Making Room

November 17, 2013December 4, 2013 / Sharon / 1 Comment

My favorite seasons tend to be spring and summer. I love to see the sprouting of new life and the manifestation of trees and flowers in full bloom. However, autumn has beckoned me this year. As I returned from my lunch break one day last week, I noticed a stream of leaves floating to the ground, almost like gold and crimson raindrops in slow motion. In the past, I have viewed the falling leaves as loss. Yet now I have seen beauty and hope, even in empty trees where seemingly barren branches have made room for something new. And so it goes with seasons.

Your Call: How is “autumn” speaking to you? Where might God be nudging you to make room for something new?

Despising the Shame: The Power of Vulnerability

March 29, 2013January 20, 2019 / Sharon / Leave a comment

“…looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2 (ESV)

About 25 years ago, I participated in a foot-washing service on Maundy Thursday for the first (and last) time. I don’t remember much about it, except how exposed I felt while having my feet washed. If Jesus were to show up with basin and towel in hand as I arrived home from work, I would be tempted to dash out for a quick pedi, or at least sneak upstairs for some cocoa butter.

Foot washing is an intimate act, as demonstrated by the Pope this week. It sheds light on tender places, hidden aches and rough spots that come when the walk gets weary.

Vulnerability makes me nervous, but there’s no true intimacy without it. It’s the vulnerability of Jesus that has beckoned me during this Holy Week.

Anointed for his burial by Mary of Bethany as she wipes his feet with her hair.

Wrestling with his Father’s will at Gethsemane.

Hanging from a cross, beaten, bloodied and stripped naked.

Crying out “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

Vulnerable, yet despising the shame. I would like to think that during these moments, Jesus called to mind that Voice which said, “This is My Beloved Son.”

So I will remind myself that I am a Beloved Daughter, despising any shame that would hinder my journey. I will sit down and take off my shoes and soak my feet in Living Water. I will let the vulnerability of these moments usher me into Resurrection.

Your Call: Are there areas of shame that hinder the authenticity, vulnerability and intimacy necessary for resurrection in your life? If so, begin to bring them into the presence of Christ.

Advent Reflections: Veni Emmanuel

December 1, 2012December 3, 2015 / Sharon / Leave a comment

Oh come, Oh come Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.*

In lonely exile like:

panhandlers desperate for food and dignity;
immigrants isolated in culture and language;
the fearful and the awkward, simply trying to find their place;
those wrestling with voices that insist that this is all there is;
those discarded, oppressed or silenced.

May it be that we make room
for hope,
for the Son of God to appear
with us,
in us,
through us.

Veni Emmanuel.

Amen.

(*From the English translation of the Latin hymn “Veni, Veni Emmanuel.”)

Your Call: Recall a time in your life when you have “mourned in lonely exile”; pray for those who find themselves there now. Consider how you can make more room for the Son of God to appear in your life.

Breaking Bread: The Power of Conversation and Community

July 21, 2012July 26, 2012 / Sharon / Leave a comment

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them;but they were kept from recognizing him. He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?” They stood still, their faces downcast.
Luke 24:13-17 (NIV)

It has been months since Easter Sunday, but I still find myself captivated by the disciples’ trip to Emmaus. I can imagine their state of mind. Perplexed. Expectations dashed. “We had hoped that [Jesus] was the one to redeem Israel,” said the disciples to the Stranger who had joined them on the journey.

Last weekend, I attended a women’s conference that revived me in a way that I had not experienced in a while. It was as if the wind of the Spirit blew into my soul afresh, and I rejoice in a renewed sense of purpose and potential. Yet a week later, I find myself overwhelmed as I discern what my next steps should be. After these mountaintop experiences, my challenge is always to maintain momentum when I get back to sea level. In the meantime, I grieve recent tragedies such as the shooting in Aurora, CO. I recognize that in the shadow of the resurrection, death remains. The death of loved ones. The death of dreams. The death of relationships.

“We had hoped that…”

I can relate. Don’t we all have those thoughts, those if-onlys, haunting us from time to time? I had hoped that my father would live to see certain milestones in my life. Parents of the victims in Aurora had hoped to see their children thrive.

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” Luke 24:28-32 (NIV)

There was something about this Stranger who entered into conversation and community with the disciples. He inquired. He listened. He brought clarity. He challenged. He blessed. He broke bread. And all of a sudden, the disciples knew that the “rumor” was true. Jesus was alive and sitting right there in front of them!

Lately, I’ve asked myself, “when was the last time my heart burned within me, in a good way, based on a conversation?” By conversation, I do not mean hearing from the Lord through sermons or personal prayer times, though these are vital practices for me. What I mean is talking with others. I realize that conversations can get a bit messy. After all, Jesus broke the bread; he didn’t slice it. The good news is that the Presence of Christ can show up in the midst, messiness and all. Plus, there’s a heartiness and substance to bread that is broken compared to the neatly sliced bread that I often buy at the supermarket.

I’m starting to ask myself a lot more questions to help me envision what “breaking bread” really means. Please join me.

What if we were more intentional about reminding each other that Jesus is alive and that we can live out that truth between Sundays, conferences, retreats and revivals?

What if we spoke life into desolate places in each other and in the world around us?

What if we agreed with God that death, while present, does not have the final say?

What if we not only grieved for families of victims in Aurora, but also confronted the culture of violence in the United States?

What if we invited the “voiceless” into the conversation?

How is God calling us to represent the resurrection of Christ in the world?

Your Call: Read Luke 24:1-35; what stands out to you about the journey to Emmaus? What is the role of conversation and community in your life?

Manna for Lent

March 30, 2012July 21, 2012 / Sharon / Leave a comment

Beloved Daughter,
You can’t mix sand to bake bread
But Manna is here.

This haiku has been whispering within since it came to me a few weeks ago. My response to Lent had been rather unfocused, but by the grace of God, the poem emerged as the Spirit hovered over my weariness, my creativity and my meditation on Jesus’ first temptation in the wilderness:

The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes out of the mouth of God.’ ” Matthew 4:3,4 (NRSV)

Indeed, I do find myself in a desert season these days. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here. I know that there is purpose, power and provision to be found even in dry places. I also know that the temptation for me to try to fend for myself is very real. No, I can’t turn stones into bread, but with my resourcefulness, surely I can think of some other options. But Manna, that Bread from Heaven, is here. And so I rest. I eat. I listen. I learn.

In The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality, Belden C. Lane points out that “without the tough-minded discipline of desert-mountain experience, spirituality loses its bite, its capacity to speak prophetically to its culture, and its demand for justice.” So the significance of yielding to the work of the desert is bigger than my own spiritual growth. Therefore, the questions for me (and perhaps for you) are:

Will you be a good steward of this desert experience?

Will you take off your shoes and declare this to be holy ground?

Will you cooperate in being stripped of whatever would hinder your devotion to Christ and your love of others?

Will you walk in the valley of dry bones long enough to cry out for rivers of resurrection in the midst of idolatry, injustice, and despair?

In the company of Hagar, Moses, Elijah, Ezekiel, John the Baptist,
and in the presence of Jesus Christ,
let us say…

Yes.

Your Call: Recall the last time you were in a dry place. Perhaps you are there now. Either way, what lessons have you taken away from the experience? How will you retain and act on what you have learned? Who would potentially be blessed if you yielded to God’s work in the desert?

Legacy, Part 2

October 22, 2011July 20, 2025 / Sharon / 2 Comments

CC Image courtesy of Lane 4 Imaging on Flickr

As I look at pictures from the recent MLK memorial dedication, the 30 foot tall statue of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. seems larger than life. So it is with the notion of legacy, especially when you consider all that Dr. King accomplished before the age of 40.

Reflecting upon the lives of those who have made a notably “visible” impact in the world can be inspiring and overwhelming at the same time. Now that I’m forty-something, my perspective on legacy is being tested and is surely evolving in this season of my life. Anyone in any kind of leadership role knows the temptation to measure legacy by visibility.

Truth be told, Dr. King’s legacy was strengthened by many who were relatively less visible: Rosa Parks, Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth, Fannie Lou Hamer, and Ella Baker, to name a few. And even less visible: 21 teachers (my mother included) in Elloree, SC, who resigned rather than renounce their NAACP memberships.

Perhaps legacy begins when we act on opportunities to plant seeds of eternity along the way, wherever our journeys take us. A few months ago, I posted a blog in tribute to my father that spoke of his legacy in a metaphorical way. To be more concrete, I can say that my father modeled a willingness to question, intellectual curiosity, awareness of what’s going on in the world, not being caught up in popularity or pretension, and love of family and friends. Not that I’ve mastered these values by any means, but they serve as a compass for me nevertheless.

CC Image courtesy of VoiceBrazil on Flickr

As I’ve studied and taught on Luke’s account of the Gospel for the past few weeks, I am struck by Jesus’ willingness to become human in such an unassuming way. He could have simply showed up grown and regal, but chose another path, immersing Himself into the vulnerability of the human experience. Jesus did not shrink back from moving in visible ways or acknowledging His identity, but He did so on His own terms, leaving a legacy of love, redemption and empowerment for us to follow. While this legacy is also larger than life, it also transcends our limitations and shows us where to start: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your God.

Your Call: If someone were commissioned to sculpt an image that represented you, what would you want it to look like? What do you want to be remembered for? How can you be more intentional about leaving a meaningful legacy?

Full Voice

August 5, 2011April 3, 2012 / Sharon / 2 Comments

Falsetto
sounds real pretty
but only momentarily
so
Work your range.
Sip Living Water.
Breathe deep.
Let Air do what Air does best
in Full Voice.

I have spent just about all of my adult years singing in one choir or another. As an alto, I have been called upon to venture into “soprano” territory from time to time. This “falsetto” tone is not “full” but has a quality about it that works for a particular part of a given song. But I can imagine what it would be like to have to sing falsetto all of the time. My vocal cords would be worn out. My voice would be strained. Not a good scenario. Fortunately, I get to sing within my range most of the time, so “full voice” is the norm.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about how this concept of “voice” applies to other areas of expression, like speaking and writing. In our consumer-driven society, our creativity can be seen as a mere commodity instead of the gift from God that it is. The temptation to compare or compromise our voices is very real. A connection with our Creator is our only effective strategy against this.

What does it mean to discover and embrace your unique voice in the spoken and written word as well as the lived life? How can we live in “full voice” and instead of settling for the “falsetto?” There are no formulas or quick fixes here, but my opening poem is my way of working through these questions. Whether you sing on a platform or in your living room, I invite you to consider how the imagery in the poem speaks to you.

Your Call: In what area is God calling you to increased commitment to discerning and developing your unique voice? What highlights and challenges have you encountered on the journey to “full voice?”

The Dilemma of Expectation

July 31, 2011April 3, 2012 / Sharon / 1 Comment

Then Peter began to say to Him, “See, we have left all and followed You.” So Jesus answered and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or lands, for My sake and the gospel’s, who shall not receive a hundredfold now in this time—houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions—and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” Mark 10:28,29 (NKJV)

Then Jesus said to them, “Children, have you any food?” They answered Him, “No.” And He said to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast, and now they were not able to draw it in because of the multitude of fish. Therefore that disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” John 21:5-7a (NKJV)

I have always appreciated Peter’s bold comment to Jesus. In fact, I suspect that the other disciples were thinking the same thing and dared not speak of it. But there’s no tiptoeing around the issue with Peter. He points to the disciples’ sacrifice and wants to know what to expect in return. Jesus’ response is promising, scary and mysterious all at the same time. Fast forward to a disillusioned Peter after his Rabbi’s crucifixion, headed back to what he knows best – fishing.

This morning, my pastor preached on the disciples’ fishing trip in John 21, touching on Peter’s conversation with Jesus in Mark 10. Anyone who’s familiar with my approach to Bible study and meditation knows that I advocate prayerful wrestling with the text as it relates to both interpretation and application. Tasting the Word is just the beginning; digesting the Word is a longer, deeper process. This morning’s message really hit home for me. I have echoed Peter’s sentiments on more than one occasion. While I can’t say that I’ve sacrificed nearly as much as the disciples, or those in the Persecuted Church (then and now), what I have given up (proximity to most of my family) is significant to me. And while I’d like to consider myself somewhat socially conscious, I confess that I’ve done my share of buying into the “American Dream.” When I was 21 (loving Jesus and all), you couldn’t have told me that 20+ years later, I would be unmarried, without children, and lacking a picket fence.

Waking up and moving forward has been a journey. I’m at a crossroads, wondering what “family” is supposed to look like for me and pondering the notion of expectation quite a bit. What does it really mean to walk in expectancy? How do we claim the promises of God? Where do we cross the line into a sense of entitlement? What happens in the midst of unmet expectations and disappointment? How does this affect our prayers? Is it presumptuous to be specific in bringing our hopes and dreams to God? Shall we stick with general, safe prayers? What part do prayers of relinquishment play? How do we maintain gratitude for what God has already done while still acknowledging unfulfilled longings?

However Peter wrestled with this, Jesus showed up, reversed the fishing failure and eventually kept His promise. Peter was empowered to be a “fisher of people”, even while facing persecution. As I move into the next chapter of my life, please pray with and for me. The plot continues, it’s a cliffhanger, and the Author ain’t telling me much in the way of details. In the meantime, what I’m hearing right now is — “It is the Lord!” So be it.

Your Call: How does your prayer life look when you are disappointed or disillusioned? How can you fully embrace Jesus’ promise of an abundant life without idolizing or distorting that promise?

The Gifts, The Gifted, and The Giver

July 12, 2011June 14, 2020 / Sharon / 4 Comments

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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?

An Independence Day Prayer

July 4, 2011July 4, 2013 / Sharon / Leave a comment

Almighty and Loving God,

We come to You,
Humbled that we can.
Thankful that in grace and power,
You created us in Your image.
Grateful that Your Son came, wrapped in flesh,
sacrificing himself to secure our freedom.

We confess that we have not always lived the liberty that You have provided.
Instead we choose to cling to the comforts of the familiar
or to chase after the spectacular.

Help us to confront the internal bondage
that hinders us from following You wholeheartedly.
May Your love replace our fear.
May Your grace replace our pride.
May Your call replace our complacency.

Let us not avert our eyes from the oppression around us,
whether in the form of human trafficking, discrimination or violence.
May we sit with You and grieve this injustice,
all the while being renewed by Your Spirit once again.
May we sit still long enough to hear and accept Your assignment,
all the while being empowered to transform the wilderness that we face.
May we support one another on the journey,
all the while demonstrating the power of authentic community.

May more chains fall off in our midst because we’ve been with You.

In the precious name of our Lord, Savior and Liberator, Jesus Christ, we pray.