A little journey through this topsy-turvy journey of joys and sorrows and hopes and dreams with plenty of grace from God along the way.
In the next couple weeks, a fair share of chaos will ensue, and not just for the clergy. There will be some immense expectations placed on children of God, which are more so from our own doing as opposed to anything desired from the Divine. For some, it might even feel as if the fate of the cross and the tomb rests on their not-Jesus shoulders. But rest assured, it has been more than taken care of for all eternity, including our relatively small portion of it.
Every once in a while, as I turn on my laptop ready to open up emails or whatever else needs taken care of technology-wise, the digital world instantly stops me in my task-oriented track with some of the random images they upload to my initial screen. Just a not-so-subtle reminder of the breathtaking beauty still alive and well in this world that we sometimes wonder if it’s descending into a not-so-pleasant abyss. This time, it was the Twelve Apostles Mountain Range in South Africa, overlooking one of the most scenic coastlines in the world.
Today, the wider church celebrates Joseph, Guardian of Jesus. Of course, the title being intentional with God being the parent and all, but still…no pressure at all for Joseph. Just try to raise the Son of God with tenderness and care and assurance of safety. Granted, we can assume that God was going to make sure all the above was taken care of and then some, but I wonder how much of an impact was made on the earthly Jesus by his home-front father. Did he even further appreciate the people who spend all hours of the day painstakingly working with their hands learning from a carpenter? Did he even grow more in compassion and empathy with those who weren’t in the most well-off circumstances? Unfortunately, we don’t know much about Joseph, but maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
It has become part of my yearly routine to start off pulling up a quote from The Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, one of our more famous speakers in our precious portion of the body of Christ known as the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA): “There is no resolution that, if kept, will make you more worthy of love. You, as your actual self and not as some made up ideal, are already worthy of love.” And then, I figured those Gospel-esque words could very much apply to Lent as well.
“Dust thou art, and unto dust, thou shalt return.” I don’t remember exactly when we Lutherans in the small speck of northwest Ohio made the transition to the trendy/modern, “Remember you are dust, and unto dust, you shall return,” but even me who may not have been the biggest fan of the thee’s and thou’s and shalt’s and the like from the King James Version Bibles that stubbornly hung around the church building; I still had this unexplainable appreciation of the seemingly ancient Ash Wednesday proclamation. There was something so formal about it. Something perhaps even regal. It was a precious connection to the generations past who heard the same words on the first night of their Lenten journey. Or maybe it was the poetic-ness of it, possibly making mortality not quite as intimidating or frightening; as if it was just the natural order of things that God didn’t mind getting down and dirty in with shaping mortal and everlasting life.
