New life: dunks, babies, place

New life is abounding these days for Echoes. This past Sunday we had two "firsts" - the first baptism, and first baby shower. We are also hopeful of having a regular place to meet on Monday nights. 

While recent weather has been quite warm, Sunday brought cold, gray skies that are more typical for mid-May in this region. We could have done a baptism in warmer, more climate-controlled waters, but since we live in this spectacular place, our candidate was willing to go under the waters in our frigid salt waters. The little beach where we gathered isn't super well-known, but it can get busy on warm days. This not being one of those days, we had the area mostly to ourselves. (Except for the game of kayak basketball that was going on when we arrived. If it were me, I'd want kayak basketball going on behind my baptism. Granted, I'm weird that way.) 

Baptism connects us with an ancient practice that even predates Jesus. In part, Baptism means that a person is directly connected to a reaaalllly long line of people who have been baptized through millennia.  Through this ritual we acknowledge a choice to turn away from the self as the center of one's own world, and instead turn toward a life that is shaped by the life-giving, life-nourishing, values of our Creator. Not that we lose or deny our own self, but that we find it in our identity as the beloved, given as such to love the world. 

Ally will be graduating from Western Washington University (WWU) in a few weeks, and regretfully moving further south for work and family (as several Echoites have done in the past few years). She wanted to be baptized because for her, it was the next step in her faith journey, to publicly affirm that she wanted to live a life that reflects the person and work of Christ. We said some words on the beach, Ally told us why she was doing this, John gave us a moving reading from "The Silver Chair" that Ally had picked out, we prayed, and then Ally and I waded into the waters, maneuvering on rocks that shifted beneath our water-shoes clad feet.

A seminary professor of mine wrote on a Facebook comment, 

“I always think baptism rehearses us for our home-going: into the cold dark waters, but brought back to the warmth & love of the gathered ones on the shore.”

and that is certainly what happened on Sunday. The waters, although very cold and dark (I had lots of seaweed to contend with when changing clothes!), did not seem as cold as they should have. We emerged, laughing and joyous, to the embraces of loved ones, dry clothes, and warm blankets. Snacks were set out, communion was shared, and we experienced the sacredness of time spent together. 

Later on Sunday, after the baptism, Echoes experienced another first when we regathered for a baby shower for two Echoites. This will be the first baby that is born into this funky, endearing community, and we are all pretty dang excited about it. We had the opportunity to laugh, eat, and bless these soon-to-be parents. Several people offered commitments to help out however needed when sleep, adult conversations, and appropriate nutrition are lacking. One offer was "to pet the dog for a half hour and give the baby absolutely no attention at all," in recognition of the large-scale change this will be for every creature in the house.

The third "first" is the soon-to-be-announced regular place for Echoes to gather on Monday nights. (Note: it's not completely "official" yet, but a long-term agreement looks good) As awesome as bouncing around has been for supporting various agencies and non-profits, having a more predictable meeting spot certainly has its advantages. It'll be so refreshing to have a good answer for all the times I get asked, "So where do you meet?" My reply of "Well, we kind of move around," often receives nonverbal expressions that I interpret as, "I'm going to check out of this conversation now because you're too complicated." I'd have loved to have been able to meet more regularly at the location we have rented for monthly worship for the past 2 years, but it's not accessible for wheelchairs and we just can't prevent anyone from simply showing up - it's not our way.

In this new space we will also be supporting a fantastic non-profit that is doing excellent work here in Whatcom County. Hopefully it's a win-win for everyone involved.

So, new things are happening here at Echoes. New life is shooting up all around us, in baby birds, flowers, and leafy trees. We are experiencing maturing faith, babies, and some stability. It is always appropriate to be grateful, and yet this spring we seem to be bursting with thanks. 

(As always, Echoes is very, very eager to welcome new persons. If you've had a hard time finding a community of faith where you feel like you "fit," feel free to come check us out. We're just weird enough that many people find a home here.)

Let the Indians Lead

Let the Indians lead [1]

Colonial settlers have a lot to answer for. And let’s face it, any non-native person in the United States (who wasn't brought this land against their will) is a colonial settler. That’s most people who might stumble across this blog post.

I haven’t kept up this blog like I thought I would – a story common to so many bloggers. It’s being taken up now because yesterday the Army Corps of Engineers made an extraordinary, precedent-setting decision. This decision has the potential to be a game-changer for thousands of people, if not the entire planet. It’s been in the news (even covered by the NY Times) [2], and yet I think we cannot stop talking about the larger implications, and the larger incriminations.

Echoes (the funky, experimental church that is hosting this blog) is situated in Whatcom County, Washington. Our county is comprised of the traditional territory of the Coast Salish peoples, who have lived here since time immemorial. The two principal remaining tribes here are Lummi Nation and Nooksack, who both have reservations on the tiniest fraction of their original territories.

Bellingham Bay

In 1855 a treaty was signed between the US government and many Coast Salish tribes in Western Washington.  In exchange for vast amounts of land, tribes were granted rights for fishing, hunting, and gathering, along with monetary compensation, schools, and access to medical care. They were told to sign the treaty, or “walk knee deep in blood.” Tribal members were relocated to small reservations, and those tribes that were not granted their own reservation were ordered to move to the reservation of a neighboring tribe. Over the years both the amount of land and the rights to fish were restricted well beyond the limitations of the 1855 treaty. (For a well-written, super helpful article on history of the treaty, its context, and local treaty encroachments, see Jewell James’ work in the Whatcom Watch.)

Close to a year and a half ago, Lummi Nation asked that the Army Corps of Engineers reject a permit to build the nation’s largest coal terminal in the deep-water port known as Cherry Point (Xwe'chieXen in the language of Lummi). At this terminal, coal from across the mid-west would travel to Cherry Point, and be put onto cargo ships for transport to other nations.

To boil it down, the problem is that Cherry Point is located in Lummi fishing waters. They have rights to fish here, and the terminal will further degrade the water quality, and reduce the number of fish and other harvestable marine life such as crab. A terminal would be yet another major violation of their treaty rights, not to mention a desecration of a supremely important historical Lummi township site that is also a major burial ground.

Xwe'chienXen (Cherry Point)

It seems like this would be a no-brainer. Not only would a coal terminal further accelerate worldwide climate change in favor of corporate gain for the few, but a terminal on this particular land would continue a horrific history of racism, paternalism, and downright subjugation of indigenous peoples in our area. 

Yesterday the Army Corps of Engineers did the right thing: they denied the permit.

To say this is a decision worthy of a party is an understatement of epic proportions. Lummi Nation has been fighting tirelessly to stop this coal terminal, as they have with every treaty-encroaching permit proposal that is put on the table where they have to prove their rights over and over again. Another proposal for a gas pipeline IN the Salish Sea is already underway, and they will again have to argue for both their rights, and the rights of the planet. They see this as a never-ending battle of which they will never retreat.

Salish Sea

The Army Corps of Engineers decision might just make it a little bit easier down the road for them and for countless other tribes in their efforts to keep out fossil fuel extraction corporations from taking their resources, running through their lands and historical sites, and polluting endlessly as they go.

My God I’m thankful for Lummi.

I’m thankful for this stalwart, committed group of men and women who know that they are fighting for the ultimate good of all of us in Whatcom County, and for the ultimate good of the planet (who is more appropriately termed Mother Earth by many indigenous peoples).

I actually believe that we should give most of our energy decisions to our native brothers and sisters. The primary reason being that they have a sacred obligation to the land, whereas corporations that are over-extracting natural resources have an obligation to make money. The whole concept of money was completely foreign to our original peoples. The uninhibited, maniacal grasp for land and resultant money (undergirded by the hideous theological error of the Doctrine of Discovery) was the cause behind the near extermination of this country’s indigenous peoples, and money acquisition continues to destroy our planet’s ecosystems.

Two weeks ago I had the huge privilege to spend a few days with a variety of Lummi members who spoke of their history, struggles, trauma, and amazing fortitude and resilience. One tribal council member said, “It won’t be an Indian that takes the last fish, or cuts down the last tree. It’s impossible for us.”

This internally-wired, ancient ideology-driven stance is what we need for the bigger-picture in environmental leadership. Not that we don’t have some amazing, effective leaders from the colonial settler clans (many are here in Whatcom County), but we surely don’t have enough from the Native American communities.

Let’s look at it from a timeline perspective. Tim Urban of the ever-interesting website Wait But Why, has given us a handy tool for visualizing humanity’s presence on our planet. In addition to some mind-blowing, colorful diagrams, he writes, “If the Earth formed at midnight and the present moment is the next midnight, 24 hours later, modern humans have been around since 11:59:59pm—1 second.” Humans have actually been on this planet for the merest of mere blips. An. Itty. Bitty. Bitty. Blip.

The beginning of animal life on this planet puts this diagram into its own teeny slice!

But look at the timeline of human history alone, and we find another shock. Urban states, “If human history itself spans 24 hours from one midnight to the next, 14 minutes represents the time since Christ.” If you look at it that way, industrialization has only been around for a few minutes of the 24hrs that humans have been on the planet, and it’s THIS particular era that has screwed us up so badly.

Indigenous persons are not responsible for industrialization, or capitalism, or theology that wreaks havoc on the earth. Their “minutes” on North American more than quadruple the 14 minutes since the time of Christ (earliest traces of peoples in this region date back to 10-12,000 BC). In their proportionately substantial minutes of human history prior to colonial contact they contributed not one iota toward the downward spiral of climate change.

We need their voices. We need their earth-honoring values. We need their leadership. They surely don’t need us, but we surely need them.

[1] The term “Indian” is used here as a result of hearing Whatcom County tribal members refer to themselves as “Indians.” It is in no way meant as pejorative.

[2] http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/10/us/washington-state-army-corps-denies-permit-coal-terminal.html?_r=0

Recent Facebook love: "a little queer, a little not"

Echoes is still a small group of people. At times the small number makes me wonder if this experiment is going well at all. I love those who come, I love what we do, and yet...is it a vision that others want to get on board with?

Recently, two unsolicited Facebook posts from Echoites have helped to put things in perspective (yet again). It seems worthwhile to repost them here, so others can see what those on the inside are saying about Echoes. 

"Hey, friends! Is anyone looking for a spiritual community in Bellingham but doesn't feel at home in a traditional church? Or perhaps fed up with church, faith, religion (or its followers!) in general? If so, I encourage you to come check out Echoes with me. We are an experimental church here in Bellingham, so we "do church" a little differently. Which is also one of the many reasons why I love it. We love Jesus, and we love you. No joke."

I love the addition of "no joke" at the end. Here's another one:

Hey team - I have recently had a long conversation about the queer proclivity to develop and nurture alternative families...Is it possible to build loving family when we are not always on the same page, speaking the same language, celebrating the same things? 

“Is it possible to build loving family when we are not always on the same page, speaking the same language, celebrating the same things? For this reason I almost didn’t go to Echoes, and at first I almost didn’t stay.”

For this reason I almost didn't go to Echoes, and at first I almost didn't stay. I wanted church to look and feel exactly like me; I wanted God to feel and speak exactly like me. And obviously, thankfully, interestingly, he speaks like the twenty-odd other people in the room plus me, and also sounds like the quiet voice that whispers between all of us. It is an entirely new space, energetically and socially speaking. Because we're not some kind of discussion group; we're a life group, here for the purpose of worshipping God in socially responsible and sustainable ways.
Echoes surprises me every week. I'm surprised by how invited I have been to take up some space and to share my perspective. I've been offered support on many levels, including leadership opportunities. It is very cooperative, very accessible (though this is from my perspective and abilities), very kind, very honest. Here we have love of many forms - and respect, and care, and shelter, and affection. We use worship as a platform for all our activities, and are focused on manifesting radical hospitality (not just being polite to everyone, but genuinely and sustainably affirming and making room for and sharing life with all people). We are thoughtful, and have difficult conversations regularly about who we are, where we're headed, what we seek, what social justice means, what church on Indigenous land means. We are young (well, all young at heart) and alive and hungry for God. And I keep saying we because I've found myself in another family. A new type of family made out of curiosity and celebration and risky trust in this bright blessed fellow, Jesus.

Believe me. I'm anxious about evangelism. So please don't take this as a shout to change or convert or anything. But I think you should know that I've found a group of people that are building family, and that are loving God, in ways that feel simtaneously like both homes I've come from. A little queer, a little not. And honest about it: and genuinely so damn loving and relational it has blown me away. And that is rad, and it's where I want to be. If you are interested in coming with me some time, whether it be to a work day/volunteer outing or music worship night or potluck and conversation, hit me up. No pressure to Be Something or only come when you're Feelin Religious; some of us are Pagan, some of us have Buddhist roots, some of us are pastors, and we get along great, and somewhere in this deconstructed worship, awesome awesome things are happening. Thank God. 

The honesty of the above post lets me know that, yeah, this little group has a vision worth committing to and investing in - even with doubts and fears. How fortunate we are to have Bellingham as a place to live, and a wide community to serve.

Speaking of, this Saturday we are helping to give some love to Whatcom Creek, led by B'ham Parks and Rec. Feel free to lend a hand, regardless if you get to meet any of us Echoites. We keep meeting, because we keep wanting to develop a new kind of church - a little queer, a little not.

The vowel meeting, a new chapter

Janna @ flickr creative commons

THIS WEEK ECHOES HAD ITS FIRST-EVER ANNUAL MEETING. (One down, more to go...)

Not wanting to be predictable we called this the "Vowel Meeting," in honor of the acronym EAEOI, which stands for "Exploring And Expanding Our Identity." As was pointed out on Facebook, however, in the future we will be sure to incorporate the letter Y, lest any vowels feel left out!

The four-hour meeting felt more like two, and the gathering served to help us all understand who we are and what we're doing in this rag-tag experimental church. The eighteen of us who gathered at the RE Store found ourselves enjoying the community, even if some of the dialogue was new or slightly uncomfortable. 

These are some of the values of Echoes that we came up with (as experienced by Echoites, rather than determined values that are in theory only):

• Radical authenticity and belonging
• exploring mystery
• blessing
• learning
• rooted in faith
• inclusive
• caring for all creation
• experencing God everywhere

In our conversation about why Echoes exists, the first and foremost comment was, "because Jesus existed." This sums it up well. This little Jesus-following church is stridently trying be a presence of Jesus here in Bellingham. We're made up of people who are on very different points in their spiritual path, yet who choose to press into God within the context of the community of this funky church. 

If you're a praying type, please keep Echoes in your prayers. Even though we have made significant gains toward becoming a church that has a positive impact in Bellingham, we are still very much in process. 

Easter and Earth Day Unite (and free stuff!)

“Believe me, you will find more lessons in the woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you what you cannot learn from masters.”

— Bernard of Clairveaux (12th C theologian and mystic)

(Scroll to the end for free stuff; expires on Apr 26th!)

Earth Day is always April 22nd, Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox (go figure). This year that meant that these events were only two days apart (Easter on April 20, Earth Day on April 22) - intriguing since Jesus' death and resurrection had two days in between as well. 

In some ways this mirrors some of the church's behavior towards the earth. In rapture-esque theology that understands believers to be transported off of this planet "in the last days" there has been no reason to care for this planet: it was put here for our convenience, so let's take from it while we can. Since it'll be destroyed anyway we can pillage and extract and pollute as we desire; after all, God gave this planet to us humans.

Pillage and pollute aren't words that this theological tribe would own, but it's certainly the posture that they've taken. It comes from the same place as the belief that the majority race is ethnically superior to the minority (a la "12 Years a Slave"....excruciating movie!). Even though the church has fallen into a post-Christian era, the work of much of the oil industry, lumber industry, animal and big farming industry, is inherently supported by this kind of world view. "It's there and it'll make money, so let's go for it."

Certainly not ALL of the church has believed thus and acted thus. Certainly not. Innumerable followers of Jesus have espoused the need to be immersed in and to care for creation. Facebook this week carried the lament, "I wish more people did the work of caring for the Earth instead of arguing about who created it." Seriously. Yet there are scores and scores of known and unknown saints from the past (and the present!) who do the work of caring for this planet, this orbiting ball of goodness that we are as-yet unable to duplicate. That God is found in nature is an undeniable fact of Scripture; that God is honored by honoring this planet would seem to be a self-evident truth. And yet it's not. The Church should be the ones championing the green movement. And yet, for the most part, it's not.

Things seem to be changing, though. More and more people are committing their habits and their votes to saving this one planet that we have. I just wish it had been the Church leading the charge, rather than that Church catching up.

Echoes is trying to do what we can. On Easter Day we met in front of Bellingham's City Hall. Walking to the Courthouse and jail, and reading Jesus' arrest narrative, we located the story of Jesus in our city. Entering the Whatcom Creek trail and describing the death of the creek by early settlers and by the 1999 Olympic Pipeline explosion, we read Jesus' crucifixion narrative. Then, entering Maritime Heritage Park, we read the resurrection story. For indeed, through the work of countless many, our downtown park has been transformed into a life-giving area, redeeming it from the sacrificial death that humans had ravaged. Salmon are again nurtured and birthed. Habitat is restored not only for vital wildlife, but also for the sanity of humans who need to "lessons in the woods" (as Bernard of Clairvaux aptly states). And yes, the green space also provides some shelter to the shelterless. We have a glorious haven of nature right in downtown Bellingham, and it's history mirrors the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This Sunday was a tremendous experience of locating us and our place in the bigger picture of God's story. 

We found ourselves in Maritime Heritage Park through the work of Rae Edwards, Bellingham's Parks and Rec volunteer supervisor. When asked if she had a project for Echoes on Easter she pointed us to a HUGE mound of mulch that needed to be redistributed at the park. The mulch, which came from this year's chipped-up Christmas trees (hello, resurrection!), is spread so that invasive blackberry and ivy gets snuffed out so that habitat that supports a thriving ecosystem will replace it. So after our walk we donned gloves, shouldered mulch rakes, and to got about the work of practicing resurrection. It was a phenomenal experience.

One participant beatifully stated, "This may be the first Easter our sanctuary has been the outdoors, our choir the birds, our music the cascading waters of a creek, our flowers the random trillium and zillion dandelions, and our community wearing boots and work gloves instead of Easter finery." (Darlene Buss)

And just so we were explicitly promoting Earth Day, Echoes offered a free movie screening to Bellingham. Mt Baker Theater generously donated space, organizations like Nooksack Salmon Enhancement Association and Conservation Northwest hosted tables to provide the audience with information about their work, while others, such as Sustainable Connections, RE Sources, and Whatcom Land Trust, encouraged Bellinghamsters to attend. The award-winning movie, Elemental, follows three different conservationists as they focus on their campaigns to close the tar sands oil fields, clean up the Ganges river, and implement new technologies to reduce global warming. Hopefully motivated to go make a difference, audience members were directed towards the non-profits who were in attendance to sign up for more information, donate, and join their volunteer efforts. It aligned with a huge value of Echoes: connecting locals to ways by which they can help promote health and vitality to our city and county. 

It was a great two days....and I wonder what next year will bring?

AND NOW FOR THE FREE STUFF!

If you'd like to know more about the theology of creation-care, here is a fantastic resource...

A seminary that has had a strong earth-honoring bias is Regent College in Vancouver, BC. Until Saturday, April 26th, the college is offering several creation-care lectures for free! There's great stuff in these talks and classes, so download to your heart's content, and share what you learn with others.

Amost free, Leah Kostamo's new book on the history of A Rocha in Canada, Planted, is an excellent read, Through May 15th the Kindle version is only $3.99! The book is beautifully written, engaging, and highly praised by Canada's literary treasure, Margaret Atwood.

The complexity of St Patrick's Day

On my Facebook feed there are many, many posts about today being St Patrick's Day. Green-colored profile pics, wishes for a good day, plans for tonight, poem sharing, and a few that offer cautions. 

Christmas has loose ties to St Nicholas, but St Patrick's Day is about the only day in the Western world where we have such a big event connected to a specific saint. St Patrick's Day is famous for parades (we even have one here in Irish-lite Bellingham), green beer, green rivers, Irish accents, four-leaf clovers, leprechauns, and funny hats. 

Many people know a little bit about St Patrick: he was some regular 5th-century, British-born Roman teenager who was kidnapped by Irish bandits and served as a slave shepherd for years. That is, until he made a daring, courageous escape and eventually made it back home with great difficulty. While he was a shepherd slave he spent a lot of time in prayer and gave his heart to God. A few years later he had a vision of Irish people beckoning him to return, to which he responds by becoming a missionary to the land of his enslavement. According to legend Patrick is attributed with converting many of the wealthy and powerful in Ireland, forever changing the way of life for this island.

That's the story, and it's a good one even though there are a lot of sketchy and missing details. In light of the story, it's hard not to wonder what St Patrick would think about our modern-day recognition of his day? The fact that he even has a day is remarkable enough (there are loads of interesting, self-sacraficing missionaries in our history), but the traditions that we celebrate don't exactly match with the efforts and life of the man himself, do they?

Two Facebook posts of note today mention the darker side of Ireland and St Patrick's story. In one, my friend Michael Lee recounts the memoir Angela's Ashes along with a caution that our modern celebrations of March 17th are soaked in drunken, abusive masculinity. This poster is not drinking tonight. He writes, "Today, perhaps it would be better to celebrate the heroic actions and lives of the women of Ireland and the children, the sometimes-quiet suffering of family life with an alcoholic leak in the income stream, to standing up to those in power with only words, your wits, and a will to somehow survive. I think I'll leave the bottles on the shelf and in the store today, sorry Family Guinness and Jameson." I thankful for this thoughtful, challenging critique.

The other post is a blog by Roger Wolsey (whom I do not know personally, but certainly appreciate!), in which he highlights Patrick's history as a slave. Wolsey note that there are more slaves today than there were at the peak of the U.S. slave trade in the 1800s. Encouraging his readers to honor St Patrick by working toward ending slavery (link for specific donation-worthy agencies), he sees larger opportunities in this festive day than green beer and poorly-done Irish accents. After watching a phenomenal TED talk with Echoes last month on the topic of our current justice system, it's clear that we've got a whole lot of opportunities for change within our own race-penalizing sentencing systems, not to mention our neck-deep issues with sex-trafficking (did you see how high Seattle recently rated in this industry??). If Patrick was about holistic freedom (spiritually, physically, etc.), then could there be a better way to recognize his work then seeking ways to bring freedom to those who are captive and oppressed?

I'm grateful for these reflective voices today. While I plan to enjoy our first-ever game night tonight with Echoes, I'm also looking forward to some discussion regarding who Patrick really was and how we can be bearers of freedom, too. 

We lied. Tomorrow isn't Echoes' first worship experience.

Widely touted as "Echoes inaugural worship gathering!", tomorrow night's service is actually a sham. Oh, it IS a gathering for worship, that's very true. The sham is the "inaugural" part. True confession: this isn't really our first time to gather to worship. 

The first official event that Echoes ever did was last year, on Sunday, July 14th. I got a banner made, put together a little cardboard display board, picked up some tootsie rolls, and met another Echo-ite at the Farmer's Market area in order to host a table at the Bellingham Pride Parade. My companion had suggested glitter tattoos as a way to bring people to our table, and seriously, it was genius. Let's face it, most of us look for freebies at events like these. We scan the table, see if there is anything good, then move on. Our tattoos became a "must-stop" for those riding the table circuit. Each tattoo took several minutes and required us to actually place our hands on strangers, and to get into their personal space (most chose the tattoo to go on their cheek; don't go all gutter here...).

We had opportunities for small conversations, for getting to know a person a tiny bit, and to offer a free gift that made someone feel good. 

And this was worship. Some people asked about God while we leaned into their face to wipe off the wayward glitter flecks, but most didn't. Each person, though, was honored as an image of God, each person was welcomed to the table, each person was given our attention. 

No hymns, no formal liturgy, no offering plate, no Lord's prayer. But this was undoubtedly worship. 

Tomorrow night we start a new chapter by offering a monthly worship gathering to Bellingham. This might be the place that many Bellinghamsters connect to us, but I hope it's not the only avenue for involvement. It if were, then people would be missing out on the chance to worship at Theology Pub, around a dining table, with gloves and rakes at a work party in affiliation with local non-profits, blessing animals, and honoring the goodness of both Solstice and Advent. I don't think God waits for us to attend an official worship service in order to check off a "went to church this week" box. Instead, I think God smiles at the infinite opportunities we have to worship in lesser recognized ways.

Please don't think tomorrow night is the pinnacle or the goal of what we're doing with Echoes. It's not. I'm greatly looking forward to it and I think it's going to be awesome, and yet it's not the be-all, end-all of who we are or what we do. How do I know? All you had to do was see the smiles of our Pride booth visitors, or look at the bags of trash that we hauled up from Locust Beach, or consider the deep connection that was made over a Brene Brown TED talk and a potluck. Worship is all around us. Tomorrow night it'll be front and center. I can't wait, and I also can't wait for more worship opportunities to emerge from this creative community.

Ghost Cats

My parents' cat hates me. Whenever I visit she stays well clear of me, giving off the "don't even think of petting my glorious fur," vibe. When I ignore the signals, succumbing to my need to connect with her, my hand inevitably gets shredded. It causes me great angst, and it causes her monumental annoyance.

Which is why it's not terribly hard to believe that I came to the conclusions I did last night at my parents' house. Well, maybe it is, but at I feel a little haughty about it.

It took a while for me to get to sleep. I was in my sleeping bag because whenever I stay as a guest for only a night or two I like to simply bring my sleeping bag so sheets don't have to be washed. Besides, being in my sleeping bag is kind of bringing a part of my home with me. Anyway....I was woken in the middle of the night. I kid you not, it felt like a cat walked on my sleeping bag. But when I opened my eyes there was nothing there! I tried to explain it away, "Oh, my sleeping bag must've shifted, oh, you didn't just feel that." But I was positive I had felt it, and I was positive that it felt like cat paws on my sleeping bag. It couldn't have been a bag shift because when I awoke I was as still as Mt. Rushmore, and I knew no other mammal was in the room because the door was firmly shut.

So, my conclusion? "Oh my God my parents have a ghost cat!!" 

It was the only logical conclusion I could come to. A cat had walked on my sleeping bag + a cat wasn't there = invisible ghost cat. Right?

My mind went a little haywire then, imaging what a ghost cat would look like, and I got all this adrenaline worked up. Ferocious and evil looking was at the top of the list. Yes, yes, it could be meek and could be the ghost of a wonderful, well-loved, cat who was forgotten to be looked after by the neighbors when the owner was out of town and starved to death and occasionally visits people on its quest for love. But my fear leaped over the Hallmark-version cat ghost and it took a long time for me to get back to sleep.

Unbelievably (as if anything is believable in this story), it happened again!! As I felt the sensation of cat paws on my sleeping bag the second time my brain screamed as my emotions jolted awake, "See, it's true! And I'm never going to be able to sleep in this room again!" When my eyes opened this time, though, I caught sight of a cat form fleeing from the bed. 

Not a ghost cat. My parents cat. The cat who hates my guts, the cat who takes pleasure in drawing my blood, had pulled the biggest cat prank ever. She had gotten herself locked in my room and taken her skillful, cunning, manipulative cat-time to twist me into a loony mess. The feline guild of Oregon has just nominated her for "most innovative act of retribution."

Looking back on it for all of these 15 hours or so, it seems to strange that I really thought my parents had a ghost cat. But it wasn't at the time. The facts: 1) I expect to be hated by cats in that house, 2) I didn't have my best thinking capacities in a dark room in the middle of the night, 3) I really do believe that ghosts might exist. I've never considered a ghost cat before, but it certainly made sense last night. The fact that I decidedly did NOT know was that 4) my parents' cat would actually let herself be locked in with me.

A lot of things can make perfect sense, a lot of things can be believed as "logical" conclusions when we don't have all the facts. A lot of things can be looked at as absolutely insane in the after-thought, or when more facts come in. The thing is, though, sometimes we don't have access to all the facts, and sometimes we make conclusions from a series of other "facts" that renders us incapable of calling a fact a fact.

We can do this with ghost cats (okay, I can do this with ghost cats), we can do this with academics, we can do this with parenting, with statistics, with investments, with career choices, and yes, we can do this especially with theology, belief systems, and Scripture interpretation.

I was humbled a bit last night by jumping to a strange conclusion and then experiencing the emotions as if it were true, because for me, at the time, it was. My desire to embrace mystery when it comes to things to God is due in large part to my suspicion that I can actually discern "right" answers when I have a three-and-a-half pound brain and God is, well, God. 

Do I know what happens to people after they die? Do I know how salvation works? Do I know exactly what happened cosmically at the moment of Jesus' death? Do I know what on earth is going on - really - in the act of communion? Do I know how to explain Scripture that disagrees with itself? 

No. 

For me the Rapture is a ghost cat. For me a church that only welcomes certain people is a ghost cat. And these ideas/theologies/Scripture interpretations remain very logical conclusions for many. I'm positive that I believe in all sorts of ghost cats, but either I'm so invested in them, or they are so taken for granted that it's almost impossible for me to see a live cat, and so change my conclusions. 

It's a good thing we've got grace to receive from God, and grace to give to others. The trick is knowing how and when to call a ghost cat a ghost cat for others when you do know it's a false conclusion. Some of those ghost cats can simply live on without harming anyone, and some, well, they can do undue damage. The other trick is having enough humility to know that we all see ghost cats, and live within that reality. 

The secret words of the manger

As I lie in bed this night my heart and mind are tuned to the words that caught in my throat during tonight's Christmas Eve service. Who knew "Away in a Manger" could be so powerful? This beloved carol, so often ridiculed for espousing an un-crying Jesus, as if God incarnate wouldn't wail with hunger or the need for sleep, held words for me tonight. 

It's the first half of the last verse: "Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask you to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray," that broke me open. If you've known the song for years the tune comes easily, without effort. Those last five words, though, have slid by me for decades. 

"And love me, I pray".....I pray that you love me, Jesus. 

When I was in a college ministry I first heard the term "Jesus is my boyfriend music," which referred to a whole genre of worship songs that was singer-centric. "I love you, God. You are the best, Jesus. Hold me close, never let me go. Whisper sweet nothings, etc., etc., etc. After becoming aware of this trend the words started to creep me out a little bit. Not that there isn't precedent for it, some of Christianity's most beloved mystic-saints had rather erotic visions/experiences of Christ. Yet it can seem a little far-fetched to sing country-esque lyrics to the Creator of the Universe, especially when I don't often feel romantic love toward God.

A hymn that asks Jesus to love me seems rather extraordinary. First, it's not expressing that God already loves me. That God loves this earth and its inhabitants is often sung (probably to help us believe it), but not many hymns or songs ask God to love us. Second, it's incredibly vulnerable. To ask someone to love you is putting yourself on the line. What if they say no? To state that God loves me is one thing, to ask God to love me is quite another. 

As extraordinary as the words are, though, this plea seems more congruent with my inner world than either blathering about my undying love for God, or God's steadfast love for me. In my heart of hearts I just really want God to love me. That meek, squeaky, desperate request, "Lord Jesus, love me, I pray," is my inner cry, my inner desire, and is too oft unspoken. The words tonight allowed me to get in touch with this soul-level angst. Hearing my voice break at this phrase gave me the opportunity to actually ask God to love me....to realize I needed to ask.

In 44 minutes, on Pacific time, it will be Christmas Day (I could add some wonderful humor about Jesus being born at 12:01am on Dec. 25th, but I'll resist). This is the day that light came into the world. Not that light wasn't already here! But this light was in the form of an infant, born into a lowly social position, in a lowly cave, in a lowly town, in the presence of lowly shepherds. God didn't come with a lot of fanfare (simply compare Jesus' birth with this year's royal baby), and so God became accessible to all life. It became possible for me to ask Jesus to love me.

A few days ago thirty-five people gathered to recognize the coming of the light in a ceremony that honored both Solstice and Advent. We acknowledged the reality of darkness, and looked toward the coming of the light. It was a beautiful, sacred time (even with the labyrinth being too dark to see the path clearly enough!). Participants were asked to reflect upon where they hoped to see light in the upcoming year, and since I was leading I didn't do much reflecting.

Tonight, though, it's pretty clear: I want to acknowledge that inner whimper, that holy longing that just wants Jesus to love me. I don't even need to hear back that God does, indeed, love me. I just need to recognize and speak the request, and find God in the asking. 

Merry Christmas, my friends. 

Silencing the carols (and honoring Solstice | Advent)

During Advent many churches do not sing Christmas carols. Advent, the roughly four weeks leading up to Christmas day, is a time of preparation, of waiting with anticipation for Jesus to come on the scene. Christmas Day itself, the birth of Christ, is the catalyst to unleash all the joy of the Christmas carols that church goers, and even non-church goers, have come to expect and enjoy during this season.

So, in accordance with the Christian calendar, we're supposed to sing Christmas carols from Dec. 25th (or on Christmas Eve) until Jan. 6th, which is Epiphany. These days are known as the "twelve days of Christmas," and they start after Dec. 25th, not before. Advent is Advent, Christmas is Christmas - there is a time and a season for everything.

But. 

But I like singing Christmas carols before Christmas. Those carols build up anticipation for me!

Contrary to assumed thought, these songs have not been sung since time immemorial. The faith-based carols with which we're familiar were mostly written in the 1800s; they're not that old (as compared to some of the church's liturgy). St Francis (13th century) is attributed with starting the first Christmas pageants, which included live animals and singings songs that used local, happy drinking tunes. Christmas is festive (in fact, in 1647 Christmas was banned altogether in England because it was too merry!), and the songs we sing reflect the joy of the birth of our world's redeemer.

With all the preparation that goes into Christmas Day (most notably the gift-giving, travel plans, and meal preparations), it makes sense to me that the songs start early. We're already making plans, why not sing of what we're planning for?

Many of my colleagues disagree, for very good reasons. The delay of the carols highlights the waiting to which Advent calls us. I get that. I really do. Maybe I'm the ultimate Christmas consumer in that I want all the joy we can get in Advent and also during the 12 days of Christmas. 

What I DO like about squelching the cheer until Christmas Day is the acknowledgement that we live in a world that has certainly not seen the defeat of evil. December can be a month of crushing sadness for many, compounded by the long, dark days. Singing exuberantly in the midst of pain can make some people want to whack off goofy grins and hark the herald angels to kingdom come. Waiting to sing is respectful, it recognizes honestly that Jesus' work has not yet vanquished all sorrow, and that the story is not yet over. 

Echoes will be honoring the reality of the darkness on Dec. 21st. At 4:16pm (when the sun goes down here in Bellingham). We'll gather at Fairhaven Park to celebrate Advent and Solstice. Both Solstice and Advent attest to the reality of the darkness. Dec. 21st has the most darkness of any day of the year, but the light is coming. Light is coming. Light is coming. Light is coming," during some of my darkest days I had to be told this over and over again until I could finally believe it. The religious season, and the position of our planet relative to the sun, combine to make a fantastic opportunity to state what is now, and what is to come. We stand in solidarity with those who cannot sing yet, and we call forth the coming light that is so invisible to many.

As far as singing carols, I'm going to sneak in a few. Appropriately, with respect, the goofy grins restrained when needed.