"Who Shall See God?" by Erin Kirkland

Just wondering, those of you who were at worship today or this evening at 7:07 (and even if you weren't)....

Did you ever feel terrified? No need to answer; I'm sure all of us at one time or another have felt so fearful we were absolutely paralyzed. Tom talked about some of these today: Fear of failure, fear of rejection, pain (for us or someone else), fear of being alone, fear of death, among other things. Like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down.

Today's sermon asked this question: "Who shall see God?"

Can we see God when we are afraid?

Fear has a way of overpowering, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I've been victim to it. As the parent of a special needs son I have taken fear and terror to new levels with little to show for it but frayed nerves and strained relationships, and always, the fear was still there.

Learning to allow the feeling of fear to enter my heart was a risk. Would God really be there, not to save me, but to embrace fear with me? Seriously???

Yep. Right there. He said it himself.

I Am Here. Even on the edge of a precipice.

The Parable of 'God Doesn't Nag' by Erin Kirkland

For the record, I did not come up with that title. Tom Letts did as he was trying to help those of us gathered at last night's 7:07 service understand the Parable of the Sower, which doesn't sound nearly as compelling as the Parable of God Doesn't Nag, but, whatever.

In two weeks of diving into the inner workings of Jesus' methods of reaching the curious crowds, I am amazed at his ability to tell us what we need to hear in a way that makes us in charge of our own selves. In fact, the whole parable repeats the importance of recognizing what Jesus is trying to say about God's desire for relationship with us, the independent masses who always think we can do things ourselves.

We learned the purpose of a parable is to make us stay when everyone else leaves, and ask questions. Jesus doesn't give us the answer on purpose, knowing that if we want a relationship of deep intimacy with God, it is we who need to take the first step toward Him. Thus the "nag" part. If I don't nag my son to get ready in the morning, who ultimately wins once he figures out going to school without breakfast, or in his PJ's, isn't so fun? I'll wait it out. God will, too.

God tells us what we should do, based upon obedience and authority, as we learned in the morning service. But He doesn't make us do it, because of our own brokenness. We decide when we shall come to Him from rocky ground, in turmoil, finally realizing that asking questions when scattered blindly across the stones is the only way toward true understanding. It is our choice entirely to get up and walk away from the rocky ground, to sit somewhere else and listen, then ask How and What instead of Why.

Interesting last night when we were encouraged to ask questions of the parable, silence reigned for more than a few moments. Were we afraid?

Stay. Ask. God will wait for you to show up. In fact, He really, really wants you to. No need to be afraid.

Do you 'See'? by Erin Kirkland

I cannot seem to get the sentence uttered by Jesus out of my head. "Do you see this woman?"

Read it a thousand times, dissected the surrounding events and landscape, but still missed the point. "Do you see this woman?"

Seeing with our eyes is different than seeing with our heart, and I'm going to try and do the latter more often.

The heroin addict on the front page of the Anchorage Daily News who can't seem to come clean.

A staggering man on the corner of A and Benson who draws a cross on the slab of cardboard he holds up in front of traffic, asking for money.

My own frightened, impulsive teenager who struggles every single day to do the right thing and often fails.

Do I see them? Do I provide them with even the minutae of grace they deserve and God provides, but too often I do not?

Do you?

Feeling Forsaken by Erin Kirkland

This has not been one of my better days. It started this morning with a trip to Costco, where I carefully crossed each item off my long, long list as I put it in the cart, then forgot about the coupons in my bag until I reached the parking lot.

Things didn't get much better as I reached a downtown church to turn in the registration form for an upcoming VBS week and failed to notice, as I pulled my chattering, whining child in the front doors, that a funeral was in progress.

The day ended with Home Group and our final discussion of "Start> Becoming a Good Samaritan", but I lost all feelings of goodness when another mom and I came upstairs to discover our unsupervised children were engaged in a hair cutting and styling party led by my son, whose only excuse was "She told me to."

Did Jesus ever have days like this? A truly terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day? Maybe just cranky? It would make me feel even better about trying to live in his image if I knew he did.

Tonight our Home Group watched the last segment of the current study about the forsaken and imprisoned and disabled... My day was only a brief glimpse of feeling as if the world was against me. I have no inkling at all of having it actually happen. Oppression, imprisonment, abuse, disability; the list is endless of ways people feel forsaken and/or disenfranchised. It is daily life for some people.

A bad day? Surely. But mine will (hopefully) will be temporary, and maybe, just maybe, today taught me something.

God-Directed? by Melody Balcao, Worship Arts Director

Proverbs 20:24
"A man's steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?"

Isaiah 48:17
"This is what the Lord says- your Redeemer, the Holy One is Isreal: 'I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.'"

Jeremiah 10:23
"I know, O Lord, that aman's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps."

A musical director stands on the podium listening for balance; he sees and hears small variables in tone and pitch as his A-tuned ears seek out the sound of harmony, melody, and rhythm. For his vantage point and trained ear come unified motion, direction, and symphony. The audience looks on and listens with joy, living in the moment and enjoying the sound.

What brought this all together? How did it all play out? These are not the questions people ask as they sway to the music. Only the director knew the outcome and moved those with whom he was responsible to that place of togetherness.

As we seek to be missional, can we design our own pathway? Are we capable of seeing into the future? Who is it that directs our steps, leads us to a place of making a difference within the universe?

As I seek Christ's direction and guidance, I have peace in knowing that as director of my life, He's heard my melody and it's a song beyond my greatest dreams. Listen! How is He directing you?

Do You Have a 'Blind Side'?

Have you seen the movie? I finally caught up a friend's copy of "The Blind Side" this weekend. If you are one of the few who has not seen this Best-Actress-producing film (Sandra Bullock), this might be a good time; for a statement she makes in the last part of the movie made me think. And think a lot about my role as a 'good samaritan'.

Bullock playes well-to-do mother Liegh Anne Tuohy who finds samaritan-ship in the form of young Michael Oher, a big kid with a penchant for protective instincts and not so much for football, but that's another story. Tuohy brings this young man into her home, feeds, clothes, and nurtures him, and sees to it that his desire to attend college is fulfilled.

After a myriad of ups and downs and inbetween scenes during which we, as do her friends in the film, wonder if she is doing this for charity purposes or out of the goodness of her own heart, an incident occurs that forces Mrs. Tuohy to deeply question her role as a 'samaritan' acting as the hands and feet of Jesus.

"Am I a nice person?" she asks her husband after spending hours fretting over a lost child. "Was I really doing this for the right reason?"

Have you ever asked yourself that question? What was your answer?

Can you Let Go?

Palm Sunday is this week; the day when Jesus came riding into town on a donkey knowing full well what was ahead of him. The kids of Trinity are going to do some special songs and wave their palm fronds in the air in celebration of the event.

This means Lent is almost over and Easter Sunday is nearly here. I took a long look today at the Lenten promise I made some 30 days ago and what it means today. I promised to lay things down. Let them go. Die unto myself. But that's hard.

I'm a grudge-holder. It is sometimes a difficult and sad way to live, and I am sure I am not alone. When I look at events going on in the world and close to home, there seems to be an epidemic of grudge-holding.

Forgiveness without dwelling is one of the hardest Lenten promises I have ever made, even more difficult than giving up chocolate. I don't mean forgetting about something, I mean consciously, prayerfully letting go of my own selfish sense of holding on just for the sake of replaying a particular incident or word or action over and over and over again in my mind. Someone once asked me why I acted in this way. I replied "Because I can't let things go." She responded back with "You mean you won't." Ouch.

What things do you need to lay down before God this Palm Sunday? I look forward to being able to rejoice in the glory of Easter and truly be thankful for every thing Jesus did for me in a way that is more beautiful than ever before.

All because I let some things go.

Take My Life

Growing up immersed in the Catholicism, Lent was one of three biggie seasons for us kids. Enrolled in parochial school practically my entire life, the months before Easter were full of rituals meant to prepare us for Easter Sunday, the most glorious, holy, and special day in the Catholic Church. For me and my siblings, however, Lent meant a List.

This List, created by me, and most of my classmates at St. Louise Catholic School, was devised as a way for us to remember all the things we were not supposed to do during Lent. Want that hamburger on Friday? Nope. A friend is having a sleepover on Saturday night? Sorry, can't miss Sunday Mass during Lent. But worst of all, we had to give up something; something big, like refraining from candy, or watching TV, or bugging your parents for new bell bottom jeans. Lent as a child meant a world of "don'ts", of "no ways", and "can't dos". Even now I feel guilt if I eat anything but tuna casserole on Friday for fear Sister Helen Francis will rise from her grave and haunt my eternal digestion.

I experienced something different last night. Ash Wednesday service at Trinity was the first time I had ever heard about what I might DO during Lent, instead of what I WILL NOT.

"Engagement", I believe, was the term used. Acts of stewardship, service, studying the scripture, sharing my faith with others, even hosting a party, for heaven's sake. Whoa. This is not the Lent I know. Some of the suggestions are still difficult for an introvert such as myself who finds ways to hide behind a laptop screen and emote virtually, but nearly all of them seem much more attainable and sustainable because of their positive nature than the knuckle-rapping no-no's of my youth.

It's much, much more comfortable to be uncomfortable this year. What were the words of a song we sang together? "Take my mind, transform it...Take my will, conform it...to yours, to yours, to yours...

That's what He wants from us.

Am I A Christian Bigot?

by Melody Balcao

Put your thinking caps on: I have a few questions that puzzle me and, I believe, directly affect my witness to those around me. Here's the scripture reference: "A new command I give you; Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13: 34-35).

Here is my question: Do we know how this "Love" thing works? We speak about reaching out to the community with God's love and compassion, but can we effectively do this if we do not know how to love one another? I am speaking of the Christian church as a whole; our brothers and sisters in Christ, who worship in other places, have chosen to serve Christ, love God, and worship Him with their whole being. But we disagree with them.

Do we hold on to grudges and allow bitterness to be the lens by which we view these people? How does this affect our witness? It is said that often those we know best hurt us the deepest, but as a Christian I think the scripture speaking of love, holding no record of wrongs (1 Cor. 13:5) might apply.

Do we judge? Call names? Box in with stereotypes? How do I step into, or out of, this place without condemning myself in the process (i.e. becoming judgmental)?

Share your thoughts. Give us a time when you, perhaps, were that person.