Devotional

The Gifts, The Gifted, and The Giver

/ Sharon / 4 Comments

flower purple petal gift decoration color colorful pink christmas paper package advent christmas decoration gifts art joy birthday loop made packed give surprise gift packaging mother's day children's birthday packet loop origami paper wedding favors

So Jacob’s gifts went on ahead of him, but he himself spent the night in the camp.
Genesis 32:21 (NIV)

When I was studying and teaching on the life of Jacob and his family last fall, I looked forward to the discussion around Jacob’s wrestling match (Genesis 32:24-32), one of my favorite narratives in the Old Testament.  The intensity, vulnerability and mystery of that encounter have always intrigued me, especially since Jacob emerged from it with a greater sense of identity.   Of course, broken relationships make up the context of this scene. Jacob must eventually face his brother Esau, who he had betrayed years earlier.  In response, Jacob decides to send his possessions in an attempt to appease him.  I’ve looked at this text on a number of occasions, but this time, I was particularly struck by the notion that “Jacob’s gifts went on ahead on him, but he himself spent the night in the camp”  It’s as if the gifts served as some kind of shield for Jacob, a means of protection from the wrath to come.  But God then turns Jacob’s scheme on its head. As a result of sending his gifts, servants and family members ahead, Jacob is left alone to face not his brother, but himself.  And so, the wrestler appears and the wrestling begins.  The next day, Esau greets Jacob not with a chokehold, but a hug.  Perhaps he’s had his own wrestling match. In the end, grace prevails.

As fascinated as I was with this study when I shared it with my class, I had this sinking feeling that I would have to enter into this text like I never had before.  As much I appreciate Jacob’s journey, I wasn’t trying to hang out with him like that.  It’s one thing to be a spectator in a wrestling match, it’s quite another to find yourself thrust into the ring.  But in an age where celebrity status, constant busyness, and social isolation are such temptations for ministry leaders, I have to yield to the necessary wrestling if I am to live and serve with integrity and wholeness.  So in this phase of my life, I’m confronting my tendency to define my value by what I do, what people think of what I do, and how “productive” I am.   This is not to say that I don’t value good stewardship of my gifts, but my identity needs to be rooted in the Giver so that my “gifts” are actually gifts, God-breathed and grace-filled.   What’s more, I don’t want my gifts to be a shield that blocks me from experiencing life-giving community.  In her book Stories from Inner Space: Confessions of a Preacher Woman and Other Tales, Rev. Dr. Claudette Copeland wisely observes that we are often “more comfortable with our assignments than our relationships.”

So what does this mean for me going forward?  Both of the hats I wear (minister and career advisor) involve speaking and “wordsmithing.”  So quite often, I’m thinking and praying about what to say and how to say it.  But what would it look like to have Sabbath spaces, in the presence of God and community, where I can just be?   With nothing particularly profound, clever, or witty to say.  Wrestling and resting. Giving and receiving.  Letting grace prevail.

Your Call: Is there a situation in your life that has resembled Jacob’s wrestling match?  As you make the most of your God-given gifts, how do you maintain a commitment to integrity and character?  Do you have a community in which you are embraced for who you are and not merely defined by your giftedness?

Legacy

/ Sharon / 1 Comment

His hands hold steady.
I pedal forward to be
          released to the Wind.

This marks my fourth Father’s Day without my father’s presence.   As I grieved three years ago, I received many thoughtful expressions of sympathy, but one stands out in particular.  A childhood friend sparked a precious memory that has continued to be a point of reference in my journey.

The bicycle is yellow, not particularly fancy but definitely sturdy.  My father is a practical man, but I wonder why he would pick a yellow bicycle for a daughter who is terrified of bees. The sun is out during my riding lesson (probably one of many), so at least my bike matches the day.  I get on to the bicycle.  My father holds on and walks with me as I pedal, reassuring me.  Then we pick up speed and momentum builds and all of a sudden, he is standing with my friends, cheering me on. I don’t know when my father let go. All I know is that I’m riding.

On any given summer evening, I can imagine that many fathers are still teaching their children to ride their bikes without training wheels.   What speaks to me now is the beauty of the transition of that moment.  There was not only a release, but a release to something — the wind that continued to usher me along even as I struggled to find my balance.  Certainly, this experience points to what parents and mentors are called by God to do.  I am inspired by my father’s faithfulness to his assignment and compelled to follow his lead.  In the meantime, the ride continues and when I feel unsteadied, I remind myself that the Everlasting Arms have always picked up where my father left off.

Your Call: Think about someone who has left a legacy which inspires you to move forward in God’s purpose for your life.  What legacy do you want to leave behind?

From Lent to Pentecost: The “Absent” Presence of God

/ Sharon / 2 Comments

Under Evergreen's Eye

As Pentecost Sunday winds up, my mind goes back to a trip I took about two months ago during Lent.  I knew I needed some time away to process things going on (or not going on) in my life.   I can’t even remember how I stumbled upon the information about the retreat. All I knew is that I needed to go.  So I went, enjoying the rustic scenery on the way.  When I arrived, the sky was overcast.  It was springtime, but neither my surroundings nor my mood reflected this.  Almost a year after my ordination, life seemed anti-climactic.  Perplexed,  I wondered, “Now what?”

So here I was at this gathering.  There couldn’t have been more than 10 people present.   To reinforce our discussion, the facilitator decided to play a clip from the movie Ray, which offers a glimpse of the life of the late Ray Charles.  In the scene, a young Ray, who had lost his sight, runs into the house and trips over something on the floor.  Disoriented and scared, he cries out to his mother for help.    There is no response. Ray’s cries grow more desperate. The mother is in the room. She is standing in a silence that would seem stoic, if the camera had not come in closer. Compassion fills her face and her eyes brim with tears, yet she knows that her son has to apply what she has taught him.  So she stands and she waits. Ray begins to grope around to get his bearings. Then, he gets still. He hears a cricket and runs toward it, fears fading.   And yes, he hears his mother breathe.  She had been there the whole time.  “Why are you crying, Mama?” he asks. Her answer — “Because I’m happy.”

As a fan of Ray Charles’ music, I had already seen the movie.  I recall being very moved by the scene I just described, but this second viewing was different.  This time, I wasn’t just watching Ray.  I was Ray.  Along with his cry, I heard the voices of the Psalmists weeping as they sought the whereabouts of God.  And I heard me.  In the face of Ray’s mother, I saw the face of God, full of love and waiting for me to get still, listen, and apply what I have been taught. God was there the whole time, breathing and rejoicing.  In that quiet moment, I had a profound awareness of God’s Presence that I had not experienced in a while and tears of release came.  Pentecost had arrived a bit early and I’m just realizing it now as I write this post. I’m grateful.

Your Call: How have you navigated seasons in your journey in which God has felt distant to you? How are you heeding the call to be still and pay attention to God’s presence in your day-to-day life?