This (see link below) is the current reality in which we are doing our anti-racism work.  Not that we didn't "know" that before, but to see it described in such detail by a respected justice-organization (Southern Poverty Law Center via Daily Kos), and to watch it happening with our own eyes, is more than a little sobering.  Our feelings that "things seem to be getting worse" are verified.  Our nation's history (both past and current) is an unswerving path of horrifying arrogance and abuse that simply shifts its target from one human group to another.  And so it continues... 

https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2022/6/2/2101935/-Republicans-deep-radicalization-turns-up-in-SPLC-poll-that-finds-conspiracism-taste-for- violence?detail=emaildkre?pm_source=DKRE&pm_medium=email

I have struggled with depression off and on for many years.  Generally it is well-managed with three things: light meds, sunshine (the best of the three), and my own determination to continue to choose to be hopeful, despite the evidence. Even when it's hard.  I rely a lot on the kinship I feel with the people and work of the Itasca Community Action Team, the people and work of the St. Andrews Antiracism Team, others who have good minds and hearts and who use both, my Christian faith (not to be confused with faith in any institution that calls itself Christian, or with a fraudulent Christianity), and a beautiful array of the faiths/spiritualities of others.  Also, I will soon be serving on the Grand Rapids Human Rights Commission.

Merle and I, along with about 8 others, have recently been trained in nonviolent security measures and will serve as inconspicuous Security people at our upcoming first-ever Juneteenth Family Celebration in our majority white community.  The organizers have asked that police not be there in uniform, as nightsticks and guns do not help create an atmosphere of family safety and celebration.  We will handle minor things (if any), but they will be on call if, God forbid, someone gets really crazy.  Our fervent hope is that NONE of this will be necessary AT ALL.

All of which is to say something entirely predictable, I suppose.  I never expected to spend my retirement, my aging years, in a nation teetering at the edge of facism and democracy, where antiracism and peacemaking work is far more intense and necessary than the "Make love, not war" with a few big flowers painted around it of my college years.

Much can be said about this having been systemic for 200 years, brewing just below the surface with frequent eruptions; that it is nothing new especially if one is not white.  Nevertheless, we can't just throw our retired arms up in the air and insist, "Not my problem."  This is our Now.  This is the Reality of it.  There is no retiring from the work of Reformation.

 

7^th Day of Christmas, 2020

Dear Ones,

It is -15° outside (w/wind chill, -25°).  I am sitting in the peaceful darkness of our living room, late at night, with only the small white bulbs on the Christmas tree creating an aura of light.  There is just a crack of light coming out from under the bedroom door; Merle is reading with only a small lamp.  Fido (our cat) is done mousing in the garage now; she is curled up on the soft afghan on my lap.  Sleeping. Purring.  Content - as am I.

The horrors of this year have given us a lot to ponder this Christmas season. The celebration/s of Christmas can’t be the escape it has been for many of us in the past.  So I will be blunt.  The recurring violence openly and proudly displayed by armed, nationalist, racist groups against Americans of all colors - primarily Black, Indigenous, and other people of color – and by so many police in so many places that we can’t just shrug anymore and say, “One bad apple…,” as well as scores of government officials acting badly (understatement?); not to mention a miniscule microorganism we’re calling Covid bringing the entire world to its knees – have all gotten our attention and held it.  Every.  Day.

Those religious folks who support the hateful, bigoted opinions, and the violence they spawn, name themselves “the Christian right.”  The name of Jesus Christ and his followers, and the term “Evangelical.” have been hijacked in support of a distinctly nonChristian worldview and ethic.  We all know “Christian” means “little Christ,” which is what we have been called to be.  I have had several experiences now when identifying myself as a Christian, especially if I include – of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America – it is assumed I am of the “Christian Right,” because that describes all Christians, right?  I am either argued with, dismissed on the spot, or sent emails and text msgs. describing just how evil Christians are.  We certainly have a shameful history in many respects regarding systemic bigotry.  At the same time, Jesus Christ continues to redeem and redirect us into his Way of love, community, and justice.  That is the worldview and ethic which identifies a person as one who is earnestly trying to be a Christian/little Christ.

All of which is to say:  There’s a lot we can’t control right now, but what we can control is if and how we show up for others.  That is huge.

And, given all things this year, God still comes.  God still comes in peace and in joy, smack in the middle of all of the troubles of the world.  Suffering and death don't intrude on Christmas; Christmas intrudes on suffering and death and, in the midst of them, brings us the Hope only God can give.

Our kids and grandkids have shared the same Covid struggles as most people in our nation – insecure employment/reduced hours, several exposures, the schooling at the school or on the computer at home question and all the back-&-forth which that has involved – BUT!  So far they are persevering wonderfully and staying healthy and quite positive, as are Merle and I.  We miss hugs, sloppy kisses, and being able to travel, but those are hardly sacrifices compared to what so many are suffering.

I look forward to when we can gather together with friends and family again, and enjoy good wine and even better conversation.  It will be so interesting to hear all of your ponderings about this period of history we are living in.

Merle and I love you, and hold each of you in the Light of Christ, praying for health, hope, and the future.

Yours,
Joan & Merle

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor."

-- Luke 4:18-19

Maundy Thursday, 2020

John 13:34-35, Jesus instructs his disciples in the following way: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples: if you have love for one another."

It’s Maundy Thursday, the evening when Jesus gathered with his disciples to do the work of a slave by washing their probably pretty disgusting feet -- not symbolically washing just one disciples' feet, but all the disciples’ feet -- and to command them, "Love one another."

       Loving one other during a global pandemic adds a whole different lens to this.  We can’t know, but did Jesus have in mind washing one’s own hands and sheltering in one’s home without letting anyone else in, as examples of loving one another?

 

While we don't customarily wash feet these days (which was an act of hospitality performed by slaves), our great act of love for others during this pandemic is as simple as washing our hands, and (not as simple) staying home.  We do these things, we think, to protect ourselves. But there is a whole new concept throughout the world now: “Flattening the curve.”  In my whole life, I never once considered the simple act of washing my hands with soap as an act of loving others.  But in this situation, it absolutely is.

I donated blood today, trusting the American Red Cross's even stricter than usual adherence to distancing, sterilization and safety.  All were masked and worked with gloved hands.  I am O- (a “universal” donor).  Because it is needed and used in so many urgent situations, and it is not a common blood-type, there is always a state of urgency, if not "emergency," in needing O- blood.  Clearly, this need doesn't go away in a pandemic.  In fact, if the American Red Cross shut down blood donations around the world for a month or months, where would that leave other sick people who needed blood to heal or even survive other maladies?

Donors were showing up just as they were scheduled to.  We were buzzed in at the front door, one at a time.  Our temperatures were taken immediately when we walked into the building.  Chairs for waiting were set a little more than 6’ apart.  Hand sanitizer was set at strategic places all over the room.  Every possible precaution was being taken to keep the donors and phlebotomists safe.  None of that could have taken place without that first and then repeated step:  washing hands.

So maybe Jesus knew that there are times and opportunities to do what may be considered small things (especially in light of his crucifixion), but to do them with great love. With a prayer that our small undertaking may bless those who are sick and struggling, our “small” effort encourages us to make other efforts.  Then we begin to understand that it isn’t the size of the thing.  It is a matter of passing along the same love with which Jesus loves us while doing it.

In the meantime, we live with this confidence:

It’s Maundy Thursday, and it’s dangerous out there.

But Easter is coming…

Christmas/Epiphany letter, 2019-20

 Joan & Merle Gunderman

Epiphany 2020

So the first spiritual/life lesson of 2020 was skimming through our local paper just after the holidays and seeing a local church ad entitled: Sanctity of Lip Service with the date and time.  I thought (add just a tinge of sarcasm here), “Oh yeah, that’s about right!”  Just to get another smug chuckle out of it, I looked at it again, only this time it read Sanctity of Life Service.   Good thing I double-checked the source, I guess, before I made a judgmental fool of myself by “advertising” my first reading of it, with my own cynical spin on it.  I could write out all kinds of applications for this, but you can too, so I’ll leave that to you!

This turned out to be a year of intriguing travel for both of us.

Joan

January:  Tijuana/San Diego border, Sanctuary Caravan.  Volunteered for a week at a shelter for immigrants who had been temporarily released from detention.  This is a shelter which has   been working for a long time. They help them get connected with friends/family who were going to house them, make travel arrangements for them, provide a “triage” to treat any physical issues (from lice to flu to injuries received in detention), provide several meals, coats/shoes/a few items of clothing, diapers, underwear, etc.  I worked with young children, mostly, one little girl (4?) who was deeply traumatized.  Mostly they wanted to learn/practice English!

April:   Honduras w/Synod Team.  Visited a number of out-laying villages with tiny Lutheran congregations to learn how they support their ministries, how creative they are both in ministry and finding ways to fund them.  Some we’d never visited before because of the activity/violence of gangs which made it unsafe for both residents and visitors/Americans.  Heart-breaking poverty, malnourished kids (except for the one village where the church had developed a lunch program for any child in the village who needed it).  We listen to dreams and visions of what they need and what kinds of  new ministries they want to begin.  We’re talking just handfuls of people in each village, but with the faith, hope, determination of a thousand.  Very definitely a mutual ministry between us as     “Companion Synods.”

Oct. 23-Dec 5:  (6 weeks) Ecuador, through Road Scholar educational travel.  5 of those weeks were intensive Spanish classes, and the other (and weekends) were touring the country, including the Galapagos (pre-oil-spill).  Incredible beauty and history throughout the country.  I could share so much more from all three of this trips…  I posted a bunch of photos over the weeks I was in Ecuador, if you want to see more.

Merle

Sept. (10 days):  Road trip to visit Adam in Portland, a trip through Canada he’s been wanting to do for years.  He thoroughly enjoyed it, and mostly enjoyed Father-Son time with Adam.  They always have such a good time together!

Aug.-Sept. (1 week):  Little Sweden, our time-share in Door County, WI.  His sanctuary.

Both

Jan. 3-Mar. 2:  Panama City, FL – while the weather wasn’t great, it wasn’t sub-zero with frequent snow!

Sept.-Oct. (8 days): Caribbean Cruise – to a part of the Caribbean we hadn’t seen before.  Ahhhhh!

Our kids and grandkids are doing marvelously, and we are always so proud of them.  I could write another whole tome just about them, they give us such joy and love!  Robbie just turned 2 and is an absolute hoot; Beau is turning 8 in a few weeks and is fun, curious, and so, so kind; Brailee is now 11 (gasp!) and is very much a pre-teen girl (smile) as well as a pretty fair hockey player on a local hockey team.  She’s known as being “aggressive” so is trying to find creative ways to accomplish her goals without breaking the rules (isn’t that fun?!).  I can’t help but wonder if they call boys who aren’t afraid to get in the fray something more positive in our culture, like “fearless” or something…)

Merle and I are also part of two "activist" groups in Grand Rapids:  1) Community Action Team, where we address issues of racism in our area (against Native and African American people).  2) Circle of Healing, which involves meeting with, listening to, and working with Native Americans mostly in (but not limited to) our county, getting to know native culture, history, and people here, helping financially support major improvement projects on the reservation, celebrating success and milestones and the like.  We have met wonderful people through both groups, are learning a lot, and really enjoy doing more than "ain't it awful" hand-wringing.  We are so blessed.

I want to close with some quotes that have assisted me cope with and act upon current realities:

Hope is found in a humble baby Jesus born in poverty

Powery, Luke A. Rise up, Shepherd!: Advent Reflections on the Spirituals . (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2017). pg. ix

Keeping hope alive is our greatest challenge, our greatest opportunity, and our greatest reward. May these words remind you of the things forgotten, awaken what is dormant, energize that which is active, and give hope where hope seems lost.

Prophesy Hope!  DANTÉ STEWART

For us, anger and hope are an unbreakable cord, one which holds the promise of truth and life together. We are angry, yet we are hopeful. We are hopeful, yet we are angry. Both have room to speak.

Prophesy Hope!  DANTÉ STEWART

Rich blessings of kindness, generosity, sacrifice for others, and a living, active hope to you and your loved ones!

Yours,

Joan:  joan.gunderman@gmail.com

Merle:  gunderdad@yahoo.com

Border Trip, January, 2019

Border trip - Days 1 & 2.  Remember how I said at one point I was most concerned about my flights with the shutdown? So it took 2 days instead of one. My original flight was delayed several hours due to maintenance (thank GOODNESS there are still enough staff to actually do that!), but it cost me my connecting flight in Dallas. American Airlines blessed me with lovely shelter at a hotel for the night. So, instead of sleeping in this morning to get a good start for the week (which starts with training all day tomorrow), I was up at 4:30 AM to catch an early flight to San Diego! Pilots are all flying without pay, so I tried to thank each one on my flights. TSA folks also. They are ordered to, with the consequence of losing their jobs altogether if they refuse. It didn't take much to break through the "typical" TSA sternness, and get a few of them to smile or even laugh. I decided that was my ministry in transit to the border! As we so often say when faced with annoyances: if this is the worst thing I have to deal with, my life is pretty darn easy. I'm eager to see what tomorrow brings!

Border Trip - Days 3 & 4.  Training yesterday with roughly 20 other volunteers spanning races, genders, ages, denominations/religions.  This is the last week of the 40 day, 40 night Sanctuary Caravan effort.  So, SO encouraging to see/meet younger adults -- bright, strong in faith and love of the teachings of Jesus, full of energy and commitment to serving our Friends as they would Jesus, who was, himself, a refugee as Mary and Joseph took flight from governmental violence directed against him.  Learned a lot about how U.S. immigration laws have been so convoluted, or even ignored, as to make entering the country so incredibly confusing and difficult (particularly if you are of brown skin) that the process itself is traumatizing.

Many of our Friends are being actively hunted down by the gangs which virtually run entire communities based on extortion, burning down homes and businesses, and death or threats of death to those who do not cooperate -- gangs which oftentimes include police/government officials.  To that end, we are not allowed to take ANY pictures of, or name the people, the shelters, border agents and military personnel because it increases the danger many of our Friends are in.

The people doing the on-the-ground work here, whom we are assisting, are amazing.  You can imagine

the logistical and administrative nightmare this can all be, coordinating with other similar groups, managing so many people coming and going daily (Friends, volunteers), doing all the legal paperwork, and keeping everything organized. The place I'm working at today picks up people who have been approved to apply for citizenship and/or released from detention.  So ICE sometimes delivers Friends to this shelter or the shelter picks them up, brings them to the shelter where they are first looked over (and treated, if necessary) by volunteer docs and nurses, legal paperwork is done, showers are taken (oh the luxury!), phone calls to loved ones (in home country or here) are provided (very emotional), meals are served and cots are provided.  Children have an indoor playroom and play area outside in a limited space.  The idea is to get them on their way to their final destination asap/within 24 hours, because there is always another large group coming in the next day.  92 men, women, and children came in today alone.  80+ yesterday.  This is all absolutely legal.

They still live with a lot of fear; and, even though they are here now, they have learned to be afraid even here.  Seeing moms today in ankle monitors, which are otherwise used in the U.S. only for criminals, as they read to or played with their beautiful and very innocent children, crushed my heart.  Since the monitors are a symbol of criminality, that is easily what people assume about them – even though

migration/immigration is both an international and national right, by law; NOT a criminal act. 

I got to play with some of the children for a couple of hours and y‘know what?  Kids are kids, no matter where they were born and what language they speak.  And what did some of the grade-school aged children want to do for play (because that’s what it was for them)?  Practice saying and writing the alphabet and numbers up to 100 in English.  They are bright, these young ones, and will very likely be helping to teach their parents English, and many social customs they will pick up from other children. 

The littler ones were happy coloring, playing restaurant and serving up intriguing “meals,” etc.

These Friends were expecting "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free."  That's not what they and so many other immigrant groups throughout our history experienced upon arrival.  I, and so many others, so strongly believe it is our privilege to put skin on Jesus’ powerful teaching:  "As you have done/not done it for the least of these, my sisters and brothers, you have done/not done it for me."

Border trip - Day 5. 

Spent the afternoon and evening at the shelter again.  Packing family backpacks with clean clothing for each member (according to their sizes), toiletries (including diapers for babies), and clean underwear; playing with children (five 3-6 year old girls and I "choo-choo trained" around the front yard stopping wherever there was a person or persons sitting or standing and asking if they wanted a Coke Cola ( they insisted I be the engine!), watching a DVD of Winnie the Pooh in Spanish; escorting families to the showers (imagine the looks of delight, even joy, on their faces -- a SHOWER!) and to dinner... whatever needed to be done.  All the volunteers are initially assigned certain jobs, but often you end up doing whatever is needed if your particular job finishes up early.

I have found that a good-sized smile and "Bienvenidos!" ("Welcome!") greatly brightens the faces of even the most anxious-looking people (which is most of them, of course).  One young girl -- 10 or 12 years old? -- came out the tent where docs and nurses were treating those with head lice.  They rub and massage it in so tenderly...  This young girl came out with the stinky stuff on her hair and a poorly fitting clear shower cap on over it, looking just miserable.  I touched her shoulder, looked her in the eye, and with a twinkle in my own said, "Que bonita!" (How pretty!). She just stared at me for a few seconds like "Whaaaat?" and then we both giggled.  A simple gesture, just to take a little shame away, brings such joy in both the giver and the receiver (who by her response gave joy abundantly back to me!).

It is important to recognize that our guests not only have a lot of needs, they have so many gifts, so much to give and teach us as well.  They have been terribly  victimized by the immigration process -- remember these are people who are trying to LEGALLY enter the country -- but they are so much, much more than victims.  It doesn't take much effort to see the image of Christ in each one of them and to relate to them accordingly.  And, as always, the littlest ones are just soooo precious!

That means none of the volunteers are "heroes" coming to the rescue of "victims."  I say again: as Christians (both ourselves and them, who are coming from overwhelmingly Christian countries), these folks are not "aliens," "illegals," certainly not "invaders."  They are even more than our "friends."  As

fellow-Christians, they are FAMILY, brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus.  We welcome them to the U.S. as we welcome our own families into our homes.

Border Trip - Days 6 & 7.  Friday I spent most of the time working with people who were in charge of clothing donations and distribution.  I don’t know how many weeks many of them had been there, but they were some of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and a hoot to boot!  As with the other aspects, this work is also a sizeable organizational challenge and, while sometimes one or the other would get cranky (who could blame them?!), they were “push forward, no matter what” type of folks, fun and inspiring to work with.

My last day was unforgettable.  In the playroom with a bunch of kids (ages 4-12 or so), several of the boys (ages 5, 7, and 12) and a tiny little girl wanted to practice writing and pronouncing English letters and numbers.  So as I wrote them on a small white board propped up on the floor against a wall, this little girl popped up and stepped over to me and asked me a question – her face maybe 12” from mine.  I didn’t understand (my limited Spanish!), so she asked again – and she looked at me like “How can you NOT know what I’m saying??”  Then, she seemed to freeze.  She kept staring at me, no blinking, no movement whatsoever, her face totally blank.  I asked “Está bien?” (are you ok?).  Nothing.  I asked again, “Está bien?”.  Nothing.  The boys looked a little concerned, but just shrugged their shoulders, and remained very patient and quiet.  Then she turned her face away from mine a bit, and stared off into space.  Suddenly, her eyes opened up like saucers and a look of absolute terror came across her face.  I don’t know what she was “seeing” or remembering, but again she didn’t move and just remained standing there looking terrified.  I stretched my arms out toward her and quietly said, “Ven aca?” (Come here?).  Nothing.  I moved my arms a bit closer.  “Ven aca?”  Nothing.  I gently placed my hands under her tiny arms and, saying “Ven aca?” again, pulled her gently towards me and lifted her onto my lap.  She curled up like a little ball and buried her face into my neck, as I nuzzled her head with my cheek and kissed her, whispering, “Está bien.  Está bien.”  (It’s ok.  It’s ok).  The boys remained quiet and patient.  After a few moments, she raised her head, looked at me again, got down off my lap, and walked as if sleep-walking to the room across the hall (dormitory) where her mother was.  She is 4 years old.  That’s the last I saw her. 

Border Trip: Day 7 After the very moving/disturbing experience with the little 4-year old seeming to have a vivid flashback to something which frightened her terribly, the boys and I continues practicing English letters and numbers.  After just a few minutes, I realized that some of the dads who had stepped in to check on their kids, had fully entered the playroom and were standing behind their kids, participating in what we were doing!  After a few more minutes, a mother entered and joined in.  Only problem was that the little room was now packed so tight it was getting hard for the other kids to play.  So one of the shelter staff people came to the door, saw the neat thing that was spontaneously going on, and said “Vámanos!”  (Let’s go!)  He led us to an actual classroom, empty for the moment, with a huge white board mounted on the wall.  Dads, kids, mom all found a place to sit, and we kept going, now with words and phrases.  I tried to think of words/phrases that might be particularly useful to them (like “abogado” – lawyer).  Then a few began to ask how to say words like “Dios” in English (God), “orar” (to pray), “Iglesia” (church), “En el nombre del padre, y del hijo, y del Espíritu Santo” (in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”).  Thankfully, I had the Google Translator app on my phone so I could check out words/phrases I couldn’t remember from waaaay back in college! They stayed for at least a half-hour.  We laughed a good bit between them trying to speak English and me trying to speak Spanish.  By then, lunch was being served. I left printed on the white board, top/center: "For I know the plans I have for you." declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Biblia, Jeremia 29:11.

An hour or so later, many of them were out in front playing outside – again with a few parents supervising.  My shift was over, and as I walked out the door and along the front of the building where they were playing, I heard, “Adiós Joan!”  (That hard “J” is a bit difficult for them to say).  I, of course, got all choked up but called back, “Adios, amigos!  Buena suerte!”  (Good luck!)  So hard to leave, knowing I could just go back to a comfy hotel, then hop on a plane the next day to return to a comfy and safe home.

These friends are my extended family in Christ; not by anything I or they did, but by what Jesus did/does -- "For he is our peace; in his flesh he has joined [us] into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us."  Ephesians 2:14.

They are your family, too.

Joan Gunderman

January, 2019

LIGHT

I’m praying, meditating, facing our big picture window which looks out over Gilbert Lake.  The sun has just risen over the horizon and, after what felt like an unbearably long, ash-gray and rainy week, it is pouring forth light over all the wet, chilled creation.  Including me.

As I do my body prayer – "I am washed in the living waters of Christ.  The cross of Christ goes before me; the light of Christ surrounds me; the risen Christ lives in me" – the radiance of the sun’s light surrounds and warms me.  For the moment, I am in deep, deep peace.

I am praying for a friend’s brother, stricken with a brain tumor which, though surgeons tried to remove it, is drawing him closer and closer to death.  I see Jacob, wrestling with a stranger (who he identifies later as God) all night long, demanding a blessing before he lets go.  Then I see people bringing, often carrying, their loved ones to Jesus for healing.  I hold my arms out in front of me, holding my friend’s brother in this morning light.  Not only the light of the sun, but the Light in which there is no darkness at all.  Usually, if I hold my arms out, whether straight in front of me or to each side, they get tired, achy and, though my arms are empty, it feels like I’m holding a great weight.  That wasn’t happening as I stood, holding him in the light for some time.

Slowly, the light dims.  Without opening my eyes, I assume the light of the sun is being diminished by a passing cloud, or that the deadening gray is moving in yet again.  However, after a brief moment, the light not only returns, but becomes brighter.

And so I remain there, holding my friend’s brother in what feels like sheer holiness.

To my surprise, the light begins to get even brighter.  We are being soaked in it.  How can this be?  How can the sun out-brighten itself?  Even with my eyes closed, a few tears emerge from the sheer brilliance of it. Opening them just enough to peek, I see that the sun has now risen high enough to be shining off the lake, intensifying both the intense glow and the warmth of the Light.

I simply held him.  In the Light.  That’s all.  I don’t think I have ever personally experienced, both in body and spirit, someone else being blessed.  Someone struggling, wrestling through a dark night like Jacob, like my friend’s brother.  Jesus assures him,  “I will come and take you to myself, that where I am, you may be also.”   Eternal morning.  Eternal blessing.  Eternal Light.

“And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever." 

Lenten Lover

I am a Lenten lover. Quieter, reflective worship and hymns, more intentional listening for God, a simple yearning to touch the hem of Jesus’ cloak and be embraced by his light, the warmth of his love, his healing. During Lent, I seem able to sit in the presence of God and pray in a way that seems more like conversation, rather than the on-the-go, drive-thru prayers that often characterize my prayer life.

On-leave after a rather tumultuous Call, I am studying to be certified as a Spiritual Director/Companion/Midwife, feeling a strong call to that ministry; one which has been affirmed by others. I absolutely love it.

On a personal retreat, entering a period of meditation, I decide that on a mental mountain top there would be few distractions, nowhere to go, no tyranny of the urgent calling me away, all making it easier to listen for God -- just like Jesus did.

But there seems to be an obvious “no” to that, and I find myself, instead (in my imagination, or “in the Spirit”?) in a crude cell. The cell is unusual in that it is at street level in an ancient town on a narrow, busy, dirt street with people walking by. One entire wall of the cell is iron bars facing the street like a shop window. I can see everyone. They can see me.

“Why am I here? Why is my freedom being restrained in this cell?”

“You are in bondage to sin and cannot free yourself.

“Of course. In bondage not only by my own sin, but by the sins of others. I understand that, and I am looking to my spirituality classes to set me free.”

“No you do not understand. Your spirituality classes will not free you. Only I can free you.”

There it is -- the reason I’m a Lenten lover. These weeks of introspection, of deep realization that we are, truly, imprisoned by sin and unable to free ourselves -- all of that may seem, at a glance, shadowy and depressing. No wonder we want to hurry to Easter baskets and cuddly bunnies and egg hunts in an effort to comfort ourselves. More study, working harder and longer, 24/7/365 availability not only doesn’t free us, it may in fact restrain even more our freedom to not only know the doctrine, but to experience “Only I can free you.”

And oh my, what glory then to receive the Easter news: “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen!” The real miracle is not that Jesus/God freed himself from bondage. That probably wasn’t too challenging for the Creator of all life. The real miracle is that he frees us, over and over and over again. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.