Sunday, February 22

Snow Snakes and Fake Fires
Psalm 86

I have been considering snow snakes and fake fires today. It is one of those frigid Michigan mornings where the second you step out of a building’s warmth the icy air reaches in and steals the breath you were in the middle of taking. The cold is a bitter companion even without the dreaded wind chill and the snow is dry and flighty. Stirred up by the underbelly of cars ahead, wisps of snow skate across the pavement in patterns that look like snakes. Snow snakes. The fascination exists as I am feeling particularly introspective. There seem to be a lot of snow snakes on my insides.

Not one particular thing has created this tundra, but I know the disappointment over in that shadowed corner is part of it. The half-empty vial of manipulation plays a role and I never thought those harsh words up there would be on eternal repeat. The snow snakes roam freely, almost constantly here and sometimes override the other pieces of me that are warm and snow snake free. But it’s here that I desperately want the wind to let up so I can comfortably sit by the fire.

I own a DVD that repeats three hours of virtual fire in a fireplace. Based on my visual likings, I can choose to have a roaring blaze, moderate flames or flickering embers complete with holiday music. I see the flames and hear the crackling, but if I move close to find warmth, my fingers only feel the fuzz of TV static. It’s a ruse, this fake fire, and I’m afraid I’m tending to too many of its kind. So I’ll squelch the sham for my own sake because it’s a lousy way to heat snow snake territory. Thus begins my pursuit of a bonfire whose elements tenderly block the wind.

I’m prone to believe through the mocking, disbelief, brutal betrayal and beatings, Jesus knew about snow snakes. How else could the fire of his understanding turn out to be so radiant? It might take a while for the thaw to penetrate, but I’m willing to sit here until it does. Yes, I’ll wait…even amongst the snow snakes.

God of the Heat, Thank you for allowing me to warm around your fire bowl. Would you pull up your chair next to mine? We can wait here together. Amen.

Monday, February 23

Still Rhythms
Exodus 13:17-14:31 & Matthew 11:28-29

There must be a cadence with which life slows and calm is the chosen state of spirit. For in this expanse of busyness my entire being craves a moment of nothing. Is there such an existence? Might there be a rhythm where solace stands in the midst of chaos? I feel like Oz’s Dorothy for a moment as I realize my heart has known the answer to the question all along. The existence I crave only becomes possible if God is Director. I remember the stillness. Lord, I remember Your stillness. Yes.

I often marvel at the energy that exudes from a junior high student. I wonder, “Do you ever sit down for a moment and just be?” As the words well up, however, it is a question that I must also answer. God whispers, “Heather, do you ever sit down and just be?” I get it. I am not immune to reproach. Still, after all this time, one would think that I’d be tapping my foot to the beat by now. I am reminded of a group of folks who also needed multiple reminders of God’s presence. In chapters 13 and 14 of Exodus, the Israelites are preparing to cross the Red Sea and are discouraged by the realization that the Egyptians have been ordered after them. They are panicked, they want to take matters into their own hands, they want to revert back to their old ways. In the center of their worry, though, a sense of composure is required. With words dripping in God’s mercy, Moses understands the pattern, saying, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14). I take that in, knowing full well that I, too, try to take it all on by myself. It is necessary for God’s pulse to drive from within, advising me to back off as He labors on my behalf.

My spirit slows to the tempo of a fulfilled relationship, and I know that just remembering this state of calm is not enough. Soon I will forget, as the Israelites did, to mind my pace. I must be about practicing what God has promised and be fully present in the midst of it. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Only then, will life’s movement and God’s still rhythms collide.

Father… may we be for a moment? I need your help to realign my spirit. I am easily distracted, but know that you remain constant. Thank you for rhythms that pair the speed of life and your unmistakable stillness. I adore you. Amen.

Tuesday, February 24

Robes
Mark 5:24-34

Today, the day you are reading this, is my birthday. I’ll proudly tell you I am 28 and you may decide whether that is young or old or neither. Each year growing up, my mom used to adorn a muffin or French toast with one candle, lit just for me. She’d carry the glowing plate over and sing the familiar tune, wrapped up in her navy blue robe. The robe was a staple, not just on my birthday, but in my childhood. In that robe she got me off to school, took my temperature, curled up with fiction books, and watched countless episodes of Full House. The fuzzy barrier blocked the chill of a February morning and, even though it was well-worn and thinning, her presence inside it was warmth tied in a bow. I believe there is energy in wearing a robe like that. It emits an air of influence and adoration, a sort of inherent healing power.

There’s a story I love in Mark 5 about a woman who is stricken with chronic bleeding. Because of her misfortune, she is left alone, untouched by other people. Her loneliness cuts into me in a familiar way as I relive my junior high years. She and I lived the lonely void together and I empathized as she desperately clamored for someone, anyone to reach down and lift her up amongst the living. For this woman, her opportunity to be healed came with just a touch of Jesus’ robe. He gifted her full life and she became whole again, touchable. So, carefully, consistently, my mom did the same for me. She enveloped me in acceptance until I could claim it as my own, for I bled rejection just like my friend in Mark.

In case you were wondering, I live 500 miles away from a birthday candle in my breakfast. My mom still calls to sing to me and I now minister to 7th and 8th graders as a profession. I don’t think the navy blue robe hangs in the closet anymore, but it doesn’t really matter. I bought my own in mint green not too long ago and it reminds me of my mom and the woman and Jesus. For them, I hope to wear it well and out. There is energy in wearing robes. And I am proof. So, put on your robe and light a candle with me today. It’s supposed to be chilly, but I don’t think we’ll notice.

Father God, Thank you for memories and moms and birthdays and robes. You show up in the most unexpected and, seemingly, mundane ways. Help us remember, when it’s most difficult, to reach for your robe. And when we light the candle to mark another year, may it be a spark from you. Amen.

Wednesday, February 25

Lent Devotions 2009
ELCA Partner Synods Pray Together
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Thursday, February 26

Lent Devotions 2009
ELCA Partner Synods Pray Together
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Friday, February 27

Lent Devotions 2009
ELCA Partner Synods Pray Together
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Saturday, February 28

Lent Devotions 2009
ELCA Partner Synods Pray Together
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