A Year of Sabbaths (Week 40): Cheese Balls and Prairie Chickens

"Come to me all who labor and are heavey laden, and I will give you rest." --Jesus

(Matthew 11:28)

It was nice, this weekend, because we had an extra day.  We didn't have to squeeze a Sabbath in.  It was handed to us on a silver platter.

It was perfect timing.

My wife and I felt like running away from the drafty and occasionally leaky house that often demands so much of our time and resources. Even the kids wanted to get out of the house after days of rain.  A road trip was beginning to take shape.

I did work Sunday night, but Monday, we were free and clear...there was basketball practice in the morning, but after that, we were free and clear. Partly sunny skies. Full tank of gas. Donuts and cheese balls and we were off on a heritage tour of our beautiful state of Kansas.

The first stop was the Prairie Chicken Capital of the World, Cassoday, Kansas. We didn't see any prairie chickens, but we did have our picture taken under the sign so we know that they are there.

Then, we boogied up Old Highway 177 through the heart of the Flint Hills, keeping our eyes out for turtles tanning on the tortuous tarmac.  Soon, we were swallowed up by deep grass and visited by images of a wide open spaces once shaken by the hooves of thousands of buffalo and elk and an occasional bear. We talked of plains Indians  and mastodons...and Kansas sharks that once swam the beautiful Kansas sea.  We even pulled over to a scenic overlook to peer at one of the last vestiges of the blue-stem prairie. The vast landscapes inspired us while the kaleidoscope of prairie flowers lured us to stop and look closely.  A group of cattle across the fence gawked curiously as we drunk deeply the quickly-moving air.

At least, my wife and I drunk deeply.

The kids weren't quite convinced.  And they were getting hungry and road weary and crowded.  We stopped at the next town, Cottonwood Falls. We stopped at a restored hotel and had a relaxing lunch.  The uprising of the minions was settled and we visited long and hard about our big plans for summer and beyond. We discovered some little houses that are available to rent to families as they explore the area.  "Another trip," my wife said, "and maybe we can stay a little longer." She was raised in the Flint Hills, and had stumbled on to some roots.

We walked up the street to the grand courthouse (But we didn't know that we could actually go higher up and deeper in! Another trip, when maybe we can stay a little longer) and then down the street to the falls. Somebody had landed a great big catfish.  Suddenly, I realized that I really needed to take these boys fishing more often. I needed to take myself fishing more often.

With full tummies and beautiful surroundings, we were off to the final stop; our destination; the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve.  It was quite awesome.  There are miles and miles of trails. Our minions made it two miles and we saw dragonflies, a rattlesnake, a lizard, and a great, white horse.  There was more to see, but it was time to go.  Little legs were failing fast and the rain was moving in.  Back down the trail and into the car, more tired than before...and more full.

As we drove back to town, the little people in back dozed off, one-by-one. It had been a great day.  When we arrived back in the city, we wrapped up the day with an organic burrito and settled in for the night, inspired by God's creation, closer to one another, reminded of our blessings, and no dishes to do! Even the old, drafty, and sometimes leaky house felt different like it sometimes does; like a castle full of treasure.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 39): Dry

(Highway 50 in Nevada)

Answer me quickly, Lord;

my spirit fails.

Do not hide your face from me

or I will be like those who go down to the pit.

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,

for I have put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go,

for to you I entrust my life.

(Psalm 143:7,8)

"He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there Hes is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." (The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis)

Maybe it is starting to seem a little tiresome.  Maybe I'm just getting a little restless in my resting. I have been at it for thirty nine weeks for Pete's sake! Maybe I just thought I would be further along at this point.

Oh! I still believe that God can do great things when we stop. I still believe that the antidote to our culture's hyperactive lethargiosis is to stop and let God grow us deep.  I still believe in the value of the fourth commandment practiced over time because I believe that for all of our activity, programs, acts of service, and random acts of kindness, we Christians don't really know one another or the God we say that we love with all of heart, mind, soul, and strength.

I do believe in the value of Sabbath; personal Sabbath and church-wide Sabbath.  It has just been hard and not particularly life-giving. Not this last week.  I was in a bit of a funk.

For some reason, that came as a surprise.  I know it shouldn't have.  The mystics spoke of the "Dark Night of the Soul." The desert fathers spoke of, "Acedia."  The Psalm book is riddled with plaintive cries to the One who promised to lead us every day but sometimes seems far away. Spiritual dryness. Spiritual funkiness.

But the funkiness bends us forward and leads us upward, longing to be clothed again with the riches or God's power and love.  The dryness causes our ears strain to hear that distant drum of rain, that still small voice that reminds us of the way we should go, especially when every trace of Him seems to have vanished.

I've come this far.  So this week, I will continue pray funky prayers and fall into God's dessicated but life-giving Word.  I will go through the motions of superficial worship that used to dig deep into my soul. I will continue my half-hearted halting though I'd much rather put my pedal to the metal and get through this hellish Highway 50 in a hurry.

Where else will I go? Whom else will I serve?  Even in the desert, there is the mountain in the distance.  There is the Vast Empty that really isn't empty at all for I know, if I simply pull over occasionally and look and listen, there are lessons that God still wants me to hear.  I know that even when the beautiful things of faith have been removed from sight, God is still good and it is in Him that "I entrust my life."

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 38): Team Player

(Photo from www.freeimages.com #1087401)

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:36-40)

Jesus in this passage gives us a light in a dark place, a bright and shiny program, a new deal, a social-engineering experiment that would, if it were followed, change the world. It is sweeping in its scope. Exact in its detail.  In short, it is a game-changer, a colossal catalyst for child protection, race-relations, marital health, poverty alleviation and anything else, old or new, that the world can throw at us. 

It's love. 

More than a program or a policy, a platform or a ten-year plan, it is love, times three:

The Love of God.

The love of Neighbor.

The love of Self.

And as I look back on these  past thirty-eight weeks of Sabbath, I have grown in my love of God. I have a long way to go, but I'm learning to trust God more as I take a step back from life lived by my own strength.

I'm learning to love myself...rediscovering the self God intended me to be.  I'm far from perfect in this area, but I've taken time to go kayaking and do some writing. I have reconnected with some good friends and with our boys and it has been great.

But my nearest neighbor has been neglected. It isn't that we haven't spent time together. We have spent every day and tons of quality time together. Together, we are a formidable team. Together we are logistical contortionists. But together we are two ships passing in the night...my wife and I side by side and a high five out the door. In our Sabbaths, we have connected with the boys, connected with God, connected with friends, but we just haven't connected as husband and wife.

Love is fragile. We see it in Bethlehem's hay.

In fact, the last "date" we went on was a school fundraiser that ended up in our car hitting a telephone pole that had fallen into the street...long story.  I've dropped the ball. I used to be better. Candles. Romantic dinners. Maybe I've taken the strength of our relationship for granted.  Maybe I've let our relationship become largely functional because we are both highly functional.  But love is more than function, it's fun and it is the fun side of the island that I hope to rediscover...walks on the beach, quaint cantinas, and quiet strolls by the marina.  It will be tough. We live in Kansas, but I have a couple of days to plan.  And it will probably change the world.

Church stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Year of Sabbaths (Week 37): Saving Oxen

(Photo from www.freeimages.com #603618)

Then he asked them, "If one of you has a son or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull him out?" (Luke 14:5)

I have never had an ox fall in a well on the Sabbath day.  However, I do have three sons that eat, well...like oxen. 

The plan was to come home after basketball games and finish planting the garden before dinner so that we would be ready to go to the end-of-the-season awards banquet in the evening.   It was a good plan. It just didn't happen.  We had to make a quick stop at the grocery store for provisions. That set us back. By the time we arrived at home, it was time to prepare dinner. After all, a person must save their sons and their oxen, even on the Sabbath day. Sometimes that means dragging them out of a well. Sometimes it means securing provisions and fixing dinner.

As a result, no plants were planted.

After dinner, it was time to go to the banquet.  The banquet was quite long and not really a banquet.  Only light refreshments were served.  The oxen were quickly becoming famished.  It was the Sabbath day, but we felt like we must save them.  So, after the banquet, we went and had ice cream.  By the time we arrived at the barn and herded the children to bed, it was dark.

As a result, no plants were planted.

It was frustrating, but in the end it was OK. Maybe that is a change regular Sabbath is beginning to work in me...if I don't get to it when I had planned, I know it will still be OK.  I'm learning to be in the moment and there were many moments worth being in on our impromptu Sabbath day.  There were moments spent with the boys doing something they love and then celebrating their hard work with them. There were precious moments around the dinner table as a family eating good food.  There was ice cream sprinkled with laughter. There were moments of holy time redeemed from the well of busyness that seems to inundate most of the rest of my week.

Though Monday came hard and fast, I know that the subtle whisper and strong embrace of the Sabbath day will sustain me all week.  I feel good about saving the livestock and I know that the plants will eventually be planted.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.