Author: fosteringyourfaith

I have been an ordained minister with the United Church of Christ since 1987. With my writing and preaching, I share the Good News of God's love, forgiveness, welcome, and new life. I hope my "blog of encouragement" will inspire readers to enjoy encouraging people to celebrate God's promise to always be with us, God's beloved children. My book, "Retreats to Go: Twelve Creative Programs that Renew and Refresh" provides engaging resources for planning retreats, Bible studies, and workshops.

Hospitality = Welcoming God’s People

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Welcome sign

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:1)”

My Doctor of Ministry thesis was all about hospitality. Together with my congregation I asked the question, “Who is missing from our church and how can we make them feel welcome?”

In this era of suspicion when fear and distrust are pervasive, hospitality urges us to open our hearts, our homes, and our spirits to God’s people, especially to those who might seem “other” or “different” than we are. “Truly I say to you,” Jesus reminds us, “as you did to one of the least of my brothers [or sisters], you did to me” (Matthew 25:40). Offering someone a safe haven or a seat on the bus or a place in our sanctuary can be life-changing.

My role models are courageous pioneers who have been on the forefront of radical hospitality. They have forged a path of welcome with their compassion for the plights of others. I am not sure I am as brave as those people who have stood up to tyranny, stared down injustice, and added their voices to the cry for freedom, but I am inspired by them.

I think about

  • People who offered shelter along the Underground Railroad, who provided food, water and encouragement to escaping slaves.
  • Suffragettes, who protested, went to jail and endured abuse so their sisters would be welcomed at the polls.
  • Individuals and families who rejected the Nazi claim to “racial purity” and opened their homes and hearts to Jews trying to escape certain death.
  • Freedom Riders – black and white – who rode into the segregated South to advance Civil Rights.
  • Straight men and women who have joined their gay sisters and brothers to demand equal protection under the law.

Real hospitality – the realization that all of God’s children are loved and precious in God’s sight – demands that we continually widen our welcome and intentionally make room for everyone at the table. Hospitality creates space for every person and leaves enough silence so all voices can be heard.

On November 2nd I will lead a workshop at Hartford Seminary entitled, “Proactively welcoming the LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual, Transgender, Questioning) community into our congregations.”  When I am there, I will be thankful for those who went before me and made this day possible.  I will be thinking about people who were ridiculed, shouted at, reviled, imprisoned, and even killed because they were convinced that God loves all of God’s people. They lived a message of love, welcome, and hospitality.

I want to try to do the same.

Thoughts for Today:

Who will we welcome today?

Who will we encounter that needs to be reminded of their value and unique worth?

How will we live out God’s hospitality?

The Joy of a “comfort book”

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Illuminated Life by Joan Chittister
Illuminated Life by Joan Chittister

“Comfort, yes, comfort my people, says your God.”  (Isaiah 40:1)

What do you do when you need comfort? Where you turn when you feel stressed or overwhelmed?

  • Some people go for a walk or do some gardening.
  • Others turn to “comfort foods” (think M&M’s, for me…).
  • There might be the temptation to self-medicate with pills or alcohol (I don’t recommend this – it ends up hurting too many people).
  • I once heard an actor talk about the “comfort movies;” he watches films he knows will reliably lift his spirits or make him laugh.

When I am searching for a “no calorie” way to calm my mind, restore my soul, and feed my spirit, I often turn to a “comfort book.”  I am basically too cheap to actually buy books but I am fortunate enough to serve a church that sits across the town common from our public library. Usually I simply borrow any book I wish to read.

But there are certain books – those comfort books – which I have purchased over the years because I know I will turn to them again and again. My stash of comfort books are in the bookcase by my bed – they are within easy reach so I can grab one and let it fall open anywhere. Most of the books are so familiar that I don’t need to read them cover to cover any more. There is an eclectic mixture of devotionals, a few novels, and even some children’s books – there is nothing like a chapter of Winnie the Pooh to bring me straight back to my safety and security of my childhood when things are spiraling out of control.

One book that reliably offers me inspiration and remind me of God’s presence is Joan Chittister’s Illuminated Life: Monastic Wisdom for Seekers of Light. Sister Joan is a Benedictine nun who shares her insights and wisdom on-line (http://joanchittister.org ) and through her writing.  Illuminated Life offers 26 reflections (one for each letter of the alphabet) which encourage readers to intentionally seek God in every circumstance.  This book is just right for me – each reading is long enough to provide some food for thought, but short enough to fit into my time-crunched day. I love the reminders like…

  • A = Awareness, to “see everything in life as sacred” (23).
  • G = Growth, because “union with God is not a static thing” (50).
  • S = Silence, which is a “lost art in a society made of noise” (106).
  • Z = Zeal, which brings us to God, “the energy that drives us” (136).

This book encourages me to be “contemplative” in the midst of a busy life.  Being contemplative has nothing to do with a somber, dour life filled with silence and ritualized prayers. Instead, it is an active, joy-filled invitation to search for God now, in the middle of whatever chaos you may be experiencing, because surely God is there.

Life can be overwhelming, tiring, and discouraging. This book is a celebration of God’s faithfulness. It reminds me that God wants to be found/discovered/experienced by us every day.

And that offers me great comfort.

My Parents: A Love Story

On By fosteringyourfaithIn Love9 Comments
September 9, 1950
September 9, 1950

A&P walking

At 8:00 p.m. on September 9, 1950 my parents were married at Saint Michael’s and All Angels Episcopal Church in Portland Oregon.  Every anniversary they take the opportunity to review the past year and spend some moments to dream about the future.  They also jokingly (I think it’s a joke) decide whether they should “re-up” for another year of marriage and keep this partnership going. And so far, they have agreed to stay together. As my mother says, it looks like this relationship is going to stick.

Sixty-five years. It’s a daunting number.  Their partnership has spanned decades that have brought social, technological, and political changes that were unimaginable in those early post-war years. Side by side they have weathered a lifetime of events – personally and globally – from sad and tragic to joyous and glorious.

As a pastor, I engage in pre-marital counseling with couples preparing for marriage.  I encourage them to consider which marriages they admire and which relationships they might want to emulate. One of the great blessings of my life is that I experienced first-hand my role models for marriage.  Over the years I have observed my parents intentionally nurture their relationship as it continues to evolve as an active, thriving, and love-filled union.

Here is some of what I have learned from their love story:

  • Be willing to take a risk. My mom lived in Oregon, my dad was from CT; they met when my mother’s brother married an East Coast girl. Over the course of three years, my parents saw each other only four times before their wedding day. They trusted their gut feeling that this was a relationship worth working for.
  • Dare to reveal who you are. Hundreds of letters helped them bridge the 3000 mile gap between them. Each note offered glimpses of their hopes, dreams, disappointments, feelings, and questions. These shared imaginings and stories formed the foundation of their relationship.
  • Learn new things. My mother was a 20 year old city girl who moved to rural Connecticut surrounded by dairy farms and apple orchards. When my father left for work (they only had one car), she was left on her own to meet the neighbors and discover the mysteries of gardening, preserving, and canning.  She is one of the bravest people I know – she dove into this new lifestyle wholeheartedly, determined to make this challenging situation work.
  • Cocktail hour is important. It isn’t about the drinking (sherry for my mom, Scotch for my dad), but about the listening.  Every evening this was their precious time to sit down together, talk about their day, and catch up with one another.  It taught me the value of taking (and making) time for my partner.
  • Say thank you. My parents thank each other for big and little things – thank you for taking out the trash, for cooking supper, for changing the lightbulb, for being there when I need you. They taught me the value of appreciation.
  • Notice at the sunset. Our tiny house on top of a big hill faced west. Almost every evening my parents would call my brothers and me together to admire the changing colors and growing dusk as the sun sank behind the hills. Even something that happens every single day can be precious.
  • Invite your friends over. My parents hosted cocktail parties, bridge gatherings, and countless holidays for an eclectic band of relatives and friends. They encouraged us to do the same – cast parties, birthday celebrations, Easter morning sunrise service for the youth group – everyone was welcome.  My appreciation for hospitality began in that small cottage that always had room for everyone.
  • Make the best of any situation. A broken down car was an opportunity to walk home and get some exercise, the electricity going out was a chance to eat by candlelight, a sudden change in the plans was an invitation to try something new. My parents never dwelled in disappointment but instead discovered the unexpected that was offeredWhen two people get married, no one can know what the future will hold. I was blessed to grow up with two people filled with love, integrity, creativity, strength and courage.  That is something worth celebrating.
  • Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.
  • A&P dancing
  • (My parents dancing at my niece’s wedding, August 2015)

Loving my differently colored sons

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This is a reflection that I wrote for the Kenyon College Literary Journal, Beyond Walls.  I wanted to share it with you here…

Child hands painted in colorful paints ready for hand prints

I have always assured my children that I love them equally. And that’s true. But I also love them differently. As a white mother of my biological, white son and of my adopted, dark-skinned son, I have had different worries about them as they have matured into young men.

They have grown up in the same household, under the same rules, surrounded by the same caring congregation in a tightly knit New England village. And yet they have had vastly different life experiences.

There was the time when my adorable Bolivian baby, tucked into his stroller with his chubby cheeks ringed by a mop of curly dark hair, was viewed with disdain by a passerby. “He isn’t from around here, is he?” declared the man before he huffed away, apparently concerned that his white town was being tainted by this newborn. It was just a sentence lobbed at us, but it made its impact and it hurt.

Then there was the time outside of a movie theater when my dark-skinned son ran ahead of me to claim the “shotgun” seat in the car. Intent on his goal, he squeezed past a man who wheeled around, face full of anger, and shouted, “Hey, darky! I ain’t scared of you! You think you’re so tough? Come on!” My gentle, not yet teenage son was the one who was scared. This experience was topped only by the time when he was walking our dog not far from our house and someone stopped their car to ask if he belonged in this neighborhood.

All of this was a learning curve for me. My eyes were opened to experiences that I didn’t even realize existed. Where had I been? Hadn’t I been paying attention? And yet if I only had a white-skinned son, I’m not sure I would even today be aware of the vast differences in individual life experiences that are based solely on a color spectrum.

I don’t have to warn my white-skinned son not to wear a hoodie, to keep his hands visible on the steering wheel if he is pulled over by the police, or to be cautious about who he dates, lest he experience the reaction of an overly protective white father or brother.

I love my sons equally. I just wish the world could see them as I do, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them differently. 

Bumper Sticker Wisdom

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Bumper Sticker Coexist

I love bumper stickers. Those short, pithy sayings that can make me laugh – or think.

One of my favorites questioned, “Where are we going?  And why are we in this handbasket?”  It makes me smile whenever I think about it.

Or the bumper sticker that reads, “Knock, knock.  Who’s there?  Doctor.”  Coming from a family of “Doctor Who” fans, I like the subtlety.

Or the sticker that I saw in traffic the other day, “I’m not lost.  I’m exploring.” It’s a good attitude, even when it isn’t true.

I know people criticize what is often labelled “bumper sticker theology,” the temptation to define complex subjects with the briefest phrase.  But sometimes a short quote can provide much food for thought.

Here’s one that I like:

Love God. Love your neighbor. Save the world. (Episcopal Church)

Now, I know you could argue with that. You might say, “It makes it sound too easy.” If you could engage the bumper sticker in conversation, you might want to raise topics like multi-cultural differences or gun violence or even about that annoying woman who sat next to you on the bus.  But bumper stickers aren’t about dialogues.  At their best, they remind us of what is true.

With just 8 words this bumper sticker describes an entire way of life.  Love God.  That’s first. Then – Love your neighbor. Because that is what God tells us to do.  If we do those two things – which are not easy and which we will fail spectacularly at many times each day – we will change the world.

Try it. Express your love for God through gratitude and thanksgiving.  Take a few moments to think about your blessings today and give thanks.

Try to love your neighbor – not just someone next door, but also the person you live with, or the sullen store clerk, or the over-worked waitress, or micro-managing boss, or your petty cop-worker, the relative who calls too often or who never calls at all…you get the idea.

Those actions, given to God, will change the world. Notice – we don’t have to change the world ourselves (that would be a lot of responsibility). We need to live the way that God tells us and trust that God can use those actions.  God will change the world, with us and through us.

Or – to use another bumper sticker to say it another way:

To believe is to care. To care is to do.  (United Church of Christ).

Let’s not make faith more complicated than it is. Let’s allow God’s love to move us to action.

Where do you hear God?

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In Tacoma WA there is a man who plays “Taps” on his trumpet every evening at sunset. He stands out on his deck overlooking the water and lets that melancholy, poignant tune float over the neighborhood. It is a gift offered to anyone who will take even a few seconds to listen.

I remember learning “Taps”as a Girl Scout; we would our long summer camp day standing around a campfire singing, “Day is done, gone the sun, from the lake, from the hill, from the sky. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.” The simple song had the power to calm giggling pre-teens and offer a sense of peace that carried us to bedtime.

The trumpeter’s Washington neighbors say how much they appreciate this nightly ritual. “People stop what they are doing.” “The music washes over me.” They use words like “beautiful, emotional, moving.” In this busy suburb, the music reminds them to slow down, breathe, and take a moment to reflect.

My Girl Scout days are long gone.  Now I am much more likely to hear “Taps” played by a graveside as I preside over memorial service honoring the life and death of a military veteran. That invites another level of reflection as we give thanks for a life completed, a life that included service and duty.

I believe God speaks to us in a multitude of ways every single day. If we’re too busy, we won’t notice. If our lives are constantly filled with noise, we won’t hear. But if we pause, if we listen,  if we take the time to listen and to notice, our spirits can be touched by the music of God, which comes in many forms.

Where do you hear God?

Where do you find God?

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Flower growing through concrete

Where do you find God?

Summer was busy, the fall will most likely be even busier. We can race from one event to another, blindly following our calendar’s command to fill our days with meeting, sports, and family obligations (not to mention work and household chores).

How do you feed your spirit in the midst of the busy-ness?  Where do you find God when you are on the go?

This poem speaks to me. I often feel closest to the Creator when I am in the creation – outside, perhaps in some green pastures or by some still waters, enjoying the gifts of nature.

The Peace of Wild Things

BY WENDELL BERRY

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. 

This past weekend I had just a brief opportunity to go kayaking.  I was out on the water for a total of about 15 minutes, but it was not the amount of time that was important to me.  It was simply being on the water,listening to the rhythm of the paddle as it scooped the water and moved me forward.  it was the pleasure of gliding silently by some ducks who were feeding in the shore grasses.  It was a few precious moments in an otherwise action-packed weekend when I could be alone and have the opportunity to soak in the beauty of the day.  Those 15 minutes reminded me of the presence and the power of God.  I carried those moments with me during the less-serene parts of my day – driving through traffic, rushing to get dinner on the table, and saying a final “good-bye” to summer vacation as all three children headed back to college.

Where do you find God?  The Good News is that God wants to be found by us.  We just need to take the time to look. And to listen.