The crown of thorns in the manger

In preparation for worship during this Season of Lent, we recently ordered a crown of thorns to be used as part of our worship space.

Last week, upon returning home after picking Rachel up from daycare, we found a box at the door, and sure enough, it was straight from Holy Land Imports.

At two-and-a-half going on three, Rachel is super excited whenever there's a package at the door, and it's hard for her two-and-a-half-year-old brain to comprehend that it could be a package addressed to someone other than her. So I explained, "No, this isn't a package from Nana and Papa or Grammy Jeanne and Grampa Bud. This is a package for Mommy and Daddy." Well, of course, she wanted to see what was inside, so I continued, "This is something very special," and with that, I pried open the box to reveal its contents.

"This is a crown of thorns," I explained. "Jesus wore one of these on his head when he was on the cross." Okay, this is way too much, I'm thinking, but how do I explain this? By now she's grabbing at it, because it is, after all, a package that arrived at our door, and packages contain treasures to be enjoyed. "It's very, very sharp," I said, and I had her touch one of the thorns, gently, with her little finger so she'd understand. "You have to be very careful when touching this."

"Jesus wore it?" she asked, understandably puzzled. And then, imagination running, putting it all together in her mind, she continued, in her little sing-songy two-and-a-half-year-old voice, "Now I go put it in the manger, and Baby Jesus will be there, and Mary will be there, and Joseph will be there..."

It makes me think about how often we parcel these stories out, keeping them separate, protected from one another. Anyone knows Baby Jesus, with his beautifully laundered swaddling clothes, his disinfected manger, and his mother Mary dressed in light blue, belong to Christmas, where the star shines bright and the angels sing good news. The crown of thorns, though... the cross... the angry crowds... the darkness... well, these belong to Good Friday. Let's not be confused.

Maybe, just maybe, Rachel is starting to understand a connection we'd rather ignore: Birth, life, witness, pain, death, resurrection -- one great story, one Jesus Christ, one life, one Savior, the foundations of one faith.

A crown of thorns in the manger, Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all -- not a bad idea.

Richard Foster on Prayer

A great passage from one of the best books I know exploring prayer...

"We today yearn for prayer and hide from prayer. We are attracted to it and repelled by it. We believe prayer is something we should do, even something we want to do, but it seems like a chasm stands between us and actually praying. We experience the agony of prayerlessness.

"We are not quite sure what holds us back. Of course we are busy with work and family obligations, but that is only a smoke screen. Our busyness seldom keeps us from eating or sleeping or making love. No, there is something deeper, more profound keeping us in check… It is the notion – almost universal among us modern high achievers – that we have to have everything “just right” in order to pray. That is, before we can really pray, our lives need some fine tuning, or we need to know more about how to pray, or we need to study the philosophical questions surrounding prayer, or we need to have a better grasp of the great traditions of prayer. And on it goes. It isn’t that these are wrong concerns or that there is never a time to deal with them. But we are starting from the wrong end of things – putting the cart before the horse. Our problem is that we assume prayer is something to master the way we master algebra or auto mechanics. That puts us in the 'on-top' position, where we are competent and in control. But when praying, we come 'underneath,' where we calmly and deliberately surrender control and become incompetent. 'To pray,' writes Emilie Griffin, 'means to be willing to be naïve.'

"I used to think that I needed to get all my motives straightened out before I could pray, really pray. I would be in some prayer group, for example, and I would examine what I had just prayed and think to myself, 'How utterly foolish and self-centered; I can’t pray this way!' And so I would determine never to pray again until my motives were pure. You understand, I did not want to be a hypocrite. I knew that God is holy and righteous. I knew that prayer is no magic incantation. I knew that I must not use God for my own ends. But the practical effect of all this internal soul-searching was to completely paralyze my ability to pray.

"The truth of the matter is, we all come to prayer with a tangled mass of motives – altruistic and selfish, merciful and hateful, loving and bitter. Frankly, this side of eternity we will never unravel the good from the bad, the pure from the impure. But what I have come to see is that God is big enough to receive us with all our mixture. We do not have to be bright, or pure, or filled with faith, or anything. This is what grace means, and not only are we saved by grace, we live by it as well. And we pray by it.

"Jesus reminds us that prayer is like little children coming to their parents. Our children come to us with the craziest requests at times! Often we are grieved by the meanness and selfishness in their requests, but we would be all the more grieved if they never came to us even with their meanness and selfishness. We are simply glad that they do come – mixed motives and all.

"This is precisely how it is with prayer. We will never have pure enough motives, or be good enough, or know enough in order to pray rightly. We simply must set all these things aside and begin praying. In fact, it is in the very act of prayer itself – the intimate, ongoing interaction with God – that these matters are cared for in due time."

— Richard J. Foster, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home
(Harper SanFrancisco, 1992)

Calm me down...

Prayer for an Average Sunday

~ Kenneth G. Phifer

Eternal God, look now upon me as I wait,

stilled for a time,

subdued and quiet.

You know that it is hard for me to wait.

It is hard for me to be still.

I rush from one thing to another,

churning up my life

into hectic waves of accomplishment.

When night falls, I confess I feel a bit guilty

if I have done nothing except be myself.

I even come to prayer with the feeling

that it is apart from life,

that when it is over I had best do something.

Even in church I want to sing a hymn

or take up an offering.

And then when church is over,

I plunge back into my world where the action is.

O Lord, do I have it wrong,

twisted around?

Are there more occasions than I realize

when I would be a better person

if I didn't do anything but just stand there?

Do I fail to hear the real needs

of loved ones, friends, and neighbors,

because I am too busy figuring out

what next to do for them,

or maybe to them?

Am I so absorbed in running the world

that I am not aware of you

and of the things you have to say to me?

Calm me down, I pray.

Calm me down

to the place where I can remember

how many times you have managed to keep me going

when I thought I could not make it.

Calm me down

so that I can recall times of steadiness and fear

when a courage was infused in me

that enabled me to hold on.

Calm me down

so that I can accept my limitations without panic

and in the knowledge that I cannot do everything.

In many ways I do not do anything.

In some ways I do the wrong things.

In the silence before the mystery and the meaning,

I stand waiting,

still,

quieted by wonder.

For life is filled with mystery, meaning, and wonder.

The mystery of being itself.

The meaning that keeps breaking through to me,

meaning encompassed in words

like faith, hope, and love.

And I wonder why when I pray, I believe,

and why when I believe, I pray.

May I be assured that what I do matters

and what I say counts,

because you are in me and for me.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

-- Kenneth G. Phifer, A Book of Uncommon Prayer

Nashville: The Upper Room, 1981

(a book given to me by my church family at Searsport (Maine) United Methodist Church when I graduated from high school ~ it's inscribed June 5, 1988 ~ that I've carried with me all these years)

And the summer is flying by!

Probably no one else has noticed, but last night on the telephone, my father-in-law said, "I haven't seen any new posts on your blog in a while" -- so I guess it's time!

A few random thoughts:

I counseled for a week of Middle School Camp at Rolling Ridge, our United Methodist retreat center in North Andover, MA. Pictures here.

On Sunday afternoon, we had a special family birthday party for Rachel, who turned two last Friday. Pictures of our fun on Friday here, and pictures of the party here.

We are leaving today for Orlando (such a great time of year to visit Orlando!) for the School of Congregational Development. Erica and Carlie from New Light are going with us. It should be a good time of learning and connecting with others who share our passion for helping communities of faith to thrive.

I had a great time with my 13-year-old nephew, Jake, who came on Sunday and stayed until Tuesday morning. Among other things, we saw The Dark Knight and had crazy-delicious ice-cream at Cold Stone Creamery in the Old Port.

Super exciting developments for Chestnut UMC - the small established congregation we serve here in Portland, Maine - and by association, for New Light as well. It's too early to be specific, but excitement is in the air! I'll disclose all the specifics as soon as I can...

My alma mater, Boston University School of Theology, has announced the appointment of a new dean. I'm impressed and hopeful!

My brother, Brian, has written a second book -- a wonderful resource book with facts about every U.S. president, their vice-presidents, and their Cabinets. It will be published soon, and I'll be sure to post a link.

Summer blessings!