Learning from wilderness encounters

It lives like a pig. It grunts and runs in a herd. It smells like a skunk dipped in balsamic vinagrette.   No, it’s not your teenager. It’s a javelina.

These critters were escaping the Arizona sun while I was at a continuing education conference in May.  They’d hunkered down beneath the walkway between the sleeping rooms and the building where our worship space had been situated.  I was headed toward my room after lunch to grab my notebook and evidently my stomping up the steps roused them from their siesta.  The herd – Mama, Papa, and all of the baby ‘linas – took off toward the brush that lay just west of the dormitory, stinking and grunting as they ran. 

The last time I’d had such a close encounter with wildlife was in 2001 in Yellowstone National Park.  A bison, obviously having no intention of going anywhere, greeted me one morning as I walked from my cabin to the Old Faithful Inn.  I said “excuse me I believe you live here” and took the long way around.  It’s good to be reminded that human beings aren’t the only creatures on this planet that need space to roam or rest.  But, human beings do need to roam and rest.  That was the point of my education week. 

We need space to explore our past and plan for our future.  We need to take time to rest and reflect in order to be refreshed.  It’s too hard to do these things when we get stuck in our routine or are disturbed by every startling interruption.  So, be intentional about carving a little time out to get away no matter who you are or where you are in your life.  You may not see a javelina or a bison, but you might be surprised at what you do see.

To everything, there is a season.

Watching my son graduate from college last week differed so much from my experience of his other graduations. Up to now, every step he took toward independence brought tears to my eyes.  Each was a loss - of my baby, of my elementary school kid, of my middle schooler, of my high school honor student.  Leaving the parking garage after helping him drag his valuables up to his dorm room was as painful as his birth 18 years before. 

This graduation squeezed no water from my eyes.  My son is his own person now.  He's still my son, but he's certainly no longer an extension of myself.  The college experience did its work.  Being away from home gave Kevin what he needed to find himself.  I know I'm biased, but he is a truly amazing young man. This was more than a college celebration, it was a commencement of a new life ready to be lived to the fullest.  This 'birth' was all Kevin's.  His work, his tribulations, his triumph.  I watched with pride.

I loved every season of motherhood, even though I was glad when many were over.  And, to be fair, I couldn't have been a mom all by myself.  Dad, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, and church friends made up the village in which Kevin grew up. However, new season of motherhood has just begun: my son is now my talented, capable, funny, and well-rounded college graduate ready to make his way in the world. I can hardly wait to see what a difference he makes.  I hope this season lasts a good long time.

'Tis the Season

‘Tis the season of graduations.  High School days are ending. College days are ending. Education for Ministry’s year officially finishes this evening with a potluck and our annual game of “Wheel o' Ministry”.  It is the season for endings. 

Of course, T.S. Eliot reminds us that to make an end is to make a beginning.

If we are to be accurate, we should say it is the season of commencements.  This year’s commencement season is particularly fruitful!  There are 19 high school graduates going on to colleges and universities nationwide.  There are college graduates with doctoral, master’s and bachelor’s degrees going on to new opportunities. (If anyone would like to hire a new aerospace engineering graduate, please see me after church.)  There are 10 Education for Ministry graduates wondering just what new things God may be calling them to now that they have a firmer grounding in scripture, history, and theology.  Last, but certainly not least, two children are beginning their new lives in the Christian faith as we baptize them this morning.

I suspect that, as exciting and celebratory as these graduations are, they are accompanied with a modicum of terror.  What if I don’t get along with my roommate?  What if I can’t find a job? What if God calls me to something I’m not ready for or I don’t like?  How on earth can I keep these baptismal promises?  Can’t I just turn the clock back a little bit until I’m ready to move on?

 The disciples find themselves in similar circumstances in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles.  They continue to hope for the kingdom of Israel as they understand it, not the kingdom of God as Jesus understands it.  When his time with them is over, they are paralyzed.  They don’t know what direction they are to go.  They stand there until the men in white robes tell them to quit looking up and go on about the business of witnessing the good news.

Of course, they really aren’t sure how to go about that.  Within the upper room, the eleven, accompanied by the women who supported Jesus and his mother and brothers, come together in anticipation.  They are in limbo, aching for the familiar past and compelled toward the future and all its unknowns. 

And so they do what we do instinctively: Go to a familiar place to be with familiar people.  There, in a community of love, they pray and eat and begin to discern their next steps.

Today we find ourselves in a similar limbo – especially those of us who are at commencement points in our lives.  And, if we are being honest, who isn’t at a commencement point?  Isn’t everyday a new beginning?  Therefore, we need to do what we do instinctively – do what we are doing right now! Go to a familiar place with familiar people.  Pray together in a community of love.  Share a meal together.  Remind each other of the promises we made to be a witness to the love of God in the world.  Await the power of the Holy Spirit promised to us at Pentecost.

It makes one wonder:  What will God do next?  What should we expect on Pentecost?  More importantly, do we really want the power of the Holy Spirit?  The time of expectation between today and next Sunday is a divine gift.  We have the opportunity to contemplate our readiness to follow God’s call to us.  We have time to prepare our wills to endure the challenges that lie ahead.  We have a chance to open our hearts to receive God’s message of love, forgiveness, and reconciliation.  We have a moment to drink in the loveliness of creation and the blessings of each other’s company.

I believe that the blessing of each other’s company is what Jesus had in mind when he prayed to the Father to protect his followers.  For them to be one as he and the Father were one was to be in community.  Jesus knew that being of one mind on any issue was never going to happen.  There had been enough arguing and backbiting between them for him to believe that they would EVER completely agree on anything.  But, what Jesus hoped – at least, in my mind – was that they would stick together despite their differences.  Having people around to support you during life’s changes and challenges is paramount.  That’s why the church marks important life milestones like baptisms, confirmations, marriages, burials, ordinations, and the everyday needs of food and healing within the context of community.  We are on a journey together.  Life isn’t a solo trek.

In reality, as a faith community in the 21^st century, we live in a nomadic and expectant time.  We have experienced the Holy Spirit and we continue to wait for it anew.  Therefore our lives are not so much in limbo as they are in a dance.  We hold hands with the past until the present cuts in and asks us to learn a new dance.  In later years, we’ll be able to look back to see how those steps helped us when we once again change dance partners with a new present.  I know it’s hard to imagine now, but trust me on this.  There will be a moment when you look back and realize that every new dance, every step, was given to you by God or transformed by God to fulfill God’s purpose for you.   Every teacher (even the dorky ones), every difficult homework assignment, every achievement, every failure, prepared you for something that you will do in the power of the Holy Spirit.  Each time we make ourselves vulnerable to God through the sacraments or through prayer we are empowered to bring the kingdom one step closer to earth. 

On this day of endings and beginnings, remember T.S. Eliot’s words in Little Gidding:

What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning….

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this

Calling

   We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time….

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well.

(c) C. B. Park 2011 all rights reserved