“If He Had Not Come” by David R. Brock, Redmond, Oregon

One of the stories my mom read to us at Christmas time when I was a child was, “If He Had not Come”. Many decades later, though I don’t recall the details, I do remember the strong feeling I had when hearing it.  My concern, mostly anxiety,(though I doubt it had much if anything to do with the story itself) was that if Jesus had not come there would be no days off from school, no presents to buy and wrap, no secrets to keep from other family members about gifts to come, no new pajamas on Christmas eve (every year, without fail!), no stockings to hang by the chimney with care, no parties at school, no annual children’s Christmas pageant, no tree to decorate, no visit from Santa—maybe no Santa at all, no north pole, no elves, no Rudolph, no two front teeth so I could whistle Merry Christmas (as the popular carol went).

 Almost 60 years later, my response to “If he had not come” has changed. Hopefully I’m wiser and a little more mature, a little less self-centered.  Don’t get me wrong, though, I still get a warm feeling when I hear, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”  I would be sad if I didn’t hear “Joy to the World” or “Little Town of Bethlehem,” or “Good King Wenceslas” or “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” or even  “Snoopy versus the Red Baron”. Even though I’ve spent wonderful summer Christmases south of the equator, I’d prefer a little snow for the holidays and a few Currier and Ives winter wonderland paintings displayed around town—preferably a town decorated with thousands of holiday lights. And, dare I confess it, and please don’t tell anyone, I do take an occasional stolen glance at a Hallmark Christmas movie! 

 However! Beyond all of that, I wonder, If he had not come  . . .

•  Would we proclaim and promote the worth of persons, ALL people, as clearly as we do . . . at least when we are at our best?
• Would we expect to find God among the poor and the outcast and the widows and orphans and in places where there is no room in the inn?  Would we provide for and honor those people as we are taught to do—in unforgettable parables, in acts of forgiveness for prostitutes and persecutors?
•  Would we have the courage, would we take the risks, to confront, to ‘turn over tables’ and drive out the corrupt and unjust as some among us do in the halls of power, the boardrooms of the strong and well-connected?
•  Would we hold on as strongly to the hope that God is with us yet; that somehow in spite of all that is happening in our troubled world, goodness and right will eventually prevail?
• Would we strive as valiantly to create communities of joy, hope, love and peace—even in fits and starts and ‘failing’ and starting over?
• Would God seem as close, as present, as concerned, as gracious, as generous, as active in our lives, as much of an advocate for our wellbeing?
• Would we understand that we too can be and are called to be the birthplace of God in the world?

Could God, has God, does God reveal many of those truths through other faith traditions? Is God made incarnate in our midst even from the dawn of creation, not only in a manger in Bethlehem 2000 years ago? Yes, but, as Marcus Borg wrote, “Jesus enfleshes, embodies, incarnates, God’s Word, God’s revelation, God’s character and passion in a human life. Christmas means that, for Christians, Jesus is and should be decisive. What we see in him, the Word made flesh, is our revelation, our light in the darkness.”

I don’t think we are asked to say ‘no’ to a lot of the accoutrements of Christmas. Go ahead and watch “The Muppet Christmas Carol”. Decorate a tree in a thousand lights. Stuff someone’s stocking with silly little gifts. It’s OK. What we are invited to do, however, is to say yes to the fact that God DID come to us in a unique way in Jesus. What we are invited to do is to understand that because God came to us and comes to us, we see differently, we live differently.  We give life. We nurture life. We choose life at Christmas and every other day.

Look at the Day, Thankful for the Simple Blessings by Lavera Wade

 

Thankful I can hear the sound of the wind in the pines, the gentle lap of the waves on the shore, the prayers of the small birds in the early morning light, the silence of the morning covered in white.

Thankful I can see the colors of the changing seasons, the cherry blossoms, iris, daisies, roses, and marigolds, the changing colors of the leaves, snow on the bare branches.

Thankful for the taste of strawberries, ice cream, lemonade, and pumpkin pie.

Thankful for the smell of rain, a baby’s cheek, Thanksgiving dinner.

Thankful for memories of laughter, hugs, shared moments of silence.

Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name.  Psalm 103:1

Sunday School in a Pandemic by Lavera Wade

In one of my many Zoom meetings recently someone mentioned there was a survey of what church attendees missed most in this new world of Pandemic and Zoom, or where ever they were attending online services.  The list was:  1 HUGS, 2 coffee and cookies after the service, and 3. sitting at the table with a small group of fellow parishioners, and chatting about the everyday things. 

I am a hugger, I love Hugs and personally think there is never a point where a person could have too many Hugs.  Medical science has completed studies showing that good mental, and physical health is enhanced by Hugs.  I wonder if more people (especially the elderly) would have survived the virus if they had not been isolated, and thus received no physical touch by anyone, and especially anyone they loved.   

Which brings me to the story of our Sunday school class.  Our Sunday school class dwindled down to a half a dozen regular attendees before the virus closed the church.  After a month or so of not seeing these much-loved faces and sharing, I reached out and everyone was for meeting over Zoom.  Not everyone was able to attend but most were and so we meet once a week on Thursday and it has become my lifeline.  We open with a line of scripture, We read a paragraph from a book “Life Together in Christ” and  then share how the scripture and the reading from the book relate to our lives today.  We meet on Zoom for the forty minutes that are free.  Others pop in now and then, and we take delight in one members brand new granddaughter who grandma is babysitting, and we get to watch grow every week. 

I have shared with everyone I know, that I am keeping track of lost HUGS and the number is over 5 billion 756 thousand today.  I am blessed that I am closest to God when outside, on my knees, pulling weeds.  The spiritual practice of sitting outdoors listening to the early morning prayers of the birds, or the angels singing through the pines quiets my busy mind, and softens my heart. Some days just staring out the window as I enjoy the wonder of God’s creation fills my soul.  But that need for human contact still calls to me.  I will not live long enough to forget how precious a Hug is, when once again I can be face to face with all these people, I hold so dear.  And who knows sometimes when we are first able to feel safe, a complete stranger. 

The thought for the day is reach out, call someone your congregation address book is a good place to start, join or start a Sunday school class, or book club. Any group you can find or think of.  Human contact is good for your mental and physical health.

No it is just not the same, it is different, well from what I am reading we are not going to be together, in person for some time.  And what it will be like then most likely will be a new normal.  So we need to be as close as we can now, fill those lonely days with the voice’s on the phone, and the face’s on our computer.   May God bless us all with shared moments together in a pandemic.    

Bloomsday during a Pandemic by Sandy Decker

For anyone who knows me well, you know that the first Sunday in May is always spent doing Bloomsday.  For those that don’t know Bloomsday is a 7.46 mile run in Spokane that has taken place in May since the 1970s.  Though Bloomsday has turned into so much more than a road race/fun run.  It is a community event that draws thousands of people not only to participate but to watch.  It grew to the all-time high in the 1996 at just over 61,000 participants and has now settled back down to around 40,000 to 45,000 each year.

Well, that has been typically how I would spend that first Sunday in May until this year, when the pandemic upon us has changed everything.  First the event was postponed until September then it was later changed to a virtual event.  With the virtual event, participants are to complete the 7.46 miles during a 3-day time span then report the time.

With the changes that have taken place with Bloomsday this year, it has me reflecting on why I do it.  This is my 40th year to participate in the event so I had a lot of experience to reflect upon.  I first began as a young adult, I was participating in an exercise class and many of my classmates were going to run the race.  I decided it would be fun to try and while I wasn’t very fast, I did run for most of the race.  This continued for a few years until life started getting in the way and I didn’t have time to train so I decided to take my five-year-old niece and walk.  This was a completely different experience and one I totally enjoyed.  For the next several years I took my nieces with me, then my sons as well.  One year I had one son in a stroller and one in a backpack.  Once my boys had moved away, I continued to do it by myself. And for the last several years my oldest son has done Bloomsday as well but since he is much faster than me, we part at the starting line and meet up again at the end.

So, this is what I have done but the question is why.  Why has this become part of my tradition and why have I kept on for 40 years.  I think it is several things, one is the personal accomplishment.  As I said, I am not particularly fast but I have always finished in a respectable time and feel good about participating.  Even beyond the personal accomplishment it is about being part of a community event.  It is about the fun and celebratory atmosphere that surrounds the event.  This year it will not be quite the same without the community celebration.

It occurs to me that all those thousands of people who participate in Bloomsday are following a common path with the same goal in mind.  The flow of people moving at their own pace but in many ways helping each other continue on the path.  Over the years I have had people, strangers, tell me that they were following my pace and it help keep them moving. People are all on different parts of the path. At times there are people moving along the entire race course at the same time. We are all moving together along a path to the finish line and to win that prize of a coveted t-shirt for the finishers 

Our faith community is like this, we are all on a common path with the same goal in mind, being in service and the mission of Christ. We are at different places on this path going at our own pace. At times we may need to look to someone else to keep us going and at times we may be the one that keeps others going.  The one difference I would say in this analogy is that on our faith journey we do not reach the end and then are done.  The journey doesn’t end at a finish line and we part ways. We may reach certain goals and accomplish tasks along the way but we continue along this journey together.

During this year, when everything has changed so much, let’s remember that we are in this together, traveling on the same faith journey all at our own pace yet with the same goal of loving and serving God and sharing His good news with others.

Although things are so different, we keep on because of that dedication that we have to each other and to God.  Just like I will be out doing the virtual Bloomsday without the community because I am dedicated to my tradition and I want to get the t-shirt!

Invite People to Christ by Carol Ann Reiff

 

When Terry finished Medical School we had to pay back the public health service.  We chose to go to a small town in Mississippi.  Moving to the “Bible Belt” was something we were not prepared for.  We moved into a very large, 100-year-old home in the middle of a small town, just 3 blocks from Terry’s clinic.  People treated us like we were royalty, bringing us vegetables every day.  We were not used to black eyed peas, boiled peanuts, and food we didn’t have in Montana.  Most of the time when they came, introducing themselves and offering food they would say something like, “Do y’all have a church to go to?  We’d sure like you to come to ours.”  Funny, we didn’t feel pushed or offended in any way.  In fact, we felt wanted, even cared about.  We drove most Sundays to our own denomination in Jackson, an hour away.  But sometimes we couldn’t so we’d attend other churches nearby.  We became so close to those people that when we finally left Durant one of the churches gave us a farewell dinner.  We loved their revivals with such talented singers.  Our children went to the Bible schools in the summer and I attended an inner-denominational bible study.  It was in that little town that I began to love Jesus and the Bible.  People there were very serious about their faith.  They took the bible very literally and tried to live up to Christ’s call in their life.  I still don’t take every part of the Bible literally but I hope I take it seriously.  It was there I also learned that inviting people to Christ didn’t have to be difficult.  It’s like giving them a gift of love.  It’s like giving them something so precious that life is more beautiful than it ever was before.

Meditation on Hymn “We Shall Overcome” By Roberta Tilden

We shall overcome – I remember fervently singing this song when I was in high school.

I remember watching innocent people being beaten with clubs and attacked by dogs just because they wanted equal rights.  Been there done that.  I thought we had overcome fear and prejudice permanently.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  Here racism is rearing its ugly head again.  What is a person to do?

Fortunately those of us who belong to Community of Christ have a real vehicle for change at our disposal.  We have been encouraged to proclaim Christ and create communities of Joy, Hope Love, and Peace.  I do believe that we SHALL overcome one person at a time.

Walking hand in hand to create communities where people truly respect each other, and love diversity is our calling and our hope. 

We can pray for peace but we must also work for peace.

Will we live in peace someday?  Perhaps that is up to you and me.  Violence and racism can be catching, but so can Joy, Hope, Love, and Peace.  Live your commitment to the Christ and someday we will live in Peace.

Biscuits: A Spiritual Practice By Tyler Marz

Making food has been a passion of mine for many years. I recall learning from my mother, and grandmothers’ different recipes. Many of them were not “fancy” dishes, but delicious homecooked meals that they grew up eating. I have fond memories now thinking back to those times. Cooking and baking have become more than just a necessity but a spiritual practice.

While cooking for a reunion, I also offered a spiritual practice of making biscuits. This came out of a personal experience I had making biscuits one morning for myself. I had gathered all my ingredients and stood at the counter measuring out each. I incorporated a few secrets that ensured a tender biscuit with a crisp bottom and flaky layers. After I combined the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt I began to work the cold butter in with my fingertips – all the while staring out the window with the birds and spring foliage in front of me. I contemplated the hands that had worked to produce the ingredients I was using, the farmers and cows. I added the buttermilk, mixed, rolled, and cut out each biscuit, being present with the textures and sensations of the process. Round soft pillows of dough all lined in rows as they entered the oven.

As they came out of the oven, I split one open and added butter and a spread of homemade raspberry jam. For a moment I closed my eyes and smelled the butter. I then took a bite savoring the crisp and flaky texture and the tartness of the jam. I am thankful for the peace that filled that moment and knew that God was there.

During this reunion experience I had the participants do the same steps I did, being present each step of the way. They noticed the sensations and were prayerful about the ingredients and pondering the hands that assisted in the process. Later, as they consumed their fresh out-of-the-oven biscuit, they were silent, filled with memories of times past with food, families and friends. For each of them God was there in God’s own way, providing a sense of peace, memory and nourishment.

Editors note:  You can find Tyler's biscuit recipe at:  MarthaStewart.com/316713/flaky-Buttery-Biscuits

Adventures in Spiritual Practices by Lavera Wade

Last Sunday during the Mission Center Sunday Service a guided centering prayer was offered. We were asked to close our eyes, and direct our attention to our breath, silently saying the word open as we breathed in and heart as we breathed out.   My busy little brain wanted to sing a favorite hymn that begins with “Open My Heart Lord”.  I am still growing in this process of spiritual practice.

For the last few years, I have been participating in the Spiritual Growth and Companioning program.  A great deal of time in this program has been devoted to the study and practice of spiritual practices.  At the first retreat for this class I was asked to select a spiritual practice that I would like to use daily.  I love God’s creation and have over the years found peace in gardening and fishing.  So I chose Holy Attention and devoted my time in spiritual practice each morning looking deeply at a toothpick holder that my husband a woodworker had made from a burl.

Or I would sit quietly on the patio bench watching finches, hummingbirds, and quail stop by for a snack. I found it easy to be still in this attention to God’s creation.  Well sometimes I found it easy, other times my busy brain would like to take off like a gerbil on a wheel with all kinds of conversations that were not happening, or concerns about issues out of my control.  In time I learned to gently quiet my busy mind and return to the silence.

Concentrating on the breath is an often suggested means of bringing the mind back to the meditation.  My problem is when I am concentrating on my breath I struggle to breathe normally.  I was grateful recently to read that this was not uncommon in learning spiritual practices.  One would think this would all be much simpler, but then there was a time when I did not know how to tie my shoes.  It is all part of learning and growing spiritually.

At the next retreat I was instructed by my leader to pick a new spiritual practice.  I liked the practice of Holy Attention and complained to my Spiritual Director that as I was learning so much from the practice of Holy Attention that I saw no reason to change to another practice.  A wise man, he suggested I try including the prayer of examen in my evening prayers for others, and continue the practice of Holy Attention as I wished. I said I would try it for a month.  The prayer of examen changed my life and I cannot image ever ending my day without this spiritual practice.  (See November 2019 Blog article)

Yesterday I received a book, Lectio Divina (required reading for the class) transforming words and images into heart centered prayer (by Christine Painter).  I will share an abbreviated portion of the of the initial steps of this spiritual practice suggested in this book.  After reading a short text or scripture,   settle into your prayer space (maybe spending some quiet time with your breath.)  Listen for a word or phrase in the reading that calls to you.  Repeat the word or phrase in silence.

Quietly listen for what images feelings or memories are stirring and welcome into your heart whatever comes.  Listen for how the stirring in your heart connects to your everyday life. In time prayer may arise spontaneously, when you allow your heart to be touched by this entering of God into your experience.  (Sometimes for me the prayer is a deep feeling of peace.)  Other times answers about the questions of my day will come to me later as I go about my daily activities. 

So, returning to the centering prayer last Sunday.  Amazing, I found that silently saying the word open as I breathed in and heart as I breathed out resulted in my breathing remaining fairly normal. I love it when at last I just get it.  We were asked to continue this breathing for one minute, and after a bell at the end of the minute, we were asked to open our eyes and rest in the silence for a minute and a half.  A minute and a half can seem like a very long time sometimes, and other times 20 minutes fly by. I use an egg timer or my phone to track time.

During this virus situation I have depended on spiritual practices to keep centered and find some peace in the midst of all this lack of normal as we knew it.  I find it easy to spend a couple minutes during the day, and other times for much longer, in silently opening my heart to God’s love. As I continue to learn the art of these different spiritual practices, I have found it easier to gently settle into the process.  Just enjoy the art of spiritual living.

When You Can’t Pray by John VanDerWalker

There has been a growing impatience with the response “Our thoughts and prayers are with you/them.”   People of faith and folks of social conscience are beginning to say, let’s quit praying and do something about _________.  This is a valid criticism and one that we should, as disciples of Jesus consider as a criticism on Christian discipleship.  If all Jesus had done is pray and not extended healing touch and liberation the blind would have remained so, the guilty would have been condemned and the world would be in darkness.

But what about when you can’t pray?  Some would have you believe that prayer can be stopped by laws, I know better, I have prayed in the midst of some very hostile environments, and have offered vocal public prayers calling those in power to account.  There is nowhere in the world that you cannot pray, if you are able.

Sound like a contradiction?  Well maybe, but let me explain.  There has been a time in my life that I couldn’t pray.  The habit was still there, the desire or maybe the motivation was there, but the thoughts and words would not come.  I have sat, stood, laid in silence with my tongue and mind in neutral, no thoughts, no words, no prayers.  Recently this has gone on for years. 

Now, before you start pitying me, hang on. 

I have never once felt alone or abandoned by God in these times.  As I think back on those dry spells I am reminded of the witness of nature, the witness of my friends, my family, spiritual leaders, and authors.  Not once did God discontinue to show me God’s presence, whether it be in the antics of chickadees, the grace of soaring eagles, the rambunctious joy of a fawn, or the meditative murmur of a trout stream, God was constantly present and speaking.  I have had folks reach out to me out of the blue, like my high school friend David, who upon hearing of the passing of a loved one has called every couple of weeks just to make sure I was ok.  Or the dedication of colleagues who make sure the job gets done well and with a sense of joy to boot.  There is always the witness of faithfulness from my life companion who has not had an easy time with me. 

God’s genius expressed in the genius of men and women who are able to use words on paper to generate ideas, confirm feelings and foster inspiration, is witness to me in early morning and late evening reading sessions that at times last hours.  I sense God there on the pages flowing from the minds of those who write.  Wendell Berry, Barbara Brown Taylor, Brian McLaren, and on and on.

I know that some have felt abandoned by God, luckily I have not really been there, but I have been and am somewhat still mute when it comes to prayer, or at least what I was taught was prayer.  My mind swirls with the condition of the planet, the pain of my friends and the struggle of family and while that tornado is spinning in my head, still the words do not come, and so I sit, stand, lie, quietly, paying attention to the presence of God around me.  I listen.  And maybe that is appropriate for me, maybe I have said enough for a lifetime and now it is time to listen, to watch, to feel, to act.

Finding God among the produce by Mark Olson

I have always enjoyed food and cooking.  Twelve years ago my relationship to both changed when I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes.  I spent many months journaling about and examining my relationship to food. I tracked what I ate, when I ate, how much I ate and, most importantly, why I ate.  I read books and articles. I talked to doctors and dieticians.  Slowly, I began to see food with new eyes.

I adopted a very basic guiding principle that 70-80% of what I ate needed to cut up by me. I had my knives sharpened. I started spending time carefully picking out fresh produce, washing it and chopping it.  This small act has become a cornerstone of my spiritual life. 

Chopping garlic, onions, peppers, and mushrooms and peeling grapefruit, avocados and oranges has become a meditation practice.  I spend time with my cutting boards and my knives preparing wholesome food to nourish body and soul. 

I grew up saying grace before dinner.  Now, I give thanks to all the hands that help provide the food I cut up.  I give thanks for the fresh produce.  I give thanks for the opportunity to prepare food that will nourish the body and soul of all those who partake of it.  I give thanks and enjoy my time cutting and chopping.  The rhythm of chopping produce has a meditative-spiritual affect when done with intention and attention.  This is what the Buddhist call “joyful effort”.  Every pear cut, every cucumber peeled, every tomato sliced becomes an opportunity to give thanks. It can be an opportunity to live in the moment and connect with the life-giving bounty of God’s creation.  

Blessings of Community - Tiona Reunion by Carol Ann Reiff

Terry and I had a bucket list dream of attending the Tiona reunion in Australia.  This year it became a reality.  December 12 we landed in Sydney, cruised the east coast, snorkeled on the Gold Coast, saw a performance at the Sydney Opera house, hand fed kangaroos and pet a Koala.  All of that was amazing but none of that compared with the beauty and warm hospitality of the Tiona reunion.

When I told one of the Saints at the reunion how lovely the people were to us he laughed, “Of course, we are at reunion!”  I stopped counting the number of times someone told me, “My grandparents came to Tiona every year and my parents didn’t miss a reunion and I wanted my children to be able to have this Tiona experience too.”  Tiona has Lake Wallis on one side and the Ocean on the other.  The beaches on each are treasures.  The long lake beach is only one half to a foot deep for over a hundred meters – lovely for the children to play freely.  The ocean beach carnival is a favorite each year.  I began to wonder if people worshiped Tiona instead of God!  By the week’s end I saw it was both.

Creative fun, lots of laughter, rich fellowship, reverent worship, many good classes taught by gifted mid lifers and the sacraments of baptism, communion and laying on of hands. Our favorite time of each day was sitting together in the outdoor “Green Cathedral” next to the lake, worshiping as we watched the sunset.  It was magnificent and unique each evening.

It was hard to leave Tiona and those lovely, hospitable people.  Like all of our reunions, the Love of God bound us together in a rich peace beyond our understanding.

Temple Story by Brittany Mangelson

The story I have for you, is actually three short stories that connect my distant past, my present understanding and my future with this sacred building. The first time I saw the Temple was 2002. I was a young teenager on a church history tour. I was not a member of Community Christ, but my heritage and history with faith shares roots in the sacred story of the restoration. Unfortunately, our itinerary for the tour did not include Community of Christ’s Temple. We did, however, eat lunch on the lawn of the LDS visitor’s center just across the street. I have a distinct memory of looking up at this building and being so curious about its soft , yet bold design. I was not seeking a new spiritual home at that point, but the architecture of this building stuck with me and I carried that curious image with me throughout the next decade.

The first time I was able to visit this sacred space was in 2016. By that point, I was a member of Community of Christ, an ordained priest, and was set to interview President Emeritus Wallace B Smith for Project Zion Podcast. My 5 year-old twin daughters and 2 year-old son were anxious after being in the car for the two day drive from Utah. My family pulled into the parking lot to set up for our important interview, and we weren’t even in the building before we were stopped and shown Christian love and hospitality by someone who has since become a friend. Nita Harder was a stranger at the time who took a moment to pause and see a family struggling with three young kids. She stopped to welcome us, to tell a few jokes, and help my kids get in a much better mood. She gifted us peace before we even walked in the door.

The next few hours were a whirlwind experience. I had heard so much about this building and I was afraid my enthusiasm was setting myself up for disappointment. Could it really be a place where all were welcome? Was it going to be as open, transparent, loving, and filled with grace as everyone said? As a young mother, I worried that my family would be seen as a burden, or that I would be pigeonholed into one identity and role because of my gender. Could I actually find empowerment and a voice of my own in this holy place?

The answer was YES!

From the moment we arrived, I was treated like family. We happen upon Apostle Linda Booth in the lobby who was thrilled to see us and paused her very busy morning to give us a tour of the Temple complex. My kids were able to meet a significant amount World Church leadership and I quickly realized that not only was I considered worthy and good enough to be in this space, but they were too. We left with chocolates from the UK, wishes and blessings that were given to us in Spanish and whichever language Bunda happened to be speaking at the time, and pens straight out of Scott Murphy’s personal collection.

Christ’s Mission and the ministries of the Temple came alive for me that morning. I was affirmed in a way I didn’t think was possible. I was given a deepened understanding that the soft, bold architecture of this building is reflected in the Spirit of Joy, Hope, Love, and Peace that we experience here.

Since that first visit in 2016, I have had the privilege of coming back four additional times as part of Community of Christ’s Seminary program. Each time, I have tried to carve out space to be alone and sit in the quiet peace I find here. I’ve never told this story before and to be honest, I wasn’t planning on ever sharing it, but during one particularly chilly and gloomy day in the middle of deep study, I found myself looking out a window onto the lawn across the street that I had once picnicked on. I went into deep reflection on what has happened to me since I sat on that lawn. My journey into Community of Christ was difficult, but in that moment the feelings of grace and gratitude was overwhelming. This journey had been worth it. Here I was, again just a young mom, who was being not only welcomed in this Temple, but empowered and educated here, too. I was being educated in the ways and teachings of Jesus. Those teachings of radical hospitality, of reconciliation and healing, and the reality that ALL are worthy and welcome to surrender to God’s divine grace. As I sat staring out the window, I knew I could not keep quiet about this. That’s the beauty of this Temple! We have a message to share! We come into the Worshipper’s Path and into this Sanctuary and we are changed and equipped for mission. We are charged to bring Christ’s message of peace to the entire world. My place in this puzzle of mission was made clear to me on that gloomy winter day. Because I am worthy enough to be here, I must invite others. The message is too important, too critical to remain within these walls.

This space has changed me. It has brought me a deeper connection to God, clarity, community, friendship, and most of all; peace. And that is the message I hope to carry out into the world.