Get Me Bodied

Recently, I attended a surprise birthday party and over the speakers, I heard a melody
that was vaguely familiar.  Beyonce was singing Get Me Bodied.  Apparently the song had been released a few years ago, but I didn’t take notice of it at that time.  At its most basic level, Get Me Bodied is an infectious dance song, so I could leave it at that. But I won’t, mostly because I’m on a quest to feel more aware of and at home in my own body.  As easy as Bey makes it look (at least in the video), walking in the psalmist’s declaration of being fearfully and wonderfully made often takes some soul work.

I have fond memories of family gatherings when I was a child and much less self-conscious.   We would get together and do the Bump and the Bus Stop.  (Yes, I’m dating myself.) And when the Jackson Five’s Dancing Machine came on, all of us kids stopped what we were doing and started in on the Robot. Every year around this time, I enjoy my ritual of watching the dance scene from A Charlie Brown Christmas. When I watch those lovable characters in the Peanuts gang, I am struck by their exuberance and their comfort with moving in their own rhythms.  Some are on beat; others are off.  None of them care one way or the other.  All of them are having a great time.

As I strive to befriend my body, things get complicated when it doesn’t cooperate.  While I feel blessed to be relatively healthy, I do have some issues that give me pause and remind me of the need to be vigilant.  What happens when your body seems to turn against you?  An OB/GYN answered this question in a revolutionary way right before she had a double mastectomy.  I looked at her video again and remembered where I heard Get Me Bodied before.

Sometimes I wonder how Jesus experienced his own body, especially before his public ministry.  Did he ever feel unattractive or awkward as a teenager?  Did he get sick or have to watch sick people suffer and die?  If he did, perhaps he recalled a previous conversation that he had in another space in eternity.  A conversation amidst the Holy Trinity’s lament over a fallen world where he spoke up and said “Get Me Bodied.”  Actually, he hasn’t stopped saying it. He continues to say it to you and me.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.  John 1:1,14 (NIV)

 Your Call: Take some time to watch the videos.  How do they make you feel?  How would you describe your relationship with your body?  In what sense might Jesus be telling you “Get Me Bodied?”

The Awakening: When Gratitude and Desire Meet

Advent1Somewhere between already and not yet, I’ve thought about what it looks like to be thankful in the midst of longing. So how does a holiday defined by gratitude end up so close to a season based on waiting for the fulfillment of Promise?  Is there is a reason why Advent arrives so soon after Thanksgiving? Can gratitude and desire co-exist?  I think so. In fact, I hope that they do more than co-exist. I want them to become friends.

By pointing out what is good in my life and in the world, gratitude can lead us to a place of rest as we recall the faithfulness of God in times past.    It nudges us when tempted to sleepwalk through life in perpetual daydreams of what could be.  Gratitude grounds us in the moment, encouraging us to be fully present in it.   Then, desire brings balance. It speaks of possibility, and doesn’t allow for complacency with what is, but invites us to answer Jesus (honestly) when he asks “What do you want?” Recognizing desire can alert us to needs and issues that are both within and around us, all the while stirring us to action.

I look forward to seeing how gratitude and desire will connect in my life over the next month.  In the meantime, it is my prayer that this Advent season awakens you to the presence of Christ and his purpose for your life in a world in much need of love, hope, and justice.

And do this, understanding the present time: The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. Romans 13:11 (NIV)

Your Call: In what area(s) of your life do you need to be more fully awake?  If gratitude and desire had a conversation regarding your life at the moment, what would it sound like? 

Making Room

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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

470px-Omovenie_nog“…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

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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

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? 

Oasis

“Head held high
and never cry,” said I
on my trip to Sahara
where sand
flew in my eyes
and rendered me blind.

Then,
I heard Hagar
and Moses
and Elijah
say,
“This is holy ground.”

And I heard Jesus say,
“Come…”

He took my hand
and blew into my eyes
and reached into my soul
and turned on the faucet,
collecting tears long overdue
in a bottle which He had,
before the beginning of time,
reserved just for me.
And when I drank,
something crazy happened.

Like straight from the honeycomb,
All I tasted was sweet.

© Sharon Fleshman, 2012

Your Call: How has God shown up for you in dry seasons and wilderness places?

Manna for Lent

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?

If you love somebody, set them free

It’s one thing to be captivated by things.  Cars. Gadgets. Shoes. Diamonds. But a more insidious temptation is to view a person as a means toward an end.  An object. A commodity.  A possession.  In our fallen world, this tendency can sneak up on any of us if we’re not intentional about seeing people as made in God’s image. In some cases, this tendency has gained momentum and evolved into a system of oppression.

January 11 has been declared Human Trafficking Awareness Day.  According to the Polaris Project, approximately 27 million people are modern day slaves, whether in forced labor or the sex trade, generating annual profits of about $32 billion.  With such overwhelming numbers, it’s easy to downplay our potential for contributing to positive change.  Nevertheless, in dedication to our Redeemer, we must act.  Here are some places to start: 

  • Learn more about the issue and how it is already being addressed.  The Department of State has published a comprehensive reportWorld Vision, International Justice Mission, and American Baptist Women’s Ministries are three groups offering advocacy and assistance, but I’m sure that there are many more.
  • Advocate for the continuance of necessary legislation.
  • Consider the products that you purchase and whether they are produced ethically. 
  • Donate to the work of organizations who are addressing this injustice.
  • Establish a time for periodic prayer and intercession. And pray. 

 Your Call:  Take a look at one of the websites linked above and based on what you learn, say a prayer of intercession for victims of human trafficking. Take another look at the list above.  Pray about what action(s) you will take and make a commitment to follow through.