Faith, Family, & Focaccia

A faith and culture Mommy blog, because real life gets all mixed together like that.


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My Voice and Not My Voice

I have not been posting here much lately because most of what I have been writing has been sermons. Every once in a while I post those here, but sermons are really meant to be heard. They lose a bit in translation when they are read on a page (or a computer screen or smart phone). They can still communicate… but it’s different. When I preach I try to put a lot of meaning into inflection, pauses, and emotional expression. My voice is part of the sermons.

Well, this past Sunday’s sermon was recorded, which gives me a chance to share a fuller version here. A version that includes my voice.

At the same time, it’s not entirely my voice. This sermon takes the perspective of one of the characters in the gospel story (Mark 3:20-35) – the perspective of Mary, the mother of Jesus. So often we hear the Bible stories through the lens of finding the lesson – how do we boil this down to a theme or challenge that we can apply to our own lives. This is an important function of scripture and of sermons, but it is not the only meaningful way to engage a biblical text. Sometimes hearing them as a STORY – a story with human characters to whom we can relate – allows us to engage in a different kind of learning and challenge.

I hope that this sermon-story gives you a chance to hear whatever voice speaks to you.


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The Balance of Breathing

rock balancing

Photo by Pille Kirsi on Pexels.com

The Spirit is whispering behind my ear –

Divine respiration-inspiration, Ruach, Pneuma

calling me to draw her in,

draw close,

draw breath,

to share the air She spills out from her generous soul,

to train my lungs to dance the rhythm of Creation.

Persistent inhale-exhale of all life.

 

I need to practice, to re-learn, the litany of breathing:

in and out in sacred balance,

call and response,

receive and give,

embrace-release,

let Her inside and speak her name aloud.

 

The rhythm is so simple,

the common language of all animal and vegetable life.

Whatever else our differences, we all share this:

this in and out;

this every minute interchange of CO2 and Oxygen;

inevitable partnership;

most basic pattern in the dance of life.

 

But, my step stutters.

I’ve lost the cyclic rhythm,

forgotten that with every hungry gasp

must follow gift;

that each exhale must leave me empty,

needing to refill.

 

Sometimes my breath gets stuck in inhalation.

My lungs don’t have capacity for infinite expansion.

I cannot hold it all,

and, if I try, I will explode,

betrayed by my blind greed for more.

More knowledge,

or experience,

or lies that whisper my deep worth is measured by inflation,

the ability to hold it all.

And so I keep inhaling ‘til I start to shake

with fear, exhaustion, grief for my own limits.

 

But, also, I can err in breathing out,

can give until I’m empty and still push for more;

can, somehow, mistake my lungs for a sweet well

replenished from within,

despite my long experience of going dry.

Or else, misdiagnose each need that eyes or heart perceive,

prescribing, as though medicine, whatever I exhale,

forgetting that I have metabolized what I took in,

and my breath carries poison intermixed with life,

which needs to be diluted by a greener source of air.

So, I must learn, again, the rocking, rhythmic step,

the dance that nurtures life in every form:

the in and out in sacred balance,

call and response,

receive and give,

embrace-release,

let Her inside and speak her name aloud.

 

The partner-dance of Spirit-breathing life.