So what is prayer . . .

I preached on prayer last Sunday. It was the second part of the Prayer series that we kicked off here at Harvest. The week before, I opened with "The Goal of Prayer" answering the question of why do we pray by examining why Jesus prayed. Last week, we discussed the "Spirit of Prayer" by taking a look at how we define prayer. This is a snippet of what the Lord had me to say about prayer:

Prayer. A word that we hear frequently. Some of us have heard it since the time of our birth, since the time we were children:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Prayer. An act that we carry out every Sunday – at least five times during each service: at the beginning, during the prayers of the people, before the message, after the message, during Holy Communion.
Prayer. The thing we feel we can’t do until our lives are “just right.”
Prayer. A six letter word that the Harper Collins Bible Dictionary describes as “an act of petitioning, praising, giving thanks, or confessing to God.”
Prayer. Something we assume we should master like a difficult math problem or playing the piano.
Prayer. A word that manifest butterflies in our stomach and slight sweat on the brow at the moment we have been asked to do it – publicly.
Prayer. An experience that we participate in daily, but often fail to recognize.
Prayer. A word that baffles us, but yet amazes us with the power it generates.
Prayer. A word that attracts us, but yet repels us.
Prayer. A word that calls to us, but leaves us speechless – at times.
Prayer. A love relationship we have with our creator.
Prayer. The key to God’s heart.
Prayer. The solution to our sorrow.
Prayer. Sometimes a moan.
Prayer. Sometimes a groan.
Prayer. A mind reliever.
Prayer. An invitation.
Prayer. Simply, a conversation with God.

Coming into acceptance . . .

A new member at Harvest referred to me as Pastor Juana yesterday . . . . and I didn't cringe . . . didn't wince . . . or turn my head to see who this person was. I just accepted it as such . . . rested in the knowledge of this new emerging person and thanked God for using me.

Friday Frolic . . .

As one minister reminded me this week, "Sunday comes early" and it always comes. So with that in mind, I decided to make Friday count for something. I headed to MOTE, the aquarium on the coast, hung out with the fish, turtles, mesmerizing jellyfish, sharks, manatees and dolphins for the day. Then I winded down here:

At the Salty Dog enjoying a blackened grouper sandwich and fries . . .

and this beautiful view . . .


And this delicious key lime pie!
These are the times when I really miss being in Florida and realized how I blessed I was to grow up here!

Reality check . . .

I had another strong dose of the reality of what I'm doing today . . . well it actually started yesterday when I had the opportunity to sit in on the memorial plans -- on Father's Day of all days -- with the family of a former member who committed suicide over the weekend. The gravity of my position hit me when I saw his step-daughter's face -- she was lost, overwhelmed and devastated. The only father she knew was gone. And in that moment, I was reminded of what it means to say that you're a minister -- the one who is called to hold it all together for those who need a steady place to stand and someone on which to lean and help them make sense of their disrupted world.
There is something about standing in that type of call. It's a humbling place to be. A position that, if you're honest, shines a light on your own weaknesses, inabilities and insecurities and reminds you that you alone can't make things better, only the one who you stand on behalf of.

I received a letter from a new minister friend of mine the other day who reminded me of who I am -- at least this summer. In the letter, my friend pointed out that I am Harvest's "pastor" for the summer (the senior pastors are gone on vacation for a month) and I will have some good opportunities to deliver pastoral care -- some that will be easy, some not so good and some that may be hard and painful. But that in the midst of all of that, I won't be alone -- that God will be along for the ride and in place to handle whatever comes.

I'm glad she reminded me of that, particularly on a day when I find all of these yellow slips of paper in my inbox -- prayer requests . . .for all kinds of issues . . . that a missing granddaughter would be found . . . that a healing would come to cancer-attacked bodies . . . that God will bless the healthy arrival of a new baby . . . that families who have lost loved ones will be strengthened. . . that God will accompany the doctors in surgery. The concerns are many. And they bring into full view of how real all of this is. It brings into full view how many people really need a safe place to park their fears and doubts. And how many people need someone to speak, petition and fight on their behalf.

It's not so much different than being journalist.

In the news . . . again

Having been a reporter, I know the barrage of questions we ask can oftentimes be disturbing, make one somewhat uncomfortable, but evoke excitement at the same time -- more so because you come to realize that someone is actually interested in you and your life. Sounds great, but the bottom line is: I'm used to doing the asking, not answering.

But, I got a chance to sit on the other side of those feelings and the following story below is what was birthed. I was giving this interview about a month or so ago while driving down I-285 on the way to take a friend to the Atlanta airport. So, I was kinda paying attention to the phone call and the road. It wasn't until after I finished the interview, which had to be cut because I wanted to see my friend off properly, that I began to panic and question, "What did I really say?"

Well, apparently here it is in black and white!

http://www.yourobserver.com/news/east-county/Front-Page/06112009866/Harvest-welcomes-pastoral-intern

His faith, my faith, our faith . . .

I had lunch today with the man who said on my first Sunday here, "I wish I had faith like you have!" This was before he told me that he wasn't sure if he believed in God, but felt it necessary to continue to come to church to be around "people like me."

In that brief moment, I shared the true story of a pastor who had once lost his own faith and was so broken he felt that he could no longer preach or be an effective minister to his congregation. He asked his church board to accept his resignation. The board declined, saying instead, they wanted him to continue to go into the pulpit every Sunday and preach to them his doubts and his struggles. So, that's what the pastor did and months later, through the preaching and teaching, the pastor realized his faith had been restored.

My lunch date, this white man in his mid-60s, recounted this story to me today and right then I was reminded of seed planting and harvesting. I was reminded that God's word doesn't return void and that at some point, if it has been planted and watered properly, you'll begin to see little buds peeking through the earth. You know, honestly, I had forgotten that I shared that story with him. But he didn't. Apparently there was something there that struck him, stuck with him and had him evaluating his own faith struggles. In that moment I was both honored and humbled that he would want to have this conversation with me. That he thought there was something I could offer. It wasn't until my reflection on the lunch that I was reminded that God reveals himself in many instances and today, at that very moment over plates of breakfast and lunch, God sat and helped me walk through that pastoring moment. I remember sitting there praying that God would tell me what to say if I needed to say anything. And of course, God did. God helped me navigate the conversation -- which included stories about my childhood, his grandchildren and children, my beliefs, his struggles with belief and his view of himself in the world --in such a way that it prompted my lunch date to inquire whether we could meet again.

He wants to talk about the purpose of prayer and the benefits of praying as our next table topic.
How fitting! We will have a conversation on the very topic I'm teaching in my Wednesday night class and will be preaching as part of a series on July 19 and July 26.

I remain constantly amazed how God uses us. How God makes it possible for a simple get-to-know you lunch to become a ministering moment that serves both parties at the table.
My lunch date doesn't know it, but talking about my faith that day in all actuality helped strengthen my own a little bit more. Cause sometimes just in talking about it, you're reminded of what God has already done.

Praying penned prayers . . .

So, I've been tasked with writing and praying the Prayers of the People. This has been my second week at it. The purpose is not so much to take the spontaneity out of the praying moment, but to become more proficient in using different language to pray. Oftentimes, we find ourselves saying the same thing, sometimes omitting the larger world and environment at hand. So, this is good practice . . . gives me time to really get my thoughts together and be more deliberate in what I want to say to God. Plus it will be a great help when I take my liturgical writing class this Fall.

Here's what I composed and prayed this Sunday. It's centered around the Trinity -- the three-in-one Godhead. I would love to hear your feedback!

Prayers of the People
God of all generations who brings forth your light
In the image of your son,
We praise you.
Who brings forth truth of your Word
And call him Jesus,
We praise you.
Who brings forth your spirit
and calls it Holy
We praise you.
Holy, Holy, Holy are you, Lord
Whose earth is full of your glory.

In the midst of the gathering of your people today
We call out to you.
For our families and our children
We call out to you.
For those who suffer and are in need – here and in countries some of us may only see
color-coded on a map
We call out to you
For this nation, its leaders and our people.
We call out to you,
Pleading for the safety of those who fight for our liberties and the rights of others.
We call out to you,
Seeking peace,
Begging for relief
Needing clarity
Desiring understanding
Longing to hear your voice that says everything will be okay.
Knowing we haven’t always been worthy.
But thankful we’ve been given another chance by your grace.
Even though, we at times, like Thomas, doubt you.
Even though, we at times, like Peter, deny knowing you.
Even though, we at times, like Jesus, accuse you of forsaking us.
We are thankful that you still find us worthy of your love.
Thankful that you came in the image of your Son.
Thankful that your spirit blows as the wind throughout a world
In constant need of your redeeming power.
And we are so ever grateful that you give it all freely.

AMEN.

When God steps out of the shadows . . .

So, I led worship today . . . gained a little more experience of how they do things here at Harvest . . . got an opportunity to share how I experience God . . . how I experience the Spirit's dealing with my soul. When I came to this congregation I wasn't sure how they would respond to me . . . this United Methodist who isn't really a traditional United Methodist, who worships quietly. . . who worships without having intimate engagement.

I'm somewhat different. I'm a shouter. It's not uncommon to hear me shouting "Amen" or "Praise the Lord!" I'm a jumper -- depending on the service -- I'm fully engaged and moved easily by the Spirit's leading. When I came here, I wasn't sure how to react in the service, made up mostly of congregants who were Catholics or who had no or little history of attending or participating in church until they came to Harvest. So on my first and second Sunday I was reserved. I felt like backing the ministers when they said something I agreed with, but didn't. I felt like clapping more and jumping to the worship songs, but I didn't. And I felt in bondage -- that was until I had a conversation with the pastors and one of the District Superintendents for the UMC church here who convinced me that I wasn't doing anyone any good if I failed to be my authentic self. My being there is an opportunity for me to share me with the people I am in ministry with . . . it's a chance for me to share my worship tradition . . . an opportunity for them to see and experience God differently than they have before. . . an opportunity for all of us show God in our own unique way.

Today, a woman's husband told me his wife cried when she heard me pray. And she herself, said, "When I heard you say continually, 'Thank-you, Lord!' It made me want to say it. I felt it!"

Another shared that they love the vitality I bring to the worship service. And many others have shared their joy in having me there.

What a wonderful testament of how faith works. God tells us to do things and trust. When we do it works out far better than we could have imagined. That's how these past Sunday's and weeks have been -- a realization of God's answered prayers and some pleasant surprises in between, such as confirmation that apparently I'm on the right path. In fact, more than one member lately has said I should consider work as a minister.

More and more, it's not sounding like such a bad idea. So maybe I will!

Catching the spirit's fire . . .

Today we celebrated Pentecost Sunday -- the Biblical account of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit talked about in Acts 2 that fell so heavy on the people it had them speaking in different tongues! Had them doing things -- performing acts they probably wouldn't have done on their own. This is one of the two paintings one of the members, Callie painted while Pastor Catherine delivered the sermon. (She painted during each service) I've never experienced a service like that before. It kind of reminded me of being at a spoken word sect, which is where I would expect to see something like that -- an artist painting to the rhythm of the words being spoken. But it was church. And it was nice. . . out-of-the box! What made it even more spirit-filled were the 20-plus doves that were released after each service as a sign of the Holy Spirit going out into the world. (I'll try to get pics posted soon)

Interestingly, before the service started, a parishioner told me he wished he had courage like me. This was the second time I had had this conversation with someone at Harvest and I found it interesting that they automatically assumed I had this character trait.
So I asked, "What makes you think I have courage?"
The man replied, "You must, to do what you're doing. To follow this call."
I guess some would think that. But the truth is I don't really have that much courage. I actually have that much fear -- fear of what would happen it I didn't follow it. Fear of what my life would look like -- mediocre at best. Definitely unfulfilling. (I had seen glimpses, got a t-shirt and wasn't interested in revisiting.)
But just like I shared with that parishioner, most of what I do these days surrounding my foray into ministry also has a lot to do with the Holy Spirit's influence. Just as one of my professors pointed out in her book, there has to be some higher calling that would have one open themselves up to being castigated as an impostor or pimp, or giving up their jobs and homes to go back to school at nearly 40. There has to be something higher operating that would have someone go places they never thought they would -- sometimes into uncharted territory.

So I can't say whether it's really courage that I have, but there is definitely some level of faith.

I've been re-affirmed . . .

So we just celebrated Confirmation Sunday -- when 17 of our 6th graders and a few 7th graders confirmed their faith. The celebration was a first for me. I had always heard about confirmation ceremonies, but never quite knew what they were or what they were about. Now that I've seen them, I think they're more like "coming out" parties. Kind of like the debutante ball, where we young girls are introduced to society as young ladies. Only this coming out party says a bit more than just I'm moving into a more mature phase of life. This one says, "I've made a decision to follow Christ" or "I'm riding shotgun with Jesus and that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

As I watched the kids -- barely in their teens -- answer questions about prevenient grace -- the grace that is given to us before we were born . . . justifying grace -- the grace that we are given when we accept God's call on our life and sanctifying grace, which sustains us as we continue to walk with Christ, I was reminded of how big of deal it was for these youth to take this public stance. There they were dipping their hand in the bowl to douse water on their forehead as a sign of remembrance of their baptism, then kneeling before the church to have hands laid on them by their parents and family for prayer, symbolically saying that they too believe in this God of their parents. That they too have a foundation in this Christ who died for them. That they too wanted to live for someone other than themselves.

And I thought, that's a big deal. A huge commitment -- one that takes courage to admit. It was sort of akin to the the day (in my early 30's) I put the "God's girl" sign on my car, which too was a public proclamation of who I am and what team I play for.

Now I'm not naive enough to think that they'll always live accordingly. I mean part of being confirmed is agreeing to turn away from evil, work against it and accepting whatever call God has over your life. Frankly, that's a tall order -- one I haven't always adhered to. But at least somewhere along the way seeds have been planted and at various times I'm reminded of what the sign reads on my truck. Sunday was one of those days. It was their confirmation ceremony, yes, but I left service that day thinking it was most definitely my re-affirmation ceremony.

That God . . . quite a comedian!

For the past few days I've been in awe of this Creator of ours . . . simply astounded by how he just puts things in place. Here I am, my third official day on the job as a pastoral intern at Harvest UMC down here on the Florida coast in the Sarasota/Bradenton area, being constantly amazed at how God lines things up. I must admit, at first I thought it was "all about me" and the impression the pastors and worship ministry team wanted to make on the new intern -- the new African-American intern at that. It had to be for that reason that on my first day (this past Sunday) the youth choir would be singing a Swahili worship song, "O Sifuni Mungu" with drums included and all. I thought, I must have shared at some point my affinity and love for African dance and drumming. I must have indicated that I have been dancing for nearly 10 years to the beat of the Dijimbe. How nice it is that they would incorporate this song in worship just for my liking. As part of my welcome to Harvest party!

However, the pastor knew nothing about my love affair with African dance. So I chalked it up to a God-thing!

Then there was the message: The Power to Embrace, which focused on racism, sexism, classism and all the other ism's we battle that keep us from fully accepting each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. The pastor urged parishioners to be aware of the Holy Spirit's nudge, which could take "them places they may not want to go." I mean that message had to be about me, right? It had to be about laying the foundation of acceptance and training the congregation in being more diverse-friendly so the new intern -- the only black woman in the congregation --would feel welcome and a part of the family.

But, this too, had nothing to do with me. In fact, the sermon was the continuation of a series being preached from Acts. Again, another God-thing. Or maybe more of a God-incidence. Just like the talk I had with one of the parishioners who shared with me his work with homeless populations. I figured the pastor had shared with him the work I had been doing at the homeless shelter for the past year.

The parishioner knew nothing of my volunteer history. This was definitely a God-thing -- one that confirmed I'm in the right place. I'm where all my passions can be further explored.

As one parishioner put it, God did just enough to keep me humble and more than enough to make me feel comfortable here. He brought me all the comforts of home while I'm away from my home. And he reminded me of just how 'Big' he is. And how small I am.

He's quite a comedian when you think about it!