The church year begins again tomorrow. Yes, Advent has come around again, and it is time to start preparing space in our churches, homes and hearts for the Christ child again.

I thought about this last week, and I was surprised to find myself a little sad. Somehow I had thought I wouldn't have to worry about confronting Jesus again until Lent at the earliest. I thought I had a few more months to figure out some of my faith issues. Now I realize I need to start making room for someone I don't really feel like I know in my heart. Okay, maybe I don't "need" to do this, but I will admit to feeling a tug at my heart to do this, so it most certainly feels like a tug.

I started with what I know best - music. I downloaded the new Susan Boyle album, and I'll admit listening to her sing some of these songs is a little like listening to the angels sing. I also downloaded the Glee Christmas album. This time I rocked out to the music and felt the joy of the season wash over me. (I'm listening to it as I write this blog.) While the music stirs me, it only lasts a little while before I am confronted with my commute on the T or some other hazard with working for the general public during the holiday season.

So, I'm left with a bit of a panic. It's less than 4 hours to Advent, and I feel unprepared. Yes, I know Jesus doesn't really "arrive" until Christmas, but have you even needed to prepare a major meal for family? If you wait until the last minute you will not have everything ready to entertain much less enjoy the time with your family/friends. If I keep waiting for Christmas, I will be missing more than the mashed potatoes from my dinner table.

Mark and I decided to take a note from Lent and add something into our routine this Advent, and we started it a little early. We have started doing devotionals every night. We both have the same book, so even when we can't be together, we can still receive the same message. We're still doing the same work - just in different spaces. In this practice, we have not only grown closer together, we have begun to make room in our hearts. I have strangely started to look forward to those moments at night when it's time to bring out the Bible and open the devotional. I look forward to it even more with Mark because there is just something so much more alive when it is said out loud instead of just in my head.

While I still have doubts and struggles inside of me, I slowly feel the light of Advent warming me. It's the start of something new, and isn't that what Advent is about, new beginnings?

I wish you and yours a little warmth this Advent this season. I hope you take time to smile at kids playing in the snow (when it does come) and the way twinkling lights break apart the long darkness.

The Prayer Bear

It is a simple concept. A community of believers pray over a little teddy bear, and then they send it out into the world to care for another in their place. When they can't be there, this bear can. It's a little twist on the prayer shawl ministry that has caught on in just about every church.

When I first saw them last week, I thought they were a wonderful idea. Prayer shawls have their place, and I don't want anyone to think I'm downplaying the important outreach they provide; but I instantly saw the need for the bear. I could see, with my mind's eye, the look of a child's face in becoming a recipient of that bear. I could see the comfort it could bring in troubling times: hospitalization, divorce, environmental disaster, etc... In an instant, I could see the childlike joy this box of bears was about to bring to people who did not even know they needed a prayer bear yet.

Then I was asked if I wanted one. At first I declined. I only paused to read the card that accompanied this little bundle of joy. I wanted to say things in my life weren't bad enough to require one. I wanted to say that someone else would need it more than me. After a short pause, though, I ended up picking one out that seemed to look right through me.

As an adult, I know it's kind of silly to think that an inanimate object can take on human qualities. The hurting child inside of me, on the contrary, tenderly held that bear like it was the last possession I had left in this world.

My bear accompanies me wherever I go now. He's always in my bag when I go to work, travel around the city, or even when I shop for groceries. He doesn't have a name yet, but I do refer to him as Prayer Bear. What makes him so special to me is that he has a face. It's helpful to physically see a face to represent all the ones I'll never see as I know people pray for me. It's helpful to think there's a personification of God in something when I need to talk with God face-to-face but find it difficult to speak to the wind and hope that I was just heard.

Seeking something more

I've been silent on this blog for a long time. There's a pretty good reason for that. This blog was to chronicle my path through seminary on a spiritual journey to ordination. I thought that taking the ordinary and looking at it in extraordinary ways would not only help me find God everywhere, but it might help other people find God too.

I did not realize that I would end up in the place I am right now - full of "dis." Disenfranchised, disillusioned, dispair... which all led to being disaffiliated. It's pretty hard to start off this path willing to lay my life down for God and church and end up in a place where it's hard for me to walk in the doors. To proclaim to someone that I'm not even sure God cares about me anymore. So why do it? I'm not alone out there. This message is for anyone else who has been delayed or discontinued from ordination; this message is for anyone who has been hurt by the church and now wants nothing to do with it. I understand. You are not alone anymore.

I'm not going to try and change your mind. Nothing short of a Saul/Paul conversion by God could change your mind in the short span of this blog, and I do not have that spiritual gift. No, I will let you know that I, too, am desperately seeking God. I feel like Saul right now. I used to hear God's voice, but it seems to have gone silent... and all these Davids around me hear him now. I know I'm not the only one, and sometimes the Church is the last place we can find each other. Who wants to admit they are having struggles with God at church?!?

For those of you struggling with the ordination process, don't do it alone. I have been reminded many times in the past few weeks that "the Church is not the Kingdom." One clergyman even remarked that sometimes we desperately want them to be in sync, but we need to remember they are not one and the same. Christ may be the head of the church, but the church is not Christ.

For those who are hurting and cannot pray, would you ask someone to pray for you? I have some wonderful people in my life who have prayed for me (in silence and in front of me), and they have offered to do it until well after I can do it for myself again. This isn't a magic bullet, but there is something powerful in knowing that those who I believe God listens to are intervening on my behalf. If I don't think God is listening to me, I'm pretty sure God will listen to them. In this process, I am not alone in my grief. I start to feel love again. It's slow, and it is cautious, but it does come.

If you know someone who feels like this - don't stop asking questions. Don't stop being the light and love of God for them. You may be there for such a time as this. You may save someone spiritually or physically. The perceived loss of God's love and/or favor is a powerful this, and it can make a very dark time seem even darker. This is not to say you should do it all on your own - seek help when you get that "funny feeling" or if it seems over your head. But, do listen. Don't give answers. When you open your mouth to speak, be surprised at the profundity of your answers. There are angels among us, and this just might be your turn to wear wings.

If you need someone to talk to - I'm here. I don't have answers. I don't always have hope. I do know a little bit about what you're experiencing, and you should not feel like you're alone because you're not. Maybe together we can find God again. I'm sure it's not like finding Waldo, but it still might have the same sense of joy and wonder along the way.

There's an app for that

I have completed my paperwork, and I am officially a recipient of good will and charity. That is, I now receive SNAP funds from the commonwealth. SNAP is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, but it is better known as food stamps.

I wrote a while back about filling out forms, and now that I have completed the process, it wasn't too bad. I had to send in documentation proving residency (copy of the lease with my name on it - this also proved how much I spent in rent), 4 pay stubs, proof of employment and payment arrangements from another employer, a copy of a utility bill, and a signed statement from a roommate regarding how much I pay for utilities. I ended up sending two of my utility bills just to show how much I spent total.

The only down side is that it is a lot to gather and send. I have people who took pity on my and let me FAX, but it totaled about 16 pages of documentation! I also had an employer who needed a little reminder about the urgency of sending information in.

All in all, it's not too bad of a process. Yes, there are hard moments in asking for documentation. Using my card the first time was not easy either. However, I now have food in my stomach and money to pay bills. It may be better to give rather than receive, but I am learning to receive with a joyful heart as well. For those of you who do make enough to pay taxes, please know that your money supports programs like this.

I would like to point out that the SNAP program only pays for certain items - it does not cover everything. I have encountered people who think it pays for alcohol, tobacco, hair dye, pet food, etc... It does not. It only pays for certain consumables. If you want to know more about the program, type "SNAP, [your state]" into your favorite search engine.

What Would You Do? Part 2

In my previous posting, I talked about a situation in Downtown Boston where I witnessed a man being belittled by another. I stepped in to help him. It ended like a Jack London story where a man in the crowd, for defending the wrong man, now chastised me; I asked you, what would you do?

Here’s what I did. I was really shaken up for realizing what had just transpired and for calling 911. The fight part of the flight-or-fight response was dissipating, and I was literally shaken. I tried to listen to this new man’s account. We’ll call him Bert. I say “tried” because it’s very hard to absorb everything a person says when you’re coming out of that response mode.

I apologized to him. I agreed that I didn’t have the all the facts, but I did what I could with what I knew, and what I knew was that the dignity of a person was being injured. Bert went on to say that he works with developmentally injured people (I’m not really sure why except maybe to say he knows how to best handle these situations because one of the two involved has a cognitive disability). I came back with “I work for the church” (not to be outdone in the perceived battle over who does more good for people – I do regret that I let my pride get the best of me in this comment).

I wasn’t angry, but there was an uncomfortable feeling inside of me. How could he chastise me for doing the wrong thing when he “knew” the right thing and still did nothing? He had all the facts and did not act. It bothered me. He did not deny a wrongdoing had occurred; I just sided with the wrong person. I commented on this saying, “I did something with what I knew; what did you do?”

His comment back was fired immediately, “Is it better to do the wrong thing than nothing at all?” I have been thinking about this comment ever since he uttered it. Is doing nothing a 3rd way – the first two being doing the right thing or the wrong thing? Can doing nothing actually be connected to right or wrong? I asked him how many times I would have to apologize before he was satisfied in my sincerity. What would/could I do that would satisfy his need in this matter? He said he didn’t need my apology; I needed to give it to the [white] guy. He was defending a person who was no longer there, and it was a person I could not find if I tried now. In other words, I could not make amends in his eyes.

My parting comment to him was, “I hope this inspires you to do the right thing before someone else does the wrong one.” I admit it – it was a quip. My pride was injured, and I was now plagued by doubt at my actions. I watched so many people roll their eyes, walk a little faster or mutter under their breath about what they saw, but no one stepped in. Even people who watched the whole thing did nothing. I did something, and I paid a price.

Perhaps I did have it all wrong. I’ll never know now. I don’t know if I’d do it again if I could, and I hate that I hesitate. I hate that people can look at injustice and look away with a clear conscience. I could not look the other way for some reason.

In a sermon given at BUSTH, by a dear friend, we were asked what it would take for us to get involved – at what point are we willing to take action? Does it have to threaten our own sense of safety and/or security before we react? I took a risk today, and it may have been ill timed, but I risked helping someone else when it would never benefited me. While one person went away injured, another felt compassion – that someone who didn’t have to care did. I’d like to feel sorry for the man I didn’t defend, who was supposedly in the “right,” but it’s hard to feel sorry for a man who throws verbal daggers at another with the sole intention of wounding; and it’s hard not to feel compassion for the man who takes those daggers with grace. I will hang on to that vision as my inspiration and try to do better next time.

What Would you Do? Part 1

Today, I take a slight departure from my intent in this blog. I intend to write about my life and the poverty of not having a job after graduate school. Today I write about dignity, the poor and a slice of life.

I like John Quinones. I think he does some very interesting human-interest pieces. Not too long ago I saw a promo for a new special titled “What Would You Do?” Okay, I never actually got around to watching it, but I think I’ll be hunting it down after today. The idea is that they would recreate uncomfortable situations, like a couple yelling in the park and then the man grabs the woman by the wrist to take her away, and see how spectators respond. He usually asks those people to walk him through their through processes.

I was inspired by that promo. Yup, 15 seconds seemed to change how I look at people in Boston. I usually walk right by the homeless man because right now I feel as poor as him. If I hear people yelling, I usually try to get out of there as soon as possible.

Today I was downtown and near a T station. It’s a nice part of downtown, in the banking/ financial district, and it’s not too far from some tourist/historical spots. This is important to know because it creates the “feeling in the air.” This isn’t a seedy part of town where it’s safer to call 911 and keep walking. Nope – I was there with at least 50 of my fellow Bostonians.

As I was walking by, I heard a man swearing at the top of his lungs. The man swearing was white, in a wheelchair with only one leg, disheveled and had a bag (instrument sized). The man he was yelling at was black, overweight and had a refreshingly honest sign stating that he needed money to get drunk and high so he could deal with life on the street. Do these little details matter? They did to me, and they might to you as you draw your own conclusions.

The white man was yelling obscenities to the black man saying he was stupid, and if he put in half an effort, he could actually get a job. I’ll let you figure out the obscene words. I listened to it for a full minute. Feeling sorry for the man being yelled at (he appeared to be “taking it” with a grace that I could only describe as strength in vulnerability), I walked over and handed him a dollar. I could not stand the idea of this man’s dignity being ripped from him for all to see. I started to walk away when I started thinking about John Quinones’ report and my class on Vocation, Work and Faith. Had I done enough for a bullied man? Was I like the first two to pass by the man injured on the road? Did I have the courage to be a Good Samaritan? This is not yet where I ask “What would you do?”

I walked up to the black man and asked if he would like me to call the police. The guy said no and followed it up with a comment that the [white] man would leave soon enough. The obscenities continued, and I said, “Sir, I think it’s time to move along now.” (He had been telling the black man to get out of his f---ing way… except that guy was sitting on a park bench) Completely ignoring me, the man continued. I raised my voice above what I thought possible and yelled, “Sir. Either you need to move along or I need to call the police.” (I really need to get the non-emergency number for BPD on my phone.) I started to call 911, and another man from the crowd stood next to me. The white man left in a huff, and I was left to explain to the 911 operator why I no longer needed their service.

Now, here comes the part of “What would you do?” A man came up to me immediately after this and said I had no business getting involved. I had it all wrong. The facts were that the man in the wheelchair was there first and was playing music. The other man came over and instigated everything with yelling at him [white]. I defended the wrong man, and I gave the wrong man money. Now, what would you do?