When Shall We Three Meet Again?

Time slips through the slender creases cradled in our hands and yet is an ever present companion

When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

When the hurlyburly's done, 

When the battle's lost and won.

That will be ere the set of sun.

Where the place?

Upon the heath....

Where shall we meet?

The semester is now racing through the closeness of the trees as the 

sun softly crawls and spills onto the horizon; as I fill my calendar with

deadlines for my own sanity offinishing strong and satisfied my world has

begun its transformation.

Our community here is a transformative and transitionary one; we spend 

two or three years soaking up the warmth of knowledge and stand in pools of

questions that trickle off o four feet, leaving an outline of dwelling among our

footsteps as we walk away,presumably to dry off. We attend Chapel and

gallantly observe as the names are breathed forth of those leaving our 
community; we hug one another and remark-"Next year, in front of the font." 
Now, that next year has arrived, and the realization that there are people I 
will never see again.

My biological class, as I am fond of saying, the class of 2014 will be returning

this summer as we, my adoptive Class of 2015 will be embarking towards the 

islands of Internship..and our paths may not cross. I won't have time to chat,

catch up, reconnect with them. And  yet, there is a difference. Our energized

class of 2016 will take their bow onto the stage and leap into the audience 
as the path to internship widens and beckons them forth-and I may miss their 

performance. And yet there will be a difference.

There is something that shifts in the atmosphere as one shifts away from the 

harmonious LSTC community: the realization that this, our vocation and what 

Our Creator has called us towards is concrete. Our souls sync up with others 

whose experiences reflect with our own; our bond reaches out and is as tangled

as stout ivy that covers and blankets statues and figures that belong to time

memorial.

There will be Synod Assemblies, First Call Pastor Conferences and Clusters, 

Churchwide Assembly gatherings and the magic of  Skype. We shall meet once

more but this time our feathers and our costumes will be slightly brighter. 

We shall recognize each otherbut the transformative blessings of the Triune 

God will encompass our very beings and we shall view one another in a
different light.

This shimmering pool of water speaks to me even now, as I have conversations

with dear friends of mine from the class of 2012, who joyfully come and visit 

these hallowed halls  which reflect back to them as an oasis. They now stand 

as my cloud of witnesses,to the indescribable joy and challenges of being among 

the ordained. 

This year was our turn among those gathered at Chapel; the Book of Life or 

rather our awesome Field Ed's binder was opened and we were called forth to 

boldly proclaim and to ask God to help and guide us. We traveled through the 

font as the waters of baptism were playfully splashed about; our conversations

as we passed  the peace turned to"So have you heard from your Intern
supervisor?"or"Where are you going to be staying?";"My intern congregation..." ,
"There are a couple of LSTC alum who are serving in the area and.."

Where shall we meet? Joyfully out in God's Creation where we serve, and 

continue to be nourished through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Thanks Be To God.

Lape Bondye, God's Peace.

The Final Countdown

 

Time keeps on slipping, slipping...into the future...

 

 

 

Surrounded by the struggling, yet blossoming Spring it is strange just to sit here in the Treehouse and be contented especially on this Good Friday.

 

There are moments perhaps in the stillness of beautiful, abyss-full dark nights illuminated rarely, by a full moon that we may find ourselves awake for the amusement of lazy angels who curl comfortable in trees above our heads; under the watching eyes of the Holy Spirit who these past couple of days has poured Herself into my soul, prodding my mind gently as I crafted my sermon for a local Good Friday Service for this evening.

 

I am amazed how my life has ebbed and flowed, and how now I have arrived at this place in time. Joyful that we are almost to that Easter morning; thankful of what this week has always meant to me. Come Monday it is back to the insanity and chaos that is Seminary life and I write those words with love.

 

In about 15 days time, my fellow classmates and I will gather in the Chapel, joining hands and calming fluttering hearts as we find out exactly where we will be serving for the next academic year. Internship-didn't seem so nerve wracking 2 years ago and it is in these moments I am reflective-because it not only impacts me but also the tide of change that is occurring in my own hearth and home.

 

The comfort that I have known; the family that was just a couple of miles  away will now seem like light years. The community and the normal rhythm of life is beginning to shift and my eyes opened; opened to the possibilities of where Our Creator will point in the direction-and I shall follow.

 

For the time being, my spirit leaps in colorful abandoned, because of the coming of the Season-of renewal and rebirth, of the cementing of the promise and the rejoicing that this life is not finished, and death is not the end.

 

May you have a blessed Triduum.

 

The Hope of Easter Morning begins....

 

Lape Bondye, God's Peace.



Closing the Lid on Perfection

The Gypsy Seminarian at Worship; Awesome place to be. Photo by Jan Boden

What will you shutter away during these days of reflection, renewal and journeying?

How counter-cultural these past two days must appear: we gathered out of humbleness in darkened sanctuaries, our souls smudged with a foreboding sign; we tripped through multi-colored fields of poppies boldly declaring our love in the coming morning sunshine.

At the church I currently have the joy of working this year as Confirmation guru, one of my youth commented "Should I wipe this off after we are done?" The week prior my 11 year old son, as I was picking him up from school so that we could go to said church thoughtfully replied after I inquired why he was carrying his cross necklace in his pocket, "Well, some of my friends are not really religious and I didn't want to offend them so I just waited until you picked me up." A fellow brother in Christ from another denomination was thrust in the spotlight for joining in an ecumenical service that apparently he should not, according to his denomination-and had to apologize for joining prayers of healing for a horrific event in an otherwise normal, everyday quiet community.

When did it become pase to be Christ-like? Why do we shutter away the sign of whose we are and whom we belong to except only to proclaim it boldly one day out of a year and even then we are apologetic? 

And yet throughout the world of social media there was a revolution; messages of Love from the text that sometimes leaves us scratching our heads or silent with deep meditation, a word from The Word reminding us and comforting us that God's Love never fails spilled out in endless waves. Through ashes we came forth but while we are here, being a witness boldly through the simple act of passing the peace, of professing Love for all from where we are as Christians into the social media- cradling those who are in pain, who are forgotten, who have been discarded by this world sometimes is the simplest act of love we can do.

There is no perfect way we can be Christian people daily, and by our ability to laugh and learn; by our ability to be vulnerable and affirming in our faith the sign of the Cross will be then, a sign of change; change that is continuous within our very being and throughout our spirits that we too, are a work in progress.

Lape Bondye, God's Peace.

Life Continues. Can we now get back to Advent?

We now return you to your regularly scheduled life...Original Painting by R. Pitts

It is interesting how humanity tends to throw all of their energy and faith into a civilization long removed from this side of eternity or a weathered elder who remains in blessed (and infamous) memory, that they can neither touch nor see but scoff at a people who celebrate the Creator who breathed ruach into our very beings who we can not see but reverberates throughout all, walking and struggling with us.

Advent is one of my favorite times of the year; "Unexpected and Mysterious" repeatedly loops in the background of my days as "O Come O Come Emmanuel". Each morning even as the sky flutters closer in brilliant hues of blue, center stage and the earthen goddesses pull fragile shawls of crystal even closer, my vision still reveres in awe. Even as snowstorms race across the horizons, I await this with great joy each and every year.

This Advent season has dawned upon us and yet my spirit was irritated. Another Friday has come upon us, but thanks to all this fatality freak out that has poison a multitude of people  our senses have been jarred with all of this end of the world language.

It's Friday. We're still here. Enough already.

Instead of lamenting that this is the end of the world, perhaps we should greet the horizon that slowly curls into our existence with new understanding. "As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience." This should be a new beginning for all of us; for a small town in Newton, Connecticut the world did indeed end an entire week ago. We should strive and struggle as this year bows from the stage and one awaits in the wings, that as people of Faith, that as children of the Creator we love our neighbor and the stranger just as we love ourselves. Let this be a end to pain, suffering, negativity and a beginning to who God has called us to be.

Besides, the world couldn't end today. I'm preaching on Epiphany. Woot!

Lape Bondye, God's Peace. 

At the Feet of the Elders

What a way to celebrate a birthday.

As my pathways swerve deeper into the beauty of this ministry and of my call, I am privileged to be in the presence of theologians who shine as rare as luminous gems resting behind crystal glass.

It is apparent that this church of brothers and sisters perhaps does not always reflect who I am in the ethereal mirror which shimmers before me; the question is posed, for an ancient tribe of people so connected to the Creator why have we clung to Christianity throughout the ages?

When you are called, you are called.

Dr. James Cone, a premier African American theologian stated during the tumultuous and turbulent 60’s that “God is Black.” As we continue to explore voices that cry out for identification and liberation in the here and now, Dr. Cone reiterates, “I still believe that ‘God is Black ‘in the sense that God’s identity is found in the faces of those who are exploited and humiliated because of their color. But I also believe that God is mother, rice, red and a host of other things that give life to those whom society condemns to death.”

The Creator breathes justice within our spirits and it vibrates into how we can encourage and teach others.

So, Wednesday evening what could be more important than being in the midst of the Conference of International Black Lutherans as they celebrated their 25^th anniversary? Elders, some like Dr. Rudy Featherstone who was Dr. Perry’s pastor; Elders such as Bishop Holloway from the Southeastern Ohio Synod who brought his wit and humor as he reconnected with others; Elders such as Peter Nash who reminded us in worship that evening “the jar of meal will never be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail”. 

You can never have too much church...

Being among these elders of African descent awakened me to the fact that the next generation of CIBL  needed to arise from the dying waves that visit the shores in the deepness of the evening and as they listened to my voice I realized, proudly that I was one among them.

Lape Bondye, God’s Peace.

The Impending Surgery that Wasn’t and the Holy Spirit, Her Pink Boots

Systematic Theology is becoming one of my favorite courses because it is where I am able to intertwine my thoughts and spirituality into a beautiful theological yarn. Pouring out of Creation, it is ready to be slipped into my waiting hands and knitted into a fabric of protection and of comfort where one would want to snuggle underneath, watching an afternoon shower of rains on an unseasonably warm day.  Each moment I am present, the love for my vocation and for this call grows especially understanding how important the Holy Spirit truly is to all of us as people of Faith. Can you imagine the Holy Spirit hanging outside your door, splashing around in the courtyard in the mud or hovering, nestled in a tree outside your windows wiggling Her toes in Her pink boots waiting for your gaze to meet the new day; waiting for you to be open to what The Creator has for you.

For the past couple of weeks, however I’ve crawled back underneath that comforter because I wanted to hide and not face the brilliance of how stunning each morning appears to me.

In Seminary, I have found that health potholes whether we are running into them or family members or dear friends slowly crumble into view in our lives and we either stand there and are shocked or are screaming to the heavens “Really??Now??”

And so, I found myself facing a reality of having minor surgery for something that had been bubbling at the surface but not so intense until now. Even though I have had major surgery with the birth of both of my children my vision was clouded with the veil of what could lie ahead for me. I found myself nervous, weepy; life as I knew it was now uncertain.

Music that was birthed strictly for the nurturing the soul has always been a deeper part of my spiritual journey. In the midst of discerning, Shekinah Glory Ministries’ song “Yes” had me always weeping. Roaming around camp and singing “Oh Up Above my Head” allowed me to be open to what God was filling my life with. How we sing Psalm 95 in chapel causes my entire being to be alive enjoying worship. So last week during chapel and driving to church, gospel songs and hymns prickled at me, and the Holy Spirit whispered…

“Let Go and Trust God.”

My prayer was strangely not, for healing but to be with me as I went through this experience..that never happened.

Thanks Be To God.

by the Grace of God...

God  you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.  Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is guiding us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I've been told that leaving seminary is like leaving the womb.  You're suddenly expelled from a warm, nurturing environment into the scary world that is filled with air and light and terrifying things.  No wonder babies scream so much when they're born.

I'm experiencing that a little bit myself right now, as I prepare to head off to internship at House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver, CO.  Leaving home is never easy, after all, I've made so many memories at LSTC, and formed bonds of friendship that are so woven into the fabric of my own life that they will never be able to be broken.  I won't be constantly fed with theology and philosophy, and chapel...and that's a little scary.

But, on the other hand, I'm so excited to take my first breath as a Vicar, to fill my lungs with the grace and love of God.  To finally be able to do ministry full time, what I've been waiting for two years to do!  And so, as I go, full of emotions that are unsettled, on a path which I can see ends in Denver on the 16th of August, but beyond that have no idea what it will look like.  So I take solace in the words of the above prayer from the ELW Evening Prayer setting, I have to trust that God's hand is indeed guiding my path and I am fully confident that God's love is supporting me (and all my fellow interns) on this untrodden path of internship.

And honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better place to try this whole pastor thing out than a congregation that knows the power of Grace in such a way as HFASS.  So, here goes nothing, but first I have to pack!