Fire and Ice

I helped to lead a Sunday School class not too long ago. It was the week that took our city by surprise with record heat.  Part of the session was about prayer and used an acronym to dig deeper into this topic for children. The acronym was ACTS, short for adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication. To break it down more simply we used the words: wow, oops, thank you and help!

We sat in our cozy semi-circle and I asked the fidgeting group about "wow" moments for that week. The topic of hail came up. I thought about the cold chunks of ice that dropped from the sky pelleting the ground a day or two ago. The thunderstorm's frosty finale. I also remembered the sizzling temperatures we were complaining about and sweating through sun up to sun down, and it suddenly struck me how our amazing Creator poured forth ice in the midst of a fiery heat wave. Talk about your "wow" moments.

WOW.

"Who can understand how he spreads out the clouds, how he thunders from his pavilion? See how he scatters his lightning about him, bathing the depths of the sea. This is the way he nourishes the nations and provides food in abundance." - Job 36:29-31 (NIV)

The Lion and the Tribes

Turbans? Yes, please. 

My son attended Vacation Bible School (VBS) last month. Children were grouped together according to the tribes of Israel. Colorful posters displayed on chairs in the worship space showed icons and names of the groups. Spotting a lion, I realized we were assigned to the tribe of Judah. Delighted, I squealed, "Ooh, the line of David! Of Jesus!" My son just looked at me and glanced back at the cool image of the big cat. 

Earlier that Sunday morning, Pastor John spoke about hospitality as we prepared to open our church to the youth of the city and surrounding areas for VBS. He referenced Abraham and Sarah in the desert when three mysterious visitors appeared. Abraham ran to the tent to prepare a feast. Thankfully so, since as it turned out they were messengers. Angels in the desert. 

The theme for this year's Bible School was Marketplace 29 A.D. It offered a snapshot into the time of Jesus' life and culture through the activities of the market. Each tribe visited different stations every night -- jewelry, weaving, pottery, carpentry, scroll writing, spices. Little noses lifted skywards to bunches of dried thyme and rosemary. Herbal treasures. Pretend beggars even made their rounds and children offered up faux gold coins.

The marketplace pulsed with life and so did our Vacation Bible School. We danced in whirling circles and waved scarves of scarlet and tangerine. My son's favorite song offered an Egyptian dance move, complete with lyrics: "Pharaoh, Pharaoh, ohhhhhh baby, let my people go, uhh. Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The week continued. Friendships were formed. By the fifth and final evening, the dancing and music were moving more into a frenzy of games of chase, bounding leaps and other horseplay. Some members of the tribes listened more than others. The energy was reaching a crescendo and my gut reaction was to corral, lay order to chaos, but I refrained as a spectator.

After the happy bedlam had subsided and we made our way home, I reflected on my feelings. How I had wanted to stifle joy, curb its free and boisterous spirit because it didn't seem to fit my definition. Not very hospitable for these angels in the desert. While VBS is traditionally meant for children, I found my very adult self learning in the process. I can only be thankful that I have my lion to lean on.

"Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals." - Revelation 5:5

The Coffee Project

We honeymooned in Italy. Young love wandering through a dream of gondola glamour swayed back and forth by the rock of the canal. We tossed coins in the blues of the Trevi Fountain. Neptune and his horses of the sea standing watch. Marble guardians. We pilgrimaged through Vatican halls to reach the cavern cool interior of the Sistine Chapel and stargazed at frescos in the sky, where Old Testament splendor met New Testament glory. Not to mention the food. We ate our way through Venice, Florence and Rome. 

Fast forward a decade or so. We're coming up on 12 years at the close of May. Memory Lane is reopened for the anniversary season and we linger over those unforgettable moments. One practice in particular we've continued since our Italian wanderings is the removal of milk from our coffee cup. The Italian way is about dark, rich, strong coffee. BOLD roast. We've skipped the cream all these years and developed an appreciation for a feisty flavor. 

A number of years ago our church introduced a program called the Coffee Project through Equal Exchange. This is a fair trade organization that partners with communities through its Interfaith Program. Through the Coffee Project, members of congregations can enjoy coffee, tea and chocolate and small-scale farmers can enjoy a fair price to enable their communities to invest in health care, education, and agricultural improvements. 

I purchase my coffee by the case now (Equal Exchange style) and never fail to inhale deep every time I open a fresh bag. Dark and bold. The Italian way. 

http://www.equalexchange.coop/interfaith-program

Sweet & Salty

I found the land of lollipops. Sugar swirled tight. Rainbows rolled round. We drove past this lovely shop one Saturday morning and I all but tucked and rolled out of the car.

Willy Wonka, look out. Candy of every shape and size wrapped in iridescent ribbon of hummingbird beauty. We painstakingly made our selections (my husband even found chocolate-covered bacon!) and loaded back into the car. Despite just having breakfast, I unwrapped our treats in my lap. No time like the present. I settled on caramels dressed in dark chocolate, trimmed in gray sea salt sprinkles. It wasn't chocolate. It was an experience. The gritty salt hit my tongue in contrast with the creamy sweet. Without the salt, there was no taste bud symphony.

It was not long after our sweet excursion that this very spice popped up at the sermon pulpit. Pastor John remarked at the uses of salt. People were paid in salt. The word "salary" was even derived from the word and world of salt. A precious commodity, it was also used to preserve food. Yet, there was one more quality he referenced. Salt was used to mix into the earth to produce better fruit. Yield a better crop. Grow big FAT avocados (at least in my mind). He challenged the congregation to mix into the world and influence others to bring out the fullest flavor. The fullest. After all, a sprinkle of salt makes all the difference.

"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men." - Matthew 5:13

One Book.

His name is Moses. Yet he told us he was not the one who came down the mountain with stone tablets. The children giggled nervously. Moses smiled a moonbeam across his midnight face.

His story was about a book. One book. (Funny how things unfold because of a book.) Uganda is his home, but he was far from it and visiting the church. The big one, downtown. The one filled with doctors and money, but open arms too. Generous wide arms. The one where sharing the peace lasted so long that "good mornings" became "good afternoons." Moses was here because of one of those peace sharers. 

He asked the fidgeting five-year olds if they had many books. Nods rolled round the pews. He told them that children did not have books where he comes from. Until now. Half the big blue world away, (Moses was kind enough to provide a large map at this moment and a little geography lesson) he worked with a family from this church and that one book grew to a library of 2,045. He told us when the shipment arrived the boys and girls peeked out the windows. Perched at the doorways. The teachers read book after book until their voices finally surrendered.

The day before our Moses encounter, my family stumbled upon a used book sale. My tykes of two and five were tossing books into the cart with toddler abandon. Absorbed in my own titles, I was surprised at the check-out counter when I pulled out such classics as I Can Smell Christmas and Camels: Ships of the Desert. They grinned zigzag smiles and I caved to the call of indulgence.

I have taken the books spilling off our shelves for granted these years long and I have seen them through new eyes. Those of a hungry caterpillar. Thank you, Moses. We will send you some soon.