Hanging Out With AG People

It is time for our district's annual council--which means business meetings, a sort of state-of-the-district address from out new Supt., and an ordination service. We are leaving this evening and will be home Tuesday night sometime. I'm hosting a Christians for Biblical Equality booth, and also sharing some of my own materials and hoping to make some connections for future ministry. The next Little Big Foot chapter is already written, so I'll post it when I get back. Thank you to those who let me know you were wating for the next installment. :-)

Little Big Foot: I'll Fly Away

The Reverend Dee Anna Hanson is alive and well, so to speak. If you would like to read the previous Little Big Foot chapters, click the link "Stories: Little Big Foot" at the bottom of this post and then scroll to the bottom of the page to read from the beginning.

Dee Anna closed her eyes and silently prayed for calm. She wondered what she would say when she answered the phone. She tried to form her thoughts into words but found she couldn't' complete a sentence that made any sense. She told herself she was just tired from two nights of inadequate sleep and wished she had awakened early enough to spend some time in prayer before her groggy breakfast with Madeline and Mrs. Herndon. Well, she'd spend some time reading a devotional page from Oswald Chamber's "My Utmost for His Highest" when she finished the phone conversation.

She heard faint whistling coming from outside the stained glass window that graced the rear wall of her office, an odd feature, but one she loved. She smiled, picturing the sparkle of sun on the wet grass, and the the whistling black man dressed in jeans kneeling to groom the already nearly flawless flower beds. What was the tune Leroy was whistling? She rose and moved to the window to listen. That's actually pretty good whistling, she thought, smiling again, and then Dee Anna realized that she knew exactly what song she was hearing. It was "I'll Fly Away." She had not heard that song in a long time, maybe not since she had left her position as a children's pastor at the church in Lubbock. And certainly never at Eastside Church.

Her thoughts traveled, without her permission, to a small brick house that sat back from a Texas state highway. The smell of sausage filled the house, and she was sitting at a wooden kitchen table. Her feet, shod in white socks and black patent leather shoes, were hooked around the front rung of her chair. Her older brother, Phil, stood by the back door, dressed in dress pants and a white Sunday shirt. She could sense the tense atmosphere without knowing what it was.

Her father's voice came from the porch, practicing the song he would sing later at church "I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away, When I die, Hallelujah, bye and bye..." and her mother came in to the kitchen from the hallway, twisting her red hair into a bun as she moved to the table. Mother never needed a mirror to twist her thick hair into a neat knot at the nape of her neck; she always did it perfectly even though her movements were quick. She did it the same way every morning. Dee Anna recalled her mother's frown as she gazed down at her daughter.

"Come on, you're going to make us late again, Dee Anna. Always daydreaming and poking. What did I do to deserve such a poky child?" Her heels clacked on the kitchen tile as she crossed the room to stand by Phil. "Good Lord, when are you going to get a haircut? I am embarrassed to be seen at church with you looking like a hippie. And what time did you finally decide to come home last night?"

Phil, wordless, moved aside as his mother shouted through the screen door, "Come on, Bud! I've got to get to Sunday School early. I'm settin' out the new quarterlies for the adult class." It had been a late spring day and the Texas sun was already hot even though it was only about 8 a.m. Still the child Dee Anna had felt chilled. Whenever Dee Anna thought about those days, she never recalled the house as being warm.

She realized that Leroy's whistle had stopped and she frowned as she returned to her office chair, rubbing her arms slightly. She felt mildly annoyed that she was spoiling a perfectly good morning by thinking about that unpleasant Sunday. She was sure tired...

Her father had continued singing as he stepped into the kitchen, "Just a few more weary days and then..."

Weary days. Oh yeah, that was for sure.

Ring!

The phone on the desk rang, startling Dee Anna back to the present. She took a deep breath and sat up straight. She knew the caller would be her friend, Brother Young, a former professor from Bible college. He had seen her with Michael at an interdenominational World Day of Prayer service. As their eyes met, both of them had recognized the other, surprised to find a familiar face in Madison, Wisconsin.

Getting reacquainted over lunch after the meeting, they had quickly regained a sort of older mentor to younger student kind of rapport. Dee Anna had found it oddly comforting. As for Michael, he had liked the older man immediately. By the end of lunch they were making plans to get together and soon the three of them had became friends.

Ring!

She picked up the phone. "Good Morning, Eastside Church, this is Rev. Dee Anna Hanson." As expected, she heard the familiar Texas accent in her ear. Somehow, even though Brother Young had been away from Texas for over a decade, he still sounded more like a Texas cowboy than a well-respected church leader in Wisconsin.

"Hey, girl, nine o' clock and here I am. How was it in Little Big Foot? I figure I'll hear somethin' from them later today but I wanted to talk with you first, like we said. You loved it, didn't you?"

Dee Anna was surprised by the sudden tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"Yes. I'm so scared to say it, but...oh man...yes. I did. I hated it too, Brother Young, in a way. It started out just awful, and even before the Sunday service I had decided I'd been foolish to even go up there. I was a little upset with you, actually." She continued rapidly, somehow knowing she couldn' t pause, "But something so strange but good happened. I think maybe it was God, and it was wonderful to sense the presence of the Spirit with me and...and...I think I might end up there."

What on earth? What was she saying? As the words tumbled out, she knew that she wanted them to be true.

"But God," she thought, as she heard Brother Young's chuckle, "I love Eastside. I love Madison. I love dear old Southern Baptist Leroy and his flowers and his whistling."

Practicing Resurrection

It is the 33rd "Poetry Party" over at Abbey of the Arts where our hostess posts a picture and invites us to share thoughts or poems. If you would like to participate (for a chance at a prize), or just view the submissions, head on over.

Here is mine, as I remember my California beginnings:

Luminous days of summer sun

Salt Spray, Hot Sand, Cool Breeze

me on the shore

Anticipating.

The family reclining behind me

Pretty Sisters, Scratchy Blankets, Beach Boys

me on the shore

Pretending.

Mother anxious, Daddy hopeful

Bright Towels, Radio Static, Picnic Basket

me on the shore

Shivering.

Shaking with fear-tinged joy

New Swimsuit, Curving Waves, Cold Splash

me on the shore

Toes curled.

Running, gasping with exhilaration,

Sweet Laughter, Happy Shouts, Burning Eyes

me in the surf

Topsy-turvey.

Remembered like years are nothing,

Passing Childhood, Fractured Family, Lost Security

me in the surf

Feeling little.

Somewhere inside my thoughts are,

Determined Faith, Stubborn Hope, God's love

me in the world

Wondering.

When will the final day arrive

Last Ending, Spirit Crossing, Eternal Beginning,

me with Father God,

Resurrected?

Jesus smiling down at me with

Warm Recognition, Open Welcome, Outstretched Hand

me a child again

Beginning.

He is Risen

Seven Stanzas at Easter

by John Updike (b. 1932)

Make no mistake:

if He rose at all it was as His body;

if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse,

the molecules reknit,

the amino acids rekindle,

the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,

each soft Spring recurrent;

it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled

eyes of the eleven apostles;

it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,

the same valved heart

that–pierced–died, withered, paused,

and then regathered out of enduring Might

new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,

analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;

making of the event a parable,

a sign painted in the

faded credulity of earlier ages:

let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back,

not papier-mâché,

not a stone in a story,

but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow

grinding of time will eclipse for each of us

the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,

make it a real angel,

weighty with Max Planck’s quanta,

vivid with hair,

opaque in the dawn light,

robed in real linen

spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,

for our own convenience,

our own sense of beauty,

lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour,

we are embarrassed by the miracle,

and crushed by remonstrance.

Matthew 28:1-10

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men. The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

Enjoy a few words from Matthew, and then the glorious Easter Song from the late, great, Keith Green.


Don't you just love the scene when Jesus meets the women, they worship and then he hugs them? I wish each of you a blessed Easter!

HE IS RISEN JUST AS HE SAID!

Kyrie Eleison--Lord, Have Mercy

Just before attending a beautifully done Good Friday community worship service, something occurred that revealed a part of my thoughts and attitude that I did not like to see. I was sad during most of the service. This was partly due to the readings, the sombre atmosphere and the things we remember on the day Jesus died, but it was also partly due to the awareness I had that if it were not for the mercy and grace of our Lord, I could not hope to stand in God's presence. I felt like Isaiah when, standing before God's throne, he cried, "Woe is me. I am undone." There were moments of silence interspersed in the service, and during those times I found myself thinking "Lord, have mercy on me according to your lovingkindness."

The good news is, the gospel is for those who understand that they are not righteous.

From Luke 23
Now...there was a man named Joseph, a council member, a good and just man. He had not consented to their decision and deed. He was from Arimathea, a city of the Jews, who himself was also waiting for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen, and laid it in a tomb that was hewn out of the rock, where no one had ever lain before. That day was the Preparation, and the Sabbath drew near. And the women who had come with Him from Galilee followed after, and they observed the tomb and how His body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and fragrant oils. And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.

Nehemiah 9:31
Nevertheless in Your great mercy ,You did not utterly consume them nor forsake them; For You are God, gracious and merciful.

Deuteronomy 7:9
Therefore know that the LORD... He is...the faithful God who keeps covenant and mercy for a thousand generations with those who love Him and keep His commandments.

The video today features the unusual music of Isaac Everet. I don't quite like the fish motif, but I find the mournful sound of the Australian digeridu quite fitting as it opens a song that says, "Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy!" Thankfully, he does!

Let's wait together in hope for the joy that comes in the morning.




Psalm 30:10
Hear, O LORD, and have mercy on me. LORD, be my helper!”

At the Cross

From Mark 15 (New International Version)

The...Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate. "Are you the king of the Jews?" asked Pilate. "Yes, it is as you say," Jesus replied. The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, "Aren't you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of." But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed..."What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?" Pilate asked them.

"Crucify him!" they shouted.

"Why? What crime has he committed?" asked Pilate.

But they shouted all the louder, "Crucify him!"

Pilate...had Jesus flogged and handed him over to be crucified. The soldiers led Jesus away into the palace...the whole company of soldiers...put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. And they began to call out..."Hail, king of the Jews!" Again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him. And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him...

They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull)...and crucified him. Dividing up his clothes, they cast lots to see what each would get. It was the third hour when they crucified him.

The written notice of the charge against him read: THE KING OF THE JEWS...Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, "So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, come down from the cross and save yourself!" The...the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! Let this Christ, this King of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe."

At the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" When some of those standing near heard this, they said, "Listen, he's calling Elijah." One man ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a stick, and offered it to Jesus to drink. "Now leave him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to take him down," he said.

With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.

The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, heard his cry and saw how he died, he said, "Surely this man was the Son of God!"

When I viewed "The Passion" movie, I expected to be distressed by the scourging and crucifixion scenes, and I was. But the scene which, somewhat inexplicably, moved me the most and caused me to feel not only deeply sad but deeply angry, was of the soldiers mocking Jesus--the crown, robe, bowing down, taunts...these caused a depth of anger in me that was surprising. I felt murderous, even though I knew, of course, that this was a film and these were actors I was watching. I knew quite clearly in that moment that I would likely have been like Peter in the garden, wildly swinging a sword and wanting to kill someone. I understood somehow, in that moment in a darkened theatre, a little more of what it must have meant for Jesus Christ to endure in silence and to say, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do."

Today's video is of the well-known hymn by Isaac Watts, sung here by the Sharon Singers of Sharon Mennonite Bible Institute. The lovely tune was new to me.

The Basin and the Towel

From John 13

It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress...Jesus knew that...he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him...When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them...

When the disciples arrive for their last meal with Jesus, someone has forgotten something important. The servant who is assigned the task of washing the feet of the guests is not present. Can you picture the scene? As each man looks around, each one takes note that no one is there to serve in the accustomed way. And one by one they reject the humble place and choose pride--they each choose to sit down. If they were indeed seated in the Roman way of reclining on couches, might not a pair of dirty feet be much too close to the face of a friend?

And then there is Jesus. Perhaps he waits a moment to see what will happen. And then their holy rabbi, teacher, messiah, their companion from the road...takes up the towel.

I find this song powerful, convicting, amazing...

The words are printed below the video. There is not much to look at (just Michael Card's shiny head--smile) so if you would like, you can read along as you listen to the music of this beautiful song.



In an upstairs room, a parable
is just about to come alive.
And while they bicker about who's best,
with a painful glance, He'll silently rise.

Their Savior Servant must show them how
by the will of the water
and the tenderness of the towel.

And the call is to community,
The impoverished power that sets the soul free.
In humility, to take the vow,
that day after day we must take up the basin and the towel.

In any ordinary place,
on any ordinary day,
the parable can live again
when one will kneel and one will yield.

Our Saviour Servant must show us how
by the will of the water
and the tenderness of the towel.

And the space between ourselves sometimes
is more than the distance between the stars.
By the fragile bridge of the Servant's bow
we take up the basin and the towel.

And the call is to community,
The impoverished power that sets the soul free.
In humility, to take the vow,
that day after day we must take up the basin and the towel.

A Poem in "Everyday Journal"

I am pleased to say that one of my poems, "Father's Daughter" has been published in the Spring edition of The Everyday Journal, part of the website "Everyday Liturgy." The spring issue is titled "Women in Theology."

The journal will be available in print later, but you can check out this edition by clicking HERE. The link to my poem is down a ways in the table of contents, but if you are interested in the topic there is lots of thought-provoking reading.

If you are amused or surprised that a Pentecostal who knows little about liturgy has a poem there--well--I am amused as well. :-) In a good way.

What Does it Mean to Be Like Jesus?

Luke 5:27-31 New Living Translation
Later, as Jesus left the town, he saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at his tax collector’s booth. “Follow me and be my disciple,” Jesus said to him. So Levi got up, left everything, and followed him. Later, Levi held a banquet in his home with Jesus as the guest of honor. Many of Levi’s fellow tax collectors and other guests also ate with them. But the Pharisees and their teachers of religious law complained bitterly to Jesus’ disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with such scum?” Jesus answered them, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent

Today I'm posting the song "My Jesus" by Todd Agnew. Sometime I like this song. Sometimes I do not. I love Todd Agnew's music, but this song strikes me as a bit smug. He says Jesus would not be welcome in his church, and perhaps that is true in far too many cases, but I also grow weary, sometimes, of church bashing. So are you wondering, "Well, if you dislike something about the song why are you posting it?"

The song asks some hard questions, pokes at the "American dream," uses some words we might not care for in a "Christian" song. But in my discomfort at some of what I hear, I am challenged to ask myself if I really want to care for the poor, hang out with "thieves and sluts and liars" and in the end perhaps receive evil for good.

If Jesus walked this earth today, where might we find him? What might he be doing and saying? Would he be welcome at my dinner table, my party, my family gathering? My church? Well, if we knew he was Jesus he would have to be--but what if we did not recognize him? Is it true he would choose not to hang out with "the stained glass crowd?"



Ministries like this one are springing up in cities across America. I found it amazing, refreshing, encouraging--and had to seriously ask myself if I would be willing to participate.

Celtic Woman -- A New Journey -- The Prayer

Sometime ago I had the great pleasure of going with a friend to see Celtic Woman. The following video features Chloe singing a song that was part of that evening's performance. I find these words

Need to find a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

particularly poignant. Somewhere in each of us lives a child who longs for a safe place. This is particularly true for those of us who had no safe place in our world, particularly during the years when we formed out opinions about the world and our place in it. We humans look for patterns, for reason and logic and order; it is part of who we are and how we survive in the world.. I suspect that part of the reason for that is our need to feel in control, to feel safe. Yet every day horrible, unjust, painful, unfair, wrong things happen and sometimes they make no sense. The truth is, there is no safe place--except in God.

From Romans 8

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God...he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.” For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering. Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us...wemust wait patiently and confidently.

I believe the Bible teaches that God's creation was marred by sin. Since we are given freedom to choose God's way or to reject God's way, this world is not a safe place. That is difficult, isn't it? We can, and should, take steps to make places of peace and security, places of love and acceptance and forgivness. But our true and eternal safety is found in the hope that God will one day give us our complete inheiritance as children. God is our safe place!

The words to the song are below the video.



I pray you'll be our eyes
And watch us where we go
And help us to be wise
In times when we don't know
Let this be our prayer
As we go our way
Lead us to a place
Guide us with your grace
To a place where we'll be safe

I pray we'll find your light
And hold it in our hearts
When stars go out each night
Remind us where you are
Let this be our prayer
When shadows fill our day
Lead us to a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love
Let this be our prayer
Just like every child
Needs to find a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

Need to find a place
Guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we'll be safe

Lead Me to the Cross

Matthew 20:28
"...the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

Not to be served
but to serve.

The words sound
good
and holy and right.
We know, Lord,
we followers of yours,
that we are servants.

It sounds simple,
and if
we only could.
Why is it
so hard
this simple thing?

Lead me to the cross
and remind me
Oh Lord,
that my life
is lost
so I may be found.

Lead me to the cross,
and remind me.

D.G.

Hosanna!

John 12:12-13

The next day a great multitude that had come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees and went out to meet Him, and cried out:
“ Hosanna!
‘ Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
The King of Israel!”

The sound of Phil Driscoll's gravelly yet stirring voice and his amazing trumpet transports me back to a time when my children were small, I was younger, more naive, and in some ways more hopeful about the Church, the world, and my place in it. The society and the world we live in seem fragile--perhaps broken beyond repair.

Oh Lord, may heaven and earth be filled with your glory. As we sing our "hosannas" today, may we be reminded that our praise is but a shadow of what is to come!

The verses that follow are not the words to the song. Those are my words. Be blessed today.



Holy, holy, holy Lord
God of power and might
Will you not rend the heavens
and come down?

Once again we praise You
And we sing and shout
Hosanna
Once again we sing
of victory.

Can you see them
on the road
lifted palms--and hearts and hands?
How the people shouted
even as the darkness gathered

The joy turned soon
to sorrow
as you wept to see Jerusalem
Do you weep to see us now
The lost and lonely?

Hosannah,
hosanna, hosanna
I will praise you on the road
And I will wait.

Holy, holy, holy Lord
God of power and might
Will you not rend the heavens
and come down?

We Crucify Him

What follows is an excerpt from a reflection posted at Practicing Intentional Gratitude. I found it a powerful reminder as we head into Palm Sunday and then various reflections and recollections of what followed. You can click on the link if you would like to read the rest.

We crucify Jesus when we act out of impatience or anger or fear, rather than acting in love. We crucify Jesus when we scorn the homeless man standing in front of the grocery store. We crucify Jesus when we seize and hoard, but refuse to care for those who have nothing. We crucify Jesus when we stand by as a crowd takes on an individual, physically or verbally, and we do nothing. We crucify Jesus when we ignore our elders in the hospital and nursing home. We crucify Jesus when we put people to death, when we revile and condemn anyone. We crucify Jesus when we shut people out of our lives. Jesus told us that when we take care of others, we are taking care of him; when we reject others, we reject him. Every act of rejection, every act of not-love, every time we turn a blind eye, we stand with the mob shouting, Crucify him! Crucify him!

It doesn’t feel good to confront this in ourselves, does it? This isn’t happy stuff, like consider the lilies or blessed are the peacemakers. This is the real thing; this is earthy; this is human. And at the same time, there is another side to the real thing. Because Jesus did not end on the cross. His body died, but Jesus lived on. We know the rest of the story; we know what’s waiting for us on Easter. We still have Holy Week to slog through — the gritty, dirty, awful realness of Jesus’ last days as a human with us — but we know that on the other side, there is redemption.

Beginning tomorrow I will share some music and poetry as we go through Holy Week. It is really for me--sort of a way to process my own thoughts and feelings, but, as always, you are welcome to join me on the road as I seek wisdom, music, story, and a prayer for the journey.

Friday Five -- Time Out Edition

Sally from Eternal Echoes shares the Rev Gal Blog Pal Friday Five this week. Feel free to play along in the comments! (The painting is He Qui's Mary and Martha. He's one of my favorite artists, and I guess Sally likes him too.)

Holy Week is almost upon us. I suspect that ordained or not, other revgal/pals calendars look a bit like mine, FULL, FULL, FULL.....Jesus was great at teaching us to take time out, even in that last week, right up to Maunday Thursday he withdrew. John's gospel tells us he hid! He hid not because he was afraid, but because he knew that he needed physical, mental and spiritual strength to get through...So faced with a busy week:

1. What restores you physically?

I am one of those people who just has to crash once in a while and do nothing. I sleep and sleep and sleep some more.

2. What strengthens you emotionally/ mentally?

Being outside. It is hard to get through the frigid winters, but as soon as possible I open the windows to let the outside in, and I spend time in the sunshine.

3. What encourages you spiritually?

Reading writings of some theological thinkers, music, prayer and silence. Oh yes, silence.

4. Share a favourite poem or piece of music from the coming week.

This one is a favorite from my childhood. The imagery of 10,000 angels standing ready always stirred my heart. This is the best version I could find.



5.There may be many services for you to attend/ lead over the next week, which one are you most looking forward to and why? If there aren't do you have a favourite day in Holy week if so which one is it?

I am bit sad about the fact that I will not be leading a Holy Thursday candlelight communion service--something unusual for most AG churches but something I (having an occasional liturgical streak) loved to do. That used to be my favorite, so perhaps I can find one somewhere around to attend. I also love our community Good Friday service. Once again, it will seem very strange not to participate with the other clergy, but I will be there.

Growing up Southern Baptist, I thought Lent was for Catholics, and it seemed we just went straight to Easter. Isn't that a bit strange, considering the emphasis in the free church traditions on Christ's atonement? I admit, I think six weeks is too long for contemplation and soul searching, but I have found great value in observing some of the Lenten traditions with which I did not grow up.

Catching Up on a Couple of Awards

It's been a strange few weeks, but I am finally going to post two awards that I received last month. They are sort of related because both of them require me to divulge info about--who else?--ME.

The first one is from my real-life buddy, Much 2 Ponder over at In Case You Were Wondering, and it is called The Honest Scrap Award. I am supposed to list out 10 honest things about myself and then forward this award to at least 7 other blogs that I find brilliant in content and or design. My award recipients can then do the same if they so choose, and they can add the award to their blog by copying the award graphic and then pasting it.

Ten Honest Things about SingingOwl

1. If I had it to do over again, I'd get more education.

2. I am very sorry that I never learned to play the piano. Perhaps I will after I retire. I think I might have composed some things if I had the "know-how."

3. Like Much2Ponder, I have always wanted to fill the gas tank and hit the road with no preconceived idea of where I would end up. The idea of just going is very appealing. I love to discover new places, vistas, history, and so on.

4. It is difficult to realize that I am aging...one of these days it will catch up with me. I always felt I had limited energy and time. I am deeply aware, these days, that such is not the case. Too much loss lately to remain in denial, perhaps?

5. I am a shy person. The public speaker version of me is quite different than the social me, but both are genuine facets of who God made me to be.

6. I am afraid that I will never really discover what I want to do when I grow up. You think I am kidding? Well, maybe a little, but then again, not totally. I do not want to come to the end of my life and feel that I have missed something important God had for me to do.

7. I have ugly feet. Bunions, icky toenails and other issues combine to make my feet happy that they are usually enclosed in shoes.

8. I hate winter. I love December snow, but other than that I wouldn't care if I never had to live through another Wisconsin winter.

9. Sometimes I am too quiet. Sometimes I talk too much. I do not know why this is the case.

10. My husband is the love of my life. Sometimes, I think he wonders. But I do not know how I would manage without him, and I know that I would not be who I am or where I am if I had married someone else.

The second one is from Auntie Knickers over at Exile's Return. It is the "Fabulous Blog Award" and here is the idea:

"You must pass it on to 5 other Fabulous Bloggers in a post. You must include the person who gave you the award, and link back to them. You must list 5 of your Fabulous Addictions in the post. You must copy and paste these rules in the post. Right click the Award icon and save it to your computer, then post with your own awards."

First I will share why Auntie Knickers gave me the award in the first place. She said, "The Owl's Song taught me that people of faith and goodwill and eminently good sense come in all denominations -- even ones I've tended to think of almost as "the enemy." That is a wonderful compliment. I don't have space to tell you why, but it is!

Okay, on to my fab addictions (???) --though I don't how interesting they will be:

1. Like Auntie Knickers, one of mine is books. A person cannot have too many, can they? If I had my dream house, it would include a library.

2. Music. I cannot imagine life without it. I own lots of CDs, and some cassettes, and even a good number of vinyl LPs that I can't bear to part with. The music ranges from classical to folk to hymns, to rock, to blues, to jazz, to contemporary praise and worship, to...oh, you get the idea.

3. Cheese. I live in Wisconsin where butter and cheese are sort of a separate food group. That is probably one reason Wisconsinites tend to be overly rounded.

4. The Internet. I am astonished at how easy it is to spend two hours in front of a monitor because it feels like 20 minutes. I really do have to be careful of this.

5. Well, assuming I had money and space, I would have numerous sets of dinnerware. I love table settings! I just do not have the means to indulge this particular addiction.

Okay, I hope the roof does not cave in, nor lightning strike me dead, nor my hair fall out...BUT...I am cheating. Everyone in my blogroll is a fabulous blogger! I am combining listing fabulous bloggers with listing honest ones.

Hmmmm...well, one of the most honest bloggers I know is Much 2 Ponder, but she already got the award. Okay, on to the picks--and once again I am cheating and only picking six since one says pick five and one says pick seven. And besides, I have to leave soon.

1. Presbyterian Gal
This woman is hilarious, a gifted writer, and also honest about her struggles. I wish I could meet her in person, and the fact that she lives in Southern California is not the reason. It doesn't hurt, but it isn't the reason. She gets both awards!

2. Amy Maxwell is next. She blogs at Gentle Whisper. Amy is a fellow Assemblies of God blogger, and she is heading towards being a military chaplain. Go read her story, which you will find linked in her sidebar. I met her last year, and I wish I could hang out in person with her sometimes! Even if I am old enough to be her mom. She gets the Honest award.

3. Tim, the director of a homeless shelter, formerly blogged at a different blog, which he has left to begin a new blog Caught a Glimpse of Jesus Down by the Railroad Tracks. The first blog was anonymous, so sometimes grittily (is that a word) honest. Nonetheless, pay a visit to the new blog. A book is in progress. This is a remarkable man. He gets the Honest award too.

4. Next is Bits and Odd Pieces of Mindy's Kingdom. Mindy is a Fabulous Blogger. She is so many things that I am NOT. Check her out for giggles, crafty ideas, more crafty ideas, occasional food ideas...and more. Oh, don't forger the pantipalooza!

5. Last but never least is another Honest award. It goes to Lorna at See Through Faith. Even the name lets you know this is an honest woman. In addition to her transparency she is articulate, faithful, a constant learner. I admire Lorna very much, and I wish I were more like her.

Oops. That was only five. Are you still reading? Go outside and soak up some sun!

A Little Trinity Collage

I will soon try to post something deep and thoughtful, or at least get on with the doings in Little Big Foot. Meantime, here is recently-turned-two-years-old Trinity.

Digging in the dirt...trying on a hat...throwing pine cones into the stream behind our house.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Most who read here will know that I have recently resigned as pastor of Jubilee AG and I am seeking future direction--ministry wise and financial as well.

I am asking for help.

I am designing a small pamphlet/flier that I will be sharing with pastors at our upcoming district council and eventually other pastors as well, both AG and other denominations. I also think I will be setting up a display for the "exhibit hall"--you know, where people can get information about products, the seminary, colleges, programs, and so on. This will include a little text, several pictures and maybe a graphic. The little handout will be as brief as I can make it while being informative about who I am and why they should contact me right away to invite me to speak....ahem.

I need a name. This may be foreign in some of the church traditions of folks who read this blog, I know, but not to AG folks. My husband suggested, "SingingOwl Ministries." I am not sure if he was serious or joking, but I told him people would think I was Native American or pagan--ha! My real name does not flow well when spoken, so I'd prefer not to use that.

Someone who knows me well said, "You are about relationships. You talk about relationships between Christians of differing denominations, relationships within the church, relationship with God, relationships between men and women and husbands and wives." Good point, but how in the world to condense that?

Some of you know me in real life, and some only from what you read here or other places in cyber spaces, but I confess to being completely blank. Any ideas?

A Blog List Friday Five

Over at Rev Gal Blog Pals, Mary Beth says, "On my blog sidebar is a list titled, "Blogs I Read Every Day." After my mother became a blogger, she asked me how I could possibly read that many blogs daily!? I had to confess it then: Okay, I don't read them all every day! I have over 100 on there! But I have favorites, and you do too.... give us five blogs you visit regularly, and tell us briefly WHY you like them..."

1. Beauty Tips for Ministers from the fabulous PeaceBang! PeaceBang is a fount of fashion knowledge and make up tips, and she does it with humor. I know more than one reader who would never consider being a minister but just think she is too funny and helpful to miss. So if you are looking for the skinny, or the plumpy, on fashion faux pas for clergy, make up ideas, ideas for pulpit-suitable shoes, vestment tips, blunt advice what NOT to do, and so on, check this lady out. Oh no, she is not only writing for the the females among us. Just mostly.

2. Dr. Platypus is one of my longest running cyber pals. And he is kind of an egghead, but don't tell him I said so. I mean it in the nicest way possible. I knew him years before I heard of a blog, and he has been a friend indeed, even though I have never met him, or his wife or daughter, in person. Some day I will. Dr. Darrell Pursiful knows stuff. He knows stuff about the scripture, N.T. Greek, anthropology, people, church and the Church, and much more. He can't quite figure out where he fits, and I know what that feels like. You never know what you will find when you visit. He is conservative and progressive. Yep, it is possible! And he was one of the first people to share with me what the word egalitarian meant? You don't know? Visit CBE.

3. Speaking of egalitarian and CBE, they have a blog. It is called The Scroll. Posts there are mostly from a fairly theologically conservative view, but are usually about issues of women in the church or the clergy, egalitarian marriage, and so on. CBE was life changing for me. The Scroll came later, but I recommend it. Especially to conservative evangelical folks who aren't sure you totally agree with Focus on the Family. BTW, somewhere in the archives is an interview with me by the aforementioned Dr. Platypus.

4. There is my real life friend, Much 2 Ponder, who is (obviously) a thinker and ponderer and shares some of that with us at In Case You Were Wondering.

5. Number five...hmmm, I am trying to avoid Rev Gals and Pals, but there is dear Questing Parson, who has sent me encouraging emails and a gift or two (artwork from Mrs. Parson hangs in my kitchen window) and is just an interesting, funny, thoughtful and supposedly "retired" parson. And there is the brilliant, loving, thoughtful Sally at Eternal Echoes, and then there is the totally talented and hilarious Presbyterian Gal and Cheesehead in Paradise who knows what a brat is. Not the mean kid. The other kind. And...Mary Beth and Cathy and Rachel and...oh phooey. I never am good at just one.

Grey Days

I am floored by a baaad case of stomach flu. Drat!

I am managing to occasionally get out of bed today, so that is an improvment from yesterday. Maybe it is the flu, maybe it is the blasted dreary day (again) or just a combination of stuff, but today is a really sad day.

I miss my mom. I miss my sisters (both of them, the one in Heaven and the one in Georgia), I miss my dad. I miss Josh, who we haven't seen since Christmas, I miss poor, sweet "little" Rex, I miss my friend Much 2 Ponder, I miss my church family, I miss having a sense of purpose in each day.

Waaah! Feeling like Alice up there in the pool of tears.

Something has GOT to change. A change in the weather would be a good start, God. Just sayin'.

Rexarillius Maximus (Rex)

Trinity and Rex in our yard.

Not long ago our family was saddened by the death of J.J., our son Josh's dog. And now something very similar has happened to Rex, Kris, Daryl and Trinity's great and good family doggy.

My mom and Rex.

Rex and Me

Rex was a leggy Great Dane mix--a joy to watch run and jump. He was also a very loving, sweet and patient dog, putting up with the not-always-gentle Trinity with grace and an always watchful eye. It is so sad. We will all miss him very much. I hope that somewhere Rex is playing with his little buddy, J.J.

Cheesehead and Me

For now, I'm taking some time to do some different kinds of things on Sunday. We will eventually decide what we are going to do with ourselves as far as finding a church, but in the meantime I visited the brilliant and talented Cheesehead in Paradise. Cheesehead rocks!

Her church building is beautiful-lovely stained glass, Celtic crosses in evidence in several places--and I envy CH's office. It was so good to hear one of the Rev Gals preach a sermon in person--much different than reading a sermon on a blog, you know? I did not get to meet the offspring, but I can tell you that the famous "Blue Eyes" is one handsome fellow. He can sing too. The only sad part is that we only got to visit a bit after church (and a class discussion on prayer). I have lots of questions I'd like to ask CH. Maybe next time.

Here is the essential Rev Gal Blog Pals feet picture. Can you guess who has on her black socks and winter shoes and who is sporting the classy spring shoes and a pedicture? Hint: I noted the shoes as the preacher stood on the platform in her vestments. Vestments, schmeshments! Look at those terriffic shoes!

You want more detail? All right. Here is a head shot. LOL! CheeseHead still blogs anonymously, though I gave that up a while back. Aren't we lovely? Well, we were color coordinated. (Yes, new hair color for me. I'd take a photo but I can't find my camera! :-( )

Thanks for the visit, Cheesehead. This morning I had a reminder that I was not in my branch of the church tree for Sunday worship. What, you ask? Well, I've been humming the Gloria Patri all morning. There it is again.

Glory be to the Father,
And to the Son,
And to the Ho-ly Ghost.
As it was in the beginning,
Is now and ever shall be,
World without end, A-a-men, A-aaah-men.

Nice. :-) But how am I going to get it outta my head?

Next week I'm off to a nearby town to hang out with the Episcopalians. Alas, no Rev Gal or Pal to visit. Maybe I should start a series: The Pentecostal Preacher Lady Without a Pulpit and Her Adventures in Church Land. I think it has possibilities!

Little Big Foot -- The Board Meeting

Jim Johnson plugged in the coffee pot and arranged the donuts on a plate. “I’m too old for this,” he thought. “Maybe I should resign after we call the new pastor.”

One by one the other deacons entered the fellowship room near the church kitchen. Chad, who worked at the nearby paper mill, came in looking a bit bleary and saying to Dennis, “These staggered shifts will kill a guy. Just get used to the day shift and it’s on to the evening shift, an’ just get used to that and it’s the night shift or the graveyard shift, and me sleeping in broad daylight again. Hate to think what that’s doing to my internal clock. Guess I should be glad the mill’s still running. I am glad. But I sure am tired.”

Dennis murmured something suitably sympathetic and announced that Lee was following right behind him. The two of them sat at the table, followed shortly by Lee. Jim found some cups and added them to a tray that held the donuts.

After a few minutes of discussing the recent rain, the resignation of the pastor at Our Savior Lutheran, the economy and the state of the nation in general, Jim poured himself a cup of coffee and passed the pot around the table, saying, “It’s decaf,” so no worries, Chad. You’ll be able to go right home and crash.”

Lee stretched and announced that Mary was going to visit her sister in Rhinelander so he was batching it for the weekend.

Dennis said that the Children’s Church teachers were wondering about a Back-to-School outreach of some kind.

The room grew silent except for faint slurps as the men settled down.

“Well, we’d best get started,” Jim announced. The others nodded, a bit nervously.

For the next half hour they discussed the previous Sunday’s worship services, both morning and evening. They talked about the need to find a pastor soon, noting that time was passing. In a month, school would begin, and then it would be Thanksgiving and then Christmas, for goodness sake. No one wanted another Christmas without a permanent pastor installed at North Woods Chapel.

They had heard good reports from the youth who went to camp.

The women’s ministry wanted to have a picnic on the back lawn before the weather turned crisp but wondered if they could also have a bake sale as a fund raiser.

No one spoke about Dee Anna, except indirectly.

Finally, the room grew quiet again. All eyes turned to Jim, who sighed and said, “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. We all know why we are here. What are your feelings about Reverend Dee Anna Hanson?”

After a moment in which everyone hoped for someone else to begin, Dennis said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Marla hasn’t stopped talking about her. She was very moved by what happened Sunday morning. That was God, don’t you guys think? Marla does, and I’m thinking I agree with her.”

Chad said flatly, “I like her. Not like Sunday morning was a sermon, but it was—unusual. You know. And people responded to her. Did you notice how quiet it was while she was telling her story? And the message Sunday night was good. I like how she brought out that Jesus’ was a radical. And she was funny. The teenagers liked her.”

Lee cleared his throat and said, “I don’t really understand why we had her come here in the first place. I mean, okay, I know we are a small church and maybe we won't get the cream of the crop, but,” he stopped and began again.

”Sunday morning was surprising, and I’ll be the first one to say that it seemed like the Holy Spirit was doing something. I’m all for that. But, well, I mean, you know people are not going to want a woman in our pulpit.”

“Why not?” snapped Chad. “It’s the 21st century, for crying out loud!”

“Because the Bible says a woman must be silent in church.” And we might not like it, but that’s what the Word of God says!” Lee retorted. “I mean,” he cleared his throat again, “I know a woman founded this church and all. I’m not sure what all that was about but…well, it just doesn’t seem right, women preaching and leading the church. And she isn’t even married. I mean…there’ll be problems.”

Jim listened silently as the conversation swirled around the table for several minutes. Finally he said quietly, “All right. Let’s all just settle down and take a deep breath. We never did pray when we started this meeting. Let’s pray now.”

The others grew quiet. “Okay,” Lee said. “I’m not trying to be difficult. And we all want the Lord’s will. You lead and we’ll agree with you in prayer.”

Jim bowed his head and the others followed his example.

“Lord God,” we are grateful for your boundless love and grace. We come to you as humbly as we know how. We are seeking your holy wisdom. We do not want to do anything that would hinder North Woods Chapel. But we don’t want to miss what you may be doing either.”

A quiet murmur of agreement came from Chad and Dennis.

“I guess what we are asking, God, is that your will be done here in our church, as it is in Heaven.”

After a moment the others all said “Amen.”

As the conversation begain once more, Chad was thinking that he probably wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep before he had to start on the night shift at the paper mill.

He was right.

Friday Five: Signs of Hope

Summer WILL come!

Songbird over at Rev Gal Blog Pals shares today's lovely Friday Five.

My beloved speaks and says to me: “Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. Song of Solomon 2:10-13

In the late, late winter, as the snow begins to recede here in Maine, we begin to look almost desperately for signs of spring, signs of hope that the weather has turned and a new day is on the horizon. For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, Easter and Spring twine inextricably, the crocuses and daffodils peeking through the Earth as we await the risen Christ.

Share with us five signs of hope that you can see today or have experienced in the past.

Songbird is in Maine, and I am in Wisconsin, so I understand what she means about searching for those signs of spring. Just see my poem a couple of posts down! There are no leaves on the trees yet, and the grass (which still has patches of snow) is brown and crisp. Actually, right now it is covered with a heavy frost so looks grey. And certainly no flowers. It was 0 degrees just a week ago, and I'm talking F. not C. Considering all this, even though I only have a few minutes before leaving for an appointment, I couldn't resist playing today--even if it is short.

1. Open water. Hooray! The stream behind our house is running along, and the nearby lakes are thawing.

2. Over at Jubilee Church, there are shoots of daffodils and tulips poking up above the ground in a little flower bed under the office window. I will have to drive over there in a month or so just to look at them. As the snow melted last week the green shoots were already poking through. If they can do it, I can too.

3. Robins! No one who has not lived in snowy country can comprehend the lift that the sight of the first robins can bring to the heart! Poor little things--I am afraid that their little feets may freeze right to the ground, but they do not seem concerned.

4. Cardinal song. Another early harbinger of spring is the characteristic chee chee chee of the male cardinal as he defends his territory. I know he is being feisty, but to me it just sounds cheery.

5. It has not yet happened, but any day now I am going to see the first tiny signs of buds on the pussy willow bush by the deck. It is a messy thing in the summer, and it requires constant pruning in order to not take over the deck, but there is no way I'm removing it. It is too wonderful to see those brave little buds pushing up through a coat of ice on the branch.

Yep, if they can do it, I can too. Just this morning I was wondering what a person does when absolutely nothing seems to be what I thought it was even a short while ago. And nothing feels stable, and all is awry. Perhaps the answer is simply to be, and to wait in hope for the Creator to make all things new once again.

Sexual Crimes as a Weapon of War in the Congo

This article has me stunned, teary-eyed and feeling sick. It is graphic and very disturbing--and something we should know about. Some things are disturbing. A four year old? An eleven month old? Rape with weapons and bullets? Hundreds of women waiting for surgery to repair fistulas?

I am overwhelmed. And I want to do something, not just feel bad about this horror.

But what?

Spring Changes

It always comes at season’s change,
This sense of fleeting life and time
…and loss.
A scent of spring in air still cold,
The sound of doves and rushing water.

In bed at dawn the window shows,
The slowly changing clouds and sky
…and trees,
I watch for buds and signs of green
Feeling my body’s sense of time.

Once it seemed I had forever,
The days were sweetly slow
…and warm.
I listened to the voices loved,
Anticipating time unfolding.

So many voices passed and gone,
Those I thought would always be
…and here.
And death and loss were for some others,
People not at all like me.

I close my eyes and see the faces,
Smiling, frowning, happy, sad
…and mine.
And always time to make things right
Time to change and time to grow.

Spring pushes up beneath the ice, and
Snow as winter passes on
…and melts.
Yet, brings a sense of life that is
Not meant to last forever.

How did it happen that I now
Look back at seasons lived and spent
…and over?
Marriage, children, work and change,
Life abundant, full of grace.

My eyes look like my father’s eyes,
My hair looks like my mother’s.
I wake to birdsong bright
…and sweet.
And life seems short and swift
And must be cherished day by day.

Melancholy thoughts to greet
A beautiful spring morning,
I think of God’s eternal life
…and wonder.
What days will come and what,
Will spring’s change bring me?

I Have This Odd Feeling

I keep feeling vaguely guilty and like I need to be doing something. Then I realize that what I am feeling is, "I do not have a sermon prepared and better get to it!" Weird. Well, after 10 years of sermons maybe not so weird? Well, it feels weird.

Todd Bentley to Be "Restored?"

Well, the news is out.

The controversial Tood Bentley who spearheaded the "Lakeland Revival" last summer has divorced his first wife, Shonnah, and married "the other woman," Jessa.

Wife number one is overweight, suffers after-effects from bouts of cancer, and is the mother of Bentley's three children. Wife number two has been called, perhaps unkindly, a "trophy wife." Both Todd and Jessa say that their relationship was not the cause of the marriage breakup and that they only began a relationship after Tood knew his first marriage was irreparably broken. They also say that they know the relationship was "premature." I do not intend to comment on that in this post.

I wrote about Bentley, and other concerns, in the post, "Stop the (Charismatic) Insanity." My friend much2ponder kindly commented that my post needed wider distribution--and I replied that this little forum is all I have. Some of what I wrote in that post applies to this one, so I will try not to simply repeat it.

I believe we all sin and fall short of the glory of God. I believe God uses flawed, imperfect, and broken people for his Kingdom and His glory (thank the Lord, or we could all just give up right now). I believe that grace is amazing, unfathomable, unthinkable and perhaps the greatest mystery of all mysteries. I believe Christian people should pray for Todd Bentley, for Jessa, and for Shonnah and the children.

I believe in restoration.

A side note: Speaking of "restoration," I admire Jim Bakker who has long since repented of his errors and labored in relative obscurity.

Restoration can and does happen. So why am I writing this post in my little forum? Here is why.

The circumstances of the divorce and remarriage, while troubling, do not concern me as much as Bentley's time behind bars for sexually abusing a seven year old boy, beating his mother, and involovement in the occult. These things, Bentley admits, occurred during his teen years. While I do not think anyone should be barred from ministry because of things done as kids, these things should not be forgotten--especially in light of the bizarre goings on in Lakeland. Among other aberrant behavior, Bentley's methods included kicking a man with stage four colon cander in the stomach as well as other violent means of "praying for the sick."

This morning I read a comment, written yesterday, to an internet post elsewhere that said Todd Bentley was clearly "kind" and "a man of God." Huh? What makes it clear to that commenter?

My concerns are these:

Those involved in the restoration were either directly involved in or closely allied with the group who commissioned Todd on the platform of Ignited Church and "prophisied" about him. Here is some of what was reported in Charisma in June last year.

California pastors Ché Ahn and Bill Johnson, along with Canadian pastor John Arnott, laid hands on the 32-year-old Bentley while Peter Wagner, leader of the International Coalition of Apostles, read a statement...Other prominent leaders from the apostolic and prophetic movements stood on the platform to show their support for Bentley and to endorse the revival, which began in early April and is now in its 83rd day of continuous meetings....[the ceremony] took place after some charismatic leaders raised questions about Bentley’s claims, methods and theology [not every charismatic leader is blind and deaf]...Participating leaders at the ceremony included...Wagner; Ché Ahn... John Arnott...Bill Johnson...and Rick Joyner...

Here is part of what C. Peter Wagner said, "I decree to Todd Bentley, your power will increase, your authority will increase, your favor will increase, your influence will increase, your revelation will increase...I decree that a new supernatural strength will flow through this ministry. A new life force will penetrate this move of God.... God will pour out a higher level of discernment to distinguish truth from error. New relationships will surface to open the gates to the future.”

I have books by Rick Joyner and Peter Wagner on my bookshelf. I am not saying that these men are not my brothers in Christ, nor that everything they have said or done is wrong. I am saying that it could not be more clear that this commissioning ceremony was a gross error and the "prophecy" was misguided (I am being charitable).

And since when does anyone get to "decree" what God will do? The arrogance is astounding.

An additional concern is that the focus seems to be on Bentley's marriage failure. This is only the tip of an enormous spiritual iceberg. The focus should be on his faulty theology, his manipulation of vulnerable and often sick people, his false claims of special favor, his acohol abuse, his questionable history, his antics (dare I call them disgusting?) Is anyone going to address the mess he has made? The discredit he has brought to the Church?

I hope so, but I cannot help but wonder, since it appears that Bentley may not have been the only one who was arrogant, foolish, or misguided, however well-intentioned.

Are there others like me out there who believe in all of the spiritual gifts, who believe in the present-day power of the Holy Spirit, and who believer that God does give prophetic giftings and leadership abilites, etc. but who wish we could just never hear the words "apostolic" or "prophetic"or "divine impartation" again? (I am speaking tongue in cheek here.)

I have read testimonies of some people who were changed in a positive way, or who were healed, or who found new strength or direction, during the so-called "Lakeland Outpouring." I believe them. I believe them because I believe that God will meet those who seek. God is loving and gracious and merciful and it is about GOD, not the messenger. These people need not deny what God did for them.

Here is the biggest concern of all. Why is there already provision made to donate funds to Fresh Fire Ministries? Why is there already talk of restoring Todd Bentley to "ministry" and to "leadership?"

Can there be restoration of something that was seriously flawed to begain with?

Post Script to Pentecostals: Here is a link to several interviews with Andrew Strom who has written a book "True and False Revival" (I have not read it, but I will be doing so.) I have not listened to all of these interviews. I am in the process. However, so far they provide a fascinating and disturbing look at the "prophetic movement" from one who was involved for over 10 years. His beliefs have not changed, but he does not like to refer to himself as Pentecostal or Charismatic, calling those terms "tainted." He speaks about how the emphasis of the "prophetic movement" changed over time, why he was involved and why he left.

Little Big Foot - Morning in Madison

If you would like to read my "Little Big Foot" posts, there is a link in the sidebar under LABELS. Click on Stories; Little Big Foot, and you can scroll down and read from the beginning.

“Charlie, get down!”

It was early. Much too early. What time had she managed to fall asleep? Charlie seemed completely recovered, judging from the energy with which he gleefully bounced around the blankets.

“Down, Charlie boy! I guess you missed me, eh?”

The red digital numbers on the alarm clock said 6:46. Charlie, an airdale-terrier mutt, barked happily.

Groaning, Dee Anna pushed the dog off the bed and sat up. Oh, it was going to be a long day. One night of limited rest was one thing. Two was another thing altogether. She stood up and rubbed her eyes. She had a slight headache. "At least I have curtains on the windows," she thought groggily.

“Mommy? Are you awake, Mommy”

Madeline was calling from downstairs. The smell of coffee wafted up the stairs, and something else that smelled of cinnamon. Fishing her robe from her suitcase, Dee Anna put it on as she went downstairs, a little unsteadily.

“Hi, Sweetie Cakes. How’s my girl?”

A pajama-clad Madeline hopped from her chair, brown pony tails bouncing, and gave her mother a hug. “I missed you! Mrs. Herndon made cinnamon toast!”

Mrs. Herndon was an older woman who had been a widow for many years. Childless herself, she loved children. She had taken a liking to Madeline from the first and had become a valued friend and helper. She turned from where she was extracting a cookie sheet from under the broiler.

“Good morning, Rev. Dee Anna. I heard you come in. What time was it? Three or so?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “I know you are going to need some coffee this morning for sure. Have some cinnamon toast.” She used a pancake turner to plop a piece of fragrant toast on a plate, and then another. “One for you and one for Madeline. You will be happy to know that Madeline was good as gold” she said with a smile for the little girl. “Here, let me get Charlie his breakfast. As it turned out, we didn’t even need to take him to the vet. After a few hours he perked up and has been his old self ever since.”

She shared a quick critique of the visiting minister who had filled in at Eastside on Sunday, lamented the flooded streets, and commented about what Hillary Clinton had said on last night’s news broadcast. She thanked Dee Anna for letting her watch her “favorite girl,” keeping up a steady stream of conversation as she poured coffee for Dee Anna and orange juice for Madeline, fed the dog and washed a few dishes. She asked how Dee Anna’s “little get-away time” had been, but didn’t really seem to want an answer.

Dee Anna did not need to say much, and for that she was grateful. She was too tired to be very sociable.

She did hug Mrs. Herndon as she stood with her at the front door. “Thank you so much. I am sorry I took longer than I expected. What a blessing it is to know that if I must be gone Madeline will be with someone who takes such good care of her.”

She really did love the older woman. She had been invaluable after Michael died.

At the thought of Michael, Dee Anna felt an all-too-familiar sensation of hollow space inside. She ignored it and called to Madeline, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, holding her orange juice in one hand and scratching Charlie’s curly head with the other.

“Come on, I need to get you to summer school a little early if I can. I have a busy day at the church” Dee Anna called as she went upstairs. She stepped into Madeline’s room. It was small but cheerful, decorated in sunny yellow with lime green and pink accents. White curtains and trim softened the bright colors. Dee Anna thought of the purple room in the North Woods Chapel parsonage. Then she thought of the orange closet and the carpet that resembled a pizza. Sighing, Dee Anna opened the closet door and found her daughter’s school uniform.

A little later, showered, dressed, and reasonably awake, she pulled up to the Eastside Elementary School. Madeline hopped over the water running down the curb and then turned to wave good-bye as she ran to the steps of the lovely old stone building. Remodeled into a school some years ago, the building’s interior was completely functional but its exterior retained the charm of an earlier age. It had once served as a Christian education wing of Eastside Church. Michael had been very proud of the school project. Dee Anna loved having Madeline so close by.

“I love Madison. I love Eastside Church. I love the school. I love Mrs. Herndon!” thought Dee Anna. She entered the church, waving a greeting to the groundskeeper who was getting an early start on pulling weeds from the soft ground. After last night’s downpour, the morning air felt clean and pleasant. “He is going to be muddy for sure....and I love the flower beds.”

She walked down a hallway and unlocked the door to her office. “And I love my office! I love the paintings, the furniture, and the stained glass window on the rear wall. I am not going to live in some god-forsaken, little town in the boonies with people who milk cows and smell like smoke and eat venison.”

She sat in her chair and gazed at the photograph that had sat on a corner of her desk for three years. It pictured Michael and Madeline on the shore of Lake Monona. Michael held Madeline's hand, and they both wore happy smiles. It was a late summer day. Madeline would enter Eastside's Kindergarten the following week.

Michael. She leaned back and closed her eyes. “God, I miss him” she said. “I know I am whining, but you know I love this place and these people and I don’t want to even think of leaving. I do not know why I thought going up to Little Big Foot was a good idea.” She had agreed to send a resume at the request of a denominational official who was encouraging her to return to her roots. Dee Anna had agreed, wondering if it would be good to live somewhere she was not reminded of Michael at every turn.

The daughter of strict, church-going parents, Dee Anna had attended church all her life. An exceptional student, she had graduated a year early from high school and had gone straight to a four-year Bible college. She had spent two years as a children’s pastor in a medium-sized church in Lubbock and had resigned to enter a well-known seminary to earn her Masters of Divinity degree. Just four months from completion, she quit. Too late, she had realized that what she had believed to be unshakable convictions was simply habit. She was tired of church and tired of being a “good girl” and wondering if anything she had ever believed was true. She simply allowed her ministerial credentials to lapse. She wrote her parents that she was just “taking a break.”

She had found a decent job as a loan officer in a bank and made enough money to rent an apartment. She made friends with two women at the bank. They were women, she was sure, of whom her mom and dad would not approve. They were smart and sophisticated and fun. They introduced Dee Anna to Nasher Sculpture Center, the Dallas Museum of Arts and the Meyerson Symphony Center.

They also introduced her to "Deep Ellum" a fascinating place where offbeat bars reverberated with blues and jazz. She learned that she liked mixed drinks with vodka. Culture, music, and booze were an intoxicating mix for the daughter of fundamentalists.

For a while she went to church occasionally, but she soon found that nightlife led to sleeping in on Sundays, and she stopped attending church altogether. Her letters home were less frequent, and eventually nearly stopped altogether. It wasn't like she ever got many back anyway, she reasoned.

She had decided, without really thinking about it, that at age 25 she was overdue for some fun. And it was fun for a while. "There is pleasure in sin for a season" thought Dee Anna, remembering. Her mother had often quoted that scripture to remind Dee Anna that a "worldly life" would only be temporary fun . "Mom, you were right about that much. It was fun for a while. And then it wasn't. What is fun about a hangover and feeeling like you've been hit by a truck and puking till you pass out? I faked it pretty well though."

Remembering, she shook her head. "I can't believe I was so stupid. Thank you, God, for a priest doing a midnight mass. And thank you, God, for sending me to Michael."

She had a friend who had left Lubbock and moved to Madison. Dee Anna hadn’t known where else to go. She just knew, after the night at the downtown Dallas church, that she had to make changes. She sure wasn't going home. From Dallas, Texas to Madison, Wisconsin seemed like change indeed. Unfortunately, her friend had transferred to New England only three months after Dee Anna arrived, leaving her friendless and lonely. But she had introduced Dee Anna to the Reverend Michael James Hanson.

Dee Anna leaned forward and glanced at her desk clock. It was 9 a.m. Time for the phone call.