Letter to God

Last Tuesday was the first meeting of the Posse Renovare group, composed of Susie Olsen, my preschool director; Mindy Turner, my children's director; Kyle Olson, my youth director; Kay Scarbrough, my senior pastor; and me. We're meeting on Tuesday mornings at Edesia's, a local bakery and coffee shop just down the street from the church. I'm really excited about getting this, and more like it, started in the church!

After our meeting last week, we had an assignment to write a letter to God, recalling the first time I sensed God's presence and some of the ways God has revealed Godself to me since then. I'm sharing that here.

Dear God,

It's hard to think of the FIRST time I sensed you in my life because you've just always been there. I can't remember a time I didn't go to church and Sunday school. And given how my memory works (read: doesn't always remember), it's a difficult task.

The first time I have any vivid memory was in high school. We'd had a meeting at Manhattan First Presbyterian Church to plan an upcoming youth retreat and were worshipping there on Sunday morning. I was tired from having been up late the night before and I drifted off. It was probably more of a dream, than any thing, but I was sitting in my pew looking up at the stained glass window behind the chancel and I had a "vision" of sorts. I saw something I can't even describe, but it was wondrous to see. I remember looking around after to see if anyone else was as awe-struck as I, but everyone was just sitting there listening to the preacher. It was an incredible time, but it has stayed with me, and really sustained me, all these years later.

Since then, and probably before then, I've known you in many ways--through the beauty of nature, the splendor of a sunrise or sunset, through the miracle of birth and the finality (and yet not) of death. I've seen you through what you have done in the lives of others and in the relationships of family and friends you have placed in my life. I know you through the love you have given me in and through Dale.

I know you in large part because of how you worked in my life most visibly during seminary. There were papers I wrote for which I don't feel I can take much of the credit. The words that ended up in the versions I handed in, were pure gift. The certainty of my call and the work you enabled me to do were two of the things that kept me at it, when I might otherwise have thrown in the towel.

I've known you in part. I look forward to the time when I will know as I've been known, when I will no longer look through a glass dimly.

In your peace, love and grace.

Life in the Garden

This morning I was reading about Adam and Eve's life in the garden. The story was of the serpent giving them the forbidden fruit to eat. God knew they had hidden themselves, but came looking for them anyway. Even knowing they had disobeyed her command, God wanted to continue to be in relationship with them.

Reading this familiar story again this morning, I was struck by the thought that we are still in the garden! I mean, I know that the story says God kicked them out and made their life much harder, but when I look around me I still see an incredibly lush, rich, fertile garden that needs to be tended. I see animals that need to be taken care of. Perhaps we are all still Adams and Eves. I know I've disobeyed God's command, and it wasn't just one time. Yet God continues to seek me out; God continues to want to be in relationship with me.

God, come and walk with me in your garden. Teach me how to listen for the sound of you walking through the garden. Help me remember that there is nothing I can do that will make you not want to remain in relationship with me.