Maundy Thursday

This is a night of somber remembrance,

when Israel's exodus Passover in Egypt is recalled.

Let us dare to expose ourselves

to the hopelessness of Egyptian slavery,

and the possibility of exodus deliverance.

The Passover sacrifice was costly

not only to the lamb,

but also to its owners.

Let us consider the cost of Passover,

and dare to risk our own costly sacrifice.

Let us worship the God of

risk, possibility, hope, and deliverance.

Truth of Enough

Our blessings are legion,

O Lord, but that doesn't mean

that demons aren't

swirling in our lives,

attempting to possess us.

We find ourselves surrounded

by Consumption and Greed,

by Comparison and Indifference,

by Judgment and Fear.

Cast out all of these

who would influence us

to want more and love less,

 to hoard more and give less.

Show us the lie

of Scarcity that we

may live the truth

of your Abundance.

Into the places where Hurt

and Anxiety have crept,

pour in your Grace

that it may seep

all the way to the marrow

of our souls, and we

may find the truth of Enough.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Genuine Article

If the gospel is for sale,

don't waste your money.

If the advertised product

is future passage to paradise,

but what you get now

is rules that, by following,

prove to yourself, and others

on this limited edition cruise,

that you've won, and others,

who didn't board your ship,

are merely Noah's discards,

don't bother packing your bags.

If what you come away with

is a rich blend of piety and pride,

with condemnation for anyone else

whose ship sailed from another port,

yours is not a journey

toward divine reunion, but

a self-induced competition

that misses creation's purpose.

If the gift you've received

isn't flooding every field

by which your life's river flows,

you don't really have grace at all,

but merely a cheap facsimile,

hastily concocted by Ego and Fear.

Love, set wild and free

into our ordinary lives,

is the universe's genuine article,

transforming all within her grasp

into exuberant chalices of hope

overflowing to quench

every parched soul.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Now

You don't have to plumb the theological depths of scripture to see what God is calling us to be. Just trace the narrative of the Word made flesh and identify his guiding light.

Where is it showing you to go? With whom is it calling you to hang out? How is it instructing you to interact? What is it begging you to share?

Is your life a reflection of his gifts, or of something else; something smaller and lesser, something more manageable? The good news is that, however poorly you have mirrored them so far, the blessings of mercy, grace, forgiveness, and love are extended toward you as well; and today is the second-best day to more fully live them in your own flesh and breath.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Only Words

You think that I don't even mean

A single word I say

It's only words, and words are all I have

To take your heart away

(from “Words” by the Bee Gees; 1967)

Whoever said, "Words are cheap." was at least partly right. Sometimes, words really are cheap, but not always. Words can be the foundation –  the inspiration – for actions. They can confirm a commitment that is costly, even to the point of death. In this sense, words are not cheap.

But when they lead to nothing, or when they're incongruent with our actions, words are pretty much worthless. This means that we have a choice about the value of our words. Let them be integrated with your living, and your words will be priceless, both to you and to others.

Don Miguel Ruiz’s first rule, in The Four Agreements: 

Be Impeccable With Your Word.

Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Easter Up

We add the word “up” to a number of verbs and even a few nouns to make new phrases (pony, listen, step, follow, pass, pay, belly, show, change, catch…). I’m not an English teacher, but I believe that all of these phrases are used as verbs. We are most familiar with the word “Easter” as a noun, but I believe its greatest power lies in our understanding of it as a verb.

More than 10 years ago, most likely during a time of sermon preparation about this time of year, I “heard” (a hearing of the heart, not the ear) a voice use this phrase. "Easter up" she said, as if it was really quite simple – not much different from "cowboy up”. Just put on your spurs, boots, and hat, and settle in the saddle for a long comfortable trail ride.

"I’ve tried eastering-up before, and the ride is seldom comfortable and always frightening," I said. So began another chapter in the willy-nilly book of my life’s journey toward spiritual discipline, and a deeper understanding of the paschal mystery.

"Easter up" she said. “The world we live in is seldom easter-friendly. It knows more about grit than grace, more of proof than faith, all about actuarials instead of resurrection. Easter does not add up in most accounting systems.” Here is the rest of what she told me:

The Spirit calls us to Esther up—to step up and speak up for those whose voice has been stolen by circumstance of time and place, by willful oppression, or by happenstance of disaster; but it is more convenient to Enron out by bailing and blaming someone else, and pocketing the profit of our social and relational insider trading. God’s voice beckons us to Abraham up—to pack lightly and strike out for outrageous promises and dangerous places yet unknown; but it is more comfortable to Jonah out by hunkering down into the safety of our known captivity, or heading in the opposite direction from possibility.

Faith calls us to Moses up—to curl our toes into the holy humus, speak to the fire, and return to the land of our indiscretions in order to struggle for the kingdom buried within; but it is much safer to Herod out by giving in to the voices of paranoia and fear, using our power and control to isolate us even from those who would love us.

The gospel calls us to Easter up—to dare to run to the tomb in hope that it just might be empty, to open the fear-locked door on the outside chance that an unimaginable gift of holy proportions could arrive, to open our eyes to the stranger walking beside us and invite her in to break bread because hospitality could open us to communion with the saints. There are a million reasons not to; countless ways we can find to get "out" instead of "up." But that inner voice in the silence continues to whisper the resurrection invitation: "Easter up."

 © 2015 Todd Jenkins

Forty Days

Matthew 4:1 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2 He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.

Come away with me for a while

to wilderness, desert, or your own neighborhood;

the journey inward is littered with temporal securities,

tossed aside as their worth is examined.

With each letting go comes a mixture

of anxiety and relief, fear and release;

that on which our safety seems propped

faces the dare of letting go, letting down.

Long-time companions are still around,

word and silence, listening and breath;

but our reliance on them has been relegated

to moments of crisis, matters of chaos.

Our suburban securities sufficiently strewn,

the invitation is to reacquaint ourselves

with the basic tools of faithful living,

daring us to trust simplicity again, for the first time.

Sound of the beating heart emerges,

rhythm of measured breathing settles in,

holy words slowly wash over stillness,

graceful Otherness bubbles to the surface.

The only path that leads to resurrection

takes us through the purple haze of pain,

leads us in the dance of suffering,

nails us to the tree of unliving.

The empty tomb cannot be reached

unless we dare to bare ourselves

to rigor mortis’ relentless march,

before the rising sun of grace’s throne.

© 2004 Todd Jenkins

Where Am I?

After the German Wings crash,

all the jokes about the pearly gates

and St. Peter's gatekeeping role

make me nauseated,

because I keep seeing all

of those families of teenagers,

eager to reunite

with their exchange students,

now just hoping for a chance

to personally view the debris field

as a flimsy substitute for closure.

I want to rage, with Job, 

railing toward the heavens,

"Why couldn't you keep them aloft?!"

even though I know the answer

will still be the same,

"Where were you when the universe's

underpinnings were formed?"

I used to think this was God's

cop-out; a form of,

"Because I'm the parent,

that's why!" Then I became

a husband, father, friend,

who found himself sitting,

hurting with others in the depths

of their pain and loss,

and I realized that part

of what God is saying is,

 "I was there; I am there;

I will be there;

in the remote mountains 

with the recovery teams,

at the airport where the plane

will never land, and in all of the places

where grief's pall is suffocating.

I will be under that heavy blanket,

making sure there’s breathing room.

Where are you?"

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Pony Girl

A good friend of mine, who has worked with me on presbytery committees and with Living Waters for the World for many years, is what I call a Pony Girl. When I first called her that, years ago, I had to explain.

There's an old story (actually a joke, I think) that I vaguely remember about a woman who is an eternal optimist. Upon her death, as the story goes, the Devil had an opportunity to "break" her (Think of the biblical character Job.).  He decided she would be punished by being put in a small room piled high with horse manure. When her punisher returned to the room to revel in his sadism, expecting to find her down, dejected, and ready to recant her faith,  he was disappointed. He found her happily digging through the pile.

Confused and angry, her punisher asked, "What do you think you're doing?!"

She said, with great enthusiasm, "With all this poop, I just know there has to be a pony under here somewhere!"

Over the years, I've realized that this optimism runs much deeper than you might imagine. It's not a Pollyanna or rose-colored glasses simplicity, but rather a faith-grounded hope that refuses to succumb to the woes of outward appearance; a deeply held confidence that, despite current circumstances, Grace will prevail and Love will win.

Will you join me in an openness to and search for a Pony Girl life? Will you be someone who's not afraid to get down and dirty with the messiness of others people’s real lives, because you know that those places are the very ones where God is patiently waiting to unwrap mercy and forgiveness that's got our own name written on it?

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Episodes

It is in the telling of

and listening to stories

that we learn who we are,

whose we are, what we believe,

and what matters to us.

By orally repeating

the episodic cycles of our existence,

we determine the course

of our minds, our hearts,

our hopes, our lives.

The timbre of our recurring narratives

codes our emotional DNA

and the predilection

of our spiritual journey

just as surely as genetics

constructs us physically.

 © 2015 Todd Jenkins

Signs

They are a powerful drug;

not the roadside kind that tell us

where we're headed or what to buy,

but the grace-balloons that God

drops in the midst of daily life.

Like any powerful pain reliever

or hallucinogenic, they're able

to change how we live.

Like most pharmaceuticals,

there's also a danger that we'll

miss the possibility of transformation

toward which they point,

and get lost, instead,

in the signs themselves.

God's signs point toward a freedom

that comes from trusting in something

far beyond our capacity

to act or imagine.

Addiction to and obsession with

the next sign causes us to miss

the signs' life-altering purpose.

It also precludes us

 from responding

with signs of our own.

Sometimes the message

is just, “Stop looking

for another one and become

a sign for someone else!”

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Present

When you find someone

who self-identifies

as agnostic or atheist, hold her

with your heart, tenderly;

for she is often one

who has rejected

others' notions of God

because those ideas failed

to dig deep enough to reach

the place of her pain.

Don't bother to reason

her toward God.

She doesn't need that,

and neither does God.

You might consider

sitting beside her

in silence for as long

as it takes to reach the ache.

The path from grief to hope

is easiest trod with a companion

who neither speaks nor judges;

faithful presence, the greatest gift.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Nomenclature

HENRY: High Earners, Not Rich Yet.

We're motivated, O God;

driven to achieve and become

all that we're created to be.

Our gaze is toward the stars,

necks ever-craned, eyes ever-strained;

comparing and contrasting,

aiming our "us" toward their "them".

When we come to your house,

not only do we continue the game,

we are also hard pressed

to see where the offering plate

gives any bang for the buck.

 Shift our tectonic plates, O Lord,

that your grace and our worth

may be rejected as transactional

and more fully accepted

as prevenient gifts.

Open your church's coffers,

long-hoarded for rainy days

and noble purposes.

Resurrect her passion

to satisfy hunger, heal brokenness,

gathering the fringes,

and reconciling division.

Connect us by your baptismal covenant;

rename and claim us as your own:

Your Holy World Healed.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Communion

When we attend churches, synagogues, mosques,  temples, or the gatherings of other worshiping communities, we don't automatically become dangerous because of our religious path; but we do become destructive when we are religious only, and not also on a spiritual journey. Religious roads are divergent, offering people varied paths from which they can begin a search for meaning. Spiritual journeys are convergent, leading people, no matter their beginning point, toward a single destination and a common purpose.

All by itself (as a 3-year-old's psyche is prone to prefer), religion is a horizontal connection that  accentuates differences in ritual and ideology, connecting us with some people and disconnecting us from others. As religion's complement and vertical adhesive, spirituality opens us to a universally shared connection with the divine creator and, therefore, with the rest of God's creatures.

Alone, and especially when it is hijacked by culturally, economically, and socially competitive structures, religion leads us into the ever-shrinking box of protection for self and fear of other, which is a polar opposite state from the one for which we were created. Religion provides us with a point of origin. Spirituality offers us the promise of a destination. Are you merely going wherever your fear drives you, or are you on a spiritual journey that has a specific "somewhere" ahead of you – not just as afterlife pie-in-the-sky, but a life’s journey of active presence?

Religion is a lot about specific ways of doing; spirituality is about ways of living, breathing, and being. Religion teaches us to gather together in like-minded community to share bread and wine. Spirituality shows us our connection to the people around us who are hungry and dares us to also feed them. 

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Flame

Old Stone Fort Archaeological Park (Manchester, TN)

Faith is really quite simple.

All we are asked to become

is burning bushes, giving voice

to God without being consumed

by the fire; living flames.

Simple? Yes. Easy? 

Actually, impossible

all by ourselves,

but that doesn't stop us

from giving it

the old college try,

which works as well

as the 3-year-old's cry,

with its stubborn tantrums

and "all by myself" attitude.

That's what got us atop

this wilderness mountain

in the first place; which is

precisely the place that God

uses so well to stop us

in our tracks with the light

from someone else's fire.

We are invited to allow

the tinderbox of our own souls

to be ignited, adding our own brief candles

to the heavens’ constellations,   

as Grace's torch never goes out.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Offense

I ran across (i.e. read) something a while back that inspired me to write down this statement: The true self is too large, too grounded to ever take offense. Much later, and separately (or so I thought), these words found their way out of my heart and fingers onto the screen:

Refusing to take offense at another's words or actions, even and especially when offense is intended, is one of the greatest displays of Love's amazing strength. Most people do the opposite, letting ego be offended when none was intended. When we do that, all of our own power has been surrendered to someone else's words, and we become completely dependent on them to retract or reverse the offense we took. In these circumstances, we revert to either making direct accusations (“I can’t believe you…”) or ordering people to confess, based on our assumptive accusations (“Please tell me that you didn’t…”).

Kindness and acceptance are also one of the best ways of disarming destructive power. When you reply, “Thank you.” to words intended for your harm, you not only neutralize the negativity, but you might also effectively flummox intentional perpetrators. Instead of asking, “What did you mean by that?” in response to others’ opinions, while assuming the worst, what would happen if we decided to take their words at their best meaning, or not to bother taking them at all?

Just don't take it. Remind yourself that it's not really all about you. And if it's not all about you, you've got no business taking anything, least of all offense. If you're going to take something that doesn't belong to you, make it a compliment.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins

Together

If we don't keep ourselves in this together,

we will find ourselves out of it, apart.

Judging others is like

playing relationship-Jenga.

Once you assign motive 

to another's words, actions, or beliefs,

you remove a piece of the tower

from which your shared story is built.

You cannot replace it,

when you realize

what you've done,

no matter how hard you try.

Eventually, the whole thing

comes crashing down, and you're left

with nothing but all the king's horses

and all the king's men.

© 2015 Todd Jenkins