The Bush Burned with Fire

The second Sunday of every month my parish offers Practicing Prayer for adults. It is part of, and actually predates, our Religious Education for All Ages, which takes place on the second and last Sundays of every month. We chose that particular name because "Sunday School" and "Christian Education" are perceived as being only for Children, and "Christian Formation" isn't a phrase or concept that many of the members of our continually evolving church community recognize or fully grasp yet. The name is a work in progress that suits our needs in the current moment.

Back to Practicing Prayer.

Sometimes we talk about ways of praying. Sometimes it's about how prayer works in our lives. Sometimes we ask for prayers for ourselves and others. Sometimes we might not recognize what we do as prayer. Always we pray together.

Today was the second in a series of sessions we call Sharing Our Stories. In the first session we shared stories about our Baptism. This morning I pulled a table to the middle of the room and put on it crayons, colored pencils, four-color pens, white paper, lined paper, and some sheets of assorted colored paper. I opened the with the following collect, written by my Education for Ministry group when I was a Year 3 student (and I have permission to share):

Gracious Creator of the world, whose Son shared our human experience, and whose spirit abides in each of us: Grant us the ears, the heart and the patience to hear each others' stories and to understand the disappointments and hopes that are part of our lives, So that we can see your presence at work in our lives, learn to trust your guidance in all that is yet to come and be open to receiving hope through the blessing of your lovingkindness; Through Jesus Christ our hope and salvation, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, One God, now and for ever. Amen.

Then I went over the ground rules necessary to make the group a safe place where people can feel free to share as much or as little as they wish. I explained that there are many ways of recording our story, and today we were going to draw, sketch, or write about a time when we felt God's presence in our lives. To get us started, I read verses 1-18 of Psalm 139 while they started. When I finished reading, I started on my own drawing using crayons.

After 15 minutes or so, we reflected on what it was like to put our stories on paper using the right side, the creative side, of our brains. And we shared as much of our stories as each of us was comfortable sharing. There were some powerful stories, which I cannot share.  But I can share my own story.

The particular incident I chose to put to paper is a story I've shared before, including in a sermon, which I'll quote here, since it's as good a version as any:

It happened when I was in graduate school in Madison, Wisconsin. It was one of those perfect Fall days. There are days even now when the sky is just the right shade of blue, or the smell of the leaves will take me back to that day. I was standing at a corner waiting for the light to change so I could cross the street. Suddenly—or at least it seemed very sudden—everything seemed to be sharper, brighter. Even now the logical part of me wants to try and explain the sensation away as a cloud moving away from the sun, or a shift in the way I was standing so that I was no longer in the shadow of a building. But I don’t think it can be explained away that easily. Then along with that sharpness, that brightness, I became aware of a message—it wasn’t exactly words that I heard aloud or in my head. It said, “I need you. You have a ministry in my church.” And then just as suddenly, it was just another Fall afternoon on a Madison street corner...

Over twenty years later I am still struggling with the implications of that experience, and what it means to minister in God’s church and in the world. I have come back down the mountain and shared the story, sometimes with ease and sometimes with unease. I have been blessed by many people over the years who listened to my story and told me theirs. Together we are finding the many ways to live out God’s call to us.

Today was the first time I used art to explore this particular part of my story. As I looked at the drawing, getting ready to share with the group, I realized that moment on the street corner was my burning bush.

"...and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed." (Exodus 3:2, NRSV)

In the 30 years of living with and discerning the meaning of that message, there have been times when I felt like the bush and times when I felt like the fire. And sometimes I've been burned. And sometimes I've burned. Sometimes William Tyndale; sometimes Henry VIII. Sometimes Mary Dyer; sometimes Captain John Evered. Sometimes the Pequots and Wampanoags; sometimes the English colonists.  The Tiananmen protesters; the Chinese government.  Intentional and unintentional.

"...and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed." (Exodus 3:2, KJV)

I learned a long time ago that I'm not perfect. I can only hope that the general thrust of my life has been, and will continue to be, in the direction of hope, healing, reconciliation, and justice.

I struggle with what it means to be a Christian in today's world. I struggle with what it means to pursue a call to ministry in God's church. And I struggle with discerning what the full meaning of that call is. That can only be done in community. Sharing stories.

"The bush was blazing away but it didn't burn up." (Exodus 3:2, The Message)