Hope and Help

Moment Magnitude a feeble attempt
at bringing order—or at least measurement
to catastrophic release of seismic energy
that leaves our planet’s surface
a teeming pile of chaotic disaster.

What used to be organized construction:
beams, bricks and blocks
architecturally designed and shaped,
now precariously piled randomly
as if no one ever planned or cared at all.

Creole-speaking masses with
little or no slice of the economic pie
felt and saw their frail abodes
collapse into nothingness as if
earth issued eviction notices.

In the face of death and deprivation,
with whatever makeshift tools they find
hot, hungry, thirsty, traumatized folk
dig for life like there’s no tomorrow
because for too many there isn’t.

Grant that hope and help
may feed one another and, together,
keep the world focused on
Haiti’s rubble-rousing and reconstruction
until dignity builds her permanent dwelling.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Mission's Meal

As cultures, economies, faiths,
and people’s lives intertwine
in this ever-shrinking world,
inequity of circumstances and resources
inevitably weaves a fragile tapestry.

Warp threads extend vertically,
from earth to heaven,
stretching to connect
creation and holy hope;
declaring independence and worth.

Woof threads span horizontally,
from person to person, life to life,
drawing us together as family,
posing questions of abundance, scarcity,
exposing interdependence as two-way street.

Respect is invited to the table
as stories, faith, lives are shared,
understanding supplants judgment,
trust trumps angst and fear,
all hunger for God’s sustenance.

Sustainability must be addressed
from both directions simultaneously,
mine & yours, ours & theirs.
How can we both live and serve
with what we have and haven’t?

Dignity becomes a possibility
when resources are controlled
by those who have a need;
we/they becomes us,
stuff becomes God’s.

Tapestry of mission and service
unfurls into intended form
when we all allow ourselves
to be fed by the long-handled spoon
of one another’s gifts and grace.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

The Church I See

I see a congregation that celebrates worship in two separate locations,
at two separate times, in two separate styles, yet yearns to live, act,
and serve as a single body, united in its commitment to serve the risen
Christ through its common mission. I have a vision of a congregation
that sees the sanctuary and the gym as half-full on Sunday mornings,
and is so excited about what is going on here that friends, neighbors,
co-workers, and acquaintances hear about it and are invited. Have we
seen this congregation? Will we be this congregation?

I see a church that reaches out to serve others near and far with time,
treasure, and talent; a church with missional fervor that has been
grasped by grace and flung into the world with an attitude of gratitude.
I have a vision of a church that staffs itself and holds its staff accountable
for supporting and empowering all of its members to more
faithfully embrace a personal and corporate call to Christian worship,
mission, and service. Have we seen her? Will we be her?

I see people who make time to learn and teach one another, and all
who gather, in all sorts of formats and venues, not because it is an obligation,
but because it is a passion. I have a vision of people whose
faith traditions are regularly practiced, understood, celebrated, and
shared; people who ask “Why not?” more often than “Why?”
Have we seen these people? Will we be these people?

I see a congregation that gladly opens its doors, hearts, and homes to
people of all ages and circumstances, regardless of whether they are
members or whether they do or can contribute to the church’s coffers;
a congregation that recognizes that each generation has something to
teach and learn from the other. I have a vision of a congregation that
believes finding better ways to connect the generations is critical to its
purpose. Have we seen this congregation? Will we be this congregation?

I see a church that cultivates members whose generosity is deeply
rooted in God’s ownership of all creation; a church that challenges its
members to join in and support its mission and vision, rather than
meet its budget. I have a vision of a church that bases its budget more
on what it believes God wants done, than on patterns of what people
have let go of; a church whose members find ways to support the
church’s mission during and after their own lives are complete. Have
we seen her? Will we be her?

I see people who are fully and joyfully committed to and engaged in
revealing God’s grace to all generations now and forevermore. Have
we seen these people? Will we be these people? Won’t you
join these people?

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Wordle

Pastor Jessi recently introduced me to an online art form called “Wordle.” (http://wordle.net) The main page’s introduction reads:

Wordle is a toy for generating “word clouds” from text that you provide. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text. You can tweak your clouds with different fonts, layouts, and color schemes. The images you create with Wordle are yours to use however you like. You can print them out, or save them to the Wordle gallery to share with your friends.

This description is much too simple. Wordle may be considered a “toy” because you can “play” with (tweak) the images it generates, but the power of the “word cloud” image goes far beyond play. It creates a visual representation of the central ideas and focal points of a given body of words.

From time to time, either printed in the bulletin or on the screen for TouchPoint, we will use wordle word-clouds to help you see the key messages and meanings in scripture, stories, and other writings. Above is a wordle word cloud for this article.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Christmas Gift

We are stuffed, not just fed,
clothes to wear, roof overhead.
Christmas comes, begs us heed
ones without even basic need.

And why this call as year winds down
to reach across our world and town?
Could we not better serve God’s way
by living Christmas every day?

THAT, my friend, is just the plan
Nicholas hoped we’d understand.
Winter’s pitch, pierced by light,
opens hope, beckons right.

Gifts from “haves” to “have nots” spread,
one beggar offering another bread.
Hand that set the world in motion
longs for love, seeks devotion.

Box the crèche, store the lights
but don’t forget in darkest nights
star appeared, drawing wildest wild
to Immanuel, the God-flesh child.

Seasons come, seasons go
but always remember the gift we know;
‘twill open us as we opened it
transforming us until we’re fit.

No burnt offerings, ritual pyre
but hearts aflame, love afire,
seeing Christ in every face,
sharing love, unleashing grace.

© 2009 Todd Jenkins

Christmas Eve

You know the day is bound to be long
When it’s called an “eve” at sunrise.
Long it is for many folks in varied ways.

Long for those whose hopes are set
On simple magic of chimneys, sleigh,
Airborne reindeer, gifts galore.

Long for those whose plans are such
To stave off disappointment from
Such childlike dreams of abundance;

Working and saving for eleven months;
Decorating and preparing for weeks;
Outlasting excitement to assemble.

Long for those little ones whose hopes
Are beaten down 24/7 by birth, circumstance
But can’t help hoping one more time.

Longer still for beleaguered parents from
The have-not side of life who must figure out
How to explain tomorrow’s emptiness.

Longing is a deeper long for those whose pain
Is heightened by the absence of a life-long love
Or knowledge that this year may be the last.

Into this long and longing day that
Moves toward darkness all too soon,
A candle flicker moves toward life.

For those whose patience births a faith,
Nurturing a flame that warms a hope,
Single candle turns to tongues of fire.

Light, warmth, grace all overflow;
Gold, frankincense, myrrh arrive
Joy is stirred deep in the soul!

© 2008 Todd Jenkins

16 Years

It was December, 1993. Owen, our youngest, was one year old. Katie and Holly were seven and five, respectively. A puppy was on everyone’s (at least all of the children’s) Christmas wish list. Being the practical parents that we were, and recognizing that we always visited (out-of-state) family for about a week immediately after Christmas, we decided that the responsible thing to do was to ask Santa for an “Invisible Fence” (since the yard was not fenced) instead of a dog, and a note instructing us to adopt a puppy from the local animal shelter after we returned from our holiday travels.

Whoever wrote, “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.” was spot-on. About two or three days before Christmas, our church’s choir director (who knew of our plans) found an adorable little black puppy abandoned under her tool shed. She called us and asked us (parents only, of course) to come see him. It was love at first sight. The choir director offered to keep him before and after Christmas for us. We decided that Santa must have accidentally dropped him out of the sleigh on a pre-Christmas “practice-run” through middle Georgia.

On Christmas Eve, after the children were in bed, Jennie went over and picked him up and brought him home. He was quite filthy, so she decided to bathe him, but she was concerned, since the bathtub was between the children’s bedrooms, that any barking, crying, or whimpering would wake them up and spoil the surprise. As if he understood the predicament, he didn’t make a sound.

The next morning he slept in the big cardboard box beside the back door and went unnoticed while the children unwrapped the Invisible Fence. Instead of the originally planned “post-holiday animal shelter adoption” note under the tree, there was one telling the children to look in the big box in the kitchen. After that it was pure puppy pandemonium. Since he was a Christmas dog, we couldn’t think of a better name than “Gabriel.” He chewed and destroyed everything he could find, and it took him nearly six months to grow into the hefty collar that went with the Invisible Fence, but eventually he learned how to stay home and avoid the shocking perimeter of the yard.

Gabriel endured all of our moves—from Fort Valley, Georgia to Fourth AVE, Fayetteville, TN, then to Lovers LN—and adjusted well to the addition of a “sister” (Gloria) in 1998 and a “cousin” (Gracie, the cat) in 2004, always eager to find attention, fur-rubbing, and food, but not necessarily in that order.

Our friends can tell you some wild “Fourth of July” and “New Year’s Eve” stories about Gabriel. We’re out of town on most of these holidays, so others have often been in charge of the pets’ care. Gabriel was deathly afraid of fireworks, and if he were left outside during the neighbors’ celebrations, he would do anything possible to find somewhere to hide. One New Year’s Eve a few years ago, he wedged himself under a small car in the driveway, and couldn’t get out. Our friends had to jack the car up to help him escape.

His once-entirely-jet-black fur gradually turned white around the edges as the years went by, his hearing left completely about a year ago, his back legs eventually led a near-complete mutiny that sometimes rendered him painfully and fearfully immobile, and his digestive system began an increasingly-successful revolt. On November 21, 2009, with advice from our veterinarian and family agreement, Gabriel was relieved of his physical suffering and laid to rest. His grave is marked by four stepping stones, in the far corner of the back yard. Sixteen years is a long time for a dog to live with a family and vice versa.

I’ve heard it said that dogs offer humans a near-perfect example of God’s unconditional love. For sixteen years I’ve also experienced it. Thank you, Gabriel.

© 2009 Todd Jenkins