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A Few Words From Pastor Bryan
And John Roedel
Well April is doing its thing! What a gorgeous week it's been. Just about everyone I know here in Wisconsin anyway is feeling the lift now that we've finally left the winter behind (yes I know, it could snow next week! Shhhh....)
We'll be focusing lots on the beauty of the earth, how Creation speaks to our souls, and on our call to care for the earth and deal with issues of climate change and eco-justice in the next few weeks especially at church.
Few things seem to speak more directly to our souls that the beauty of the natural world and art. Recently our own Trish Kalhagen shared an amazing poem with our morning zoom devotional group. I loved it so much I decided to share it with all of you this week. It's by a fantastic poet, writer, and comedian named John Roedel who refers to himself on Facebook simply as "a short writer."
So many people, when they find out I'm a minister, say things like, "The earth is my sanctuary. I feel closer to God outside in nature than in a church building." I get it. I've often joked with you all when the weather gets nice that if I weren't the pastor I probably wouldn't be in church either! I'm kidding, sort of. I totally understand the need and desire to spend long full days out in nature somehow, and for many of you Sundays are one of your only chances to do that. Well enjoy yourselves and I'll be the last person to lay a "we missed you in church on Sunday" guilt trip on you. But please just remember that a huge part of "being church" is being together in community. That can certainly happen outside as it does for us when we worship outside (we'll start doing that again one Sunday a month beginning in June), but just know that being together is one of the main reasons why church exists. We can all feel wonderfully close to God on our own out in nature or at home on our yoga mats or mediation cushions or your own favorite place to commune with God, and I hope we all do. But we also need to be together to share our lives, pray together, sing together, listen for God's Word together, and serve together. Church is more about community than just about anything. Creating a "people" who would love each other and be there for and with each other was at the heart of Jesus' message and mission. We can do things together than none of us can do on our own.
But back to nature (see what I did there? :)--this poem by John Roedel will speak to a lot of you I know. Thanks again to Trish Kalhagen for bringing it to our attention. I know I'll refer to it often in the years to come.
I hope to see you in church this Sunday, and every Sunday, but if I don't, I hope you're out somewhere having fun with loved ones and connection with God in the "church that has no doors."
Love to you all,
Pastor Bryan
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Lately, When I Need To Pray
By John Roedel
Lately, when I need to pray
I go to the church that has no doors.
And where the walls are made of carved granite –
I sit under it’s moving roof on a pew that smells like fresh pine
And fold my hands quietly until God joins me –
Here in this most ancient of churches,
I watch a dozen fat rainbow angel dressed as trout dance in the baptismal font
And wonder when I too will be made anew –
There is a special kind of holy quiet here
that rings much louder than any fat church bell I have ever known
And the silence often rattled my ribs –
It’s choir loft is high up in a birds nest
And it’s confessional is a breeze that asks me to speak my sins
And I do, and then they are carried away –
The longer I sing psalms in this church
The shorter my memory for all of my past mistakes become
And that is when I hear the voice of Love speak
“oh tired light, oh wounded heart,
Oh my child of crumbling grace,
Come plant your feet in this Eden,
Come rest in this sacred space
Oh weary traveler, oh somber fire,
Oh shaking heart that is prone to fear,
Come lay in my ribboned water
Come to fully know that I’m right here
Oh wilting daisy, on dying star
Oh broken song that needs a name,
Come sit with me among the wild,
And then you’ll never be the same”
God and I take turns saying all we need to say to each other
I speak in short heavy jagged breaths and the Divine replies in thin long pauses
This goes on until the sun begins to set –
That’s when it’s time to leave
And even though I go home, I’m always still there
In the antiquated church
Of trees and valleys
Where foxes are lectors
Where horizons are steeples
Where clouds are vestibules
Where campfires are incense
Where time is a gospel
Where the great flow is a sacrament
Where forests are community
Where a little piece of me always still remains
Talking to the voice of whispering Love
As I watch trout be slain in the spirit
And I can’t stop marveling at the altar of creation
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