The Prayer That Changed My Life

Last year, Lauren posted about the Christmas Novena, a prayer that is part of the Catholic tradition and one that many Catholics say during the Christmas season. Its origin is found in St. Andrew (disciple of Jesus), but the prayer is directed towards God. The idea is to pray it 15 times a day, every day, from November 30 to December 24. According to tradition, it has never been known to fail...meaning that it's the sort of prayer that people offer up when they desperately want to receive a specific blessing.

After I read Lauren's post last year, my mother and I decided to each pray the Christmas Novena. We're ecumenical like that: a prayer to God is a prayer to God (and Mom was raised Catholic, although she's now Methodist). She was in month five (or six?) of chemotherapy for Triple Negative Breast Cancer (this type of breast cancer does not respond to any hormonal therapies and the only way to treat it is through chemo and radiation). In addition to the chemotherapy, Mom had also had two mastectomies and a skin graft. I was not ready for my mother to die (and I'm still not ready), and while she was "ready" to die in the spiritual sense, she certainly wanted (and still wants to) live for a few more years. So, Mom and I agreed to each pray the Novena and ask God that she would be cured of cancer.

And yes, the Novena "worked", in the sense that two days after we started praying, Mom's oncologist told her that she was responding so well to treatment that he was stopping the chemo, and would order six weeks of radiation, after which his hope and expectation was that the cancer would go into remission. A year later, she is still "NED" (No Evidence of Disease), which means that the cancer is not showing up on any scans. For that alone, I am praising God, because I have hope that my mother will live long enough for my children to remember her.

However, something else miraculous happened as a result of that time of dedicated prayer: my relationship with God, my relationship with the church, and my sense of calling were also renewed. Up until that point, I had spent two years angry at God and angry at the church because of my experience in my first appointment. I still went to church, but it was more out of obligation and habit than a deep desire to connect with God and other Christians. We attended worship most weeks, but that was it. I prayed before each meal, but otherwise didn't really talk to God. I had absolutely no desire to ever be a pastor again, and while I was applying to lots of chaplain jobs (and was working as a chaplain on an as-needed basis), my turning to chaplaincy was more out of a sense of resignation than a real sense of calling. In so many ways, I was spiritually and emotionally bankrupt.

Through the discipline of praying 15 times a day, my heart began to be softened towards God. In the first week of December, Randy (my pastor) sent an e-mail to a few of us who had seminary/pastoral experience, and offered up a preaching opportunity for the first Sunday in January. I felt a nudging in my soul to jump at it, so I did, committing myself to preach for the first time in 18 months. In front of 200+ people. As I began preparing for that experience, I had no choice but to turn to God for inspiration, strength, and wisdom. As a result, God brought me to my knees one morning, and my relationship with God was restored. In essence, I "forgave" God for everything that had happened over the past two years (yes, I realize that it's somewhat theologically backwards to forgive the creator of the universe whose human manifestation was perfect and sinless, but it's the best way for me to describe what happened), and I asked God to forgive me for my lack of faith and obedience. It was an awesome moment, much like the reunion of two friends who were on the "outs", but who realized that they couldn't and didn't want to live without each other.

Things just kept snowballing from there. I began to sense God calling me back to the church, and back into pastoral ministry. When I preached in January, the joy and fulfillment I felt in that experience (and the positive feedback I received from my sermon) reminded me of how much I love preaching the Word. I began getting more involved at Oak Grove, including being part of the Church Council and the Finance committee (Randy put me on both when I affiliated with the church as a clergy member). Randy's sermons began making me cry because God would speak through them to remind me of Whose I am and who I am. Actually, they still make me cry: we're up to 13 times in the past year. One of the greatest gifts that Oak Grove and Randy have given me is the ability to hear God's voice over all the others, and the confidence and freedom to do whatever it is that God is calling me to do.

When I look at the Patti that I see in November 2011, she is so vastly different than the Patti from November 2010. I've fallen back in love with God, and back in love with the people of God (meaning the church). I've rediscovered my calling to be a pastor, and God has shown me the gifts that He's given me that I had forgotten about...and some that I never knew I had. Where before my heart was covered in a protective layer of stone (so as to prevent myself from being hurt again), it has now broken free of that stone and as a result, I have become so much more willing to open myself up and to reach out to people with the love of God. I am now much more willing to take leaps of faith, resting solely on the promise that as I follow God's will, God will be with me, no matter what happens. That promise will be what will carry me through the next six months, as I prepare to make the biggest leap of faith in my 35 years of life: to go off family leave, to request a full-time pastoral appointment, and to go back to serving as a pastor, knowing that most likely, I will once again wind up being hurt and disappointed by the church. However, I know being a pastor is what God has called me to be, and where (in the words of John Stott), "my gifts will be most exploited".  I simply can't be anything else but a pastor.

And all that happened as a result of a prayer that I prayed 15 times a day for three weeks. It's proof that when we open our hearts to God through prayer, we risk being transformed as well. True, the Novena "worked", in the sense that Mom is disease-free and back to her normal self. However, I got cured from my own spiritual and emotional maladies, and that miracle never ceases to amaze me.

I will be praying the Novena again this year. I'm not going to share the specifics of my request (I'm still figuring them out myself), but it will involve Oak Grove...and something so amazing happening there that God's power and presence will be the only way to explain what transpires.

I invite you to join me in praying the Christmas Novena, for whatever miracle you might need to happen in your life or church right now. However, be prepared. This is a powerful prayer and God is an amazing God. Your life might wind up being transformed, just like mine has been.

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment
in which the Son of God was born of the Most pure Virgin Mary
at midnight in Bethlehem, in piercing cold.
In that hour, vouchsafe, o my God!
to hear my prayer and grant my desires,
through the merits of our Savior Jesus Christ
and of His Blessed Mother.
Amen.

Sermon: November 9

I preached at our Wednesday night service on November 9. Here's the text of the sermon. Not a bad one, especially since I was recovering from bronchitis and wrote it while high on codeine-laced cough medicine. Sermon is after the "jump."

I Needed to Read This...Maybe You, Too?

Sometimes being a mom (and for me, a stay-at-home mom) is just overwhelming. Here's a column from the one and only Erma Bombeck that puts in all in perspective:

Why Don’t You Grow Up?
By Erma Bombeck

One of these days you’ll explode and shout, “Why don’t you grow up and act your age”
…and they will. OR:
“You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do and don’t slam the door!”
… and they don’t.
You’ll straighten up the boy’s bedroom neat and tidy, stickers discarded, bedspreads tucked neat and smooth, toys on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals in their places. And you’ll say out loud, “Now I want it to stay that way and it will.
You’ll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that isn’t picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing and you’ll say, “Now there’s a meal for company.”
…and you’ll eat it alone.
You’ll say: “I want privacy on the phone, no fooling around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear me?”
…and you’ll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti sauce.
No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from wet bottoms.
No more gates to stumble over at the top of the stairs.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent.
No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom.
No more iron on patches wet knotted shoestrings, or rubber bands for ponytails.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it.
No baby sitter for New Year’s Eve.
Washing only once a week.
Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings.
No car pools.
No blaring radios.
No one washing her hair at 11 o’clock at night.
Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste.
No more sloppy oatmeal kisses.
No more tooth fairy.
No giggles in the dark.
No knees to heal. No responsibility.
Only a voice crying,” Why don’t you grow up?’ and the silence echoing, “I did.”

Sometimes It Just Takes a Curtain Call

This is my favorite story about my little brother, Bart. I thought I'd put it here for posterity. 

People who have known me for any length of time are aware that I have a younger brother, named Bart, who is three years younger than me and has "intellectual disabilities." Essentially, Bart functions at the level of a four-year-old most of the time. He lives in a group home/apartment situation about ten miles from my parents and has such a busy social life that he has to squeeze us into his schedule. Or, at least it seems that way sometimes. (:

Years and years ago (when we were teenagers), Bart was attending a school for disabled children that was religiously based. At the very least, he had a religion lesson on a regular basis. One day, around Easter time, Bart came home from school appearing very sad. When my mom asked him what was wrong, he said, "Jesus died." Apparently, Bart had learned the Easter story that day...but all he understood was that Jesus had died. He hadn't grasped that Jesus rose again. Of course, Mom responded with something along the lines of, "But then Jesus rose again, and Jesus lives in our hearts." No dice. When my dad came home, he tried to explain to Bart that Jesus died, but he rose again. All he got was, "Jesus died" and a very sad expression.

The next day, my mom asked Bart's religion teacher to re-explain the Easter story to him. She did, but Bart just couldn't understand the concept of the resurrection...he couldn't move from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. My parents tried again...I even tried...to no avail. "Jesus died", and that was it. Eventually, we gave the situation over the God, because we were at our wits end.

Fast forward a few months...for my birthday that year, my parents took the family to see "Jesus Christ, Superstar" at Wolf Trap (big outdoor arena in Northern Virginia). We packed a picnic, sat out on the lawn, and enjoyed the show. If you've never seen "Jesus Christ, Superstar", then I'll tell you that it's a musical (very loosely) based on the last week of Jesus' life. Lots of poetic license.

At the end of the show, Jesus is on the cross, and the background changes and soft music plays as he is lifted up into the rafters. Bart was with us, of course, and I could see him looking sad as he watch this. Jesus had died, after all. The show was over, and Jesus was dead.

The show may have been over, but there was more excitement to come...

What happens at the end of every dramatic performance?

The Curtain call
  
In groups and pairs, the performers came back on stage for their bows. Finally, the actor who played Jesus walked onto the stage to thundering applause and a standing ovation. As pseudo-Jesus came out, Bart's face lit up and he exclaimed, "Jesus lives! Mom, Dad, Patti...Jesus lives!" And we heard him proclaim that for the rest of the evening...as we left the lawn, as we rode the shuttle to our car, as we drove home...we heard Bart proclaiming, at the top of his lungs, the essence of the Gospel: that Jesus died, rose again, and still lives today.

Sometimes God works in the most amazing and unexpected ways to touch our hearts and open our eyes, including curtain calls of Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals.


 

Blast from the Past or The Internet is Amazing

Way back in 1999, when my bacherlor's degree from Emory & Henry College was fresh off the press, I took a job as the Administrative Assistant at an Episcopal church in Northern Virginia. I wasn't quite ready to go to seminary, and my degree in religion didn't make me very marketable in the job market. Church jobs (like as a youth minister) were few, far between, and competitive. So, after a few months of looking and dead-end temp jobs, I found out about this position, interviewed for it, and was hired on the spot. I worked at St. Francis for a year and a half, and left to attend Asbury. James and I were actually married at St. Francis (with two officiants: one Methodist and one Baptist) and held our reception in their fellowship hall.

One of the priests that I worked with was named Hentzi. He was the younger of the two and was the Associate Rector. Hentzi took me under his wing and we spent a lot of time talking about life and ministry and theology. Twelve years ago, he had been married for about ten years and had two young children. He was also the age that I am right now. I have a feeling that we were both jealous of the others' life at times...me wanting a spouse and children and him wanting PEACE AND QUIET. I now understand how he felt, and why he wanted to wring my neck some days. (: Right after James and I got married (and moved to Kentucky), Hentzi and his family moved to a new church, and we lost contact.

But! Through the wonders of the Internet, a Google search, and his unique name, I found my long-lost friend and mentor. I left a comment on his blog, and we shall see if he a) actually remembers me, b) remembers me fondly or as that ditzy administrative assistance, and c) responds.

Regardless of the outcome, it was nice to find out that Hentzi is alive and well, and so are his wife and children. And once again, I think the Internet is amazing.

Now, my next task is to track down Bob, the other priest I worked with...maybe he has a blog as well?

Been To Annual Conference

Last week was the Virginia Annual Conference. For you non-Methodist folks, that's the annual gathering of clergy and lay delegates from across Virginia. It was held in Roanoke, so I was there from Wednesday afternoon through Saturday afternoon (it actually continued into Sunday afternoon, but I was a) on-call on Saturday night and b) scheduled to be the liturgist at the 8:15 service on Sunday. I needed the money from being on-call and didn't want to miss an opportunity to lead worship at Oak Grove (I am SUCH A GEEK), so I left on Saturday afternoon.

The kids came to Roanoke with me, of course. Actually, Susanna was already there, because my rock star mother-in-law, Nina, had taken her for a few days. Nina lives just outside Roanoke, so we stayed there, because it was free (as a clergy person on leave, I am responsible for ALL my expenses for attending AC). They had childcare for kids 3 and up during the daytime sessions, so Susanna went to that. Nina (who is retired) watched Greg during the day and both kids one night and on Saturday morning (see: ROCK STAR status).

I got to re-connect with a few friends: I had dinner with a former pastor who is now a friend (Hi Dave!), a clergy friend from my Danville days (Hi Susan!), and my college roommate (Hi Laura!). I also attended the Emory & Henry Alumni luncheon, where I lowered the average age by about ten years (seriously, at one point I think I was the only person under 45, and most people were over 55). I also got to have brief catch-up conversations with other friends who I hadn't seen in a while. The past two years, I've only attended AC on Monday because a) it was local (in Norfolk) and b) I simply didn't have the time to attend the whole event (in 2009 I was doing my residency, and last year I was nursing Greg and my mom had just started chemo). It was nice to see a lot of familiar faces.

It was also nice to really and truly put on my "clergy hat" for four days. My primary identity for the past two years has been that of a stay-at-home mom and wife. I'm not knocking that, but it's nice to embrace another identity. Many people at Oak Grove know that I'm clergy, and Randy has been really gracious about giving me room to utilize and explore my gifts, but 90% of the time I function as a lay person. That's fine, but it was really really nice to be with other clergy and explore that part of my identity.

This year was a voting year. Every four years we have General Conference (Methodists around the world) and Jurisdictional Conference (Methodists from a particular region, such as the southeast US) and we elect clergy and lay delegates to attend those events. In the past few years, the rules have been changed so that provisional members (of which I am one) can vote for delegates to GC and JC. It was sort of fun, although also a long and tedious process.

The preaching and worship were amazing, as always. Rev. Dr. Sam Wells (the dean of the chapel at Duke) was our preacher, and HOLY COW, can he preach. If I'm ever in Durham on a Sunday, I will attend worship at Duke Chapel just so I can hear Sam preach again. Actually, I can also listen to/watch his sermons on the Internet, and I may explore that option. Really, he is THAT good.

There were two bittersweet aspects of Annual Conference this year. First, our bishop was very ill and was unable to attend Annual Conference. She's recovering now, but was in no shape to preside over AC. Instead, we had another bishop (Bishop Whitaker of the Florida Conference) "sub" for her. He did a phenomenal job, but it just wasn't the same without Bishop Kammerer. Second, the rest of my provisional class (the group of people who were commissioned with me) were ordained this year. There are a couple others in my class who have not been ordained yet, but about 95% of the class has been ordained. I am so, so proud of those who were ordained, and I know that I am where God wants me to be...but it was hard to watch from the congregation and know that it will be at least 2014 before I am ordained.

I'm already looking forward to next year's Annual Conference (which will be in Roanoke again), and also looking forward to the moment when I see my name listed as the new pastor of a church. Since I'll have a per diem, I'm also looking forward to staying in a hotel within walking distance and not having to drive back and forth each day. That gets tiring and eats up a lot of gas and time.

Sermon for May's Healing Service

Because Randy (my pastor) has been traveling a bunch over the past week, he let me preach at this month's healing service (we have a healing service on the first Wednesday of each month).

Here's the text of the sermon I preached. You can read it after the "jump":

Love Wins: A Review

Some of you may have heard about Rob Bell's controversial new book, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived (click on the name for the link to Amazon's page on the book). This book has stirred up a lot of controversy in the Christian community because a number of people believe that Bell has just tossed over two millennium of Christian doctrine out like bathwater.

I bought the book on Kindle because I wanted to read it and come to my own conclusions. It's a somewhat short book, but not really a quick read because Bell uses a lot of scripture and historical references that require some processing on the part of the reader. As usual, he writes in a very convincing, provocative style that challenges the reader to go outside their theological box (so to speak) and view faith in a whole new way.

Before I get to my opinion, I suppose I should lay out the perspective that I brought to my reading of the book. I was raised in a Christian family, grew up in the church, have a Master of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary (which educates a lot of United Methodist pastors, and is known to be moderately conservative in theology), and would consider myself pretty firmly in the "moderate" camp in terms of my theology and ethics. I embrace the Christian faith as outlined in the Apostles and Nicene creeds. I am, however, willing to think "outside the box".

I've liked Rob Bell since I heard him preach at a Youth Specialties convention eight years ago (Nashville, 2002, in case you're curious). I love his Nooma videos and have read Velvet Elvis, one of his other books. One of the things that I love about Bell is that he has an incredible knowledge and understanding of scripture and historical Christianity, yet he tells the "old, old story" in a new and highly creative way.

Here's my synopsis of the book: Bell challenges our stereotypical views of heaven (angels sitting on clouds, strumming harps, singing in the heavenly choir, streets made of gold, reserved for a certain few) and hell (fire and brimstone, gnashing of teeth), especially as viewing them as physical places and reserved totally for the afterlife. As part of that argument, Bell also challenges our view on salvation: who gets in, who doesn't, how we know who goes where, etc. He makes the excellent point that Jesus inaugurated the kingdom of God here on earth, and that instead of salvation just being about what happens AFTER this life, it also includes what happens DURING our time on earth. In other words, our acceptance of God's grace through Jesus Christ needs to result in a changed life on our part...and part of that changed life includes being the hands and feet of Christ to share the love and grace of God and make this world a better place. Bell spends a good chunk of time exploring and establishing the far-reaching and overwhelming love of God, and how that love has the power to win over even the hardest heart. He raises the possibility of people having the chance to respond to God's grace not only up to the moment of death, but even after death occurs...because the sort of love he's talking about does not end at death. Up until this point, I was agreeing with Bell, even being willing to see how that last point might be possible. A stretch, but possible.

There are some beautiful quotes in this book about God's love...which of course is the main theme. A few examples:
"Jesus meets and redeems us in all the ways we have it together and in all the ways we don't, in all the times we proudly display for the world our goodness, greatness, and rightness, and in all of the ways we fall flat on our faces (190)."

"Jesus invites us, in this life, in this broken, beautiful world, to experience the life of heaven now. He insisted over and over that God's peace, joy, and love are currently available to us, exactly as we are (62)."

However, in the last few pages of the book Bell sort of lost me. It was sort of like we were on a nice walk together when all of a sudden we came to a cliff, and he jumped...and I just couldn't do it. The end of the book does give implicit hints of universalism...that God's love may be revealed through Jesus Christ, but that people experience that love in different ways...including through different religions. Here's a quote:
"Is there a force, an energy, a being calling out to us, in many languages, using a variety of methods and events, trying to get our attention (141)?"

OK, that's reasonable...but here's another quote:
"What he doesn't say is how, or when, or in what manner the mechanism functions that gets people to God through him. He doesn't even state that those coming to the Father through him will even know that they are coming exclusively through him. He simply claims that whatever God is doing in the world to know and redeem and love and restore the world is happening through him (154)." 



And...I just have a hard time wrapping my head around that concept. I would certainly never say that someone was in hell. As a hospital chaplain, I spend a lot of time working with grieving families and praying at the bedside of recently deceased patients. My usual prayer for any recently departed soul is that they are experiencing God's love, peace, and presence (I pray the same for the grieving family members). If a family member asks me whether their loved one (who, as far as they know, did not profess the Christian faith), is in hell, I simply tell them that their future is in God's hands, which is true for all of us. And I believe that. God is the one who determines salvation, not humans.

I may, one day, find out that Rob Bell was right, and I (and many others) are wrong. Or maybe the reverse will be true. Who knows. I expect that there will be many people in heaven who I did not expect to see, and a fair amount that I won't see who I did expect to see. In the meantime, I will continue to believe and proclaim the love and grace of God as revealed in Jesus Christ, and live in response to that grace by doing my part to create the kingdom of God here on earth.

So, I think that Love Wins is a good book. It's challenging and complex and made me do some major theological wrestling. I just can't come to the same conclusions that Bell did, but I'm not about to throw the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. In other words, I'm not writing him off as a heretic (yet) and I'm not going to burn any of his books. I would probably even consider using this book as a small-group study once I become a pastor, with the caveat that I (or some other theologically trained person) lead it, since it's sort of a theological minefield.

Have you read it? What did you think?

Coming Out of the Closet

With apologies to any of my GLBT friends...I'm coming out of the personality closet and claiming my true identity...

Hi, I'm Patti, I'm 34 years old, and I'm an extravert.

I've always claimed to be an introvert for two reasons: first, I'm fairly shy and quiet in new situations, second, I've always shown up as an introvert on personality profiles. Therefore, I accepted that I was an introvert, and functioned accordingly.

However, I've been doing some self-examining recently, and I realized a few things (Side note: keep in mind that the definition of an introvert is someone who gains energy from being alone, while an extravert gains energy from being with others). First, I love being with people, meeting new people, and conversing with people. I may be kind of shy and quiet at first, but that has more to do with self-confidence (and a lack thereof) than desire. Second, I've found that I become excited and energized after interacting with people. I am happiest when I have a chance to interact with people (besides my family) on a regular basis. I was lonely while serving St. John's because I felt so isolated and had to seek out other people. I love hospital ministry or the thought of doing ministry in a larger congregation because there are people around me with whom I can interact.

So, I did an experiment that lasted a few weeks. First, I paid close attention to how I felt before and after interacting with a lot of people, especially on Sunday mornings. On March 13, I was the liturgist for the 8:15 service, attended Sunday School, and then went to the 11:00 service. On the way home, my emotional energy level was higher than it had been four hours prior. The big test was this weekend, when I had an all-day Church Council retreat on Saturday and another long morning on Sunday (I was again the liturgist for 8:15). A lot of interaction with people, including some heavy discussions. I felt intellectually tired at the end of Saturday's retreat, but my energy level was still high. Ditto for Sunday morning. That sealed the deal for me.

So, I'm an extravert. Or, at the very least, a borderline extravert/introvert. It's pretty amazing to realize something like that when you're in your mid-thirties. But I think it will help to inform my future ministry, and how I function in ministry.

Sermon Responses: What Preachers Like to Hear

As a preacher, I essentially have two audiences, for lack of a better term. First and foremost, I need to be faithful to God and God's Word. God is the one that I want to please, to whom I want to bring glory and honor. However, I also preach to a congregation (right now my limited preaching experiences are at Oak Grove), and they need to be part of the equation, also. The main purpose of my preaching is to move individuals and a congregation into a deeper relationship with God and move them to action as a result of that deeper relationship with God.

You know what comment I HATE to hear after I preach? "I really enjoyed your sermon." I understand what the person is trying to communicate, but I don't spend hours praying over scripture and preparing a sermon so they can ENJOY it. A good runner-up  is "nice sermon". I don't want my sermon to be NICE, I want it to be effective. I imagine most preachers feel the same way (fellow preachers, feel free to comment).

So, here are some alternative comments to give to your pastor as you shake his/her hand on Sunday morning:

• "That sermon gave me a lot to think about/pray about."
• "I felt God speaking to me through your sermon."
• "Your point/story/quote about ___________ really struck a chord with me." 
• "My toes feel kinda sore" (meaning the sermon hit a sore spot with you)
• "My heart feels strangely warmed" (it's a Methodist thing...you felt God's love in a powerful way)
• "I guess I should have worn body armor this morning, huh?" (something I said to my pastor a month or so ago
• "Your sermon made me cry" (I've said that to my pastor, too)

And if you REALLY want to make your pastor's day, call or e-mail him/her later in the week and share some details about how the sermon impacted you. Or ask to meet with him/her so they can help you process what you think God is telling you. I'm telling you, we preachers eat that stuff up!

What a preacher most wants to hear is that the Holy Spirit worked through their sermon to touch your life somehow. That's really what makes a sermon effective...not simply excellent Biblical interpretation (although that's part of it), great delivery, or fantastic illustrations. Those can make a "nice sermon", but as a preacher, I want to know that God is using my sermons to touch peoples' lives and draw them into a deeper relationship with Him.

What if the sermon really didn't do much for you? Then I suggest not saying anything about the sermon as you shake your pastor's hand. Instead, wish them a great week or make some other comment. That week, you can give them a call and offer more specific feedback. Constructive criticism can be helpful, to us, as long as it's done in the right spirit:

• "I wish you would have spent more time exploring ______________"
• "Your sermon seemed a bit disorganized" (and then give examples)
• "That sermon wasn't up to your usual standard. Is everything OK?"

So, people of the congregation, next Sunday, don't tell your pastor "nice sermon."  Give them a little bit more than that, OK? 

Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Would you like to read the sermon I preached yesterday at Oak Grove's Ash Wednesday service? My pastor was kind enough to let me preach. He was at the service, but still let me preach. Now that he's heard me preach, we'll see if he'll let me ever preach again. (:  The sermon is after the jump.

Random Ramblings, "Oops" Edition

So as it turns out? Susanna didn't have Fifth Disease. She had strep throat, and the rash was a result of that. I found this out when I took her to the doctor on Thursday, which was the day after she had attended preschool and I had swore up and down to both the preschool director and her teacher that it was "just Fifth Disease" and she wasn't contagious AT ALL.

Yeah. Preschool Parent of the Year award, right there.

Thankfully, Susanna is feeling much better. The rash is pretty much gone, and she's like herself again. And even better, Greg didn't get it. Yay!

We're watching the Super Bowl tonight, complete with nachos and pizza. We're rooting for the Packers simply because we don't really like the Steelers and I lived in Wisconsin for a whole ten months when I was an infant. Clearly, we are true blue fans.

I got to help my pastor at a healing service on Wednesday. That was very cool. And I'm now on the rotation to preach at our Wednesday night service. My first time is Ash Wednesday, which is March 9. I'm excited, because after preaching in January, I got re-bitten by the preaching bug.

Greg's first birthday is on Wednesday. Wow. We're having his party on February 12. It's just going to be a casual affair with lunch, cake, and presents.

Susanna totally cracks me up. Earlier, she was pretending that a balloon (which a ribbon attached) was her "tail" and she was a "doggie like Simon." She then made me pretend that I had a tail and was a dog.

I hope your week goes well!

How Can I Keep From Singing?

Random note: ten years ago today was my first day of seminary. James and I were engaged, but not yet married. Obviously, we had no children. So much has happened since then, and my life is very different than I thought it would be. However, I am thankful that I a) finished my MDiv, b) am still married to James, c) have my two beautiful children, and am d) active in ministry and anticipating a return to being a local church pastor. God is good. All the time. And all the time...God is good.

A couple of weeks ago, I slipped into church a few minutes late. James was sick and decided to stay home with Greg, and I had had a busy night (three deaths and a code blue). I had actually not gotten home until 9:45am (worship is at 11am), but managed to get myself showered and dressed, get Susanna dressed, and get to church by 11:10. Pretty impressive, huh?

I grabbed a seat in the back and wound up sitting next to our worship/music/technology person (her official title, I believe, is Director of Worship Arts and Technology). I sang with my usual gusto (I really like to sing). At the end of the service, she leaned over and said something along the lines of, "you should be on our praise team." My response? A slightly pained look at her, and "I'd rather preach at Annual Conference than sing in front of people." She then reminded me that I wouldn't be up there alone (of course), said that my pitch was good, that I knew the words, and that I was welcome to come to practice, just think about it, yadda yadda. A soft sell (she didn't get down on her knees or anything), but I sensed a sincere invitation. And while I don't know her well at all, I get the sense that she's not the sort to give out empty compliments.

I've been puzzling over that encounter. This is not the first time that someone in the congregation has commented that I have a "really pretty voice"; I've actually heard that sort of remark about five or six times, which is an absolute record for me. And with the exception of B, my former choir director, I don't think I've ever had a choir director comment on my singing AND invite me to join the choir/praise team. I've actually received more affirmation for my (congregational) singing at Oak Grove than anyplace else.

I've always loved singing. My mom tells people that she always knew I'd wind up behind a microphone; she just never thought it would be from a pulpit. I was in choirs in high school, college, church, and even my first semester of seminary. In college, I took voice lessons for three years, piano lessons for three semesters, and even planned on minoring in music until I hit the first semester of music theory (and a professor who really didn't belong in the classroom. Fantastic choir director, lousy professor). In other words, I'm trained. I'm passionate. And thanks to my voice lessons and Ms. G (my voice teacher), I would say that I'm a fairly decent singer.

But, I've never made it into an audition-only choir. I wanted more than anything to get into my college's Concert Choir, and I never did (I auditioned three times in a row). I re-auditioned for the Singing Seminarians at Asbury, and didn't make it. I have this tendency to "choke" and get so nervous during auditions that I wind up missing notes, sounding flat, etc.

So, I pretty much pushed that hobby/passion to the side and haven't visited it in years. I developed my gifts and skills in preaching and worship leadership. I feel very comfortable preaching, and can talk myself through any nervousness about that. But singing? In a praise team? On a stage? In our fairly large worship space? It sort of freaks me out. I meant what I told our worship person about preaching at Annual Conference versus singing in front of people.

But, what if...? Could all this affirmation be a sign that God wants me to use my gifts in that area? Or should I just stay in the congregation, and keep focusing on my gifts in preaching/worship leadership?

Anyone have any thoughts?

Random Ramblings, Fifth Disease Edition

• Susanna, we are pretty sure, has Fifth Disease. She started seeming feverish and congested on Thursday and woke up after her nap on Friday with this red rash on her cheeks. Kind of like someone slapped her, and that's a trademark sign of Fifth Disease. The rash is still present and she's still very weepy and snotty. 
• Greg got sick yesterday, with congestion and a fever. He barely slept last night and has been cranky and snotty all day today. I'm hoping that the combination of bath (with VapoBath), steam treatment, and a vaporizer in his room will ensure a slightly more restful night for both of us. 
• My husband went to Target, drove through Wendy's, and brought back a Frosty for both of us!
• My mom had a VERY SIGNIFICANT birthday on Thursday. It was really a victory, since this past year has been so hard and so long for her. And for us...but mostly for her. She's done with chemo, is now in radiation, and should be DONE in a month. We are fully expecting the score will be Mom 1, Cancer 0. Thanks be to God. 
• I am currently planning Greg's first birthday party. He'll be a year old on February 9. I can't believe that my baby is almost one!

Who I Am, Where I've Been, and Where I'm Going

Yesterday was the Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of Our Lord-when John baptized Jesus in the Jordan River. As part of the sermon, my pastor included a video from "The Lion King" on Broadway, using it as an illustration for God being within us, and reminded us who (and Whose) we are through our baptism. It was powerful, although if it had been me I would have used the above clip from the movie. BUT, he didn't ask my opinion and the Broadway clip definitely "worked" and may have been more relevant for other people. After all, there were several hundred others in attendance, and the Broadway show just had a one-month run in Norfolk.

What my pastor does not know is that I have used specific clips from "The Lion King" to illustrate my continued healing from Danville-gate. Go, Holy Spirit.

God is definitely doing a new thing within me. Even as recently as two months ago, I was actively searching for chaplain jobs and using the phrase "if I ever go back to the [local] church" as a pastor, with a big emphasis on the "if." And since my main focus in searching for chaplain jobs was fulfilling service requirements for ordination versus actual vocational fulfillment, I was sort of hazy and unfocused in regards to my future. I'm really not convinced that I'm cut out to be a SAHM for the long-term (more on that another time), but at that point (only two months ago) I had no interest in going back to the local church as a pastor.

Then, God started nudging me each Sunday through my pastor's sermons (that Holy Spirit can be really pesky). Then, in early December, the opportunity to preach last week pretty much fell into my lap. As I prepared the sermon, I began to remember how much I enjoyed it. And on, and on, and on. Finally, I knew what I had to do. I made an appointment with my District Superintendent (who oversees all the clergy on the Norfolk District) to discern/discuss the possibility of me becoming a pastor again. Together, we agreed that I'm not quite ready this year (Greg is still very young and I also think I may have presented myself as more fragile than I am), but that by next year (July 2012), I should definitely be ready to once again be Pastor Patti.

My plan over the next year is to remain on family leave, do whatever I can to finish healing, to gain more experience, to increase my confidence, and to basically do whatever necessary to begin my next appointment 100% ready to be Pastor Patti. I'm fairly certain that our current church is a good place in which to do that, and of course I have other resources available to me, as well.

The above video pretty much illustrates what I've been experiencing over the past six weeks and where I am right now.

And someday, hopefully 18 months or so from now (NOTE: the United Methodist system works on annual appointments from July 1 to June 30, so unless something literally falls into my lap, it will be 18 months. I've already mailed in my forms for family leave), I will once again be a pastor and once again be shepherding the people of God. Or, to keep using "The Lion King", I will be climbing Pride Rock and roaring:

Happy Epiphany!

This is a video of one of my favorite Christmas songs ever, and one that's fairly obscure. My college choir sung this back in the fall of 1997, and I fell in love with it. Enjoy!

But I Had Such a Fun Time! I Really Did!

This successful experience was brought to you by the grace of God, a stubborn will, and five units of Clinical Pastoral Education. 

I have preached in many contexts, not all of them pleasant. I have preached while pregnant, with painful Braxton-Hicks contractions rippling through my body. I have preached while in the throes of bronchitis (also pregnant, I should add). I have preached while a congregation glared poisonous daggers at me during the whole service (that was my next-to-last Sunday at St. John's). I have literally preached to the choir, when they were the only ones who showed up for a Maundy Thursday service.

However, I had never preached while suffering from the stomach flu. Until yesterday, that is**.

I woke up yesterday feeling kind of queasy and with some symptoms of mild stomach upset. I assumed they were due to nerves, because I had been putting myself under an unreasonable amount of stress about this sermon, service, etc. I ate some breakfast, got dressed, and headed to church.

The first service went well, but I was still feeling kind of queasy, so I ate a bagel and drank some water. It's a good thing I didn't eat the Hostess cupcake I received from a very nice gentleman who attended the 8:15 service (I still haven't eaten it, but I WILL, because I LOVE those things). I still felt queasy.

I went into the worship space for the 11:00 service to pray, re-read my sermon, and prepare for worship. Around 10:15, I began to have THAT FEELING. You know, when the queasiness turns into the I'M GONNA PUKE feeling. So, I walked very quickly to the ladies' room (which was mercifully empty), locked myself in a stall, and promptly expelled the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I felt somewhat better, but found myself in a new predicament: was I sick, or was this just nerves? And if I was sick, then what should I do? My instinct was that I was coming down with the stomach flu, because I had NEVER EVER thrown up as a result of nerves. I also knew that James was not feeling great (and was, in fact, staying at home because he wasn't feeling well), so it was possible that I had caught whatever he had.

I did two things: first, I asked God to please hold off any further symptoms until the service was over and I was home. Next, I posted something on my Face*book status, asking others to pray for the same. Then I continued preparing for worship. After all, it was 10:30 by this point. I figured that as long as I could get up and down from the stage and stand to deliver my sermon, there was no reason for me not to finish what I had started. I had brought some mouthwash and used that, and sanitized my hands very very well.

And it worked. I compartmentalized the queasiness (hardly even felt it, really), did a reasonable job with the service, and headed home. Within an hour of returning home, I was shivering with a fever and unable to keep down even Pedialyte. That continued for the rest of the afternoon and evening. James (who was also miserable, as was Susanna) went out and bought some Gatorade and ginger ale. The Gatorade stayed down, and I began feeling better.

We're all better today and even eating solid food again. And I really really enjoyed preaching yesterday...I had forgotten just how much I missed it.

**Really, I wasn't THAT sick during the morning hours. It didn't get bad until I got home. But "I preached with the stomach flu" sounds good, doesn't it?

I Brought The Word, and a Side of Stomach Flu

Both services went as well as I could have expected them to go. Thank you for your prayers.

I came down with the stomach flu this morning, fought off the worst of it, and succumbed within an hour of getting home.

Feel Like Reading a Sermon?

My sermon for this Sunday is after the jump. Read at your own risk. Due to unforseen circumstances, I am now preaching at both the 8:15 AND the 11:00 services. Please pray for me tomorrow. I'm well-prepared, I've done this before, and I know the Holy Spirit has my back (and my front, and all of me), but there's a certain nervousness that comes from a) not having done this is 18 months and b) not having preached in this setting. I have a feeling that a number of people at the 11:00 service are going to be thinking, "huh? Her? I thought she was just some boring housewife. Wait...she's a PREACHER?"

So, please pray, especially that I will be able to focus first and foremost on pleasing and glorifying God, and not anyone else.

Merry Christmas from the Moneys!

Every year, we receive several Christmas cards from family and friends. Many of them include newsletters and family photos. Each year, I intend to send one out, but I never get around to it. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, you can have a Christmas card, albeit a virtual one.

We're all doing well. Our biggest news of the year is the birth of Gregory James, our second child (click on the link for more info). We call him Greg. He is an absolute delight, especially now that he's sleeping through the night. He looks exactly like James, and his resemblance to Susanna at the same age is uncanny.

Susanna at three is delightful, intelligent, energetic, and talks so much that we have difficulty getting a word in edgewise. She started preschool this fall, really enjoys it, and is doing well. Depending on the day, she either considers Simon (our black Lab) or Greg her best friend. Susanna has adjusted very well to being a big sister, and really loves her little brother. As you can see from the picture, she's not a huge fan of Santa, but that's OK.

James is still working at Booz Allen Hamilton, loves it, and they love him (great news in this economy!). I'm on "family leave", which means most days I'm at home with both of the kids. For the record, most of the time I love it. I'm also moonlighting as a hospital chaplain for a local hospital system, which provides not only a paycheck but also a vocational outlet. Only God knows what the future will hold for me in that arena (full time chaplaincy, returning to the local church, extending my family leave), but for now I feel blessed to be where I am and do what I'm doing.

May your Christmas be merry, your New Year be happy, and may God shower you with blessings!

Love,
James, Patti, Susanna, Greg, & Simon Money.