Courageous

Where does it end
and something else begin?
And just what might
that something else be?

Courage: the power within
to face insurmountable odds
as if the odds don’t matter,
because they really don’t.

It doesn’t banish fear at all,
just keeps it in perspective;
ratcheting-up the power
of promise and possibility.

When others’ feelings are
of more concern than our own,
and a bigger picture is in focus,
courage is in the neighborhood.

In those deep-soaked,
courage doesn’t fade at the end;
it metamorphoses into
its silent sister, Hope.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Tender Hands

(For all those who have been
knocked down too hard & often.)

Tender is a relative word;
depending on the subject,
depending on your situation,
depending on your expectation.

A farmer’s tender hands
can gently coax life from a crop
but you wouldn’t expect
to mistake them for silk.

A loved one’s tender hands
express love’s fragile emotions
whether they are sandpaper coarse
or Shea Butter smooth.

And then there’s God,
to whom we often attribute
anthropomorphic digits and extremities,
always expecting utmost tenderness.

Problem is, there are too many times
when our expectations come
face to face with life’s circumstances
that have run roughshod over us.

This we ask, beg, pray, dear Lord:
When life throws us under the bus,
let us firmly, clearly feel the touch
of your strong and tender hands,
in every hug, smile, tear, word, meal.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Faith Factor

The television drama (There’s nothing remotely connecting it to “reality”, so I refuse to use that term.) “Fear Factor” has been on for years. I’ve only watched brief segments of the show as I surf the cable airwaves for worthwhile distraction. The show seems to be a competition to see which contestant is able to most quickly and completely navigate an obstacle course filled with fear-inducing animals or activities.

Our culture is filled with “Fear Factor” mentality. We are constantly warned that:
• what we have could be stolen or damaged;
• we don’t have the “right” (translated: expensive) or enough things;
• our children will be at a disadvantage if we don’t purchase them enough things or involve them in ALL the “right” activities;
• someone hates us and is out to destroy us, so we must practice preemptive hate to protect ourselves;
• there’s never enough, and we should hoard and protect all that we have.

The Sunday morning (and other days/times) gathering of Church is to declare an alternative reality. This other reality begins with the outrageous notion that all of creation belongs to God. As long as we speak in general terms, this isn’t too outrageous a claim. The universe is massive and, even collectively, humanity can hardly fool itself into claiming ownership of such vastness. It’s when we take it personally that things become difficult.

There is an old joke about two poor farmers who are sitting around the fire after a hard day’s work. One of them asks, “Joe, if you had a million dollars, would you share half with me?” His friend replies, “You know I would, Tom.” Tom asks again, “Joe, if you had two Cadillacs, would you give me one?” Again, the reply, “You know, Tom, as good a friend as you’ve been, if I had two Cadillacs I would share one with you.” The third time, Tom asks, “Joe, if you had two hogs, would you give one to me?” Joe stops short, “Tom, you know I’ve got two hogs!”

That’s the way we often view our possessions. It’s all God’s except, of course, for the things we own personally. The outrageous claim of the gospel is that we are Stewards, not owners. We have been entrusted with some of God’s creation “for a while.” This entrusting includes a responsibility to use creation—all of it—according to God’s plan.

That means we don’t have the option of “tipping” God (whether that’s 10%, 15%, 20% or more) and doing whatever we please with the rest. Our checkbook, credit card statement, and bank statement become theological documents. So does our calendar. With them we are declaring the extent to which we believe all creation is God’s.

If you’re expecting that this is the place where I tell you how you should spend your money and how much you should give to the church, I’m sorry to disappoint you. That’s an ongoing conversation between you and God. What I will tell you, is that the church is a place where that conversation can be shared, discussed, and gracefully lived out. Church is the place where the gift of Stewardship sinks in, and the joy and generosity of its practice are lived out. Collectively as a congregation, and as families and individuals, we have the opportunity to grow our faith and use our resources in ways that we believe God is directing. This is how we develop our “Faith Factor”, which is the most powerful antidote to “Fear Factor.”

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Connecting God with Everyday Life

If you’ve been to 11:00 a.m. Sunday worship (in the sanctuary) of First Presbyterian Church, Fayetteville, TN, lately, you’ve probably noticed the rubric in the bulletin and observed one or the other of our pastors practice “Connecting God with Everyday Life.” There’s more to this than meets the eye. On the surface it may seem only like a replacement for what we used to call “Time with the Younger Church.”

In a somewhat joking manner, on the occasions of baptism and Communion, I have suggested, “”Don’t try this at home.” because these two (Sacraments) are communal events that are to be observed within the context of corporate worship. Beyond these two (baptism & Communion), I can think of no other worship practice that carries this warning. In fact, we are strongly encouraged to practice the rest of our worshipful ways throughout all of our lives.

The same goes for the practice of connecting God with everyday life—maybe even doubly so. Finding God and connections to the sacred in everyday life are much more than a game. They are important parts of what forms and transforms us as people of faith. If our faith thoughts and faith actions are limited to what we do on Sunday mornings and other special occasions, we miss the joyful opportunity to integrate our faith into the rest of our week and life. We miss the chance to revel in God’s ordinary gifts.

In Ordinarily Sacred, Lynda Sexson writes:
My son once found the hip-bone of a large cow. He wore it as a stately garment or as armor; he played the bone like a guitar or played himself in the bone like a dinosaur. He circulated his interest upon the bone back into his discovery of it in the woods, to the being who had walked it before abandoning it, to the shape and feel of it, to hanging it on the wall and looking at it and the shadows it cast. And the bone was transformed—quite beyond the original fragment of decay in the woods—into images of everything from death to art.

I have a drawer that is filled with things that I have collected over the years—simple and ordinary things that fascinate me. I would like to believe that these things offer me an opportunity to appreciate the glory and diversity of both God’s creation and human invention. The latter stems from the former.

What’s in your collection?

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

Rehab

(for all of those facing therapy)

Its prefix indicates a do-over;
visiting something again.
Habitat is in the root:
“finding the house” again.

“Here is where I live”
more like “how”
with my movement and
all skills and abilities.

Back to the basics,
body gardening at its best;
starting over from the seed,
working up to bloom and fruit.

Focus and energy required,
intensity a determining factor;
range of motion rebuilt,
atrophied muscles rebound.

Goals, rewards help keep
chin up, perspective balanced.
Smile of satisfaction beams,
simplicity wins again.

Every day is house-hunting,
rehabbing one way or another;
for maps, courage, direction
we give you thanks, O Lord.

© 2010 Todd Jenkins

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