and nourishment.  The mountains offered the safety that I had not known since I was a child.  …………….. With the armor of Trust-in-God secured, I began to freely walk around the mountains. 

I believe that God had his hand in me meeting Kent.  He was an answer to prayer.  We blended our two families, struggled with jobs, finances, starting a business, and mending deep wounds together.  We learned to lean on each other for support.  Connecting my past encouraged me to understand and love my step children unconditionally.  Looking down from the mountain I can see how every challenge brought me better understanding about myself and others in similar situations. 

Purpose, Connection and now Strength:  God continues to give me strength when I am weak, disheartened, and confused.  I love David’s imagery of the 23^rd Psalms. 

Psalms 23 (my paraphrase)

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.  (because he is there to lead me)

He makes me lie down in green pastures,  (Really he forces me)

He leads me besides the still waters, (this was a lake chosen for me.  It was during my first visit to the Lake of beside the still waters that my relationship with Christ changed.  I had always known that Jesus was my Savior, but her he finally become my shepherd.)

He restores my soul.

He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake (a pledge of protection)

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, (and the desert of trust in self)

I will fear no evil,

For you are with me;

Your rod and your staff, (will defend and carry on to guide me)

They comfort me.  (finally)

You prepare a table before me

            In the presence of my enemies. (in plain sight of the shepherd)

You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows, (you protect and give me enough to share with others)

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me (God’s goodness and love will shadow over me.  It’s nothing I can produce on my own)

            All the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.  (ahhhhhhhhhhhh home at last)

With Christ as my Shepherd I am free to continue my journey.  John 10:27-28 – My sheep listen to me voice; I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, no one can snatch them out of my hand.  The Shepherd maintains infinite peace and protection for me and for all of you.     

My aimless walkabout has ended.  My dreaming continues because I can walk confidently in God’s grace and generosity.  I can move confidently with purpose, connection, and strength.  Or maybe (just maybe) the Shepherd wants me to reverse the order and have the strength and insights to maintain connections with people on purpose.  I must continue my journey because my songline is not finished. 

This message was given at Spokane Friends Church by LaVerne Biel on Sunday morning, August 30, 2020.

In this summer of violence we experience as Americans a divided nation, social edges frayed by hostility and confused by self-serving, awkward, and politically skewed interests.

In faith and understanding what I offer today is to express our obligation to find reason and strength by reinforcing common values in favor of our long-term survival and the longevity of the nation that serves our generation and the future prospects of our offspring. It’s an endorsement for kindness, as a cohesive device for bonding –a psychological tool for a better, more positive point of view.

In the last month I’ve had doubts about my ability to write on kindness, given recently I have failed at moments, but today, overcoming questions, hopefully represent a road map for us to consider.

For those, as myself tricked by justification, all I can offer are methods of understanding, but first let’s consider a few lines of a song I remember sung by Benny King:

STAND BY ME

“… no matter who you are

No matter where you go in life

At some point you’re going to need

Somebody to stand by you…”

If you choose by imagination Barnaby’s Fairy Godfather,  let’s say an imagined alter ego, you run the risk of  redundant thinking where logic becomes circular and stalls growth; but if you choose to join the greater society, think beyond yourself,  you have the potential of emotional growth, to build bonds with the greater society, for example as referenced to Christ in Mathew 22:39:  “Though shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”

I offer for your consideration the use of kindness, and to grow by building bridges, inviting those to whom you offer kindness to stand by you, as a useful reinforcement of the good in you, shared with others.

In my own case, I’ve had to ask myself to go deeper than my potential to show kindness, to breakdown a wall of defense. Not easy, but what is offered today is the potential to understand the social benefit of kindness.

There is no society of one. As fragile as our present nation may be, kindness I recommend builds character and community.  I pose it’s good for the mind, let me add a nourishment for the soul, indeed a confidence builder, a well-installed reminder that actions speak louder than our more persuasive thoughts.

Some sympathetic words for understanding kindness include compassion, benevolence, sympathy, humanity, and helpfulness. I’d like to explain to you this morning the thoughts of others, who have given to acts of kindness.

Walter Cronkite, noted at a broadcast convention I attended in the mid-sixties… an insightful reminder.  The CBS anchor and distinguish broadcaster was talking about the value of a good dog story as a capper in the news, but he paused and reflected: “…that theoretically man’s best friend should be man, but it’s been a longtime coming.”  Change may be slow, yet with hopes unfilled –a nasty fall of spirit– we are compelled in the interest of emotional survival to keep trying for personal growth.

Recall the New Testament as a guidepost for understanding kindness inspired by example, as in the teachings of Jesus Christ. We hopefully expect these models to come from our leaders and social guides  whether in the White House, or by state governors, eleemosynary associations, neighbors, from our parents, guardians, and the pulpit.  As Cronkite quips, it doesn’t quite work this way.  Presently kindness seems limited, but I insist needed now more than ever in our everyday lives.

This is a talk about what it means to be kind. For example is kindness an honest gesture or a tool used as a manipulated device, for exploiting others? Unfortunately, the answer is yes to both points of view.

As positive reinforcement be pleased to know World Kindness Day is internationally celebrated on November 13^th , and one would think the fact of its’ recognition would include a day off from work, yet few in the USA know of its’ existence.  Perhaps we should paint the date on the streets of America.

Equally understand these four letters K I N D, have been in use for over 500 years, offering a positive gesture of support.

Benevolence is a kind-of-kindness, but let’s start with Eric Fromm’s thoughts on love, as a significant generator endorsing kindness:

       “ I love you also myself.” Self-love, in this sense, is the opposite of selfishness. Love, paradoxically, makes me more independent because it makes me stronger and happier. In loving I experience “I am you,” you — the loved person, you — the stranger, you — everything alive. In the experience of love lies the only answer to being human.”

In my words: “Overcome hatred with love; and remember kindness is not weakness.”

For insight: We can heal someone with kindness,  forgive foolishness out of the kindness,  and take nourishment from the milk of human kindness. Such thinking helps to bring a gesture of kindness to others, making us better for the offering.

Abe Lincoln delivered a good example of kindness at Gettysburg, in recent history Ronald Reagan touched on his sensitivity after the Challenger explosion, more recent  Obama voiced his compassion, adding tears after the Sandy Hook shooting: “shared  vulnerability and our natural sympathy for one another,” as noted by the  esteemed columnist A.J. Doyle.

Casual research reveals that the word kindness ranks in the top 30% for usage, which suggest it’s use is an important constant in our collective minds. The word holds historical reference implying sensitivity and our natural sympathy for one another. Kindness, the word root, was used before the 12^th century and obviously is still in use today.

In 2020 we seem to need kind thoughts and gestures, a contemporary application, understanding the word kindness offers a dimension of understanding as a sincere offering, a gift-of-grace to enhance the human condition.

Definitions include the quality or state of being kind treating people with kindness and respect,  a kind deed, a benefit as “You did me a great kindness”.  To speculate: in the primitive sense think of an affection built into our persona from birth.

Suggested alternative words for kindness include a boon, courtesy, favor, grace, indulgence, mercy, and service.  Lots of wiggle room for expressing kindness and its use, but for motivation consider some  amending examples.

We see instances of our brothers and sisters “paying it forward” add a trumpet message that kindness will change our lives for the better. Consider kindness to you is kindness to me –to extend this thought, consider in fact kindness to yourself is kindness to others, in fact builds an internal strength. It is suggested kindness improves mental health, helps to make  the world a better place by celebrating and promoting good deeds.

It was Henry James who wrote in the early 20^th Century emphasizing humankind’s cardinal virtues  and most cherished social currencies to be: “The first is to be kind.  The second is to be kind. The third is to be kind”.   Kindness to children is considered a key to their happiness, clearly makes us happier parents.  Theoretically it works against the cyberbully. Kindness and self-compassion go hand-in-hand.

I have offered the thoughts of others more qualified than myself to explain kindness but understand what we share with each other has a meaning that goes beyond the hidden conflicts of our childhood and human foible common to our adult lives.

If we give-up trying as a society, based on the divisive fractions that seem to separate us, we run the risk of failing.

This is an appropriate time, if you accept basic Quaker principles, as I understand them, to accept the obligation to speak on the conviction that there are solutions to present conflicts, to offer reasons why peaceful resolution, passive resistance and nonviolence are good examples supporting peace on our streets and in our hearts, a kind gesture in the face of contemporary conflicts, asserting the intrinsic value of humanity.

Recall a recent TV public service advisory:  Restore Hope; Dream Again.

I learned many years ago that the eyes are the gateway to the soul. Beside mugging on stage, I ask you with kindness intended, not to look away from our obvious present national conflicts, for it offers a potential danger that obscures our willingness to make positive change seeking betterment of all, all that represents us as Friends. As Francisco Burgos,  recently posed: “Accept the challenge”.

What I have avoided in this essay is a comment on the lack of trust in evidence between the police and the civilian, between citizen and government.  These are less than obvious issues that will not be easily resolved. The threat is understandable, the outcome deeper than my comprehension.

I do hope historians will be kind to us, and civility will prove a good measure of a core understanding that “United we stand and divided we fall”.

Use of guns, nightsticks and tear gas is not a solution, but a desperate failing of reason, a measure of self-interest and the reckless craving for control, that seems a spear in the side of our democratic traditions.  Who of us will rise beyond protest, to endorse a mutual kindness that offers prosperity over willful self-destruction?

Thank you for your courtesy this morning.  Suggesting a weakness for whimsey: I consider it a gesture of your kindness.

Like King’s song imbedded in this talk:

“If the sky we look upon… should tumble and fall; though mountains should crumble to the sea…” (kindly) stand by me”. #

 

This message was given by Walter Simon to Spokane Friends Meeting for Worship on August 9, 2020.

(Dedicated to LaVerne Biel and family for their recent kindness.)

 

 

…. ‘Celebrate with me because I’ve found my lost coin’ (Luke 15: 9)

Our ministry in Belize, looks like the parable of the lost coin (Luke 15: 8-9). It is like a house with many things in it, and it is dark, then a coin is lost. To find the lost coin, one must light the lamp, start turning things around, until the lost coin is found. In this speech, I will illustrate how the southside is full of things, that can keep the coin buried unless someone lights the lamp. I will also illustrate how turning things around make it possible to recover the lost coin.

The Southside of Belize City is like the house in Luke 15:8-9, with so many things in it. So, when something valuable, though small, like a coin, falls, it is lost in there. Years ago, a Mennonite businessman build a warehouse near the port of Belize. He sold auto spares. He created jobs for a few people from the community. Then his business started experiencing challenges. Finally, it closed. Nothing happened over there, for a couple of years that followed. The bank auctioned his building. It was like the feeling of the lost coin.

When I first visited Belize, Friends had just purchased this building. It was in a bad shape. Pigeons lived in an apartment upstairs that seemed livable if cleaned. Friends from Western Yearly Meeting had started cleaning it and Dale Graves had started staying in it anyway. Bees lived in the ceiling downstairs. Friends had a vision to make this place a school, a church and a community center.   

I wanted to cut my hair. So, Frank took me to a barber shop and introduced me to one of the barbers. We then started a conversation. He wondered why Friends had kept this school alive for years. He wondered why Friends would want to have a church on the southside and what good a community center would do. The southside, to him, was irredeemable. His, was not an isolated view. On many occasions, Dale and I went around Belize city shopping for a vehicle or running other errands. Dale was an amazing storyteller. I remember on several occasions, vehicle dealers, warehouse attendants, mechanics, and store attendants listened attentively to Dale tell the story of Friends in Belize, then suggested other places on the North side that would be better for what Friends were doing in Belize city. That is how it feels when you have lost a coin, and there are so many things in the house.

I know students who dropped out of school because their parents did not have $Bz 10(US $5) to apply for a social security card. Every year, I have seen kids who are afraid or reluctant to fill high school application forms, because their parents can’t afford $Bz 20 (US $10) high school application fee. Last year, one parent came to school for a meeting and said all she wanted for her twin boys, was to know how to read and write. However, the boys excelled that expectation. They passed primary school examination. One was admitted to Wesley College while another to Excelsior High school. All are on FUM scholarship.

I have been there when Maggie called some parents for months and pleaded with them to come to school, but they were afraid to come because they wondered what else they could do to help their children. I have been there, when parents were excited that their kids at Belize Friends school had passed examinations and were going to high school. Then the next moment, they were overwhelmed with anxiety because they did not have money to buy shoes, shirts, pants, books or pay fees for high school. In our ministry, we mostly deal with young people who have lost or are at risk of losing something valuable to them. It feels like the experience of losing a coin, one that could make all the difference if you got it back.   

On Sundays, we used to open the church door to the yard, so that kids could go there and play at least before the service started. However, we learned that every time they saw a police patrol truck passing on the street, they all ran in commotion back into the church. We have a Police patrol truck passing on the road after every 10-15 minutes. That is a lot of running while scared. Something valuable, freedom to live in peace, confidence and safety has been lost in this community. That feels like a lost coin.  

While serving in Belize, I have had an opportunity to meet the Minister of Foreign and Home Affairs, the CEO in the Ministry of National Security, two Commissioners of Police, church leaders and community leaders, over improving relations between young people and police, improving police detention facilities, and improving community safety. I have learned that all of them grew up on the southside under difficult circumstances. Even though we have made progress on some of the policy issues we have talked about, they have insisted on the role of faith-based communities to support young people on the southside, because there are things government cannot do, or do effectively like faith-based communities can. It takes a lot of community support to help young people on the southside navigate challenges that come from poverty, violence and limited resources. For those young people whose parents or community has given up on them, they are most vulnerable because of the many things that stand in their way to success. Therefore, we become that community to help them go through all that stands between them and the lost coin they are seeking.

To find what is lost, especially if it is something that can be easily abandoned, or difficult to see, you need someone like the woman in Luke 15:8-9, to light the lamp and start turning things around, until what is lost is found. The support you give us, the resources, and the mission trips you make to Belize makes it possible for us to light the lamp in this community and start turning things around. Over the past three years, I have seen Friends from Western Yearly Meeting, Indiana, Iowa and Wilmington, coming to Belize to work on what was formerly a warehouse, to turn it around and make it a school, a church, and a community center. I will highlight what that lamp that was lit here, and the efforts to turn things around have achieved.

Among the young men I work with, is a 13-year-old boy. One day, when he was 11years, he came to church and told me his mother had been arrested. He was staying at home with his two little sisters who were 10 and 8 years. He wondered what he could do. As I drove around the city picking other kids to bring to church, I asked him to make a list of things his mother did everyday to take care of them. Then I told him to go home and do for his little sisters, all that his mother had done to take care of them. I called a retired judge and a lawyer who I had known during the Community Safety Forums we were hosting at Belize City Friends Center. She took the case and days later, this boy’s mother was released. The boy was at the time a student of Belize Friends School. He later passed primary school examination and was admitted at Wesley Junior College, one of the top three schools in Belize. Over the last two years, he has retained the second position on the College’s Honor Roll because of his outstanding academic performance. He wants to become a lawyer so that he can help people like his mother. We have three students from Belize Friends School at Wesley College. Two of these have been on the College’s Honor Roll for two and three years respectively.

Belize Friends Church and Community Center engage in community work in response to the needs that emerge in the community. Since 2017, they have:

• engaged in advocacy meetings with the Minister of Home Affairs, CEO in the Ministry of National Security, and Commissioner of Police over a range of topics including policing, detention centers, and human rights;
  • hosted community safety forums;
  • conducted community education and awareness campaign against human trafficking;
  • hosted Alternative to Violence Project training;
  • hosted free medical and legal services assistance programs;

Belize City Friends Church is growing out of peer-to -peer outreach. Everyone at the church except the missionaries were invited by a friend or relative. It has been a steady and gradual growth. Usually, a friend invites a friend to church service, field trip or sporting activity. This invitation is often a culmination of friend-to-friend witness conversations about their experiences attending church at Belize City Friends Center. Some of the invited guests choose to come again and soon, they start attending services regularly. Some come sporadically but in the long run, they start attending services regularly. Others come and we never see them again. One woman started attending services after her sister in-law, recommended our church to her. Another woman 26, and a man, 29 started attending services after they were invited by their younger brother. One Belizean, who is now training for ministry, was referred to us by a Friends Meeting he had been attending, while he was in California. Our outreach and evangelism is relational. It is done by Belizeans who have roots in their own communities. The fruit of this ministry calls us to focus our resources and efforts on pastoral care to nurture this peer-to-peer outreach model.

The work of Friends in Belize is to light the lamp and turn things around. We can do so with God’s help. We need your support to continue doing this. We pray that from time to time, we can call you, write to you, or visit to celebrate with you, because we have lit the lamp, turned things around and found the lost coin. Thank you for your support!

 

This message was given to Spokane Friends Meeting by Oscar Mmbale on August 2, 2020 via Zoom.

Christ the little girl

Christ is a little girl locked in a basement cellar. Starving, she hasn’t eaten in weeks. Abandoned, she doesn’t know where her parents are. Someone—somehow, for some reason—is pumping a poisonous gas into her basement from upstairs. It is filling the room and becoming the air she breathes.

There is one window in Christ the little girl’s basement. Though she tries to break it open—and free herself to live free of her suffering—her hands are too weak. They bang and slap at the window and then bleed and break. As the poisonous gas fills her lungs, Christ the little girl is dying. Breath by breath.

She is gasping for air now, choking. On the floor—in desperation—she pleads for help.

Everyone hears Christ the little girl’s plea for help, but few understand it. We hear the plea on television and the streets and social media every day. Everyone sees that Christ the little girl is dying, but no one is paying close enough attention. We often look at her presence not with love but fear. We often respond to her suffering not with compassion but violence.

Father forgive us, for we know not what we are doing.

Christ the little girl is living in your enemy. She is dying in the person you hate. Christ the little girl will forgive you but—right now—she is pleading with you to turn the poisonous gas off. To stop cursing her. To have compassion. Understanding. To speak life. Christ the little girl is pleading with you to open the window. To let her breathe. To let her forgive and be forgiven. Without much time left, she is telling you that her window cannot be opened with something that destroys. Please, she says, put the bat down. Put the gun away. Only peace will open the window, she says. She says this in her cursing and negligence; in her hatred and violence. Only peace will set me free, she says.

Christ the little girl pleads for peace in the body of your enemy.

Mother forgive us, for we know not what to do.

Brother. Sister. Friend. Christ the little girl. Forgive us, for we know not what we do.

A divided time

We live in a divided time. We live in a shared wound infected by emotional hatred. Democratic against Republican. Police against people of color. Big business against the poor. Science against religion. Muslim against Christian. Fundamentalist against the world. Father against daughter. Humanity against environment. Often, we become who we are on the basis of the others we reject. Rejection is a power that glues people into place. In this divided time, emotional hatred spreads like an unseen virus. A poisonous gas. A glue used to divide. Somehow it seems and feels right to scorn and ridicule and humiliate the people who threaten us. We do not labor to free the people we hate from their suffering. In fact, we may pray for the people we hate to catch the virus of their own hatred. If we took the virus of emotional hatred as seriously as we do COVID-19, I imagine we’d have the kind of peace Quakers long pray for. This—that emotional hatred be taken as seriously as COVID-19—is only an absurd proposition or fanciful idea when a culture is oppressed under the demonic weight of cruel capitalism and has given up faith that Christ comes to make this world new.

In her book, Waiting for God, Simone Weil wrote that religion is nothing more than a perspective. Religion, in her provocative manner of speech, teaches us to see the world in a particular way. Its fundamental assignment is to set our soul’s gaze in a specific direction. It is an astute observation we can relate to. Quakerism, we often say, is most essentially a learning how to see that of God in everyone.

An anthropology teacher of mine has written that every generation meets god in their own manner. God made us in God’s image, as people often say, and we return the favor. Though we trust that God is universal—that the Spirit transcends space and time—history teaches us that how people come to see and experience God is colored by the unique culture they live in. Culture is a shepherd for sacred longing and seeing.

When the colonies were founded, for example, God was imagined as a kind of invisible police officer who queried into your mind and finances and threatened you with eternal damnation if you didn’t have your domestic house in order. Slothfulness was the great sin of the day. Poverty was evidence of forthcoming hellfire. In the late 1900s, Jesus was imagined as the manliest of manly men in order to save the culture from what many ministers saw as a curse of feminization. It was a great sin for a boy to grow up and be too much like his mother; a sign of spiritual weakness.

In the late 60s and early 70s, Jesus was a hippie. He was cool and with it. You could meet Jesus on an acid trip—as a founder of the church I grew up in did—or take a walk with him through the forest, smoking pot.

Last week, I suggested that we look for the universal Christ in the current political uprisings over racial and economic injustice. I invited us to consider Christ in the black and brown lives matter movements because I honestly believe Christ stands in a particularly sacred way with those who struggle for life and justice against the currents of ignorance and bigotry and hatred.

Today, I am suggesting that we remember that there is that in God in the person who you least expect and hate the most. The police officer who lynched George Floyd; the other officers who were complicit. Nancy Pelosi, Donald Trump, or any other powerful social architect. Christ is in the person standing in the way of justice and peace and truth as you imagined it. In your adversary, Christ calls out for peace.

Language is always a poor flashlight on the often-dark road to divine love, the road I think friends are supposed to help one another travel. The metaphor of Christ the little girl who lives inside your enemy is one limited way—not to manipulate the senses—but to illuminate truth. There is no person or creature divine love does not inhabit. Love is, in the final analysis, what is most real. Everything that is not of love will one day be washed away, forgotten, made new. Nonviolently, we are called to wash hatred away with the healing waters of divine love.

Jesus did not come for the healthy. He came for the sick. The sick is not just the person dying on the side of the road or alone in a hospital or prison. The sick is also the person who has become possessed by hatred and violence. Personally, I cannot think of a greater and more insidious sickness the human spirit could suffer. We are sick when our lives are animated by hatred and violence, whether we came to embody that hatred and violence by social conditioning or personal freedom. Though we are called to fight nonviolently against injustice, we are also called to heal the haters who perpetuate injustice and the systems that create the uniforms people step into.

Let she who is without sin cast the first stone.

Come, Jesus said, follow me.

Soaked in peace

The art of peace is not mastered through intuition. Effective peace work must be learned. Fortunately, we have a number of brilliant peace teachers in the world. They include Jesus, the Buddha, Howard Thurman, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cornel West, Marshal Rosenburg, Pema Chodron, Thích Nhất Hạnh, and many others.

Peace work and enemy love—whether in our own house, at work, on the roads and highways, or among nations—also, in my mind, requires being soaked in the peace of Christ. To love our enemies and build peace in a time marked by radical division and emotional hatred, we need to open ourselves to a power greater than ourselves. I do, at least. I need Christ the divine beloved—who swims fiercely and gently in the waters of culture—to empower me to pursue peace with the people I hate.

I want to close by inviting you to consider the spiritual practices that help you soak in the peace of Christ. And I want to suggest that you commit to such a practice with great sincerity in the coming months. Give one half hour a day to a spiritual peace practice—to whatever soaks you in the peace of Christ. As our world continues to grapple with the wounds of racial and economic injustice—and our own nation enters a new and profound election season where leaders will exploit our divisions—we need to be rooted and grounded in the peace of Christ through regular and intentional practice. And perhaps remember that the first battlefield is in your heart.

Sometimes I like to do a practice some Pentecostals call soaking prayer. Soaking prayer involves turning on music that helps you feel God’s love and laying down on the floor with your arms open like you are a sponge soaking the song of divine love into your deepest pores. You do nothing other than accept—experientially, on faith—that you are the beloved of God.

Maybe there is only one rule when it comes to soaking in the peace of Christ—do not do what tradition tells you or what your inner critic says. Instead, follow your own unique soul’s pull into the peace of Christ. No one knows your soul’s gravity except you. And Christ. Your love affair is exceptionally intimate and personal. Go dance there, naked and unafraid.

In Matthew 11, Christ speaks:

^28-30 “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? [Politics?] Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

In John 14, Christ reminds us:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

This message was given to Spokane Friends by Paul Blankenship on July 5, 2020, during Sunday morning worship service.

 

Inside of you there is a forest. Passed the sycamore trees, the creeks, the night owls, and the crickets, there is a cabin. Your cabin sits under the sun and the moon and the other stars. It was built—and is sustained by—the spiritual gravity of divine love. Inside of your cabin is a fire burning in a fireplace. It is the everlasting and intimate that of God in you. Your eternal home. You are alone in your cabin under the sun and the moon and the other stars. You can’t put the fire in the fireplace out—because it burns from a mysterious source—but you share responsibility for the quality and intensity of the burn. You also share responsibility for what to do with the knocks at your door.

In the book of Revelation, Christ speaks:

“I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I’ll come right in and sit down to supper with you.” 3: 20

A Walk through the Forest

Will you take a walk through a kind of forest with me? I want to help you find your cabin and listen to Christ’s knock.

Two weeks ago, a man I call the Rock Whisperer asked if I’d like to go on an adventure. He said the adventure would take one hour and that it would end at a waterfall. Though I was in a foul mood—I woke up late, hadn’t had a cup of Indaba coffee yet, and had a lot of work to do—I decided to go. I reasoned that one should never turn down an adventure that ends at a waterfall—not even if the sun and the moon and the other stars seem to be falling down from the sky and headed straight for one’s cabin.

At 11:00AM, I came outside to meet the Rock Whisperer. He had his dog Bebé and I had my dog Wendell. Beneath grey clouds and a light rain, we began our adventure. I should say that I call the Rock Whisperer the Rock Whisperer because of how delicately and beautifully he arranges rocks along the Spokane River. I never knew someone who loved rocks—and understood their power to love—before I met the Rock Whisperer.

A Talkative Mood

The Rock Whisperer is in a talkative mood. He gives detailed perspectives on politics, religion, science, and the non-human world. Every few blocks, the Rock Whisperer stops and marvels at small flowers. He calls me to attend to their intricate and varied lines of purple. ‘Look here, brother,’ he says. ‘Evolution, sure, but with a divine kick.’ When he speaks like this, it is as though the divine fire in my cabin is warm upon my face.

I am sincerely delighted to hear what the Rock Whisperer thinks and watch him marvel at flowers. His passion for the world is infectious. After an hour of this, however, I am deeply annoyed. Deeply. For one thing, we are not at the waterfall yet. The Rock Whisperer, actually, says we are only halfway. For another thing, I don’t want to hear any more opinions or marvel at any more flowers. I just want to see the golly darn waterfall and get on with my golly dang day. I am also annoyed, I must confess, that I am annoyed. I wish I could be more present to the beauty in this moment. When I have the patience to see, his words grow out of his mouth like wildflowers. Finally, after an hour and a half, we reach the waterfall. The Rock Whisperer lights a cigarette. He asks me if I see how skillful Mother Nature is. I walk close to the waterfall and stand beneath it. This is no Niagara Falls, to be sure, but it is a small wonder and a beautiful power. A true feast for the human spirit.

When the water falls onto my face, I feel like the drops are hot embers from the divine fire inside my cabin; like I am being remade in the divine fire.

The Return

After fifteen minutes of standing beside the waterfall, we head back. On the return, I suggest to The Rock Whisperer that we should just listen to Mother Nature: the creeks, the birds, the wind through the trees, the crack of our feet onto Her dried grass. ‘Yes brother,’ he says, ‘let’s listen to our Mother.’

Ah. Tranquility. Finally, I could enter into a holy silence. I could let the nature of silence hold me like a mother. Before we could listen to Mother Nature finish a sentence, however, The Rock Whisperer said he wanted to take me to another place. No, he says. Two more places. And to get there, he said, we need to go up the hill and around the corner.

Reluctantly, I agree to go as the Rock Whisperer goes on and on again about all the thoughts running through his head. Farewell to tranquility, I think.

‘Here it is, brother. This is what I wanted to show you. The Rock Whisperer points to a sign. The sign says we are standing at the last resting place for Spokane Garry, a former chief of a Spokane Tribe. Spokane Garry—whose Salish name was Slough-Keetcha—pursued peace with whites but got betrayed by their demonic powers of heartless capitalism and colonial religion.

The Rock Whisperer takes me a few more feet to a patch of land under three trees. No sign, but just as sacred. “This place right here, brother,’ he says, ‘is where I used to sleep. I slept here for two years when I didn’t have a house.’ The Rock Whisperer lights another cigarette. He picks up some trash on the ground and puts it in his pocket. He touches a tree that shaded him; he seems to touch his memories.

Holy, holy, holy. Holy is the ground we are standing on. Holy, holy, holy. Holy is the land my ancestors stole. Holy, holy, holy. Holy are the houseless who need houses. Holy, holy, holy. Holy are the trees that remember. Holy, holy, holy. Holy is the Spirit that call us to heal the wounds of the world and labor for the life of all creatures. Holy, holy, holy. Holy are we in our anger and denial and righteousness and love.

I thank The Rock Whisperer for bringing me here, and for sharing his story with me. He said he is grateful to be able to share. He said it is important for elders to pass on their stories. By listening to history, he said, we gain a greater appreciation for the present. I realize now that he has been—in his own beautiful, meandering, and longwinded way—inviting me to be a memory bearer and to labor for the good of life all around us.

I must confess: I often don’t want to listen to the sounds that trouble my serenity. I may block out and vilify what disturbs me. I like my cabin quiet. I don’t often think that a loud knock at the door could be the Universal Christ, bringing good wood for my fire.

Black and Brown Lives Matter

We are in a watershed moment in our country. We are becoming more aware of the degree to which our country violently protects and masks white supremacy and the degree to which we wittingly and unwittingly participate in racial injustice. Slavery and lawful segregation may have ended, but anti-blackness and brownness has not. The murders and lynchings of black and brown people by police are not the result of a few bad apples. It is the result of a rotting tree that was planted in another people’s soil. So, people are rising up. They are taking to the streets and city councils. They are demanding new soil and new trees. They want structural change: that, for example, less money be allocated to bloated, militarized police budgets and more money be given to mental health treatment, equitable education, public housing, and clean water.  

Like me, you may sometimes see the protests and think they are too loud. You may wish people would put down their megaphones and take a silent walk through nature. Like me, you may also realize that is precisely your white privilege that allows you to experience the call for justice and an end to systemic violence as an unnecessary disturbance. Though we cannot condone violence, toxic anger, and hatred, we must see that of God in every protestor and justice builder—violent or not—pleading for what every human spirit needs to breathe and live fully into the call of Christ: justice, equity, peace.

Amos

In Amos 5, the prophet issues a lament and a call for repentance.

(10-12)

People hate this kind of talk.
    Raw truth is never popular.
But here it is, bluntly spoken:
    Because you run roughshod over the poor
    and take the bread right out of their mouths,
You’re never going to move into
    the luxury homes you have built.
You’re never going to drink wine
    from the expensive vineyards you’ve planted.
I know precisely the extent of your violations,
    the enormity of your sins. Appalling!
You bully right-living people,
    taking bribes right and left and kicking the poor when they’re down.

(16-17)

“Go out into the streets and lament loudly!
    Fill the malls and shops with cries of doom!
Weep loudly, ‘Not me! Not us, Not now!’
    Empty offices, stores, factories, workplaces.
Enlist everyone in the general lament.
    I want to hear it loud and clear.

(21-24)

“I can’t stand your religious meetings.
    I’m fed up with your conferences and conventions.
I want nothing to do with your religion projects,
    your pretentious slogans and goals and book studies.
I’m sick of your fund-raising schemes,
    your public relations and image making.
I’ve had all I can take of your noisy ego-music.
    When was the last time you sang to me?
Do you know what I want?
    I want justice—oceans of it.
I want fairness—rivers of it.
    That’s what I want. That’s all I want.

Knocks at the Door

George Floyd. Knock. Breonna Taylor. Knock. Ahmaud Arbery. Knock. No justice, no peace. Knock. The poor people’s campaign. Knock. A green new deal. Knock. A moral revolution in our meetinghouse, in our domestic houses, in our streets, in our schools, in our malls, in our government. Knock, knock, knock.

The Cabin in the Forest Inside of you there is a forest. Past the sycamore trees, the creeks, the night owls, and the crickets, there is a cabin. Your cabin sits under the sun and the moon and the other stars. It was built—and is sustained by—the spiritual gravity of divine love. Inside of your cabin is a fire in a fireplace. It is the everlasting and intimate that of God in you. Your eternal home. You are alone in your cabin under the sun and the moon and the other stars. You can’t put the fire in the fireplace out—because it burns from a mysterious source—but you share responsibility for the quality and intensity of the burn. You also share responsibility for what to do with the knocks at your door. “I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I’ll come right in and sit down to supper with you.”

This message was given to Spokane Friends Church by Paul Blankenship during Sunday Worship service on June 28,2020.