The Contemplative Pastor

2009-01-03T12:03:00.001-05:00

Yippee!! I finally have a new blog started for our Madison life:

http://77squaremiles.blogspot.com

One of the pitch lines for Madison is "77 Square Miles Surrounded by Reality," just so you know the origin of the title.

Hope you all are doing well--and I'll look forward to hearing from you on the new blog!

Peace and love,
Jess

2008-12-01T11:02:00.002-05:00

Hi folks -

I haven't written on here much lately because I'm not exactly sure what to do with this. It's set up as a blog for First Pres, so I think I'll be closing it down when I get myself organized in Madison. Haven't thought of anything catchy for the next one yet, but I'm sure I'll have new adventures to write about soon (and without a job, a LOT more time to write :) This will stay up and have a link to it when it rolls around.

Also, here's my new email address: jessscholten@gmail.com

Grace and peace and much love,
Jess

2008-10-06T12:45:00.000-05:00

The Season of… Ambiguity

One of Tom and my favorite movies is Pleasantville. There are certain things in life that come up again and again from the movie that seem to fit with how we experience the world. When we moved to High Point almost six years ago, we were lost an incredible amount of the time. Check out any Mid-western town on a map and you get some nice, square blocks—winding roads that regularly change from one name to another threw us for a loop. We would joke, “What’s at the end of Main Street? Why, of course, the beginning of Main Street!” The weather report on the news each morning that first February was one day after another of, “Sunny with a high of 72 and a low of 68.” For real? Yup. For real. Day after day of Pleasantville.

If you haven’t seen Pleasantville, in a very brief nutshell, it’s a movie about change—how things like knowledge and exploration alter how we experience the world. It is a progression from the known into the unknown. Pleasantville as a town moves from constant and predictable to the murky waters of giant question marks. The closing scenes of Pleasantville include the characters sitting on a park bench—“What happens next?” [queue puzzled look] “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

So it is fitting then that this transition for us from “Pleasantville,” North Carolina, back to the “Homeland,” has a lot of question marks as well. I feel like I say, “I don’t know,” quite a lot right now. The Presbyterian Women’s meeting today was on the seasons of our lives. I suppose whatever season we are in in life, there is an enormous amount of ambiguity. Thank you for traveling with me through some of mine.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2008-09-11T13:31:00.007-05:00

Missing the Point or Right on Target?

I was scanning Life is Good flair on facebook. (For those of you out of the "flair" loop, it's basically virtual buttons for your virtual cork board for your virtual life.) People can create their own buttons and post them as well, so about one of every twenty is a play on Life is Good. Sometimes it's the funny, Life is Crap stuff, but mostly it's people who have created buttons saying things like, "Life is good--eternal life is better" or "Life (with Jesus) is good."

Uhg, there's this gut reaction in me that says these folks are missing the point.

Life is good. It doesn't have to be separated into a Jesus category to be good. Sometimes sitting around a campfire is good. Sometimes a long hike is good. And as a Christian, I see God at work in the goodness--Creator, Sustainer, Redeemer. It's impossible not to see those things through God lenses.

But then again, I appreciate those lenses. When I hike, the knowledge that God has created and sustained what is around me is moving. It deepens my experience of hiking. And maybe messing with the Life is Good theme is someone's way of trying to remind everyone of God's presence--to deepen someone else's experience in the process.

So what's your take?

2008-08-27T14:05:00.005-05:00

I guess I have Wisconsin on the brain because just this morning I was listening to NPR and there was this guy on singing, "I've got cheeses, I've got CHEESES! I've got cheeses," and I thought, "Wow, that's seriously a WI song" until I realized it was the gospel NPR station and that guy probably had Jesus, not cheddar and swiss.

Lots of you have asked about Tom and about my visit up to Madison a few weekends ago. Tom is doing well and loving his new job. We had a great visit for his birthday. You can see more pictures at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=6079&id=1036928837&l=024e1&ref=share

Peace and joy,
Jess

2008-08-22T14:21:00.000-05:00

I was reading Elle magazine on the plane the other day. (I know, hardly seems me, but there it is.) There was a fascinating article on mixing high fashion with lowbrow culture. The author—Stephen Milioti—wrote of seeing a woman combine a Rolex watch and David Yurman gold cuff bracelet with a white t-shirt, jeans, and sandals: “The mix of low and high in her wardrobe was studied and flawlessly executed.” Milioti went on to reflect on various ways we “slide effortlessly from elite to street”—from fashion (combining Mizrahi’s Target flats with $8000 lace pants) to politics (Hillary Clinton of Yale Law throwing back a shot in Indiana for some blue-collar appeal) to television (“You watch John Adams and American Idol.”).

I couldn’t help but immediately think of the ways we combine high and low in faith—(in an official sounding lecture voice): “According to John Calvin, the theology of atonement….”/“What a friend we have in Jesus” kind of thing. One of my favorite days of church in the last year was Stewardship Sunday—down-home puppet show silliness with old-school organ and sermon. I used to think that part of the minister’s job was to bridge these two arenas—the six semesters of theology and the real world of the congregation.

I suppose that is a pastor’s job in some ways, but what God gives us in Scripture doesn’t need the bridge—a psalmist cries out in need, a woman mourns the death of her son, a sick person reaches out in hopes of a healing touch. It’s the perfect combination of the greatness of God’s overwhelming love and the lowbrow approach of God coming to earth as a human. Talk about style!

2008-07-21T12:56:00.006-05:00

Sacred Spaces

With so many sites and churches, one would think the holiest spots would have been during our morning touring--the spot where Jesus met the disciples, the church built over Mary's house, the path of Paul. But the most sacred spaces on the trip for me were those times of worship and reflection away from the crowds and the designated locations.

Above is our morning worship space next to the Sea of Galilee--worship in the round, with the lower left view through the trees out onto the lake. One afternoon, I spent some time there reflecting on the day and the movement of God in our lives when a small breeze ran through the tree tops. The leaves of the tree I was sitting below were wide to the point of being almost round, thick, and almost perfectly flat. As the breeze moved through them, made a clapping sound that made me think the trees of the field clapping their hands. That had always sounded like a strange verse--and praise song--to me, but I suddenly knew in a new way what that meant. I scanned every Psalm trying to find the verse--turns out it's Isaiah--but I'm thankful for the time and the reminder of the Ruach that God is indeed always with us.

Isaiah 55:1-12 Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. See, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you. Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the LORD, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

2008-07-07T17:19:00.002-05:00

This is one of my favorite pictures. Not because it's especially well-framed or the people are particularly posed. Simply because it evokes such a strong memory. This was our first day of touring on the trip. We went to the top of the Arbel Cliffs and basically soaked in the view of the Sea of Galilee and the Galilean region (see below for a few more pics). The group was quiet this first day--not yet having too many inside jokes or close friendships, which is probably why we're randomly scattered.

I'm fresh from a reunion retreat with the group. Several of us took anywhere from 500 to 1200 pictures on the trip. Not one of us pulled out a camera for the reunion. Admittedly, the scenery was a little mundane in an Atlanta hotel. But who needed a camera when we were simply enjoying one another's company.

I am again overwhelmed with the grace of this trip and the gift of my fellow pilgrims.

2008-07-07T17:16:00.001-05:00

Sea of Galilee from the Cliffs of Arbel

2008-07-07T16:55:00.000-05:00

Cliffs of Arbel

2008-06-27T15:56:00.001-05:00

2008-06-23T16:04:00.001-05:00

This picture is a distinct reminder to me that I took First Presbyterian Church with me on my pilgrimage to Israel. Not because I specifically thought of you all while I took this particular picture—though I did think of you and pray for you quite a lot on the trip—but because of what happened when I came back home. Nora, our Director of Children’s Ministry, took one look at this picture and said, “I can’t wait to show the kids this picture next year on Palm Sunday!” Palms in the Holy Land. Cool. I wasn’t thinking at all of Palm Sunday when I clicked my shutter for the maybe 350th time—I was simply taking as many last pictures as I could of our beautiful retreat—the Pilgerhaus—on the Sea of Galilee before we left for Jerusalem.

What an awful week here at First Pres it’s been—funerals in threes, one of which was today’s—a man in his 40s with a lot of life yet to live. Palms and crosses and the reminder of empty tombs are most necessary, not only in Lent but for all times, not only in the Holy Land but in all places.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2008-06-17T09:36:00.002-05:00

There is Always Something Holy

Nazareth—we’re running late. And probably by the time we get to the Church of Annunciation the Grotto of Annunciation will be closed. I’ve reflected often that the theme of Israel for Christian pilgrims is as follows: This is where Jesus did ___________ and so we built a church on it. The Church of Annunciation is where the angel Gabriel announced to Mary she would give birth to the Son of God whom she was to name Jesus.

From John: “The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, ‘Follow me.’ Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ Philip said to him, ‘Come and see’” (John 1:43-46)

Nazareth is now a busy city of almost 200,000 people. In Biblical times, so to speak, Nazareth was all of a few hundred people at most, never mentioned in the Hebrew Scriptures and not very noteworthy in other historical records. So that we might know the VERY cave in which Mary and her family resided I suppose is possible, but between my inner skeptic and our inability to actually walk down into the grotto, well, I wasn’t feeling the holiness of the whole thing.

In fact, well, I thought it was kind of ridiculous.

However, there were amazing works of art on the walls—

a collection of artistic renditions of the annunciation

from around the world—

and in a winding stairwell to the lower level of the church

were some of the most beautiful stained glass windows.

There is always something Holy.

2008-06-10T10:10:00.002-05:00

If you can believe it, this is the Sea of Galilee on the very first night we arrived in Israel. We spent our first week of the two-week trip at the Pilgerhaus in Tabgha, a German Catholic retreat center, on the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee. In the background are the beginnings of the Golan Heights, behind which are the bordars of Syria and Jordan. As I share with people that I have been to Israel, one question comes up over and over again: Did you feel like you were in danger? No, we did not feel like we were in danger, at least not most of the time. It was unusual to see automatic weapons up close and to have an armed soldier enter the bus at checkpointsl; but in general, we did not feel unsafe. The small exception was one evening on the Sea of Galilee, when we could hear multiple helicoptors circling in the distance and well as military jets. This was a little jarring. We felt pretty protected where we were, but it was odd to have those sounds in the background. The next day someone found an article in the newspaper about a surprise visit by Israel's Prime Minister Ehud Olmert to Jordan's King Abdullah II--thus, the air traffic.

But mostly, what we experienced that first week in Israel on the Sea of Galilee is in the picture above: peace and light and time to give thanks to God.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2008-06-02T14:38:00.001-05:00

“Run and jump right off the end. Just run and jump.”

Right.

“Just run and jump” hasn’t been in my vocabulary since I went cliff jumping in the Minnesota Boundary Waters on an 8th grade youth group camping trip. I suppose that is ironic since when I heard these words on Saturday, I had just watched all of our 8th graders and middle school students fling themselves off a pier-like structure in a woods up near Hanging Rock park and bounce, yes, bounce their way down a zipline.

The rest of the zipline day had gone pretty well. You start out simply enough on a short line from one ground platform to another with a small gulley in between. Then they advance you along taller and longer lines and rotating platforms well up in the trees. And really, for me, all of this was cool. Fun, safe, not really challenging. But this last bonus line, the one that slacks enough so that you can be flung by your hanging gear skyward and then groundward, well, that was entirely different. Not to mention the fact that following the “run and jump” instructions always came the warnings that if you did not actually get a running head-start and jump out as far as you could you very well might a) whack your head on the end of the pier and then b) hit the ground at the end of the pier because you didn’t jump out far enough. Lovely.

I will tell you, I did run and jump. And then yelled my head off like a screaming mimi. And it was beautiful—what a rush—what a perfect ending.

Run and jump,
Jess

2008-05-30T10:23:00.002-05:00

I got an email recently from someone who was thinking of moving to High Point and had begun to search for a church pre-move. She wrote that she had read my blog. Blog, blog... I think, yes, I remember--it's that thing I set up and promised I would reflect on in some way once a week.

Uhg, so when I got to the blog, I found a grand total of 2 entries for basically a year. That is sad. I think maybe it's the name--the contemplative pastor. Some sort of pressure to actually have a deep thought to share. My thoughts are not that deep most days.

I considered closing this one and opening a new one using the name the youth have coined for me: partypastor--yes, I am slightly proud of that, but also embarrassed (although not nearly as embarrassed as poor Ken: the Master Pastor--had to throw that in the mix for good humor). Then I could blog on how pleased I was that I had Oberon straight from the tap (well, in GLASS--I'm not THAT kind of partypastor) the other day or chilled out with James Taylor the other night (well, listened to him from row H--not a groupy partypastor).

But alas, if I can't keep up with this one on a regular basis, how on earth could I consider starting a new one? So I'm simply absolving myself of having to record deep thoughts and figured I'd try again to keep up with some sort of something or other again on a weekly basis. For the three of you still reading and encouraging me on in blogging, you're much appreciated. We'll see if we can start this going yet again.

Peace and joy,
Jess

2008-03-10T12:17:00.000-05:00

Whenever I’m in danger of taking myself too seriously, God has this beautiful habit of making me laugh. Take for instance last Monday, when the real reconstruction of the church started, and they brought in a small wrecking ball to knock off the stairwell at the end of the hall. That afternoon, hoping to clear my head and get further away from the noise, I walked down to the other end of the hall, Bible and “Encounter with God” devotional in hand. No joke, the Scripture passage for the day was Matthew 24: “As Jesus came out of the temple and was going away, his disciples came to point out to him the buildings of the temple. Then he asked them, ‘You see all these, do you not? Truly I tell you, not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’”

Classic God.

Or how about the other day. Tom and I are out running errands and in deep conversation about all kinds of things—what kind of car to buy (seeing as we still own one from each of the past two decades….) and whether that spot will come back as nothing or something. Some days, life seems like it’s at a standstill, and then all of the sudden we’re trying to swallow it in one big gulp. And before we head into the watch-band shop, we have a brief theological discussion on faith and trust and how God probably doesn’t want us to keep fretting over all this stuff anyhow. On beat, as we walk into the store, the whistling starts over the loudspeaker—you know, the whistling at the beginning of “Don’t Worry—Be Happy.”

And the Creator of the Universe just keeps laughing!

Join in, joyn in!

2007-11-07T17:29:00.001-05:00

Confessions of a Pharisee Baptist

I was late for chapel at this past Synod Assembly. Not late for a good reason—not because of Richmond traffic or an electrical outage or the dog eating my docket. I simply lollygagged with Tom over breakfast and realized I was running late after the fact.

“I’m gonna be late for chapel,” I rush us out of the booth. “It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, though,” I assure myself (and a speeding Tom) on the drive over. “I’ll just blend in with the other students late for chapel too—right at the first hymn or sneak in if the sermon’s already started.” It wasn’t that long ago that I was in seminary… I know how these things work.

Only, this wasn’t my seminary, so I didn’t know the back route. When I open the door, twenty minutes late, the door I peak into is not at the back—it is the front where all eyes were focused. And not only are there no late seminary students (turns out it is just chapel for the commissioners) but I am not going to be able to “sneak in”—everyone is already lined up for communion by intinction.

No problem. I can’t believe I missed the whole service, but I’ll just zip around to the other door and quietly slide in the back—I’ll at least get the benediction.

Only when I walk in the back door, Elder Fred sees me sneak in. “Go, go,” he says, pushing me toward the front, as if it would be appropriate for me to partake after the line was gone, after the presiding minister had even served the pianist.

Are you kidding me? I can't just run up and quick take communion.

I try to register this on my face when I look at him and bee-line for a back pew.

“Jess, go, quick,” he tugs on my elbow, pointing to the front of the chapel, whispering loudly enough that others have now noticed what’s going on.

But I haven’t done all the stuff. No worship or confession and pardon, no liturgy or prayers—I just jumped out of a rental car three minutes ago!

Fred keeps pointing to the front, so I dropped my computer in the pew in which I longed to quietly sit without being noticed and walk up the center aisle past all those who were properly on time. I wait—in a one-person late-line—for the pianist to finish partaking and for the minister to notice me standing and waiting. He comes back with the bread and the juice but gives no official words—no “This is the body, this is the cup” that might pass for some sort of symbolic summary before I partake. He just stands there waiting for me as I pinch off a piece of bread, dip it into the cup, and eat.

I slide back to my pew.

How could I have done that? I didn’t examine myself. I didn’t reflect on the cross. I didn’t even pray.

And there I sit, thinking about the missed procedure. I think I’m a Calvinist—that God reaches first. But then I want the invocation, prayers of confession, call to worship—my stuff before God. And there I sit, a Pharisee Baptist.

And grace is thrust upon me.

2007-09-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

"there are days"
by Thom M. Shuman

there are days
when i go through 3 pens
crafting my to-do list:
from the moment
the alarm shoves me
out of bed
until my pillow
rocks me to sleep,
i am going and doing and running,
cleaningwashingshopping
cookingservingclearing -

and then,
Jesus comes in the door,
sits me down at the table,
pours me a cup of coffee, saying,
"Be still. Shush. Listen. Learn."

there are days
when i am all ears
pondering the Word,
listening to God whisper,
being lullabied by the Spirit,
sittingreflectingdoingnothing
silenthushedthinking

and then Amos interrupts
my alone time,
saying,
"You wanna learn something?
Come sit at the feet of the poor;
they'll teach you more about
faithhopelovelife
compassiongracegentlenss
than you'll ever need."

there are days....

(c) 2007 Thom M. Shuman

2007-07-09T14:31:00.001-05:00

I can't believe we're already on week 6! I was quite sure we still had two weeks to go until I jumped into yesterday's meditation.

Janice sent me this great reflection on how these weeks have been: Holding my cup daily feels like holding hands with God to cross the street (you know, make it thru the day or life).

There's a book called, Sleeping With Bread, by the Linn family that tells their story of using the Examen. The examen is asking a form of the two questions: what is life-giving? what is life-draining? (usually done daily, so each question is about the day, but it can be used about a longer time period or a certain aspect of one's life). Used regularly, the examen will help you see patterns of those things which you need to keep holding on to for life and those things that you should probably let go. Joyce Rupp's book is a journey in this as well--holding onto God who gives us life.

In Christ,
Jess

2007-07-03T10:41:00.000-05:00

Last week's study on the broken cup seemed to strike a cord in several folks--here's one more follow-up thought from Ann:

"I, too, had a difficult week of last! I know we all have 'old difficulties' out there popping in & out of our lives...but when they are presently in our arena, I will have to say this study has a great timing for me. Everyday is meaningful & sometimes (esp. last wk) I find myself going over the whole morning again. Mainly so that my aging mind will remember! I am very grateful that God called me to this study. It's like nothing I have ever done before. I appreciate everyone's comments and am praying for our group everyday."

May we be reminded of the compassion of Christ as we delve into this week's study.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2007-06-28T15:29:00.000-05:00

On suffering from Dietrich Bonnhoeffer in Letters and Papers from Prison:

"It is a good thing to learn early that God and suffering are not opposites but rather one and the same thing and necessarily so; for me, the idea that God himself suffers is far and away the most convincing piece of Christian doctrine."

2007-06-27T07:56:00.000-05:00

This came as a comment that wouldn't post, but Lisa Cooper brings up a good question:

"I'm having a hard time this week. I seem to be digging up lots of old, deep hurts and inadequacies, and it's rather uncomfortable. Is anyone else having trouble? On a positive note, I feel like I have always known that God is there and comforting me in my dark times, because so often I haven't felt like there was anyone else. He has been my constant since childhood. I feel so blessed with my gift of Faith." Lisa

2007-06-26T09:26:00.000-05:00

I'm not much of an artist, but in the spirit of overcoming the idea that everything I do must be done well, I've forced myself to do art. So I draw, paint, and color lopsided creations and fully accept them how they are. As I was drawing my cup of tears this morning (the theme for the week for the Cup of Our Life), I noticed something new about my cup. The cup I'm using is a wooden chalice-like cup I picked up in Iquitos, Peru—a blood-wood, it is called—kind of like a reddish mahogany. I guess because I was drawing it and paying attention to its lines, I noticed that one side of my cup is light with golden red tones, and one side is dark with lots of darker shading. I know so little about art I often am frustrated trying to figure out how one draws light—it’s much easier to draw darkness.

Last week, our reflections for the study were on the chipped cup—the idea of accepting our flaws and weaknesses. I’m a recovering perfectionist. Naming my flaws and weaknesses is, well, a strong-point for me. Accepting them is not. Which is huge theologically because it makes it hard for me to accept grace as well. So I didn’t have a lot to write last week—though plenty on which to reflect.

I appreciate the light and dark of my cup—and the metaphor it contains.

2007-06-25T08:12:00.000-05:00

From the chipped cup to the broken cup, on to another week. Here's a reflection from Carolyn:

On pain and suffering

I approach this portion of the study with trepidation. I beg to disagree with our author-that great pain and sorrow is contingent on how we view brokenness, and we may not be able to receive pain “rightly” so that it transforms our lives. Life’s pains can be the holes of a living hell. Sure, God gives us grace, strength, and support. Our experiences with the crucibles of pain and sorrow become the point where our faith will be ground out of us or a hearty strain of belief will survive to flourish. The tsunamis of horror and hurt that knock us over, remove the comforts that surrounded us, and take the living breath out of us are so unknowable, so unexplainable, that holding on to Belief is all that holds us up until the waves reside. Still I cannot fault any human from screaming “Why” with all they can muster. Why the honing, the sharpening, the cutting, the pruning, the firing for perfecting children created by a loving God? Reynolds Price says, “It’s a serious thing, agreeing to watch a loved one through so much pain and humiliation that you are helpless to cease, much less stop. You cannot refuse it but it breaks down something in you that will never heal.” I do pray for healing or scars we can live with.

In church today the sermon was about how tenderly God cares for us during our depressions, pains, shame, and hardship. God’s love is not entirely about our triumphs and transformations. The brokenness is with us but so is God. I decided my cup needed a change this afternoon. I removed the stones that have anchored it for three weeks and out we went to the backyard. The cup and I spent time in the sunshine by the fishpond and in the shadow of the woods behind the house. I filled my empty cup with pieces of colored glass from the birdbath. The cup is resting in a sunny window at the moment. Who knows what it will hold during the next three weeks.

2007-06-20T08:06:00.000-05:00

Speaking of space, here's a reflection from Donna Baker:

"I really like the book and the devotions and I am reading from "The Message" which is just great too. I am starting to feel like God is calling me to my "spot" on the gazebo early in the AM. I saw the sun coming thru the trees the other day, and it was awesome there in the early morning with my little candle lit and thinking about the thought for the day. I seem to be more aware throughout the day to listen and try to receive things from God. I felt God nudging me today and got up at 6am (I never wake up at 6am) and went to my spot. This is one of the growth things that has been lacking in my life, and it is making me feel God's presence."

2007-06-15T09:23:00.000-05:00

Joyce Rupp writes, "How much easier it is for most of us to give than it is to receive" (p 55). The Gospel lectionary passage for this week is Luke 7:36-50, the story of a woman weeping, wiping off her tears from Jesus' feet with her hair, and annointing them. The passage points out the woman is a sinner, and a Pharisee stands nearby assessing the situation. How much easier to be the assessor in control than the one overcome with emotion at the feet of Jesus receiving the gift of grace.

May you be open to the gift of grace!

2007-06-11T08:39:00.001-05:00

Blogging hasn't been this much fun for me since the first few times I made entries! I love the community aspect of this. And to add to it, first thing on this Monday morning, I received an email from someone in the Cup of Our Life study who requested that I post this anonymously:

"I was holding my cup this morning and doing my breathing prayer. 'I listen, You are here' and for some reason the vision that appeared in my head was when I transfer a file on the computer to a folder. I just drag, click and it's in there! Everytime I do that I can't get over the simplicity of that action and how much is transferred or "enters" with just a simple action. The simple action of just remaining open and listening and God will be in me. God's entrance is just a click away. I usually start my day with a list of things to do, usually written. I have started adding the task for the day to this list."

Thanks for that powerful reflection!

2007-06-09T15:54:00.000-05:00

God in the ordinary. As I sum up the week on my Saturday reflection, what stands out most from the week is the call to notice something ordinary and learn from it. This stands out because it seems to me (this week at least) that it is at the heart of spiritual formation. Those who are deeply disciplined in their spiritual lives and have much fruit to show from it don't leap from one mountain top to another--they walk, sometimes plod, along with God in the ordinariness of life. And from that, the Holy Spirit is able to open their eyes to the more extraordinary. This gives me faith in my ordinary plodding.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2007-06-08T07:53:00.000-05:00

Maria emailed me today with this reflection for posting:

"I am enjoying the study very much. Despite the fact that 'my cup overfloweth with things to do,' I have kept my appointment every morning with God. I have really enjoyed the reading, reflecting, quiet time, and even journaling. I have written 12 pages so far!

As I read today's section, I was thinking about how I had to come to my special spot in my house to meet God, with my cup emptied of all of the duties and deadlines, the things to do, in order to have Him fill my cup with His Living Water. Today I pray for my cup to overflow with the Living Water instead of the other stuff."

Thanks for a good reflection, Maria--may all our days be filled with Living Water.

2007-06-04T15:41:00.000-05:00

"Like the cup with its boundaries,

we, too, need parameters

so that our life does not seep away

into endless busy-ness

and unguarded, unfocused activity"

(Cup of Our Life, 22).

2007-05-31T15:14:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, when I was taking the clock off the wall in my office, it got caught on the hook, and in my prying, all the hands fell off. While those funny, "Who Cares!" clocks with all the numbers falling to the bottom make a good joke, they still actually do tell time. My clock now told me nothing. And while I replaced the clock (with one that I very gently take on and off the wall each spring and fall), I kept the old clock. I never actually did it, but I had plans to hang the clocks up next to one another, writing on the face of one, "EST," and across the face of the other, "God's Time" or some other clever phrase to illustrate the point.

Why do I check the clock? To make sure I'm staying on task, getting things done, accomplishing something, regimenting my day properly. But somehow I doubt that's really what God intended for me to be doing several times a day, especially considering an accurate clock like I have in my office didn't even come into being until sometime in the last few hundred years, which means people survived for an enormously long amount of time without pulling out their sundial every 15 minutes.

So maybe I was connecting with that when during my breathprayer this morning for the Cup of Our Life study I took down the working clock and switched it with the God-time clock. It seemed right for the start of a new study--like an ebenezer of sorts marking the removal of a distraction for the space and time reflection.

For those of you in the study, what are your spaces and times for reflecting looking like?

2007-05-18T15:32:00.001-05:00

I read a quote from Oscar Wilder the other day:

"The response we make when we 'believe' a work of the imagination," Wilder wrote, "is that of saying: 'This is the way things are. I have always known it without being fully aware that I knew it. Now in the presence of this play or novel or poem (or picture or piece of music) I know that I know it."

YES! I want to shout--yes! That is the experience of really believing a work--to know the truth of it. I love books--mostly fiction but also plenty of reflections on life and gazillions of books on ministry that somehow I want to osmosis into my brain and then into the congregation. The two things I love most about books are that they can either carry you away to a completely different world that allows full escape from the day-to-day or they expound in some profound that very day-to-day experience.

At the risk of sounding overly minister-like, I couldn't help but think of that quote in light of Scripture. God's Word does that same thing. How many times have you read a passage and realized the truth of it--not only for those in the passage but for your own life. "Go, serve in the ministry," says God. "But I'd suck at that. I don't have the patience and look at my sins! Plus, ministers are so boring, and-by the way-I'm a woman," says Moses-Jess. My imagination makes small troubles as big as giants better than any Israelite, I can open my mouth with something foolish faster than Peter, and I can out-sulk Jonah 2-to-1. I also might, on a really good day, be able to pray with the Psalmist's words or sing praises with Mary. Scripture, in the process of telling the Truth, also opens us up to the truth of ourselves, the truths we had always known without being fully aware.

To truth,
Jess

2007-05-04T13:40:00.000-05:00

“The spiritual life is a journey about change. It is not limited to a set time and place of prayer. Rather, it involves all of our life, every moment of our existence. God is always ‘happening' in our lives. We need to consistently nourish, restore, and renew this relationship.” (Joyce Rupp)

When I originally started this blog, I had this vision of a helpful place where we could explore together the places where faith and day-to-day life intersected, which kind of leaves things wide open since faith and all of life intersects (re-read above). But I also had the idea this could somehow be a learning spot--a time where I/we reflected on things we maybe didn't learn about in Sunday school. That, and well, pretty much stuff Tom is always asking about at home that seemed like stuff more people might want to know about. What does Lent mean? Tell me more about Advent. Why do we have different colors for the church year? What's for dinner?

I envision this blog to be a combination of contemplation and education.

Joyce Rupp is going to give us just such a combination. Her book, The Cup of Our Life: A Guide for Spiritual Growth, is a 6-week study on cups and life--chipped cups, open cups, broken cups, cups of compassion and blessing. The plan then is to use this space as a platform through which anyone who wants to do this study as a group can share thoughts and reflections.

So regular readers--be you members at First Pres or residents of far away places--I'll try to keep the entries over those six weeks reflections anyone can read, but the book will be my focus--or better yet, buy the book and join along.

Heads up early so you can order it in time--I'm thinking we'll begin in June.

By the way, chicken's for dinner.

Peace,
Jess

2007-03-14T17:01:00.000-05:00

Covenant
by Margaret Halaska, published in Space for God by Don Postema

God
knocks at my door
seeking a home for his son.

Rent is cheap, I say.

I don’t want rent. I want to buy, says God.

I’m not sure I want to sell,
but you might come in to look around.

I think I will, says God.

I might let you have a room or two.

I like it, says God. I’ll take two.
You might decide to give me more some day.
I can wait, says God.

I’d like to give you more,
but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me.

I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see.

Hm, maybe I can let you have another room.
I really don’t need that much.

Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see.

I’d like to give you the whole house
but I’m not sure…

Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out.
Your house would be mine and my son would live in it.
You’d have more space than you’d ever had before.

I don’t understand at all.

I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that.
You’ll have to discover it for yourself.
That can only happen if you let me have the whole house.

A bit risky, I say.

Yes, says God, but try me.

I’m not sure—
I’ll let you know.

I can wait, says God. I like what I see.

2007-02-21T09:14:00.000-05:00

You know those Worst Case Scenario survival guides? Well, they made one of those for Presbyterians. They—as far as I can tell, a group of silly Lutherans that started the whole trend with, The Lutheran Handbook—have now created, The Presbyterian Handbook. In addition to practical information like, “How to Survive for One Hour in an Unair-conditioned Church,” (sit still and pray—it got Jesus through 40 days in the desert), there are theological helpful-hints like a brief reference guide to different denominations and beliefs and plenty of comical assists such as recommending one not make change from the offering plate.

The book is clever, sometimes funny, and pointedly honest about what to do in specific situations (a crying baby, for instance—no staring, or "How to Forgive Someone")—a handy little reference book in some ways, a comic book in others.

The handiest section by far this particular Ash Wednesday is a How To section on memorizing Scripture. Which gives me one more plug on our First Pres journey through Lent in memorizing the resurrection story. I hope you First Pres-ers will consider joining in the journey.

For everybody, I’m also going to use Lent as a letting go, which is going to include any contemplating on the blog. So Monday mornings, you can look for meditation spots or Scripture passages, maybe a good quote or two, but I’ll skip the musings.

To the journey,
Jess

2007-02-13T15:27:00.000-05:00

On Joy:

"Joy shows from the eyes. It appears when one speaks and walks. It cannot be kept closed inside us. It reacts outside. When people find in your eyes that habitual happiness, they will understand they that are beloved children of God." Mother Teresa

Joy and understanding be yours,
Jess

2007-01-30T10:41:00.000-05:00

So Sunday morning just before walking into the 11 o’clock service, a faithful Contemplative Pastor reader asks if I’m feeling better. “Growl,” says I. I think there was also the word, “No,” in there. Not a nice, “No,” as in, “But thanks for asking,” but an ugly no, as in, well insert your own imaginative and ugly response. And then we walk into worship.

That’s a bad place to be when you’re a minister, having just been about as grumpy as you could be to a friend and then have to stand there with a smile on your face to lead worship. Ooosk.

I don’t have the words to get from there to here. There, is that bad feeling of having heard my own response. Here, is what I wish I would have said. “Not really, but I will feel better.” Maybe it was the sermon on promises, maybe it was being forced to sit for an hour in front of people feeling like a fake, maybe it was the Holy Spirit. Who knows. But eventually I got from there to here.

And somehow all of our lives as believers got wrapped up in it. Are you feeling better? No, (pause) but I will. Are you healed, joyful, at peace (fill in your own spiritual goodness blank)? Maybe, but even if the answer is no, the follow up in Christ Jesus is hope. We will. Sunday’s coming, and we will.

Thanks be to God!

2007-01-26T12:58:00.000-05:00

Okay, here’s something that happens when you’re so sick your options are either bed or propped up in an easy chair with a flipper. You catch up on a lot of movies. A LOT! I’ve watched Pirates of the Caribbean II, March of the Penguins, The Polar Express, 40-year-old Virgin, the Devil Wears Prada, and Employee of the Month in the last, hmmmm, 48-hours. Quite clearly, we don’t have cable. And also quite clearly, we don’t have cable because I don’t have a good filter for what I watch (you can see, it definitely went downhill). Maybe it’s simply coincidence, but the last three—quite popular, trendy, A-list-for-the-cool-people movies, seem to have a common thread: how do I hold in one hand being a genuine friend of the nerds and hold in the other hand fitting in with the cool people? There’s some sort of search for the authentic that rejects the backstabbing fashionista life-style that, to quote Miranda Priestly, “Everybody wants.”

I don’t have too many deep thoughts on this—cold medicine sort of prohibits such things—but after watching all these movies and reading Rob Bell’s interpretation in, Velvet Elvis, that Jesus calls all the B-team people, I think the church has something to offer to people trying to find their way out of the “becoming someone I can’t stand in the process of moving up the ladder” state we can find ourselves in. I hope that would be the experience people have of church, that we’re a place free from a culture of haves and have-nots. Would that this were the case. It would seem one step closer to how Jesus has called us to live.

2007-01-16T14:42:00.000-05:00

I used to have this very bad habit in my daily devotions. I would miss one day, and then feel like I needed to make up for it by doing both days of reading. The thing was, one day missing wasn't such a big deal, but sometimes it ended up being three or four days of Scripture readings, so then it was significantly more time consuming. If days were missed, it was likely because my schedule got busy (yes, ministers have the same bad habits that you have), so I was already busy and then having to play catch up, which led to skipping it more until I was, say, a month behind or something ridiculous and I'd pretty much give up entirely for awhile. It's not like I wasn't still reading Scripture or praying or doing things that enriched my spiritual life, but my daily devotional--my disciplined activity--would fall by the wayside because it was difficult to catch up.

Finally it struck me... this is crazy! Catching up is a compulsion, not a healthy understanding of how deepen my spiritual life or to be in relationship with God. And it transformed my ability to keep up with a regular, daily devotion.

Enter blog writing. Christmas gets busy, a few weeks fly by with no blog entry. And then I think, "I'll have to have a really good blog for the new year, for this new start," and no earth-shattering thought comes to write about (not that any of these are in any way earth-shattering anyhow) or I can't figure out a way to make up for a few weeks of no entries, and pretty soon it looms in a way that I can't even write anything for a long time.

All that is to say, I may be the only one reading these anyhow, and if I--perfectionist Jess--am willing to extend grace to myself and jump back into the weekly writings, please (to any other readers) be willing to extend that grace as well--to me and to yourselves in whatever compulsions enslave you as you start off a new year!

Grace and peace,
Jess

2006-12-29T13:33:00.000-05:00

To a Merry Christmas and a DYNAMITE New Year!

2006-12-04T15:02:00.000-05:00

Back to the topic of play….

This is the like the “Rest of the story,” from my study leave experience a few weeks back. After the retreat and the botanical gardens, we stayed at Columbia Theological Seminary to check it out and do a bit of touring. We worshipped with the community on Thursday morning, and instead of a sermon, “The Rowing Endeth,” a poem by Anne Sexton was read. come play….

I’m mooring my rowboat
At the dock of the island called God.
This dock is made in the shape of a fish
And there are many boats moored
At many different docks.
“It’s okay,” I say to myself,
with blisters that broke and healed
and broke and healed—
saving themselves over and over.
And salt sticking to my face and arms like
A glue-skin pocked with tapioca.

I empty myself from the wooden boat
And into the flesh of The Island.
“On with it!” He says and thus
we squat on the rocks by the sea
and play—can it be true—
a game of poker.
He calls me
I win because I hold a royal straight flush.
He wins because He holds five aces.
A wild card had been announced
But I had not heard it
Being in such a state of awe
When he took out the cards and dealt.

As He plunks down his five aces
And I sit grinning at my royal flush,
He starts to laugh,
The laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth
And into mine.
And such laughter that he doubles right over me.
Laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs.
Then I laugh, the fishy dock laughs
The sea laughs. The Island laughs.
The Absurd laughs.

Dearest dealer,
I with my royal straight flush
Love you so for your wild card,
That untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha
And lucky love.

-Anne Sexton, 1975

2006-11-27T14:48:00.000-05:00

MORE, GREATER, BIGGER.....

Somehow, these words became synonymous with Christmas--more presents, greater gifts, more shopping, higher credit card bills, a bigger stack of catalogs in the mail. It's kind of overwhelming.

So let me share with you my latest "indulgence." Canceling catalogs.

It is SUCH a beautiful thing! Each day, I was recycling several of them. Now I let them stack up on the kitchen table--Signals, Eddie Bauer, Plow and Hearth, Whatever Works, Harry and David..... Don't get me wrong, I LOVE looking through catalogs--turning down the corner of a few pages and sticking them in a pile, or worse yet (I am from the US, after all), picking up the phone and ordering the must-have-thingamajig. But now I let them stack up until I have the time, usually Saturday morning, and call all those 1-800 numbers. And as sweetly and politely as I can, "Please remove me from your mailing list." The reaction is instantaneous--absolutely, not problem, we can do that right away (they legally must respond like this, so I've heard). The most hassle I get from this simple phrase is, "May we ask why?" Well, who can resist an environmentalist who says their website is so easy to use? "I understand, ma'am."

And that's it, I'm free! Twenty phone calls later, I'm looking forward to a catalog free January. Whee! It's such a rush. I feel like a Macy's balloon after being snipped free of all the ropes. I love it!

It's hardly contemplative. Only loosely theological. But I thought I'd pass around my latest Christmas joy!

2006-11-22T12:03:00.000-05:00

come play...

2006-11-20T13:46:00.000-05:00

I spent some time earlier this month on spiritual retreat as part of an ongoing Covenant group of women in ministry through Candler School of Theology in Atlanta. The Covenant Colleagues holds a retreat every fall and every spring. Each time I go, I am amazed again at how time on retreat--learning something new (usually the focus is the life of a particular contemplative--though this past retreat was on the idea of being both a shepherd and a sheep), reflecting, and fellowshipping with other ministers--is such a powerful refill for my soul.

I often come away with one special reminder or spiritual growth that sustains me. This particular time was the reminder from my spiritual director that God is calling me to play.

After the retreat was over, a friend and I went into Atlanta and visited the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. The traveling art installation was Niki in the Garden--"the world's largest exhibition of internationally renowned artist Niki de Saint Phalle's outdoor sculptures ever presented." Niki's sculptures are a combination of imagination and playground equipment--giant marbled sea creatures, jazz musicians, and (above) a two-story head. The theme of the exhibit is, "come play."

An important invitation--from artist Niki and Artist Creator.

2006-11-06T15:14:00.000-05:00

From Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping

Ruth, the main character, is reflecting on learning about her aunt who became a missionary. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do....

"In this box I found page 2 of a brochure of, it seemed, great and obvious significance. It was slick and heavy, like a page from National Geographic, and it was folded in thirds like a letter. At the top of the page was printed, Tens of millions in Honan Province alone. Then there was a series of photographs. One showed a barefoot boy standing in stark sunlight, squinting at the camera. Another showed a barefoot man squatting against a wall, his face hidden in the shadow of a large hat. Another showed a young woman feeding a baby from a cup. The fourth was of three old women standing in a row, shading their eyes with their hands. The fifth was of a squinting girl and a thin pig. The pig was not facing the camera. At the foot of the page was printed, in italics, I will make you fishers of men. This document explained my aunt Molly's departure to my whole satisfaction. Even now I always imagine her leaning from the low side of some small boat, dropping her net through the spumy billows of the upper air. Her net would sweep the turning world unremarked as a wind in the grass, and when she began to pull it in, perhaps in a pell-mell ascension of formal gentlemen and thin pigs an old women and odd socks that would astonish this lower world, she would gather the net, so easily, until the very burden itself lay all in a heap just under the surface. One last pull of measureless power and ease would spill her catch into the boat, gasping and amazed, gleaming rainbows in the rarer light.

"Such a net, such a harvesting, would put an end to all anomaly. If it swept the whole floor of heaven, it must, finally, sweep the black floor of Fingerbone, too. From there, we must imagine, would arise a great army of paleolithic and neolithic frequenters of the lake--berry gatherers and hunters and strayed children from those and all subsequent eons, down to the earliest present, to the faith-healing lady in the long, white robe who rowed a quarter of a mile out and tried to walk back in again just at sunrise, to the farmer who bet five dollars one spring that the ice was still strong enough from him to gallop his horse across. Add to them the swimmers, the boaters and canoers, and in such a crowd my mother would hardly seem remarkable. There would be a general reclaiming of fallen buttons and misplaced spectacles, of neighbors and kin, till time and error and accident were undone, and the world became comprehensible and whole. Sylvie said that in fact Molly had gone to work as a bookkeeper in a missionary hospital. It was perhap only from watching gulls fly like sparks up the face of clouds that dragged rain the length of the lake that I imagined such an enterprise might succeed. Or it was from watching gnats sail out of the grass, or from watching some discarded leaf gleaming at the top of the wind. Ascension seemed at such times a natural law. If one added to it a law of completion--that everything must finally be made comprehensible--then some general rescue of the sort I imagined my aunt to have undertaken would be inevitable. For why do our thoughts turn to some gesture of a hand, the fall of a sleeve, some corner of a room on a particular anonymous afternoon, even when we are asleep, and even when we are so old that our thoughts have abandoned other business? What are all these fragments for, if not to be knit up finally?" (Housekeeping, 90-2)

2006-10-23T11:10:00.000-05:00

Home

I’ve learned a lot about home over the last four years. Home is where the heart is. Very true, but when you leave all your family and friends several hours behind, you leave most of your heart there as well. So admittedly, it’s hard to find home spots so far away.

One of my favorite home spots here in NC died last week—a dear woman named Selima Johnson. She was 93. She falls easily under probably everyone who has met her as one of your favorite old ladies. In the last two years, she had lost pretty much all her eyesight, and she had a hard—quite hard—time hearing. Very loudly, I would say, “HI SELIMA. IT’S JESS FROM CHURCH.” “Who?” And I would repeat myself, “JESS SCHOLTEN, ONE OF THE MINISTERS AT FIRST PRESBYTERIAN.” She would kind of nod, and—wondering if she’d heard well enough to realize who I was or if her memory was not as sharp as it had been at my last visit—I’d proceed into the conversation, checking in on how she was doing and the latest great-grandchild news. A few minutes later, without fail, she would say to me, “Is that Jess?” She said it just so every time. I should name a tone here that would help you understand it was sweet and gentle but full of energy and thoughtfulness, but there isn’t a word for the care and welcomingness that she had. Love, I suppose works, but not just that. It was inclusive. It was home.

We get a lot more “Ya’ll aren’t from around here, are ya?”s then we ever get of, “So glad you’re part of us.” But I always felt welcomed home with Selima. She read her Presbygram, listened to the church service on the radio, and paid attention to the church news. She kept up with me more than I could even keep up with her—in a way that reflected love and prayer and care.

So Thursday night, Jesus said, “Is that Selima?” and she was welcomed home. I should say, “Thanks be to God,” for she was ready to go. Except that I’m homesick already, and I will miss those loud conversations and the dawning of love that always came in the question, “Is that Jess?”

But for that light, for that care, and for the love and home she gave to so many… Thanks be to God!

2006-10-02T14:52:00.000-05:00

Stay plugged in to keep the light shining....

I'll apologize ahead of time for the level of cheese, the sheer triteness, of this blog entry. But it was a good chuckle for worship yesterday.

Here's another worship secret. On the back of the pulpit there is a small, round light. The "on" button for this light is controlled by Judith, our organist. It alerts ministers to the actual ending of the prelude/choir selection to avoid that awkward, "Should I stand up or is there more to come," moment that I'm sure you can imagine.

Yesterday, all three of the ministers--we prefer jokes that allude to the Trinity as opposed to the Stooges--were up front, which inevitably leads to more chatting by the worship leaders than usual. I was lost in what I am sure was some sort of Holy Thought--not at all a moment of "I'm hungry--wonder what's for dinner"--when there was a lengthy pause after the organ stopped for the prelude. Ken whispers, "I guess I do the announcements?" and steps to the pulpit.

No light. No guide saying, "Yes, it's okay to stand up and speak." I'm sure he was filled with trepidation in starting without the light--the last time he did this, Judith was on "pause" between movements and missed playing the full Prelude.

Announcements/prayers/scripture/sermon/communion-later, we're back to Holy Thoughts again as the choir sings the morning's anthem and the offering is given.

An elbow-nudge interupts my contemplation of offerings: (should I offer Tom left-overs or Taco Bell?) "See that plug hanging there?" I stare into the darkness of the back of the pulpit--I see the three silver prongs hanging down from their dangling cord. "Bet that's supposed to be plugged in...."

And wham, every cheesy moral from forwarded emails or bad children's messages comes flying into my brain in one, concise thought:
You have to be plugged in to the source for the light to shine.

Too true, too true.

Shine on,
Jess

2006-09-19T20:00:00.000-05:00

God in the Ordinary

A friend of mine went through a crisis in faith in college. She felt as if she really couldn't know God or even maybe believe in God because she had never had a real, "mountain-top"-like experience of God.

But the more I reflect on that the more I want to remind her that God isn't really about the mountain-top experiences but rather the ordinariness of life.

It's like losing someone you love. You don't miss the magic moments. When I first became a minister, in trying to help people grieve, I would ask what they had missed most about a loved one who died. I don't ask that anymore because the answer is always the same--people miss the ordinary things: sitting on the porch together, watching a favorite tv show, reading together. No one ever said, "The huge, amazing vacations we would take," or "Buying a new house together." It seems to me that love is in the ordinary things of a relationship.

I'm reminded of the play, Our Town, where Emily, after death misses earth so much she wants to go back and experience life for a day. The advice given to her is to pick an ordinary day, for it will have enough life.

If you read the Parade insert of the newspaper this past Sunday, you may have read Mitch Albom reflecting on this as well: "We often fantasize about a perfect day--something exotic and far away. But when it comes to those we miss, we desperately want one more familiar meal, even one more argument. What does this teach us? That the ordinary is precious. That the normal day is a treasure."

To God in the ordinary.

2006-09-11T15:57:00.000-05:00

“But babies are being born and people are falling in love!”

I roll my eyes at my husband, who is standing above me attempting consolation while I curse everything in sight for running out of floor stripper with precisely one 3x3 square plot of waxy, dirty floor to go at 11 o’clock at night.

He’s quoting me, which actually makes it worse. The evening before, after a week of hearing about friends being diagnosed with cancer, going through divorces, or dying suddenly after hiking, it seemed the whole house was full of gloom. Gloom is okay for awhile, but the truth is the whole world is not falling apart.

Babies are being born and people are falling in love.

I had started the week with a devotional at our staff meeting written by Barbara Brown Taylor in the Christian Century. She was reflecting on a news story about a young girl who was kidnapped from her bed. The news story was everywhere. A neighbor had responded, “Children aren’t even safe in their own beds.” But the truth is millions of children really are perfectly safe in their own beds.

While people we loved were being told about cancer, other people were experiencing healing and new life. And while our friends are breaking up, it was Friday evening and plenty of couples were getting married right while we despaired. “But babies are being born and people are falling in love,” I blurted out into the gloom.

And then the words came back to me as my paused my cursing to reflect. True.

Today, even five years after the shock of watching the Twin Towers collapse, the gloom weighs heavy—whether or not you’re listening to the constant talk of it on the radio or watching the news reels play it again and again. The grief is amazingly fresh.

But in the midst of it all, babies are being born and people are falling in love. Thanks be to God.

2006-08-30T08:37:00.000-05:00

Okay, my brain for as much catch-up as it is trying to do in the US, is quite clearly still on Peru. Seems like there are just too many stories to share....

Even though most of the congregation has heard this story, there are several of you who have not that are regular blog readers. On the first evening in Moyobamba, Ken led the devotion and encouraged us all to keep our eyes open to God-moments. Here's the crowning one for those of us who were also on last year's trip....

Saturday evening just before we fly back to Atlanta, we're having dinner down by the Lima coast at this fantastic seafood restaurant that overlooks the Pacific ocean--where we have gone the last 3 years on our last night. Another waiter in the restaurant comes up to our table and asks if we are Christians. One of our group says yes, and asks if he is a Christian. He says, "Yes, because of Norma," and points to a member of our group who is one of our translators. Then he pulls out his wallet in which is a tract Norma gave to him at that same restaurant a year ago and tells how his life has changed over the last year because of what we shared with him.

How amazing is that!

God is good,
Jess Scholten

2006-08-09T16:31:00.000-05:00

The plan was to post one or two pictures that captured the week in Peru. Right. Check out below and you’ll get a general overview instead. The problem with trying to find one picture is mostly that we were doing so many different things. At the same time a medical clinic was held in a small village without electricity that we had to cross a river and hike through the jungle to get to, the other group was shoveling a pipeline for Yantalo—which has no running water—and heading up a Vacation Bible School. So we had three big projects going on. And of course all the other moments as well.

Anne Lamott, in her book, Traveling Mercies, says that the two best prayers she can think of are “Help me, help me, help me” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” To help and joy and tears and reunions and work and sweat and God-moments—thanks, thanks, thanks be to God.

In Christ,
Jess

2006-08-09T15:07:00.000-05:00

2006-08-09T15:06:00.000-05:00

First day of the medical clinic--Kellie runs the coloring station

2006-08-09T15:05:00.001-05:00

2006-08-09T15:05:00.000-05:00

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2006-08-05T08:17:00.000-05:00

Hola!

It was not quite as easy to email and update the blog in Moyobamba on a regular basis as I had hoped, so I'm sorry for not keeping you better posted. We are now back in Lima and have had an amazing week. We are safe and healthy. The traveling medical clinic saw 350 people in four days, and the construction/VBS group has fantastic stories of shoveling and singing.

We are all looking forward to salads and hot showers when we're back home again, which is about 24 hours to Atlanta. See you all then!

En Christos,
Jess

2006-07-29T10:34:00.000-05:00

Hola de Peru! We've arrived safely and had a good night's sleep in Lima. All is well. Off to the airport to fly over the Andes mountains today and drive from Tarapoto to Moyobamba. We are safe, healthy, happy, and ready to go! Greetings and love from the group!

Bendiciones,
Jess

2006-07-24T13:13:00.000-05:00

Find Your “Ness”

I’m stuck on You, Me, and DuPree. Yes, your associate minister does things normal people do like going to the movies. No, your associate minister does not just sit around singing hymns in her free-time. Owen Wilson, 36 and floundering, is waiting for the mothership (whatever that means—you late-comers will understand) to make clear his “calling” in life. It comes in the form of spreading the word about our finding and preserving our “–ness.” Ness? you ask. Yes, your you-ness. Carl (Matt Dillion) has his own Carlness. I’ve got Jessness. You have you-ness.

Think on anything long enough and it will become theological, but somehow it strikes me this is not an Owen-original, but rather a call for each of us to discover who it is we genuinely have been created to be. Not a call from the world, not a selfish “this is who I am,” but a call of Christ reminding us of who we are and whose we are.

To ness!

(Next blog—Hola de Peru!!!)

2006-07-10T16:25:00.000-05:00

Not About Us...

In the most recent Christianity Today, Andy Crouch interviewed a bishop from Africa and what would be the most helpful gospel-thing North American Christians can do. The Rt. Rev. Dr. David Zac Niringliye tells it like it is. He observes that North American Christians greatest threat is our power--that we view it as something for our success.

Crouch:"What couuld equip [North American Christians] to be more countercultural, living in a nation that is very much at the center of power?"

Niringliye: "We need to begin to read the Bible differently. Americans have been preoccupied with the end of the Gospel of Matthew, the Great Commission: 'Go and make.' I call them go-and-make missionaries. These are the go-and-fix-it people. The go-and-make people are those who act like it's all in our power, and all we have to do is 'finish the task.' They love that passage! But when read from the center of power, that passage simply reinforces the illusion that it's about us, that we are in charge.

"I would like to suggest a new favorite passage, the Great Invitation. It's what we find if we read from the beginning of the Gospels rather than the end. Jesus says, 'Come, follow me. I will make you fishers of men.' Not 'Go and make,' but 'I will make you.' It's all about Jesus."

(Christianity Today, "Experiencing Life at the Margins: An African Bishop Tells North American Christians the Most Helpful Gospel-thing They Can Do," an interview by Andy Crouch, p. 34)

2006-06-27T14:14:00.000-05:00

A Sunday morning God moment

By the time this past Sunday morning had rolled around, I had yet to prepare for worship. So about 9, I sat at my desk, bulletin in hand, scoping out the Scripture passage for the day and the sermon title.

Blank.

I’m sure Ken was holding out on official planning until he had known exactly what to preach on after coming back from General Assembly, at which point the bulletin had already been printed. But that gave me little to go on to try to write a prayer that might somehow reflect the sermon it would follow. (If you’re new to the blog, scroll down to October 10 and you’ll get all the philosophy of spontaneous and written prayers.) But I’m not a Sunday morning, wing-it kind of gal, so I took a guess at a topic I thought might come up in the sermon—the General Assembly.

So many weighty and important issues. So many big decisions. So much pressure on those casting the vote. But all I kept coming back to (or being brought back to?) was that it’s not up to us—the weight of the world does not fall on the shoulders of Presbyterians, of Christians, of any of us. The weight of the world is on the only one who can carry it—Jesus himself.

And so the prayer went.

Doggone it if I couldn’t have had you in my head on Sunday morning to have the Scripture passage from Mark 4:35-41—Jesus calming the storm—be the passage of the day and hear the sermon that followed. This is 5 paragraphs too long of an explanation for such a condensed and amazing moment.

Cool.

Back to the spontaneous vs. written prayers issue. Yes, a spontaneous prayer would have helped me connect to the sermon easily as well, if not more. But I would have missed the God-moment. Yes, the holy Spirit flows spontaneously, but she also flows ahead of time, preparing the way for an encounter with the Divine.

Thanks be to God.

2006-06-06T10:45:00.000-05:00

Marilyn Chandler McEntyre is troubled by bumper stickers that read: 'The Bible said it. I believe it. That settles it.' Instead, she would like to see bumper stickers that say: 'If you can't handle paradox, get out of the pulpit.' Or 'If you can't handle metaphor, get out of the ministry.' She says that the Bible is 'arguably the most mysterious, strange, challenging, complex book in the world,' and should be approached with a sense of mystery, not wooden literalism. Reading it should be considered an invitation: "'Come,' it says over and over. Come to me and I will give you rest. Enter it. Sit and eat. Dwell. Consider. Trust. Look again. The ground of all theology lies in that invitation. First and last, it is a proposal, sent in love by the heavenly Bridegroom, that summons us into a relationship more intimate than any we can know this side of heaven."

(The Christian Century quoted from Weavings, January/February)

2006-06-06T10:11:00.000-05:00

"'If you find the godless world is hating you, remember it got its start hating me. If you lived on the world's terms, the world would love you as one of its own. But since I picked you to live on God's terms and no longer on the world's terms, the world is going to hate you.'" (John 15:18-19, The Message)

I was having a conversation about church life with a group of ministers on a retreat I was on in Atlanta. We were talking about the concept of the church as the body of Christ versus the church as the country club. One minister mentioned that for some folks the church ranked just barely above Rotary. Another minster commented, "Most of my folks actually have better attendance for Rotary than Sunday morning worship, since it's requred for Rotary." Nervous laughter went around the table.

It was nervous because we all knew it to be true.

Ken and I had a similar conversation yesterday. How are we as the church in the world but not of the world? In so many ways, we simply aren't. Even most of the programs that we as ministers find meaningful and deeply rooted in Christ are hardly counter-cultural. The closest we could come to is Interfaith Hospitality Network--welcoming the stranger in the name of Jesus Christ.

As I reflected on this throughout the day, in terms of giving, service, attendance, and genuine relationships, most of sorority members in college are more faithful their letters than the average church member in the US if faithful to the call of Jesus. There's something deeply wrong with that, a great unfaithfulness in how we understand "church" if we treat it similarly to our clubs.

"Contemplative" lets me off the hook for answers, but somewhere deep at root in this has to be how we understand the love of God--a means to an end or sheer pleasure that we are deeply cherished by the one who creates, redeems, and sustains us, so cherished that we cannot help but share that with those around us?

"I picked you to live on God's terms and no longer on the world's terms...."

In Christ,
Jess

2006-05-17T19:56:00.000-05:00

I see your pain and want to banish it
with the wave of a star,
but have no star.

I see your tears and want to dry them
with the hem of an angel's gown,
but have no angel.

I see your heart fallen to the ground and want to return it
wrapped in cloths woven of rainbow,
but have no rainbow.

God is the One
who has stars, and angels and rainbows,
and I am the one
God sends to sit beside you
until the stars come out
and the angels dry your tears
and your heart is back in place,
rainbow blessed.

~Ann Weems

2006-05-08T16:09:00.000-05:00

I passed a good looking car this morning on my way into the office. I was curious that I didn’t instantly see the checkered-circle or almost-a-peace-sign. When I looked closer to see what it really was, imagine my surprise when I saw it was a Kia. A Kia! I’m no car connoisseur, but it seemed disjointed to me that such a sharp looking car would be such a, well from my impressions, wannabe kind of a brand.

How do you market something like that? I wondered. People that can afford the kind of car it looks like just buy those kinds of cars. People that can’t, well—do they know they’re buying a wannabe? My brain kept racing—maybe the target audience could be those kind of people looking for a “simpler” life, something where they are limiting their debt or in fact actually paying cash for things so they aren’t looking for the most expensive item, people concerned with stewardship, Christians perhaps looking to live more simply that they could give more to those in need. “Maybe that could be their market niche,” briefly floats through my mind.

Whatever. That would cover like, what, .01% of the population? Living within our means, paying cash for things, simplifying life… these don’t seem to be American ideals.

I’m no saint at this either, but even on a good day, I really do question how most U.S. citizens prioritize our spending, myself included. For instance, for all my work at buying only necessary things, I’ve already come up with three boxes of stuff for the church yard sale. How do I accumulate so much? I remember when Tom and I moved into our house, we had empty closets everywhere. Now almost every closet is over half way full, if not full.

I’m not sure what would convict me that we abuse our finances if I weren’t a follower of Christ. But being a Christian, I am really appalled at how much we think we need that we could easily do without. “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” (I John 3:17)

Philip Yancy writes in Christianity Today of an account he read of someone’s stay in a monastery: “’I hope your stay is a blessed one,’ said the monk who showed the visitor to his cell. ‘If you need anything, let us know, and we’ll teach you how to live without it.’”

To filling our lives with love and not stuff,
Jess

2006-05-01T12:57:00.000-05:00

Called. Tricky business being “called,” (in the spiritual sense that is—as in, a call from God.) I’m pretty specific when I refer to being called as God’s call for me as oppose to my call to ministry. For theological reasons but also ‘cause I one-upped Moses for making up reasons why I shouldn’t be a person God called into ministerial leadership. (My call for my life would look a lot different than how God has led me through this process!) I very distinctly understood God to be directing me to seminary and reluctantly agreed.

The other night at our monthly Session meeting we heard from Megan and Eric, two of our young adults who will both begin seminary this coming fall. It was a blessed mix of joy, holiness, laughter, community, and spiritual growth. It was quite clear both Eric and Megan were called to ministry through the work of the Holy Spirit.

So yesterday in a meeting I got my whole sense of how God calls us to ministry dumped upside-down. The opening devotion was a reflection on Isaiah 6:8—“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’” The devotion was from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest:

It is not a question of God singling out a [person] and saying, "Now, you go." God did not lay a strong compulsion on Isaiah; Isaiah was in the presence of God and he overheard the call, and realized that there was nothing else for him but to say, in conscious freedom, "Here am I, send me." Get out of your mind the idea of expecting God to come with compulsions and pleadings. When our Lord called His disciples there was no irresistible compulsion from outside. The quiet passionate insistence of His "Follow Me" was spoken to [people] with every power wide awake. (January 14th)

Good reminder. Yes, there are clear calls from the Holy Spirit—those indescribable communications that make known what it is we are to do. But we also must be wide awake to hear the call that is constantly being communicated by Jesus—feed my sheep, do unto others, share, pray, love…. ‘Here I am; send me!’

In Christ,
Jess

2006-04-28T11:19:00.000-05:00

Easter Mountain-tops

Last week I was on a few days of post-Easter mayhem study leave up in VA and spent some time in the Shenandoah National Park doing some hiking. I love to hike. I love to be out in nature—mountains, waterfalls, dunes, forests, lakes. I love it all. First Pres is gorgeous, but it just doesn’t touch the outdoors as a sanctuary.

I ended up chatting with a few backpackers who had just finished a five-day wilderness excursion. They were reflecting on what a spiritual experience their travels had been (one of them was headed to seminary this coming fall), especially having hiked along a ridge on Easter morning.

Hiking on Easter morning! I confess sheer covetedness to my very core. There are things I love about ministry, but hiking on Easter is a treasure I will likely never collect.

In addition to our weekly encounters with God in the community of fellowship, may we also be seeking God outside the four walls of church.

Happy hiking,
Jess

2006-04-17T12:45:00.000-05:00

I believe in… the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. Amen.

Well, I’m a week late on this one (although I’ve been inconsistent enough that I wonder if I’m only writing to myself anyhow?) but how could there be any more appropriate part of the Apostles’ Creed for the day after Easter than to remember again that we are forgiven, resurrected, life-filled Easter people.

May your week be filled with reminders of all that is the grace and love and joy of Easter morning!

Peace,
Jess

2006-04-04T20:12:00.001-05:00

I believe in… the holy catholic church, the communion of saints...

Here’s one that confuses a bunch of Reformed folk—members of First Presbyterian confirming week after week that we believe in IHM out on Johnson. Sort of, actually, but not really. Yes, we love our Catholic brothers and sisters at Immaculate Heart of Mary; and yes, we do know they are a Catholic church of High Point. But what we affirm on Sunday morning when we say we believe in the holy catholic church is that we are ALL part of the church—the Church universal. Catholics, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodist, Baptists… and so the list goes. We affirm in one Church established through Jesus Christ.
And we follow that up with the belief in the communion of saints—that we as brothers and sisters in Christ, part of the holy (set apart) church universal and gifted for service to others, are bound to one another in fellowship.

Reflecting on the one holy catholic church is a pointed reminder that in all things we are to love one another and to share with the world our unity as the body of Christ. May we be strengthened by the Holy Spirit to do so in our one-on-one relationships within our own congregations as well as the church universal.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2006-03-29T16:52:00.000-05:00

I believe in the Holy Ghost

The Holy Spirit is definitely the part of the Trinity we talk about the least. And yet there are pages upon pages that could be written on the person of the Spirit—sermons, books, whole theologies. But somehow it seems easiest to me to sum up the Spirit with the understanding that all good actions come from the Spirit. Moved to financially fight poverty? A gift of the Spirit. Being prompted to send a caring note to a brother or sister in need? A gift of the Spirit. An overwhelming sense of peace, even in the midst of stress or grief? A gift of the Spirit. Reconciling with a family member, the ah-ha moment on a Sunday morning, that feeling of communion with a friend, understanding Jesus on a new level, joyous laughter—all gifts of the Spirit. Galatians 5:22-23 is a better summary than you or I could ever come up with: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

The Spirit lives in us, convicts us of sin, opens our eyes so that we see the world as God sees the world, gifts every person for ministry, and moves us into closer relationship with the Triune God. May you be open to the presence of the Spirit, for while she is powerfully overwhelming at times, she is also very much like sheer silence Elijah hears in the cave in which he hears the voice of the Lord. May your Lenten journey include the silence and stillness needed for the presence of the Holy Spirit to be known.

Grace and peace,

Jess

2006-03-15T11:19:00.000-05:00

AND we believe the good news that “[Jesus] descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.”

Fully human? Yes. Fully divine? Yes. Not either/or, but both/and.

In the weekday kindergarten chapel last week, we were talking about Jesus being sad when we are sad. One small Batman-clad five-year-old declared that he was actually sad BECAUSE of Jesus—he wished Jesus were still around and not in heaven. “Well, that’s the great thing about Jesus,” says I, trying to keep my ministerial cool, “he’s both in heaven and alive right here in our hearts.” Frown, says the little boy’s face. “That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?” Pause. Fair enough, says the little boy’s face. And we moved on.
Somehow, having said it outloud that it’s hard to understand Jesus worked for that child. Not always, but sometimes kids can handle the ambiguity better than adults. Faith like a child. Belief grasped in innocence. It’s the only way to believe all that we believe—to hold fast to those moments of clarity when we know (not with our minds, but with our hearts) that Jesus was indeed raised from the dead and is alive both in heaven and in our hearts, sustaining us with his love and waiting to greet us in his Father’s house.

For if we do not, then as Paul says in I Corinthians 15:14, “…then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain.” The good news in Jesus Christ is that… “he descended into hell; the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.” It’s Lent, so we traditionally we refrain from raising our Alleluias, but praise God Easter morning is coming—when we celebrate that Jesus did indeed rise from the dead—fully human, fully divine.

2006-03-15T10:34:00.000-05:00

“We believe… in Jesus Christ, his only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried…”

Fully human; fully divine. How do you wrap your mind around that? As I was outlining some thoughts on this section of the Apostles’ Creed, I titled it, “PREQUEL to the Gospel.” I guess at the time I was thinking the good news in Jesus is all the resurrection stuff. Perhaps that day was golden enough that I wasn’t bogged down in the mess of being a human being. But on days when I am just that, heavy with all the junk of earth, the good news in Jesus Christ has a lot more to do with his full humanity. Max Lucado, in his book, God Came Near, writes:

"It all happened in a moment, a most remarkable moment… that was like none other. For through that segment of time a spectacular thing occurred. God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb… God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created. God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother. God had come near. [And] For thirty-three years he would feel everything you and I have ever felt. He felt weak. He grew weary. He was afraid of failure. He was susceptible to wooing women. He got colds, burped, and had body odor. His feelings got hurt. His feet got tired. And his head ached. To think of Jesus in such a light is—well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn’t it? It’s not something we like to do; it’s uncomfortable. It is much easier to keep the humanity out of the incarnation. He’s easier to stomach that way… But don’t do it. For heaven’s sake, don’t. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him into the mire and muck of our world. For only if we let him can he pull us out."

We believe the good news that Jesus… was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried…”

2006-03-06T17:07:00.000-05:00

The Apostles’ Creed

“I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth….” What shall we eat for lunch? Oh, better not forget my purse. What’s the number of the next hymn?

We recite the Apostles’ Creed toward the end of worship on a regular basis. And since the words are burned into our memories, it’s tempting to just begin gathering your stuff and thinking about what’s coming up next instead of concentrating on the words themselves.

But the words themselves are important—like our faith in a nutshell. So I’d like to spend a little time reflecting on them over the next few weeks.

“I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” These first two lines are pretty basic to our faith. First, we believe. We have been given the gift of faith, to make the choice in trusting one God, and leaving the others behind. We don’t believe in some higher being, but the Higher Being, the one who created the world out of a formless void, the one some call our heavenly Father.

On the surface, this begining is like a basic fact—not much reflection involved, but underneath, there’s so much more. Like believing itself—what does it entail? How do we arrive at it? Why “Father”? And of course the whole creating idea?

Oooh, it’s tempting to try to answer some of these questions for you, but it’s Lent after all—a time of reflecting, for our faith is often as much about questions as it is about answers.

That’s why we call it “faith” and not “fact.”

2006-02-28T20:31:00.000-05:00

Part of my Lenten discipline is going to be keeping up with weekly reflections in here. I've decided to do that through an Apostles' Creed 101--dividing up the Creed into 6 parts, one for each week in Lent. I've had my own questions about the creed--who doesn't wonder about Jesus hanging out in hell--but now's your chance to ask your questions about the Creed. Feel free to email me: jess@firstpreshp.org or drop a comment.

Also, for those of you that have a hard time remembering when to check (or have gotten tired of my not consistantly posting), let me know and I'll be glad to send out a reminder email when I've done the weekly post.

I hope you've eaten some terrible today to honor fat Tuesday. And I hope you have some reflecting of your own in store for this Lenten journey.

Peace,
Jess

2006-02-21T17:10:00.000-05:00

Busyness—One of the “Seven Deadly Sins”

“I’m SO busy!” They are uncountable, the number of times we’ve heard this phrase—from co-workers, family members, overheard cell phone conversations. Busy, busy bees we all are. It’s as if we value the fact that we are busy—like a badge we wear. Pinning on the “I am busy” button somehow seems to equal the “I am somebody special” sticker—as if the busier the better, the more worth we have.

It doesn’t sit well with me, though. My preaching professor in seminary introduced me to Eugene Peterson, the minister-mentor-through-writing and theologian from whom I not-all-that-cleverly stole my blog name. Peterson writes again and again of busyness as the antithesis of spirituality, drilling in a sense that to be busy is no badge of worth but rather some sort of character flaw equated with laziness.

“The word for ‘busyness’ in Russian is also the word for ‘vanity.’” I ran across this in a quote in the Christian Century from Social Research a few months ago. And it seems about right. Perhaps not in the world’s eyes, where we are proving again and again who we are by what we do. But in God’s eyes, where what we do will not change how much God loves us, where we could cross off everything on our to-do list—or better yet burn it—or better yet, take out the batteries and resist the temptation to hotsynch—and we are still loved completely and wholly for who we are and not a bit for what we do.

Thanks be to God!

2006-02-13T17:11:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

"Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God." (I John 4:7)

So on this day, love your spouse, love your friends, love your family--but make a special effort to love someone that you might not choose or want to--a stranger, perhaps an enemy, that person that drives you crazy with irritation--in the name Christ this day.

Love,
Jess

2006-02-03T10:22:00.000-05:00

As far as I know, there isn't a direct commandment about bragging. Sure, there's all that about pride and such, but I've never read anywhere in Scripture, "Thou shalt not brag."

But there's something I kind of like to brag about in my head about First Presbyterian Church. Not that I have any credit in it, but I am pretty proud to serve a church where we have a two young adults in missions--one in Miami and one in Tanzania. Megan and Andrew were grown up and off to college before I ever got here--but it says something about their church family (our church family) that they had their ears and eyes open to God's call.

So when I got my latest addition of National Geographic, I was pretty excited to see a big chunk of it designated to images of the Serengeti and Crater Highlands of Tanzania. It brings some of Andrew's experience to my living room. And then the last few pages were a special on a photography camp NG hosted in Little Haiti, Florida--and suddenly a piece of Megan's experience is also in my reading chair.

Coincidence or providence? Your call, but I thought it was a pretty cool God connection.

2006-01-23T13:41:00.000-05:00

Speaking of worship...

Ever walked out of a worship service with an overwhelming feeling that you "got it"? That the sermon, the hymns, the prayers all worked together for you. The Holy Spirit is at work in every worship service for those aha moments.

There are many places the Spirit is at work in worship--and in the days and ages (in the case of our hymns) in preparation. At First Presbyterian, the Spirit is at work in the choir room about 10 am on Wednesdays as Judith, Elizabeth, and whoever is preaching on Sunday choose the music that will help bring the service together.

So it's not really random that things gel on a Sunday morning, since we've spent time as a staff working together on different parts of the service. Most of the time, the hymns, prayers, and sermon fit together as planned--it will seem like as a staff we worked and organized properly. And you walk away with that "I get it"--focused and inspired.

But even on the most planned Sundays, we worship leaders too are amazed at ways God is at work in tying things together even we didn't notice or plan. Those are great moments.

So plan and organize--work and serve--but keep your eyes wide open for all the Holy Spirit moments that maybe be heading your way.

2006-01-18T15:32:00.000-05:00

"For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of the light--for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true" (Ephesians 5:8-9)

When I began the whole blog thing, I had intended it to be a bit of Christianity 101--a sort of, did you know... kind of a deal. So, thinking about light shining in darkness and the light of Christ in the world, did you know that our acolytes aren't just fancy and cutely dressed up kids who light the candles up front? Their job is to symbolically bring the light of Christ into the sanctuary at the beginning of the worship service. In that same manner, they bring the light of Christ out into the world at the end of the service.

So there's your interesting worship symbolism for the day.

Let your light shine!

2006-01-09T13:03:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year--here's to 2006!

In addition to a whole new year and all the reflecting we do on such occasions, I turned 30 today. Wow! I've probably lived out a third of my life. I've lived three decades. And now in most cultures, I'm officially an adult (unless you're a hobbit--I've got three more years in that case). The last one I had taken hard a few times upon introspection until I let go of the fact that I don't have to act any more adult-like than I already do--which some days is far too much and some days probably isn't nearly enough.

Tom and I stayed up til the wee hours of the morning reminiscing about life, the universe, and everything. The most fun was trying to pinpoint the happiest day of every decade. In my 20s, the answer is easy: June 12, 1999--they day Tom and I were married. Of course, it was fabulous to think of all the runner-up days of days spent on traveling adventures or snowed in during a Michigan blizzard. In my 10s, my 16th birthday has always stuck out as a great day, mostly for the fact that at one point during the day I was moved to tears with the recognition of how blessed I was with friends and family--a pretty significant moment for a self-absorbed 16 year old. And before that, the best day is by far the day that is actually probably about 100 days compressed in the mind to one of sunshine and bike riding and haystack climbing and cops and robbers playing and trampoline jumping and popcicle licking and starwishing day of summer fun.

And it's all wrapped into the one great blessing that is life--the gift of our Creator, breathed into us each and every day.

Happy Birthday to us all!

2005-12-30T15:31:00.000-05:00

I have Atari-arm. I didn't know what it was at first. In fact, I told Tom how I was concerned that my forearm kept hurting--perhaps I had pulled a muscle at the gym? Although I hadn't done an arm work-out in the last few days.... Perhaps it was from drawing? Although that didn't seem right.... In the middle of my pondering outloud, Tom said he thought it had something to do with this... and then he leaned forward, eyes intently focused, right arm at the ready--fingers clasped around and working an imaginary Atari joystick, left thumb shooting like mad, while making bsrm, bsrm, pbpboooowm Centipede noises. Sure enough, Atari-arm. A few days off and a great Christmas present later, I'd been diagnosed with too many flashback video games.

Without getting too theological about gift-giving and Christmas or pondering the deep meaning of Pitfall!, it's been great fun to brain-drain on a good round of Astroids or RiverRaid (watch out for the sides). Johnny got his pair of skates. Susie got her sled. Nellie got her picture book too. What did jolly old St. Nicholas bring this year for you?

What was your favorite present?

2005-12-21T16:44:00.000-05:00

Christmas Greetings 2005

Biked down a volcano. Conquered the GRE. Restored the outside of our log home. Laughed a lot. Cried a lot. Lived a lot. Thanks be to God!

Merry Christmas!

Love,
Jess and Tom

2005-12-13T15:28:00.000-05:00

"And Mary said,
'I'm bursting with God-news;
I'm dancing the song of my Savior God.
God took one good look and me, and look what happened--
I'm the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others.
His mercy flows in wave after wave
on those who are in awe before him.
He bared his arm and showed his strength
scattered the bluffing braggarts.
He knocked tyrants off their high horses,
pulled victims out of the mud.
The starving poor sat down to a banquet;
the callous rich were left ou in the cold.
He embraced his chosen child, Israel;
he remembered and piled on thie mercies, piled them high.
It's exactly what he promised,
beginning with Abraham and right up to now.'"
(Luke 1, The Message, Eugene Peterson)

May we be reminded again that God's mercy flows in wave after wave.

2005-12-04T19:48:00.000-05:00

Repentance in Advent?

"Why did Ken preach a sermon on repentance in Advent?"

Welcome to the Scholten dinner table Sunday afternoon.

"Shouldn't we be talking about mangers and babies and stars?"

A dream teachable moment for a minister....

Actually, we've commercialized Christmas so much that we miss out on the meaning of Advent. Advent is a time of reflection and soul preparation, not extended party time. It is a time to reflect on the gift God has given us in sending Jesus to earth; and a time to reflect and wait with expectation for when Jesus will come again to usher in a new creation.

How are we living lives of gratitude for the gift? How are we already working for peace and justice in the waiting?

Seems like most of us have jumped on the cultural party bus, and instead of celebrating on Christmas day and after Christmas, we used up our time to reflect and pray... shopping, decorating, and celebrating early.

By the time Christmas actually arrives, we're so worn out, we're just ready to pack up the tree and be done with it all. We used up our 12 days of Christmas before Christmas instead of beginning the 12 days with Christmas and concluding with Epiphany (as intended).

We would do well to use Advent for Advent and save Christmas for Christmas. Reflection, then celebrating; repentance, then grace.

Amen. Let us pray. (Ministers just can't resist preaching on a teachable moment.)

May you be blessed in your Advent reflections!

2005-11-28T16:12:00.000-05:00

ADVENT 101

So here we are in the Advent season. It means better sales at the mall, a long Christmas to-do list, and time for pictures with Santa, right? Actually, Advent means coming... as in the coming of Christ.

Advent began around the 6th century, and as celebrations of Christmas grew, so did the development of Advent--the four Sundays before Christmas as a time of preparing. At one time, this meant preparing through praying and fasting. Now it seems it means preparing by feasting and shopping.

I saw an ad the other day that claimed that by buying the advertised product we could spend more time rediscovering the "true meaning of Christmas"--spending time with loved ones in a happy, cozy setting. Time with family is wonderful as are many of the other Christmas traditions. But we're fooling ourselves if those are what we think of as the true meaning of Christmas.

And as we lose our understanding of Christmas, we lose our understanding of Advent. We lose the anticipation of celebrating the past--that God took on the form of a human in Jesus--and the anticipation of Christ coming again.

May we all re-discover the true meaning of Christmas this Advent season!

2005-11-09T16:31:00.000-05:00

The Contemplative Frog

Couldn't resist this thoughtful frog at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. And since I haven't been contemplating on the blog, thought you'd like the contemplating frog.

Peace,
Jess

2005-10-26T16:50:00.000-05:00

Early Church Memories

Q: What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A: That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

(Heidelberg Catechism Q & A 1)

In a recent conversation with a few parishioners, we were talking about growing up memorizing—or at the very least—learning the catechism, something most people completely miss out on. I remember memorizing this particular answer—I confess it’s about the only one that stayed on the surface of my brain—in the basement of First Reformed Church sometime around age 8. I probably had no idea what it really meant at the time, but it’s an answer that rises out of me now and then because it has been engrained in my memory.

Ken and I were talking a few weeks ago about running out of things you hand out in a children’s sermon. My earliest memory of church is not getting something the minister handed out—in my memory it was some sort of a yarn ball. But what I remember most distinctly was that as I walked back to my pew, an older child gave me her gift. Grace learned very young.

Maybe it’s catechism on Wednesday nights that you remember, or a Scripture passage that you had to memorize, or maybe it’s a favorite Sunday school teacher or a craft that sticks out from way back when. These memories have formed who we are now.

What’s your favorite early church memory?

2005-10-18T19:42:00.000-05:00

From Gilead, a novel by Marilynne Robinson (written in the first person by an elderly dying minister to his young son):

"The light in the room was beautiful this morning, as it often is. It's a plain old church and it could use a coat of paint. But in the dark times I used to walk over before sunrise just to sit there and watch the light come into that room. I don't know how beautiful it might seem to anyone else. I felt much at peace those mornings, praying over very dreadful things sometimes--the Depression, the wars. That was a lot of misery for people around here, decades of it. But prayer brings peace, as I trust you know.

"In those days, as I have said, I might spend most of a night reading. Then, if I woke up still in my armchair, and if the clock said four or five, I'd think how pleasant it was to walk through the streets in the dark and let myself into the church and watch dawn come in the sanctuary. I loved the sound of the latch lifting. The building has settled into itself so that when you walk down the aisle, you can hear it yielding to the burden of your weight. It's a pleasanter sound than an echo would be, an obliging, accommodating sound. You have to be there alone to hear it. Maybe it can't feel the weight of a child. But if it is still standing when you read this, and if you are not half a world away, sometime you might go there alone, just to see what I mean." (Gilead, p. 70)

I guess it's a minister's blessing to be able to know the loveliness of time spent alone in a sanctuary with only the light of the sun through the stained-glass windows by which to see. It is both beautiful and peaceful. Most people are only in the sanctuary or chapel when it is filled with others. A gift you could give yourself would be to stop in at church sometime during the day--or even before an evening activity--and spend your daily devotion time in the sanctuary, in the quiet, in the presence of God.

Grace and peace,
Jess

2005-10-10T17:25:00.000-05:00

To write or not to write--that is the question of the day on prayer. At the risk of sounding like I'm in a confessional, I write my Sunday morning worship prayers out ahead of time. There's a part of me that is slightly uncomfortable letting this be known outloud. But there's the majority of me that is pleased to let you in on the full and utter human-ness of ministers. If I didn't write prayers out ahead of time, I would, like, have, um a few more pauses, and I would like, um, use a lot more of the same phrases, and I would probably like...

panic and completely run out of words.

Even a written prayer, though, is still very meaningful for me--and, while the words are right in front of me, I still feel very deeply that I am in communion with God, and often adjust prayers in the moment of praying them outloud on Sunday mornings. Preparing ahead of time helps me to be fully aware of what I am praying, of how I am addressing God, of thinking broadly of the needs beyond the congregation. In fact, as I am writing/praying a prayer in preparation for Sunday, I usually have a stack of books around me--reading through the hymns of the morning and the Scripture passages, and sifting through a stack of books of prayers for inspiration. Occasionally, I will feel specifically inspired to use a portion of a written prayer--not something that is easily cited. If I use a prayer or parts of a prayer from somewhere else, and someone appreciates a prayer, I explain that I used such and such a resource; but for those that think every prayer is a Jess-original, again, I'm in the confessional.

I have a Baptist friend who thinks it's peculiar that I write my worship prayers out ahead of time--she claims it's got to be a Presbyterian thing. Perhaps you think this as well, now that the secret is out. The whole topic of congregational prayer was a brief discussion in Sunday school yesterday--a comment was made about posting a prayer. I have done so below. I look forward to reading your comments.

2005-10-10T16:12:00.000-05:00

God of Glory and Grace, we bow before you in worship, adoration, thanksgiving, and praise. Too often, O God, we come before you as if you are a vending machine—put our prayers in the right slot and out comes what we want. Forgive us. Help us instead to enjoy your presence and be drawn to you in love and thanksgiving.

We praise you that you are our God and have chosen us as your people. By the power of your Holy Spirit, guide us to live lives that reflect not the world with its value of busyness and accumulation, but lives that reflect you—creating, loving, welcoming, forgiving.

We thank you for this place of worship—that we can gather here freely, that we can praise you in word and music, that we can celebrate with and strengthen one another.

We thank you that you are ever-present, ever-involved in our lives. We praise you for those times when you have turned evil into good, hardship into joy, fear into hope. We ask that your presence of love would be felt by those in need.

We love you, O God; help those places where there is no love. We have faith in you, O Lord; fill us with light in those places where faith is lacking. We thank you, O God; turn all our greedy spaces into rooms of gratitude.

We ask these things in the name Jesus Christ, as we pray together the prayer he taught us, saying: Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

2005-09-28T09:01:00.000-05:00

Late Sunday night an earthquake hit Peru outside the jungle city of Moyobamba. For some, that's about as much useful information in English as it might be in Spanish. But for those of us who have spent time in Moyobamba and the outlying villages, it's like learning of tragedy striking your family. Most of our friends in Moyobamba are safe--there was not a lot of damage. But the hardest part of all the news in the emails back and forth over the last few days is one short line from Noe--"Those who have worked in yantalo a little girl there died."

Yantalo is a small village--about 1600 people--outside Moyobamba where folks from First Pres helped put in a floor of the Presbyterian church--where we played with the school children--where we handed out hats and taught colors in two languages (rojo red, azul blue....)--where we took turns staking claims on precious brown-eyed girls and boys ("Janess is mine." "Then I get Marilena...") who would run up to hold our hands and sneak peaks of their own faces in our digital camera windows (giggles are the same in English and Spanish). "Those who have worked in yantalo a little girl there died."

September 11 slips by again. The hurricanes have arrived. And the earthquakes strike. God's grace and peace to all who grieve lost loved ones.