Mission

It begins when we listen for God

at work in places completely foreign to us.

These locations might be

right outside our door,

at a time of day different from

the ones we normally venture out.

They may be across town,

in places we wouldn't travel on purpose,

 or across the globe,

in places that, by our own ignorance,

strike fear into our hearts.

God will not fit in a pocket

or a suitcase; needs neither

to be delivered to nor

rescued from any place.

God simply needs to be found.

When we arrive at any place

that is not home -

and perhaps often at home, too -

our initial task should be

to discern all of the ways and

places in which God is already laboring.

Until we do that, and find

the humility to offer the fullness

of ourselves to that which God

is already doing and desires,

mission will completely elude us.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Lenten Call to Worship

One: The memory of penitential ashes

has already faded and we are still

journeying toward Jerusalem.

Many: At many stops along the way,

we have been tempted to tarry,

being nearly overcome

by the seduction of comfort.

One: But Jesus pushes on,

his pace quickening,

encouraging us to endure.

Many: There is even a promise

of gift-beyond-imagination

 that waits at journey’s end.

All: Let us stay the course for a little longer,

holding on, come cross or high water.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Story

Forgiveness is a story –
a whole story,
but not a finished story –
not just a collection
of isolated events,
sound-bytes, or bullet points.

It is a living novel whose author

must rely on and trust both
omniscience and mercy beyond self.
 
If you aren’t discovering,
helping write, and learning how
to tell and live the saga
of your own deliverance,
 
you will not be capable
of stepping back and removing
yourself from the helm
of someone else’s narrative;
grace’s character cannot find
her way to page and lives.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Prayer

We talk about it in church

as if we have somehow mastered it;

as if we have ridden and explored

the perimeters of its pastures,

clearly marking its limits

with our fence posts and barbed wire,

or at least with our signposts.

The truth, however, is that we couldn't

envelope it in a lifetime,

even if we rode hard every day.

We'd have better success 
defining all the hues in nature,

than wrapping our heads and words

around prayer's vast expanse.

Let us take a different tack

this season of Lenten reflection.

Instead of seeking to define prayer

or attempting to add another

practice of it to our lives,

 let us set our hearts and minds,

instead, on recognizing all of the ways

our daily lives ARE prayer.

Notice the many ways

that conversation and interaction,

observation and even distraction

are actually among the many faces

of prayer reflected in daily life.

Let us resolve, not to practice

a new form or style,

but instead to identify prayer's

multifaceted presence already

woven into our ordinary extraordinariness.

There's no need to plant, cultivate,

and water exotic varieties

if we haven't even lived and tasted

the volunteers all around us.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Lenten Confession

We confess, O God, that we don’t wait very well. When good news is promised at the end of a long hard road, we’d prefer to take a pill or go under the knife, instead of slogging it out on an arduous journey; but you took Peter, James, and John to the mountaintop for a reason – not just to reveal your glory one more spectacular time – but also to give them a glimpse of resurrection, so that they might have the strength and courage to go down to Jerusalem, out to the place of the skull, and through the grave’s three day silence.

Give us that same fortitude, O Lord, so that we might make the journey through the pit of our own suffering once more, and find ourselves, come Easter morning, running back from the empty tomb to spread the crazy news of resurrection all over town; through Jesus Christ, our Passion-Guide. Amen. 

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Holy Does as Holy Is

See and share the truth

that the dandelion

is as holy as - sometimes

 even holier than - the daffodil,

precisely because it clings

tenaciously to its own

extraordinary life in the midst of

our daily mundaneness;

prepared to be present

and reflect divine love

in sacred simpleness;

inviting us to do likewise.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

¿Y tú?

A gleaming seven year-old

squeals with delight

as she rushes to a table

where her parents and

three other children (siblings?)

have been sitting in a fast food restaurant.

Her father shushes her

with a stern look,

but it quickly fades.

They have shared a delicious looking

ice cream cake and animated conversation.

When her cake plate has been picked clean,

she reaches under the table

and picks up a small pink hula hoop.

Joy erupts from her eyes

like sparklers on a black summer night.

I want to step over to her

and say, "Hold tightly to the reality

of this dream, little angel.

It contains the significance

of the whole universe."

But we do not even

speak the same language

in more ways than one.

She knows Spanish;

I, only English.

She still speaks Innocence,

even if it has been tainted

by whatever has already

happened to her in these brief years.

Of course, I can remember

some of that dialect,

but not nearly enough.

¿Y tú?

© 2013 Todd Jenkins