revnancyduncan

Question:  What do a toilet plunger, a coffee mug, and a comfortable chair have in common?

Answer: They are holy objects.

The chair provides a resting place as I think, reflect, and pray.

The insulated coffee mug fits neatly in my hand as I enjoy the luxury of a morning cup of coffee. Whether I sip it on the run, at the kitchen table, or while on the laptop, the coffee stays warm until I take the final sip.

And the plunger? That one is obvious.  Anything that unblocks the excrement of our lives is a gift from God.

So look around.  What have you touched in the last hour that is sacred?

The cold damp wind slices through me.
The sky is shades of grey.
Dead branches litter the lawn.
Brrrr!
Bundled in layers of fleece–yet lacking long underwear, hat, and mittens, I am chilled.

I look again.
New life is everywhere.
A pink hyacinth stands in the midst of a clump of daffodils.
Pink buds are just visible on a bush.
A small patch of blue sky appears.

The wind blows its chilling breeze at this exquisite show of nature–
A show playing this moment just for me, the only observer.
A gift from God, for me.
A gift of God, rising in me.
Alleluia.

What if on Palm Sunday, everyone came to the parade–not just those alive in the first century but our ancestors and descendants?  What if all the people who have who have experienced Christ’s healing touch, the healers who feel Christ’s presence moving through them, the mystics who sense the ineffable presence of God, the justice seekers who change our world, the listeners who find God in the parables, the prophets who preach of a new day, and all the strangers and outcasts who find their way to the table of God’s extravagant welcome showed up at the same parade?    Imagine the joy, hope, and power of that crowd.     The crowd would be unstoppable!  “Even the stones would cry out.”

Jesus invites us to continue the journey to the upper room, the garden, the cross and the empty tomb.  We walk that journey together, remembering that on Palm Sunday, the followers of Jesus are unstoppable as they gather with shouts of joy and open hearts.

This Christmas Kalanchoe belonged to my aunt, Mary C. Duncan, who died last summer at the age of 97. She was a woman of passion, compassion, fierce determination, curiosity and hospitality.  She wrote a poem about being a plant battered by the wind and rain but finally blossoming.  Knowing only that the plant belonged to Aunt Mary, I simply re-potted it, watered it, and watched.  Now it is blossoming.

There are shadows in the icicles
Which sparkle in the sun
And drip and keep on dripping —
Winter’s on the run.

by Mary C. Duncan, February 1996

If I should die
Let no one weep for me.
I saw the aster
Blossom after rain.
Deep blue in shining green
And clover leaf lift up
above the grass.
Grey rain
Brought bright flowers
after drought.
I drank and drank
and filled my own cup full.

By Mary C. Duncan, Summer, 1973

As Christians pause to remember Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, his last supper, the trial, the crucifixion and resurrection, I pray that we may open our lives and hearts to all that life brings–joy and sorrow, death and rebirth. May you find beauty and love this day.

I listened as a minister from the Conference Small Church Ministry Team spoke with the Broad Bay Deacons.  I listened as I sensed that something profound has happened and is happening.   Lay leadership is fired up and wants to share our story with other churches!

I love canoeing–flat water paddling.  Rapids are not appealing to me.  I am a cautious sort. But sometimes we encounter rapids.   Do we hold on to the ledge for dear life?  Or do we let the water take us?  Do we let the water smooth down our rough edges? I wonder how much energy we spend holding tight to the rocks when, if we simply let go, the river will carry us downstream for the ride of our lives.

God’s living water moves us. God’s living water moves in us. God’s living water moves through us.   All we have to do is jump in, release our grip, and let the river of God’s redeeming love carry us.

One day, a young monk asked his Abbot, “How can I be sure that I am in God’s presence?”

The Abbot replied, “You have as much control over that as you have the power to make the sun rise.”

Exasperated, the young monk exclaimed, “Then of what use are all our spiritual exercises and prayers?”

The Abbot responded, “You do these things to make sure you are awake when the sun does rise.”  —Desert Saying.

For centuries, people have entered places of quiet and silence to discover the power of God. And could it be that the harder we try, the more elusive God’s presence seems? Yet the miracle is that somehow the still speaking God catches our attention over and over again.  Sometimes God appears in intentional prayer. Other times we sense God in music, nature, or loving our neighbors.  Where do you notice the presence of God in your life?

A writer tells me the only thing a writer needs is a deadline and a person eager to receive what has been written. And so, I invite those of you who have urged me to create a web site, to publish sermons, and to write, to receive these words. Perhaps getting started is the hard part. There is something about putting my words into cyberspace that fills me with fear and doubt.  What do I have to add to all the words that have already been written?  Do I need yet another way to make myself vulnerable? Isn’t preaching every week enough? But folks keep telling me I have something to share.  So let us begin.

After shoveling the drifts after the blizzard, I fell into the snow drift and moved legs and arms to make an angel. The snow held me up and embraced my body. The sun shone warm on my face.  In her book, The Wisdom Jesus, Cynthia Bourgeault, writes that Jesus was always emptying himself. Jesus went into the wilderness, ate with the sinners, and hung on the cross. We tend to think of spirituality as going up and reaching for the clouds or the stars, but Jesus went down to earth.

And so I wonder, what if we simply let the ground hold us up?  What if God is, indeed, the ground of our being, holding us up when we dare to fall into God’s arms?

On Sunday, my sermon will have something to do with falling down to God, wandering in the wilderness, and prayer. I look forward to seeing how it comes together. See you soon,

Nancy