Labor Day Weekend

Invocation

Our ancestors in faith first created Sabbath, O God, not as a time of worship, but as a time of rest, because you knew that, without rest, there is no worship. They created a time to cease striving; to cease striving to please, striving to get ahead, striving to get more, striving to be secure, striving to win. The first objectors to Sabbath were the taskmasters in Pharaoh's brickyards. Then came the feudal lords, followed by the boss man in the field, the floor manager in the factory, the sales manager, and the CEO.

All of these bosses, and even we, ourselves, have a tendency to measure worth by productivity, and to value math and amassing over community and relationships. We are still desperate for Sabbath, O Lord, because its rhythm is the only thing that keeps us grounded. This day, as we celebrate a long weekend of work-stoppage, may we find ways to regularly rest in you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Gas Works Park, Seattle, WA

Illumination

Candles are a safe, controllable method of being reminded of fire's two essential qualities: heat and light; and with these hi-tech, dripless varieties, it's almost as if they burn but don't burn. We no longer need them for their light, now that we have electricity to incandescence and beyond.

But our hearts are hungry for what's lurking beneath our own shadows; to let you claim and redeem the parts of us that we're afraid to let anyone else see, because those parts don't measure-up to the world's demand for perfection.

In the half-light of our lives, O God, claim us, redeem us, send us; through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Hesed

It is divine love that both steadies us

and remains steadfastly with us

along life’s unpredictable journey.

The purveyors of perfection

want us to believe two things:

[1] Life is geometry, ergo

the acceptable distance

between two points is a straight line.

[2] The “right” product will assist you

in navigating this straight line, lickety split.

Peace and contentment will evade you

until you accept the deeper reality

that a meaningful life meanders

all over the page, leaving a wobbly trail

of forth-and-back tracks that could never

pass perfection’s sobriety test.

It’s a dance that is made-up for us

as we go, ever-drawing us

toward hope as we balk, stumble,

and even backtrack our way

through life’s labyrinth.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Eternity

When we can connect,

even if it's just a distant,

gentle breeze blowing across

an ashed-over coal

we believed to be ice cold,

and see a brief glimmer

and maybe a wisp of smoke,

how can we not believe

that there is a God nearby

and within who whispers

hope into every heart?

The pain that such circumstances create,

when we hear and feel

that the whisper was unheard

for so long that life lost all meaning,

slams us into the brick wall of finitude.

Here, our hope lies in a theology

that reaches beyond the nick of time,

extending grace across eternity

in all directions.

THIS is the God of whom

I speak and write

and for whom I live and love.

 

Seattle, WA

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Why?

When my options are mine,

not just because of my choices

or my hard work, but also because

of the circumstances of my birth –

the nationality on my passport,

the religion of my ancestors,

and the color of my skin –  

and my options aren't yours

for the very same reasons,

how are we to live in this world?

Justice, when he is disentangled

from retribution and violence,

isn't so much about prying privilege

from one hand and placing it in another,

as he is about restoring

creation's balance of need;

about smoothing the universe's supply

of dignity, respect, and opportunity.

If we hope to move beyond

legislated and litigated varieties,

which must be continually replanted,

Justice's sister, Peace,

must be made to feel at home.

Her neighborhood is the place

where stories are shared,

where ears are tilted to understand

and not cocked to respond.

She unpacks Privilege's truth,

inviting us to not only see

our economy of distribution

in all its naked disparity,

but also to choose a life

grounded in a commitment

to be open to and opened by

the question "Why?";

to recognize that it not only

doesn't have to be this way,

we also aren't meant to stay this way.

Photo by Todd Jenkins

 © 2014 Todd Jenkins

ATM

Lovers Lane

It usually requires a lot,

this marvelous device in a box

or on the side of a building

that is capable of spitting out

cash like it grows on trees,

which my daddy told me isn't true.

There's the card, of course,

which must be in good physical shape,

as well as its magic

(or is it magnetic?) strip;

and you can forget it

if you've forgotten the secret-code,

AKA PIN, so you'd better make it

your grandmother's birthday

or an old phone number

or something else that's the right blend

of memorable and cryptic;

and one last thing

that's critical: available funds.

When I tell you that I've found

an altogether different variety,

I understand your skepticism.

I would be a disbeliever, also,

had I not experienced it

in so many unbelievable ways

on so many different occasions.

It shows up precisely

when my card is cracked or missing;

when the magnet is fried

and I can't remember my own phone number,

much less granny's birthday;

when my life is so overdrawn

that even Moses couldn't part this Red Sea.

And there it is, whispered into existence

by the voice that needs no words;

a voice that's whispered hoarse

because I have such a hard time

being quiet and still long enough to hear.

It spits out invisible invitations

to parties I never dreamed about,

dances I never imagined I could approach,

and then I smell fresh bread

and hear new music.

Of course, Fear and Apprehension

peer over my shoulder,

warning me against these propositions,

chipping away at my worth,

deforesting with shame and doubt.

It's risky business, this ATM of Grace;

daring me to not only reveal my true self,

my whole true self,

and nothing but my true self;

but also to offer that self to others.

Do you hear the sighing?

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Idol

The ancients fashioned images

of various animals, both real life

and in combinations

outside the realm of genetic possibility,

to augment and direct their worship.

Judaism, Christianity, and Islam

eschew such visual representations,

proclaiming that the full self

of the one true God

cannot be visually observed

in two or three dimensions.

But do not fool yourself

into believing that we have thus

avoided practicing idolatry.

Wherever there is a rule

or topic whose examination

is beyond the reach of faith,

whenever a conversation has been

excluded from our shared sacred story,

you can rest assured that Baal

is just as present as ever.

That which we dare not discuss

is the very thing toward which

our lives instinctively genuflect.

 

Gas Works Park, Seattle WA

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Heart for It

When Jesus says,

“For where your treasure is,

there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21)

he's not saying that our treasure

will follow our heart.

He knows that whatever we value,

our hearts will find their way to it.

Whatever we don't value,

our hearts will not seek out.

If economics is our driving force –

if we determine both God's love for us

and therefore our love for others

by the number of baskets

of leftovers we can collect;

if time is short and we schedule

and protect all of ours

for fear that there won’t be enough

for us to enjoy the fruits of your bounty

(or “our labor” as we are wont to call it) –

then, when a matter of mission

or justice or compassion

comes our way and we say,

“We don't have the time or money for it.”

what we are really saying is,

“We don't have the heart for it.”

Give us hearts for it, O God!

 

Fremont, WA

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

August 10

Invocation
Here we are, O God, gathered from at least the four corners of Lincoln County, if not the four corners of the universe. We all have our own reasons for being here, and they run the gamut from obligation to enthusiasm, from coercion to expectation. No matter how or why we arrived, O Lord, we pray that you would make yourself known to us today, that we might leave this place with more fire in our hearts and more love in our living; through Jesus Christ the inviter we pray. Amen.

Prayer for Illumination
The candles flicker, O Lord, sending their heat up in shimmering waves. Sometimes our lives mirror that ethereal glow, wobbling across the divide between reality and fantasy; and we are hard pressed to distinguish between who we'd like to be and who our true selves are. As the narrative of your people's journey is cracked open this morning, O God, help us find both our place in the story and your truth in our lives; through Jesus Christ the author of hope. Amen.

Leave Them

Mr. Past is calling,

inviting you to move into

your old, comfortable neighborhood,

where predictability trumps hope.

Comparison wants you

to not only do the math,

but also to invest your energy

in Anger's gaping maw.

Assumption spins tales

in which you are always the hero,

constantly barraged by

the jealousy of bit-part actors.

Grace whispers and sings

her simple, haunting melody,

daring you to leave them all behind,

and begin the adventure of today.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Damp Relations

Sometimes, water is added

to existing mission relationships,

and amazing things begin to grow.

Sometimes the door

of relationship is first

opened by pure water.

And then there are the times

when water is dropped

from 30,000 feet and

a few upturned, open mouths

have their thirst miraculously quenched,

if only briefly.

May we, O Lord,

celebrate the fly-over mists,

the deepest wells, and

all of the connections and

partnerships, such as they are.

At the same time, may we

always thirst for more,

and be propelled by grace

to dig deeper together.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Adsum

Old Stone Fort State Park, TN

"I am here."

It is the beginning

of life, of the knowing

and being known of love.

Recognizing and claiming "here";

hungering for nowhere else;

spirit, mind, body centered;

resting in this now.

No "There!", no "Where?";

just the peaceful presence

within this little slice

of time, space.

For once, at least,

let's set aside the worry,

wonder of everywhere else,

and dare to proclaim, "Adsum."

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

3 for Communion

Invocation

If we pay attention to the world, in general, and to our own lives, in particular, O Lord, we see, feel, hear, smell, and taste that you are already present in every place and circumstance. Let us, then, today, invoke the power of your Holy Spirit in our lives to slow down, sharpen our gifts of observation, and sense your presence in this hour of worship, that we may find ways to carry that recognition with us to work, school, and play every day; through Jesus, the incarnate one, who pitched tent in our neighborhood for this very purpose. Amen.

Call to Confession

John’s gospel tells of a woman caught in adultery. Smug religious leaders, who believe they are too good to sin, drag this woman before Jesus and accuse her, hoping that he will confirm the chasm between their morality and her immorality and demand that she be beaten to death with stones.

Instead, Jesus stoops and begins writing in the sand. All of them stand with bated breath; the woman hoping it won’t be her last breath, and the religious leaders flexing their muscles and holding their stones of conviction high and mighty. He simply says, “Let the one who has NO sin cast the first stone.” Whatever Jesus wrote in the sand, it must have been exactly what the religious leaders needed to rip away the façade of their self-righteousness; because all of the accusers, one by one, dropped their weapons and walked away.

When just the two of them were left, Jesus turned to the woman and asked, “Where are your accusers? Is there no one left to condemn you?” The answer given was, “No one, Lord.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

That’s grace, and it’s offered to the whole world every day, every hour, every moment. Let us confess our sins that it may be freely offered to us also.

Prayer for Illumination

We’ve moved the candles off the table to make room for the loaf and cup, O Lord. It’s not that we need any less light; just that there’s not enough room for fire and food today, with all the ritual movement we are reenacting. Even though we aren’t using the candles as a part of our worship this morning, we are still in need of your holy fire.

Keep it coming, O God. Bring the light of your promise to the hidden places in our lives; places we’ve walled-off from you and everyone else, places that feel so broken that we’re afraid to let them be seen. Bring your gift of grace to bear on us, so that, as your word is read and proclaimed through song, sermon, and silence, and as it is enacted through sacrament, we may be nourished by hope, and become courageous enough to reveal your grace now and to all generations forevermore. Amen.

Attention Deficit

Imaginary lines drawn,

not even in the sand,

but on paper maps

create division, hostility.

Theological certitude drawn,

not even from practiced faith,

but from egos of indifference

create division, hostility.

Labor of servitude drawn,

not even from coexistence,

but from economies of scarcity

create division, hostility.

When it happens in our back yard

we cringe and shrink and hide;

across the ocean and we

point, lament in exasperation.

Where, O holy one, will we find

the courage and wherewithal

to speak your triune grace:

Creation, Unity, Hospitality.

 

Photo by Todd Jenkins

© 2014 Todd Jenkins