Sermon for Sunday, July 2, 2017 – “Be a Guest”

Sermon for Sunday, July 2, 2017 – “Be a Guest”

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
July 2, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

When I first read the Gospel for today, I thought it was about how we need to welcome others. Except, Jesus says to his disciples, “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me.” Here he isn’t instructing the disciples to show hospitality. He’s telling them to receive it. Jesus is calling his disciples, including all of us, to be in situations where we will be dependent on the hospitality of others.

Why?

Aren’t we supposed to help other people – care for them and welcome them?

Shouldn’t we give cups of cold water?

Why should we impose on others and ask things of them?

Because – Jesus says those who welcome others are blessed by his presence, “Whoever welcomes you, welcomes me”. Jesus wants people to get to experience his presence as they extend hospitality.

In this instance, Jesus is speaking about those who welcome his disciples, righteous people, and prophets.

But in Matthew 25 he says that those who welcome strangers of any kind welcome him, even if they don’t recognize him.

And it seems Jesus wants more people to be blessed by his presence as they offer hospitality. So, he calls us to make that possible by being in the role of vulnerable guests.

But this is so hard! As challenging as it is to practice hospitality, it’s often easier to be a host than a guest.

As a host, we get to stay in the comfort of our own house, institution, or congregation. We are at home, on familiar turf. We understand how things work.

When we are guests, we often have to step outside our comfort zones. We are dependent on the kindness of others. We are vulnerable. We wonder if we’re intruding. I experienced all that when I was hosted by a woman named Paulina during a semester of study abroad in Zimbabwe. Paulina was a widow who survived by gardening, raising chickens and selling the things she sewed. She often struggled to have enough food. Her home consisted of three mud huts – one for sleeping, one for cooking and one for storage. I got to know Paulina at the women’s cooperative where she sewed with other widows. We became friendly and she invited me and two other American seminary students to stay with her for a week.

Our professor and all of us were concerned about this invitation. We worried that our presence would be a burden for her. We didn’t want to impose. We would bring gifts but we knew that she would still face hardship in hosting us. To be honest, I also wasn’t sure I wanted to spend a week in a mud hut. Would I be safe? Could I drink the water? After much discussion, my friends and I decided we needed to accept the invitation.

It was an amazing week. There were awkwardness and discomfort, but slowly we began to see each other as full people beyond all the cultural barriers. At the end, Paulina told us that hosting us brought her great honor and joy. She said, “Many would think that white people would come to serve me. You gave me the honor of letting me care for you.” The experience was a blessing for Paulina and transformative for me.

Before studying in Zimbabwe, I had been friendly to the international students at Luther seminary but I had done little to really welcome them. They always sat at their own table and I never went out of my way to sit there and initiate conversation. When Paulina welcomed me, I discovered how much I needed to both give and receive hospitality. I experienced how Christ is present and at work when hospitality is extended and accepted.

This kind of thing often happens when we travel abroad, but we don’t need to leave the country to experience similar things. The international students at Luther appreciate when host families have them over for supper, but often get really excited when they get to prepare a meal for Americans. Newer members of the congregation often express gratitude when they can offer kindness and hospitality to longtime members.

My husband Matt remembers how a guest to the United States welcomed him to Luther Seminary. Matt is very tall and back then he had long hair and a huge beard and looked, as he says, like a jackpine savage.

When he showed up on campus he got a lot of strange looks and felt very out of place. He wasn’t sure he belonged with all the pious, straightlaced seminary students. Then one day when he was sitting in the computer lab considering other grad school options, a huge Nigerian student named Musa Filibus came in. Musa said, “Hello, I see you are new. I am Musa and you are most welcome here.” Matt was blown away that a guest to our country was extending such a warm welcome to him. His fears were alleviated and he realized there was room for him at the seminary.

We all have chances to go outside our comfort zones, be vulnerable, and experience welcome. We can visit a mosque and let our Muslim neighbors in Rochester or Cedar Falls host us. We can receive the hospitality of our Hispanic and Somali neighbors even as we also seek to advocate for them. We can receive and learn from those who have limited material goods. Those experiences will be a blessing for our hosts and they will work change in us as well. Christ will be present blessing and transforming us all – even if his presence isn’t explicitly recognized or named.

Whoever welcomes a disciple or a stranger, welcomes Jesus.

May we offer others the chance to experience Jesus’ presence in this way.

May we welcome others and experience Christ in the stranger.

Let’s take a moment of silent prayer.

Sermon for Sunday, June 18, 2017

Sermon for The Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 18, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa  52101
Pastor: Pr. Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

First Reading: Exodus 19:2-8a; Psalm 100; Second Reading: Romans 5:1-8; Gospel: Matthew 9:35-10:8

Beloved of God,

Today I want to talk with you about healing: our own, and the healing of the world.

You might be wondering about that choice of topic. Like me, perhaps your first impressions of the scripture we just heard was something like this: OK – this is another commissioning story. Sort of like last week when we heard Jesus tell his disciples to Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

It seems pretty straightforward: Jesus gathers his disciples and tells them that “the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.” Then he sends them out to do the stuff disciples are supposed to do.

But as I read the passage again, my attention was drawn to the emphasis that is given to the work of healing. Even though there is no specific account of healing recorded here, still the ministry of healing is mentioned 9 times in just these 12 brief verses.

First, Matthew gives us a summary or Jesus’ ministry: Jesus teaches, proclaims the good news of the kingdom, and cures every disease and every sickness. Notice the emphasis Matthew gives to Jesu’s work of healing by giving it double billing.

Next, Matthew tells us that Jesus summons the 12 disciples and gives them authority to cast out unclean spirits, and to “cure every disease and every sickness.” The authority Jesus gives his followers is rooted and grounded in God’s own compassion. It is not an authority to power, but an authority to loving service.

Finally, Jesus sends his followers out with these specific instructions: cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.

Now, I hope that at least a few of you are thinking to yourselves: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Pr. Marion. What about that saying about the laborers and the harvest? How does that fit into Jesus’ call to the ministry of healing?

For a long time the saying about the harvest has been understood as a call to mission – and even more specifically as a call to missionary service. This traditional interpretation has understood the harvest to represent the multitudes of folks who have never heard about the salvation offered in Jesus Christ. And the laborers as the followers of Jesus who are called to go out and bring in a harvest of souls for God’s kingdom. Even though I spent 4 years serving as a missionary in Japan, this interpretation is not very appealing to me.

But if we look at this saying in context – surrounded by all of the references to healing, I’m wondering if it might yield a broader interpretation. Maybe the “harvest” that Jesus is talking about is a harvest of compassion – and the laborers who are sent out into the fields are the followers of Jesus who have been given the authority to bring healing to a broken and hurting world.

However we want to understand this particular saying, one thing remains clear: Healing is central to the work of Jesus. Healing is what Jesus does more of than anything else. As the present day followers of Jesus, we too are called to participate in the work of healing, both as ones who have experienced God’s healing mercy, and as the ones who are called and commissioned to bring that same healing to the world.

So what might that mean for us today?

I think that before we do anything else, we must give thanks to God for healing God has brought about in our lives. I know some of your stories of healing, and I rejoice in that with you. Some of you know that I experienced life-changing healing when I participated in the pain clinic at Mayo. I can also tell you that there’s a lot more healing that still needs to take place in me. So maybe the next step is to recognize and acknowledge the places in our lives that in need of God’s healing mercy. Healing of broken relationships. Healing of failures and disappointments. Healing of shame and guilt. Healing for childhood wounds and betrayed trust. Maybe you too are in need of this sort of inner healing. The good news for us today is that Jesus is the very embodiment of God’s healing work in all creation. And Jesus is with us here today – present to us in the faces of our neighbors, in the Word proclaimed, in the prayers lifted up, and most certainly in the bread and wine of this gracious meal. Here we open our hands and our hearts to receive the compassionate healing of God in Jesus.

Then, after attending to our own deep brokenness and need, we ready to be sent out to bring healing and hope to others.

Naturally Jesus’ call to the ministry of healing includes those of you who are health care professionals, – physicians, nurses, counselors, therapists, aides, dieticians, care-givers, and the multitude of support staff that make healing work possible. You have the opportunity each day to participate in Jesus’ healing ministry. But many of us, myself included, are not health care workers. And that’s OK, because the work of healing includes all of many and diverse ways in which our human lives and our human communities are broken and wounded.

Each time we give our attention and care to those who are grieving, lonely or forgotten, we are participating in the ministry of healing. When we work for reconciliation, both in our personal relationships and within divided communities, we are doing the healing work of Jesus. Maybe one of the most powerful ways we can participate God’s healing is when we practice generous forgiveness, both for ourselves, and for those who have hurt us. We bring God’s healing mercy when we dare to go into difficult places and simply listen compassionately to the pain of another person – places like nursing homes, prisons, food pantries, homeless shelters. We participate in the work of healing when we speak out against injustice, discrimination, and racial bias. When we make financial contributions to the work of our church, we are participating in the healing ministry of organizations like Lutheran Social Services, Lutheran Disaster Response, ELCA World Hunger Appeal, and Lutheran World Relief. Through these ministries God’s healing work has a global reach. Participating in the healing work of Jesus can also include advocating for public policies that protect the most vulnerable members of society. The ELCA Advocacy Network is one way we can engage in this work. One of the advocacy network’s current initiatives concerns the proposed federal budget. Budgets – whether they are our household budgets, our church budgets, or our national budget – are moral documents. Our Presiding Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton, has joined the Episcopal Bishop, Michael Curry, to issue a statement expressing deep concern about how proposed budget cuts will affect those who live on the margins of our society. You can read that statement and learn more about the ELCA Advocacy network by following the web address that’s printed in the bulletin. These and many, many more are some of the ways each of us can participate in the ministry of healing.

But now, we hear God’s gracious invitation to each of today – to come again to this holy meal, where in a morsel of bread and taste of wine, we receive Jesus’ healing for all that is wounded and broken in our lives. Here God’s love is poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, so that with hope and faith and love, we can answers God’s call to be healers in our families, our communities, and in the world.

 

 

Sermon for The Holy Trinity, Sunday, June 11, 2017

Sermon for The Holy Trinity
Sunday, June 11, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa  52101
Presider: Pr. Marion Pruitt-Jefferson
Preacher: Daniel Grainger

First Reading: Isaiah 55:6-11; Psalm 8; Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Gospel: Matthew 28:16-20

Dear friends, grace and peace to you from the one in whom we live and move and have our being. Amen.

Five years ago I was sitting in the Center for Faith and Life after chapel in the latter half of April, during my senior year of college, when I got the call. The executive director of Camp Ewalu had called to offer me a full-time job as the director of church relations. As you might imagine, as a senior with less than a month left until commencement, I was absolutely thrilled!

Most of us can recall a time or two when we’ve lived with a great deal of anxiety; the anxiety of not knowing. For college seniors who have recently graduated, it’s the anxiety of waiting while writing resumes, submitting job applications, and scouring the job market day in and day out like the search itself is the only full-time job they’ll ever have!

Getting that job offer to work at Ewalu was a huge relief for me, not because it was my dream job, but because I needed to get away. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great job! I got to work at my favorite place on earth with some of the best people. But I needed to get away from what felt like was a pretty big failure.

When I transferred to Luther in 2010, I chose to study religion because I wanted to prepare myself for seminary. At that point in my life, I had worked several summers at a bible camp, and each summer I felt more and more a sense of call to ministry. And more and more it felt like I was being called to be a pastor.

To be honest, this wasn’t completely out of nowhere. I don’t remember the context, but sometime around the age of ten, my mother leaned over to me in church whispered: “I think you’d make a good pastor.”

This spring, Allie and I, joined many in the Decorah community in attending the evening lecture by Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber. During the Q&A session of the lecture, Pr. Nadia began to dissuade a young adult from considering seminary.
She claimed that the church doesn’t need more pastors who were church youth group all-stars, who went to camp every summer, who went to a Lutheran college, who worked as camp counselors, who know a few Ole and Lena jokes… Rather, what the church needs more, are pastors with real-world experience.

If you lost sight of me during the lecture, I was sinking down in my chair, because I was involved with church youth group. I went to camp. I went to a Lutheran college. I was a camp counselor. I was involved in college ministries. And yes… maybe I do know a few Ole and Lena jokes.

I do agree with Pr. Nadia – the world needs pastors with real world experience… but people don’t necessarily have to go out looking for real-world experience. In being human, being present, being vulnerable – life will give us experiences.

During my first semester at Luther in 2010, my dad died unexpectedly of a heart attack. I was meeting with my Greek tutor in the lower level of Preus library when I got that call.

Now, in addition to the experience of deep grief and sadness, I had more questions and doubts than I knew what to do with. During the remaining two years at Luther, I studied, I cried, I prayed, and I tried to makes sense of it.

How can I possibly serve a God when I feel cheated? Where is God in the midst of pain and suffering? What good is prayer?

These questions were not unfamiliar to me, but now so very raw and real. The religion courses weren’t just theological lectures and discussions in my courses, but the key to understanding why.

Still, each semester I had a growing list of questions and doubts. But I thought if I was to serve the church, I needed to know – I needed to be sure in faith – to have the answers. So I tried. I tried so hard. All to justify my reasoning for going to seminary…and in the end, against going to seminary.

When it became clear that the answers I wanted weren’t possible or easy, I walked away. I walked away from church; I walked away from a God who would not give me answers, who stayed hidden, who eluded me.

Looking back now, I’ve come to realize that, like a weed imposing itself over the sprouting seed, I was strangling the innate call I felt within me. I was strangling it because I wanted to fully understand it. I wanted to know why.

I don’t know about you, but I suck at honoring mystery. Ask me what I KNOW. Don’t ask me what I don’t know!

In the reading from Isaiah this morning, the Lord says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Seeds can’t flourish by taking them out of the soil to examine each day. We have to trust that the roots are taking, and that it will grow. New life cannot flourish without some degree of surrendering to the mystery of the resurrection.

For me, I received new life when my father passed in the relinquishing a life lived on stand-by. Most of my life, my dad’s health was poor, and I was always on stand-by in case something happened. Fear has a myriad of ways to immobilize us; to keep us from participating in God’s vision for us and for our world. I’m certainly not fearless, but I’ve practiced being at peace with the God beyond my understanding.

This spring, I received my acceptance letter from Wartburg Seminary. For the sake of time, I’ll have to spare you the many the details of my discernment in the past couple of years. But what I can tell you is this: I still feel like I don’t have any answers.

In a column called “Born Baffled: Musings on a writing life”, author and activists, Parker Palmer, writes as advice “allow yourself to be baffled, which shouldn’t be hard to do. I mean, what’s NOT baffling about ourselves, other people, and the world we co-create?” Indeed.

My mind can NOT stop, WILL not stop seeking understanding. It’s just the way my brain works. But that’s okay – it’s okay to ask questions, to wrestle, to have doubts, to be angry, and to seek understanding. But I’ve discovered that, in allowing ourselves to be open to the mysteries; in letting go of the vastly hidden God that we will never fully understand; a new life opens before us.

There’s a lot I don’t understand, but God calls to us from the cross, God calls to us from the empty tomb, and God calls to us from within the mystery of resurrection. It is a call from death to life – it is a call into living as Christ did. It is a call to the embodiment of God’s abundant love for the sick, the poor, the widow, the immigrant, the marginalized, the oppressed, the persecuted, for the doubter, for the skeptic, for ALL the world. Fortunately, THAT call is not contingent on how much we know.

Dear friends, in relinquishing the need for all the answers, I think we can begin to live and participate more fully in something that starts to resemble the kingdom of God.

To close, I simply want to offer a blessing from Jan Richardson, called Blessing the Seed.

I should tell you
at the outset
this blessing will require you
to do some work.

First you must simply
let this blessing fall
from your hand,
as if it were a small thing
you could easily let slip
through your fingers,
as if it were not
most precious to you,
as if your life did not
depend on it.

Next you must trust
that this blessing knows
where it is going,
that it understands
the ways of the dark,
that it is wise
to seasons
and to times.

Then—
and I know this blessing
has already asked much
of you—

it is to be hoped that
you will rest
and learn
that something is at work
when all seems still,
seems dormant,
seems dead.

I promise you
this blessing has not
abandoned you.

I promise you
this blessing
is on its way back
to you.

I promise you—
when you are least
expecting it,
when you have given up
your last hope—
this blessing will rise
green
and whole
and new.

Sermon for the Day of Pentecost, June 4, 2017 – “Fire and Rain”

Sermon for the Day of Pentecost, June 4, 2017 – “Fire and Rain”

Day of Pentecost
Sunday, June 4, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of the risen Christ.

When Jesus’ followers were together on the day of Pentecost, divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them and a tongue of fire rested upon each of them. No matter who you are, it would be startling to have fire come rest on you. Even more so if you were Jewish, as Jesus’ followers were, because throughout their history as a people, God’s presence was often made known in fire. What did it mean that the fire of God was now resting upon them? What does it mean that God’s fiery Spirit also rests upon us?

The presence of God has often been made known in fire. Here at Good Shepherd we experienced God’s presence in fire at the Easter Vigil this past April. Such an amazing thing happened. A fire and a candle were lit in the midst of an epic thunderstorm.

This year was Good Shepherd’s turn to host the community vigil and people were excited about having a huge bonfire here in this great backyard. The fire at the beginning of the vigil serves as a sign of the eternal presence of God. We light the Paschal Candle from it – this candle that remains lit throughout Easter and is lit at baptisms and funerals as a sign of the presence of the risen Christ.

We’d been preparing for months for this bonfire and candle lighting. Since late December people had been bringing their Christmas trees to be burned in the fire. That week, Reg Laursen stacked a really large number of trees into a huge pile. When he saw that there was rain in the forecast he enlisted my son Nathan to help him cover the pile with a tarp.

For a while on that Saturday, the sun was finally out and it looked like it would be a gorgeous evening for the bonfire. I was so hoping it would work; we needed a powerful experience of resurrection that night.

The gray skies we’d had for weeks seemed appropriate for all the painful news in our state, our nation and our world. Many in our community were grieving this Easter, and some of them I knew would be at the vigil. I, too, was experiencing deep grief as I approached the first Easter since the death of my dearest friend and fellow pastor, Sarah. That week her husband had called to say he and the kids needed a change of scenery for Easter – could they come to Decorah? “Yes, of course,” we said; but how would I preach resurrection with them here on Easter Sunday? At least they’d be here for the dramatic vigil, I thought, and Sarah’s seven year old son Stefan would love the fire. We needed that fire, we needed that candle lighting.

But as we were preparing for worship that night, a thunderstorm rolled in and let loose. There was torrential rain and a massive amount of lightening. The other pastors and I thought there was no way the fire would burn and, even if it did, how would we light the candle from it and keep it lit? You wouldn’t want the flame representing the presence of the risen Christ to get snuffed out. We started making alternate plans.

Reg got that twinkle in his eye and encouraged us to give it a try. The fire lit and blazed powerfully and almost defiantly in the face of the storm. It was a huge, beautiful miracle. God worked through those trees, through Nathan and Reg. God brought fire even in the pouring rain.

Even when all looks hopeless, even when we are drenched in sorrow, God is present and working new life. That fire reminded us of that.

Then Don Berg got an umbrella and shielded Megan Buckingham as she carried out the Paschal Candle to light it in the rain. The rest of the assembly stayed inside to watch. The candle lit. Megan and Don processed inside carefully and the candle stayed lit. Lise Kildegaard captured beautiful pictures that tell the story. Little Stefan loved it.

It took a community tending the fire and the light, it took trust, it took a willingness to be uncomfortable – Reg, Don and Megan got both soaked and smoky. God worked through all of that to remind us of the presence of the risen Christ.

God’s transforming presence has often been made known in fire. God spoke to Moses in a burning bush,

God led the people of Israel out of slavery through the wilderness by a pillar of fire. When God gave Moses the law, the appearance of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the mountain; fire consumed the temple offerings. The prophet Elijah called down fire upon wet wood to show the power of God. The fire of God brought light and guidance in treacherous times. It was also a refining fire, burning away everything that chokes life and so sparking renewal – like the prairie fires we have here in Decorah.

Throughout the history of the Jewish people, God was made known through fire; God was present to the people in a very dramatic way. Yet only a select few people could access this fire – just Moses and a few select prophets and priests could approach it.

It is striking then, that on the day of Pentecost, the fire of God’s Spirit was poured out upon all the followers of Jesus and upon all flesh – men and women, young and old. The transforming fire of God was given to all people. With fire and the rush of a mighty wind, God’s Spirit was let loose upon the world.

And that same Spirit is poured out upon us. When we are baptized, the fire of the Spirit comes to rest on us and a candle is lit for us from this pillar of fire.

We now bear the fiery presence of God in our very beings. We are all glowing embers in the fire of God’s transforming presence. All of us – Reg, Nathan, Don, Megan, Lise, each one of us – carry God’s fire within us. We are signs that God is present and active in the world, bringing new life even amidst the torrential downpours of grief, climate change, terrorism and hatred.

Together we tend the fire of God’s transforming presence, we light the candles, we keep the flame amidst the drenching sorrows of our world. Together we defy all the forces that would extinguish this fire; together we trust in God’s presence even amidst the storms. At times we will be uncomfortable, at times we will get soaked and smoky; but this fire brings light, warmth, hope, change and new life and we are a part of it.

Look at you, glowing like embers.

Thanks be to God.

 

 

Sermon for Sunday, May 28, 2017 – “Prayer: A Doorway”

Sermon for Sunday, May 28, 2017 – “Prayer: A Doorway”

Seventh Sunday of Easter
May 28, 2017
Good Shepherd Lutheran Church
Decorah, Iowa
Rev. Amy Zalk Larson

Click here to read scripture passages for the day.

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace in the name of Jesus.

Before he was arrested and crucified, Jesus prayed for his disciples – those first ones and all of us who came after them. He prayed and he prayed and he prayed for a really long time. In fact, today we just heard the first part of this prayer that ends up being over 600 words long; that’s more like a short sermon than a prayer. And, Jesus offered this long prayer right after using more than 2100 words in his last sermon for his disciples. So, the next time worship goes long – I’m just saying – it could be worse.

In his final teachings and prayer, Jesus is unafraid of taking up space. He feels no need to apologize for talking for such a long time. As he takes up all this space, he reminds me of very talkative young children who are totally confident that others want to hear absolutely everything they have to say. It’s beautiful to see a child share in a totally unfiltered way, not afraid to take up space(especially if you’ve already had some quiet time and enough coffee).

Somewhere along the way, we start to wonder if we’re worthy of taking up so much space in the world. We filter, apologize and minimize our opinions or feel we should try to sound smarter and stronger and more powerful if we want our voice to be heard. We especially wonder if we’re worthy when it comes to prayer and to relationship with God.

Jesus simply prays a rather long-winded, repetitive prayer without apology. He trusts that he has a place in his Father’s attention, a place in his Father’s heart. He has that confidence of children who just start talking, who climb up into their parents’ lap with the knowledge that they are fully welcome in that space.

And in this prayer, Jesus prays that we would have that same intimacy and with God – that we would know that there is a place for us in God’s heart.

Throughout this Easter season we’ve talked a lot about how Jesus makes room for us, how he opens space for us in the presence of God. Yet we often struggle to experience that space, especially in prayer.

There are so many “shoulds”- things we feel we should do and should be that constrict us. We think our prayers should be carefully crafted, that we should believe them more, should know more, should have fewer doubts; or that we should do certain prayer practices and should have a carefully established prayer routine. We can feel so unworthy and inadequate in the presence of God. Besides all that, there are so many other things we feel we should be doing that keep us from praying. There is so much that gets in the way of feeling free to just take up space in the heart of God. Jesus knows all this and so he prays for us; he prays for you. Jesus claims space for you and draws you into a spacious, welcoming relationship with God. And, he shows that prayer isn’t another thing you have to do and do properly; it is simply claiming your space in God in any way you need at any given time. It is claiming your spot in the lap of God.

You can be long-winded and repetitive. You can be very angry or full of questions as we see in the Psalms.

You can just say help, thanks, or wow as Anne Lamott points out in her book with that title. You can simply call to mind the faces of people you care about and entrust them to God. You can pray with the news by just taking a deep breath and asking God to open space within you and within others to respond to the pain of the world with compassion and wisdom. We’re already saying, “oh my God” often as the news comes at us; just take a breath to open to God. Or you can just be quiet. You can just breathe or watch the river or look at the sky or listen to the birds. I’m guessing that’s how Jesus prayed often when he wasn’t wanting us to overhear him claim space in God for us.

Just listening, just paying attention to the mundane aspects of our lives in the presence of God who is also paying attention to them is prayer. Mary Oliver captures this in her poem entitled “Praying”:

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.

And if you find it hard to enter the doorway into thanks and silence, you can trust that Jesus prays for you and provides that doorway for you. Jesus provides a door into a spacious relationship with God.

Jesus meets you today in his word, in his prayer, in his body and blood, and draws you into this spaciousness God longs for us to know. Jesus meets you and loves you and forgives you and sets you free from the “shoulds”, from the fears, doubts, scarcity, and judgements – from the things that make us, our lives feel constricted and anxious. He frees us and opens us to God and to one another, giving us space to welcome and care for others. He assures us that there is space for us in God. And he helps us to claim that space in prayer.

Let’s take a moment of silent prayer now.