“Let your light shine before others, so that they may
see your good works and give glory to your Father in
heaven.” Matthew 5: 16On the train to Stuttgart,
we modest Brethren pastors
experience a moment of
seed planting, of disciple making.
A young mother becomes
curious about our joyful group.
She stops to help
with a translation problem,
and remains engaged in conversation
on the need for God in a life
filled with all she needs
(or so she thinks).
We playfully, lovingly invite her
to consider how much more
rich and fulfilling
her life could be, will be
when she opens herself
to God’s presence and guidance.
Already her young daughter has begun
asking her questions about God—
and she, once raised Catholic,
now gropes for answers.
What a divine appointment!
that Bruna and her daughter, Vivianne,
have met and talked with
five peaceful, gentle pastors
who had prayed to be God’s light
to those who they will meet.
One has a present for Bruna,
a New Testament marked
like a map
for a journey to faith.
We each sign this present,
offering prayers and blessings
to this mother and child—
and Bruna is overwhelmed
by this gift.
She carefully opens the cover,
reading each name
to her daughter and
explaining the book
to the inquisitive child.
Vivianne in turn decides to name
her toy tiger “bibble”—and
mother and daughter return to us
to thank us for the present.
We add to the Bible
business cards with addresses,
to hopefully continue
the holy conversation;
and we give her God’s blessing
for her life’s journey.
Another divine appointment—
this time on the tram
to Hirschberg.
Another young women,
a student and daughter
to a pastor.
Hanna has taken time
to visit her family,
and now is returning
to her studies.
She easily and cheerfully
converses with us—
strangers with baggage
standing on the tram.
She is asked, “Do you go to church?”
“Of course!” she answers,
as though the question
seemed absurd.
Hanna then shares her faith,
her memories of her late father,
her dreams and future plans.
Two young women on a train,
having divergent faith journeys,
yet clearly loved of God.
May we humble travelers
be a light of God to them. Amen.
--Sister Cara
(Reflections on on Luke 13: 10-17)
"I’m sorry, child.
You get it from me,”
a grandmother gently
says to her eldest granddaughter.
An inherited twisted spine
and companion
Arthur-itis pain.
Yet, despite the ache,
the grandmother goes about
her daily work with a smile,
a gentle touch, with
serene peace ringing forth
from her lips as she sings
a favorite hymn. No word
of complaint is heard from her,
even though the years lead to more
twisting and a diminishing stature.
Decades later, the granddaughter
understands deep in her bones
this twisting and Arthur-itis pain,
and wonders—marvels—at how
Grandma managed to move beyond
the ache; sits in awe and gratitude
for the model of how to live
in peace and serenity, with joy
sparkling in eyes and songs
of praise dancing past lips.
There is much to be done, though
her field of vision is lowering
closer to God’s good earth.
It takes effort at times to look up to the
tops of trees for spring’s first robins,
effort and determination to gaze up into
the eyes of a dear friend who seems taller
than the trees. It would seem so much
easier to give in to gravity and heredity
and simply learn to recognize people
by the sound of their voice
and the shape of their shoes.
Centuries earlier, another twisted sister
goes about her daily work. Unable
to lift eyes beyond the view of others’
knees, yet—a blessing—able to gaze
into the eyes of village children. She,
old and bent and frail, sings them songs
and tells them stories of their ancestors—mighty kings and powerful prophets. She teaches them the promises of the One
to come, Messiah, God’s anointed,
who will usher in the year of the Lord,
when all the oppressed will be set free
of their bondage.
A Sabbath day arrives, bright and clear,
and the elder sister shuffles her way
to the women’s section, hoping to find
a place close to the screen where
she may peer out toward the men
and the pulpit. A stranger sits on the
teacher’s bench, a kindly man with a voice of an angel. Suddenly, he calls out, summons her over to the men’s section,
and tells her she has been freed
of her affliction. Gentle hands massage
her back in view of all—and bone begins
stacking vertically, neatly, one above
the other, as her eyes lift toward heaven.
Oh, twisted sisters, rejoice! Daughters of
Abraham dance with delight! Our God
does wonder-filled things with those who love, with those who wait patiently,
in peace and serenity and joy and praise.
--Sister Cara
Pulpit and Preacher
(Reflections on Luke 4: 14-21)
Well-worn, humble and ordinary,
the pulpit stands amid
benches shined by hours
of sitting in prayer and study.
This modest table
that has been the center
of worship
in a house of worship
is the resting place
of God’s holy word.
Many have read aloud the ancient scroll
and chanted the passages
of history and wisdom
and long lost prophets.
On this day comes another
son of the village;
dearly beloved of God’s handmaiden.
He lays the scroll across
the well-worn pulpit,
finds the passage
and reads again the words
of promise and hope.
One prophet reciting
another’s words
and claiming them
as his own:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.”
Now the humble and ordinary
becomes privileged
and extraordinary.
Well-worn wood becomes
glistening and rich
as the son of a village mother
preaches for all the world to hear:
“Today this scripture
has been fulfilled.”
Pulpit and preacher
stand at the in-breaking
of God’s new reign.
The poor
will receive good news.
The captives
will be released.
The blind
will see again.
The oppressed
will be free.
Two thousand years later,
the pulpit and preacher
have gone;
dust to dust,
life to new life.
And still
the poor need good news,
the captives need release,
the blind need sight,
the oppressed need freedom.
Once again the prophet’s words
need to be recited.
Once again the words
of hope and promise
need to be read aloud.
New prophets,
those who follow the Son of Mary,
now must claim,
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me.”
New pulpits and new preachers
now must stand at the in-breaking
of God’s new reign.
Today this scripture has been fulfilled
in our hearing.
--Sister Cara
Glory Mountain
(Reflections on Luke 9: 28-36)
I sit in silence,
a mountain woman
in the midst of
my mountains of molehills.
Paper piled in stacks
for further perusal;
books partially read
then laid aside;
notebooks filled
with the minutes of
a mountain of meetings.
I feel at home
in the mountains,
so much so, that
I carry on this
method of clutter
from office to home.
Recipes awaiting
the cook’s touch;
photographs of a long-ago trip
ready for the album;
cloth squares neatly
stacked, needing only
needle and thread
to make a quilt.
I have other mountains
in my life, more
molehills built up into
seemingly insurmountable
obstacles.
Worrying fret
over a daughter-friend’s safety;
annoying frustration
with having to wait
on a colleague’s slow progress;
despairing sorrow
at the never-ending news
of more lives
senselessly lost in
war’s madness.
And yet,
when I consider all my
molehill mountains,
they are but foothills
on the path to God.
The prophet had spoken,
“Come, let us go up
to the mountain of the Lord,
that God may teach us Holy ways
and that we may walk
in Holy paths.”
Years later, four men
trudge up a mountain to pray;
Messiah and disciples
needing a time-out with their Creator,
wanting peace in their souls
for the turmoil that will lay ahead.
Son of God and three mere mortals
suddenly joined on God’s holy mount
by two others, long-lost prophets
who had seen God’s face
on a mountain.
Now three, Son and prophets,
shine forth with holy radiance,
Son listening intently to sage advice
from those who toiled along difficult paths,
their holy conversation lost amid
dazzling glory crackling
the night sky, and
a voice that thundered,
“This is my Son, my Chosen;
Listen to him!”
El Shaddai, Lord of the mountains,
lead me up your Glory Mountain;
give me eyes to see beyond
my molehill foothills;
give me strength and courage and humility
to look upon your face, so I may live
in ways that reflect your glory
to those still at the foot of
your mountain.
--Sister Cara
Confessions of a False Prophet by Jordan Le Suer-Mandernack
July 22 to the 27, Paul Brown, Natasha and Amber Leming, Natalie Betz, and I awoke bright and early and made our way to Indy to catch our flights to Ft. Collins, Colorado for National Youth Conference 2006. After two flights, much waiting, and one shuttle, we found ourselves on Colorado State University campus. I was in awe, and excited to be given such an opportunity as this one.
The first full day at NYC, after morning worship, we went to meet with our small groups. These were groups of ten to twelve people, each from a different part of the U. S., and all different ages. From fourteen or fifteen to probably around forty. You weren’t supposed to know anyone in the group. It was to get you out of your normal group and meeting people. A good idea, indeed. We were to meet with this same group of people every day of NYC following morning worship from 10:15 to 11 AM. I would say my small group clicked very well. We were really able to be open and honest with each other. Just how honest, you ask? Well ... read on ...
The third day, Monday, my small group leader, Randy, asked us to answer some questions for a questionnaire NYC had provided. We would discuss our answers out loud and come to a consensus, if possible, on what to write down. Well, the first question is what caused the spark that would set a fire ablaze: “What does church mean to you?” A few people answered and then it got to Bret, a senior in high school from Pennsylvania. “Church really doesn’t mean much to me. It’s just kinda.. boring. Just a place to go on Sundays.” Bret said. One adult, Todd, seemed to want to tackle this “problem” as he saw it, then and there. And he did. Todd started talking to Bret about Bret’s church and maybe he should find another Brethren church to attend. To this Bret replied, “Well I’ve been to other Brethren churches and thought they were boring too.” “Maybe a different denomination, then?!” Todd offered. “I’m not sure it’s so much the Brethren part so much as Christianity ... I mean, I want to be a scientist and I don’t know how to believe in that and God.” Bret said. To me, this was a crystal clear cry for help; “help me learn how to believe in both!” Not so much to Todd. He just got kind of angry. I decided Bret probably needed some help and support and obviously wasn’t going to get it from anyone else, so I stepped in. I talked about how I was kind of with Bret in the sense that I think I can have a spiritual experience, say, outside, not only in church. But Todd only heard, “I’m with Bret ... ” and started planning what to say next. I finished and Todd quickly jumped in to put his two cents in. This to our entire small group: “This just proves it. Here amidst us, here at NYC, here in this very small group, we have false prophets among us.”
I was shocked. I had just been called a false prophet one, by a guy that barely knew me and two, for sticking up for a fellow youth who I thought needed some support. I did not respond. Nor did anyone else ...
Immediately following small group, I met up with Natalie and told her the whole story. She was very upset and very ready to go tell Todd how unacceptable his behavior was. Especially from n adult advisor to a youth. I told her it was okay, that if something happened again I’d ask her to talk to him, but for now just let it go. Nothing else did happen.
After I got over the shock, twenty or thirty minutes after the incident, I was able to laugh at it. And I still do. I realized, why let something as lame as being called a false prophet by someone who only met me the previous day ruin my entire NYC experience? Especially when I know, and anyone who knows me knows, that it is completely “false.” (wink, wink) Willing to stick up for a youth who was seeking help and support? Definitely. But a false prophet? Come on. Would I be there if I was? I think not.
The rest of NYC went spectacularly! I made some amazing discoveries about myself that I cannot express in words, and I met some fantastic people! Bret and I, or “my fellow false prophet” as I now jokingly refer to him as, got to know each other better after our little incident, and I discovered that his is a really fun, nice guy. Maybe a little confused and questioning about his faith and beliefs (aren’t we all at some point?), but fun. I actually really appreciate his honesty. It brought to me a situation I’ve never been put in before and obviously made an impact on me.
I am so grateful to be given such an opportunity as to go to NYC. I highly recommend it for any youth! Even ones questioning who they are, and what they believe. Especially them, in fact! It provided me with some eyeopening experiences and left me with many fond memories. I thank the LCOB for providing me with the opportunity (and money) to attend such a life-altering conference. It will be remembered in high regard and looked back upon fondly my whole life.
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