"The church is not the building, it's the people."

 
Those words are a truth which, if pushed too far, lose their grip on the truth they affirm. A church is a people being formed in community, gathered and scattered and gathered again for worship.
 
A church building is a place where prayer and praise, baptism and communion, year after year, are offered. 
 
The building is not sacred; yet what is done there, like slow falling rain, soaks the nutrients of holiness into the soul. 
 
In this building, over a century, souls have prayed, and holiness has taken root in their lives. Thanks be to God for this church!
 
Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation

Do you know some lovely human beings? I hope you do, because I just spent a few days with a handful of them, and they are restorative and inspiring.

I go back a few years with this group, and the thing about staying with folks for a decade or more is that you begin to see the facets of their loveliness, and how it deepens over time.

I have a friend who is a lovely human being whose thin layer of snark has melted over the years and now all you see is holy contentment and gratitude. Another friend, also a lovely human being, has persisted over the years despite some wrenching slings and arrows and has emerged not victorious, but even more kind and gracious. One such lovely is going through an unasked-for and undeserved hard time and it flattened me to see the care that surrounded her in the midst of all of it.

“Loveliness” is akin to “loveable” but they are not synonymous. It’s a noun of the adjective lovely, which might mean pleasing to the senses in some way; lovely human beings are pleasing to the senses. We like to see the way their eyes crinkle when you know they’re thinking of something hilarious but don’t want to say what it is. We like to hear the sound of their laugh; to feel their embrace. But their loveliness goes beyond the senses and into the heart and maybe even the gut. When you are with lovely people, you feel safe. You know they will respect your pain, and make light of your failures, and rejoice with you as the situation calls for.

So, I hope you have at least a few but better, many lovely human beings in your life, and more than that, I hope you get to be with them occasionally.

And if so, remember that one of the things that makes them lovely is your love.

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson

Pastor for Spiritual Formation

Jesus said 2.0

Jesus said: “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

Mercy. That mixture of compassion, generosity, welcome and inconvenience that makes one human being help another. For Christians, to love others as God loves us, for Jesus’ sake. Jesus told a story about that. It involved a Samaritan, “the one who showed mercy”—same word in both texts. So, go and do likewise!

Jesus said: “Not just seven times, but as many as seventy times seven.”

Yes, he’s talking about forgiveness, answering Peter’s question about how many times a person should be forgiven by us. If you’re still counting, then you’re not forgiving. The benchmark for comparisons isn’t a number, but the vast incalculable debt God has forgiven us. There’s no comparison between what any of us have to forgive, and what we have been forgiven. Just remember the Cross which makes forgiveness possible as gift and grace. Lord give us a forgiving disposition.

Jesus said: “Everyone who does evil hates the light and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed.  But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God.” (John 3.20-21)

What we do when no one sees us is a good clue to who we really are. When someone is caught out doing something shameful or hurtful or dishonest these days, the ready-made excuse is an apology and statement, “That’s not who I am.” Well, unfortunately, yes it is. Truth is fundamental to good character. Transparency is like a window; light shines through it, and we can see through it. Everything we do is in the sight of God; live, said Jesus, in such a way that people can see through you, and see a life of love for God and neighbor!
 
Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation

For Christians, perhaps two of the most pay attention words we can hear are, "Jesus said..." And the distilled essence of Jesus' teaching begins with, "And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying..."

Jesus said:  “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25.31-46)

To see the presence of Jesus in the face of those who are vulnerable, powerless and in need of support, is a fundamental principle in following and serving Jesus. Full stop.

Jesus said: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22.37-38)

We don’t need detailed rules. Just two barcodes of discipleship – Love God with everything we are and have and love our neighbor no less than we love ourselves. Simple. But not cheap. Costly love never is. “Love so amazing, so divine, demands…”

Jesus said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Luke 9.23-24)

Daily. Luke is the Evangelist who remembers that word. Discipleship is an everyday commitment. That’s good news for when we fail, make mistakes or want to start again. Life isn’t something we cling to, but something we give ourselves to—the best deal in town is to give ourselves in service to God and neighbor.

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation

The holding cross in the photo is made of olive wood and was given to me as a gift at a time when peace was hard to come by. 

 Holding it this morning and praying for the peace of Jerusalem and Gaza, I'm aware of the contested soil on which this wood was grown, and long ago, the soil on which stood that one cross amongst the countless thousands Rome manufactured and utilized as instruments of terror, oppression and control.

Over the years the cross has shaped itself to my hand, or perhaps my hand has simply become familiar with its shape, weight and texture. Either way the cruciform shape, gripped in praying hands, is an acknowledgement of the world's anguish and the pain of God in Christ. 

 "For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1.19-20)

 May it be so!

 Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson

Pastor for Spiritual Formation

            The reason I speak to them in parables is that
            ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen,
             nor do they understand.’
                      —Matthew 13.13


I rest the Bible in my lap.
Pick it up again, read again,
set the Bible down.
A moment. Then
I stumble through the parable
one more time.
Nothing comes.
This is not bad,
maybe even as it should be.

I go out into the woods.
I sit on an old stump and say,
“But what does this mean?”
and laugh at myself.
I sit longer, listening,
and then listening,
till at least I hear the air,
and something inside something
speaks silently to something
inside me.

Is it any different when I listen
to a neighbor?

I am learning to repent of my certainty,
to simply be mindful
that I don’t know,
to keep listening for what I haven’t heard.
To receive what is offered
without compulsion to master it,
to grasp, to understand.
Just listen and wonder.
Let the silences speak to each other.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson

Pastor for Spiritual Formation

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43) 

n recent months I have been very aware that many in our church family have been suffering in various ways, it seems to be a particularly heavy time with much illness and other difficulties. I have the privilege of serving you and therefore of knowing many of the things you are going through. I also see the ways you care for one another and uphold each other in times of need. A church family is just that, a group of people intimately connected to one another in Christ, who journey together through the joys and the sorrows of life.

Times of hardship and ill health force us to rely on each other more. That’s not a bad thing! We are not made to live in isolation from each other – we are made to be part of a family. That’s why we pray for each other, encourage each other and serve each other when we are in need. 

That’s why it’s so important to be connected with a small group or social group within the church. Our Sunday morning gatherings are great but can’t provide for all our spiritual needs. We need places where we feel carried and can help to carry others to the God who will always be with us.  

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson

Pastor for Spiritual Formation

It has been a week of ordinariness: tending to a sink leak, doing my fixed hours of psychotherapy sessions, grocery shopping and meal planning, weekly chores, myriad emails, evening phone calls when I know folks are home, watching Teddy put his face in the water at his last swim lesson for awhile, paying bills, weeding the front beds, finishing an amazing book, and trying to get enough sleep. As I reflect on these unremarkable days, Tish Harrison Warren’s words from Liturgy of the Ordinary came to mind and I had to track down this paragraph to share:

Alfred Hitchcock said movies are ‘life with the dull bits cut out.’ Car chases and first kisses, interesting plot lines and good conversations. We don’t want to watch our lead character going on a walk, stuck in traffic, or brushing his teeth—at least not for long, and not without a good soundtrack. We tend to want a Christian life with the dull bits cut out. Yet God made us to spend our days in rest, work, and play, taking care of our bodies, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes. What if all these boring parts matter to God? What if days passed in ways that feel small and insignificant to us are weighty with meaning and part of the abundant life that God has for us? Christ’s ordinary years are part of our redemption story. Because of the incarnation and those long unrecorded years of Jesus’ life, our small, normal lives matter…If Christ spent time in obscurity, then there is infinite worth in obscurity…There is no task too small or too routine to reflect God’s glory and worth.

Good words to ponder.

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation 

A story from one of my favorite poets, Naomi Shihab Nye:

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: 
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” 
Well — one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. 
“Help,” said the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”
I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
“Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?” 
The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the next day. I said, 
“No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him.”
We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies — little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts — from her bag — and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo — we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.
And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend — by now we were holding hands — had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate — once the crying of confusion stopped — seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.
This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

This is the world I want to live in; this is the church I want to be in the world. The shared world. A sacred canopy of trust.

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation 

"Give us this day our daily bread" is one of those lines in the Lord's prayer that, for me, is a mnemonic device to make sure as I lead a congregation in saying it my mind doesn't skip a track. In the center of a prayer about the hallowing of God's name, the coming of the Kingdom, the forgiveness of sins and scary temptations there is a loaf. God's will is done and his Kingdom comes when people have daily bread. Daily bread, a phrase that sounds straightforward in English but which translates a word used nowhere else in Greek literature. The classicists and linguists have had a field day suggesting its meaning, but the more settled view is that it means 'bread for the coming day'. So, if I pray it in the morning I'm thinking of today; if I pray it at night, I'm looking to tomorrow. Either way bread enough for one day—and this prayer reflected a society in which people were paid daily. Think about it, if you're sick and can't work, how do you eat?

Jesus knew about bread, and about hunger, about the rich and the poor, the powerful and the vulnerable. "Give us this morning bread for the day...Give us tomorrow bread for the day..." The same Jesus looked on a hungry crowd and multiplied five loaves and two fishes into an ad hoc food bank. That act of extravagant mercy is defining of the church, bread for the hungry, rest for the weary, a place to sit down and be nourished, space to be human. "Jesus took bread and blessed and broke it" and so the Eucharist was handed to the church in broken bread gratefully shared. No, the church isn't a food bank, it is a mountainside with loaves and fishes; and it is a community which resists the iron systems of economic discrimination, which calls in question cash value by demonstrating the genius for generosity.

Give us this day our daily bread, Lord.

Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation