Lori Elliott prays in this morning's Fruit of the Vine, "God, I need courage." It's a prayer that responds to God's command that Joshua "be strong and very courageous." It's a prayer that remembers Paul's final exhortation to the members of the church at Philippi to "not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." It's a prayer that reflects Lori's real-life experience, her real-life need. It's a prayer just like many I've prayed.
Lori shares the story of speaking to a "Mothers of Preschoolers group about raising a child with autism." Although she "envisioned a group of fifteen or twenty moms. . . . There were over one hundred mothers in the audience. . . . My legs were shaking and my heart was racing, and I couldn't seem to find the words."
In open worship, Robert Barclay writes that "they are inwardly taught to dwell with their minds on the Lord" and that when we wait on God, a witness "arises in the heart, and the light of Christ so shines that the soul becomes aware of its own condition." This is what I've been experiencing these last few months, as I read each morning the personal stories - both large and small - of the ways God is moving in our hearts and through our experiences, illuminating both scripture and our lives. I'm finding in each morning's Fruit of the Vine, a collected witness of the ways in which our waiting gives God the opening he needs to teach us through our experience, a way in which "the light of Christ so shines that the soul becomes aware of its own condition."
It's exactly what I needed to hear today. Lori closed her eyes "for a second and prayed: God, I need courage." And God answered.
Eric Muhr
Close to the ground
In 1996, while working as a youth pastor at Meridian Friends Church (Idaho), I came across a book of poetry in our church library, On the Edge of a Truth. It was a small anthology from people I knew, and there was one poem, "Definition," by Nancy Thomas, that put to words a feeling I'd often experienced in open worship. When I checked the title page and saw that the collection had been printed by Barclay Press, I decided to give them a call. I found the number listed in the back of our yearly meeting minutes, and when Dan McCracken answered the phone, I asked if there might be any left-over copies of the title (it had been printed 16 years earlier). Dan assured me that one could be found and that he'd be glad to have it mailed to me.
I still have that book.
Not so many weeks ago, Nancy Thomas and I met to talk about her poetry. I didn't tell her in that meeting - I think she already knows - that I'm one of her biggest fans. Time and again, Nancy's gentle way of encountering the world has given me words for my own experience of it. For its beauty. For the immediacy of God's creativity and good humor. For the comfort of a carefully-constructed line.
Nancy and I met because she has a new collection, edited by Bill Jolliff, that we will be bringing into the world later this year. It's called Close to the Ground, a phrase Nancy uses to identify the kind of lived experience with Jesus that has sustained her over the years: "My spirit hums closer to the ground. . . . Loves it when Jesus plays with little kids. . . . Laughs during the prayer. Sometimes forgets to say 'Amen.'"
Eric Muhr
To privately carry the sorrow of another
Leann Williams shares in this morning's Fruit of the Vine of a time her obedience to a prompting from God led to a painful discovery: "I had been working with a massage client on what she thought was a pulled groin muscle. I felt directed by God to do some abdominal work. It was then I felt a mass low in her abdomen." The woman was known and loved in the community, but "medical ethics prevented me from sharing the situation until her diagnosis was made public. God asked me to privately carry her sorrow with her."
To privately carry the sorrow of another - this is the work of the pastor, of the counselor, of the friend. Leann points out that it was also the work of the prophets who "carried deep sorrow over the failure of their people to obey God." But there is room for hope alongside the private sorrows we carry for one another. God's messenger brought three encouragements to the prophet Daniel in 10:19 - "Do not be afraid; peace; and be strong!"
Are you carrying the sorrows of someone close to you? Are others also carrying your sorrow? Do not be afraid. Peace. Be strong.
And if that is too much, then Daniel's prayer might be the prayer you need: "O Lord, listen! O Lord, forgive! O Lord, hear and act!" Because, as Leann reminds us, "We are not alone in this work. Jesus carries our sorrows with us."
Eric Muhr