Torsey Red

What a beautiful day it was to be on the water Tuesday. I ducked out (pun intended) between wind gusts and found myself chasing red.  Red leaves caught in the paddles eddies, red branches glimpsed across the way. There were even red cats waiting for me in the window sill when I got back to put on a cup of african red leaf tea.  It's grand that the season of Pentecost gets this boost as we head firmly into fall!

slips of the tongue-openings to the soul

I occasionally suffer from "flying fingers syndrome."  Last week I realized that my email signature, "In Christ's Joy," was transposed "Im Christ's Joy."  That feels like kind of a bold statement, little touch of hubrs there. So I changed it back.  But the typo stayed with me.  Why shouldn't I claim God's promise to delight in me?  Who was it that used to say, "God doesn't make junk?"  That simple letter switch teased out an opening in my soul and made me admit I dismiss God's handiwork way too easily.
You'd think I'd learn.
BUT yesterday, signing off on a message in a rush I shortened the greeting to "Im Christ."  That's a whole new level of typo.  The soul door slammed shut again and again the typo stayed with me.  I am not Christ.  But I now from experience that the evidence of Christ in my life may be the first glimpse someone gets. And.....don't I claim to be part of the Body of Christ.  What about all the years spent trying to "put on Christ?" The opening into my soul slipped open again.
I found myself remembering one of my favortite seminary classes.  We were asked to proclaim Jeremiah chapter 9 with a creative art project. This is a tough passage.  God speaks through the prophet's voice, "O that my heard were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my people.  O that I had inthe desert a travelor's lodging place, that I might leave my people and go away from them......"  I'll let you visit Jeremiah and read God's accusations for yourself.  (Its a great companion to James chapter 3's teaching about what comes out of our mouths.)
My project became a simple tent of indigo died sheer cotton, ribbon tears of intercesory prayer streaming from the top of the pole.  It was just big enough for one person to sit inside.  When you entered the tent, you sat on a surface of newspapers with their own witness to the violence we inflict on each other and the ways we tear at God's heart.
Being in Christ is not always easy.  Most of the time we'd rather run ahead and dare God to catch up.  But I'm Christ's Joy.  I'm (in) Christ.  In the rush of living, if we don't risk letting Jesus live in and through us who will?

before

Rising From the Task
                     (draft)
Rising from the task,
unbending arms
and legs
and neck
muscles,
seeing the objects,
removed from my hands,
I wonder.

Was the time spent
gripping red mottled carcasses,
cracking thirty backs,
scrapping knuckles,

Were three hours of
breathing salt, wet & dense,
picking legs,
tossing shells,
holding cats at bay,
worth it?

We'll know this winter.

I just came across this poem.  How perfect for harvest season and right in keeping with recent scripture readings in worship!  Being and Doing-in balance.  That's the art of living.

Let every word
be the fruit
of action and reflection.
Reflection alone
without action
or tending toward it
is mere theory,
adding its wieght
when we are overloaded with it already.
Action alone
without reflection
is being busy
pointlessly.
Honor the Word eternal
and speak
to make a new world possible.
           -Helder Camara