Showing posts from April, 2019

Lenten Reflection 4

Good Friday Reflection. Canberra Central Uniting Church. 19 April 2019.

Here hangs a man discarded,
a scarecrow hoisted high,
a nonsense pointing nowhere
to all who hurry – [*]

and don’t we, hurry right on past this death, all death if we can? Of course, for loss is painful, grief hurts, and that’s only the death of someone else. Don’t confront me with my own. Don’t remind me my death is an inevitable, integral part of my living.

I so appreciate the deliberate, careful, honest slowing down we do here at Wesley this week. We don’t skip from Palm Sunday celebration to Easter Day celebration. Oh, no, in this community, we enter the journey Jesus takes, and pay attention to it, as his journey towards death.

For the journey to resurrection begins after that, is a distinct journey, and is one that Jesus takes in secret, just between him and the Holy, or between the Holy Three themselves.

Holy Week is not a journey towards resurrection. Holy Week is the journey towards death.

We took that so s…

Diary of a Chronically Exhausted Vicar / Lent Reflection 3

Two Lent reflections in one week, after three weeks of not writing the reflections I had intended, when Lent began. Such is Lenten practice with Chronic Exhaustion.

Yesterday I wrote about the first reason for the interruption to the intended series of reflections: the aches and fatigue set in, and I had to slow right down.

Today, the second reason: the energy returned and the aches diminished.

Sounds a strange reason not to return to the intended practices of Lent, perhaps. Stay with me.

You see, that’s almost the more challenging part of life with chronic exhaustion, the times you feel OK. That’s when you have to be more careful with how you spend your energy, because the temptation is to use it. It might have been days, or weeks, or longer, since you felt able to walk straight and freely, to think clearly, imagine wildly: and like a person who hasn’t eaten for a long time, you want to gobble it all up at once. And that will make you ill.

What you want, need, to do, actually, is to …

Diary of a Chronically Exhausted Vicar / Lent Reflection 2

Back in March, I had this idea that I would write a Lent reflection each week of the season. However, here we are, closing out week 5, and this is only the second of such reflections. There are two reasons for that, both to do with the Chronic Exhaustion. To avoid an overly long post (and to catch up another of the ‘missing’ posts, perhaps), I’ll explore one today, and one tomorrow.

In the first of the Lent reflections, I wrote about the book with which I intended to engage through the season, a book of daily stories on Holy Solitude. I have hardly opened the book since.

For such intentional meditation for which I was to employ that book, I have set a corner in my bedroom with a pouffe and cushions, my old iPad for music, a bible, a book of psalms, colouring books and pencils. To sit on that pouffe, I must engage my core muscles for a straight back, engage my legs and arms for balance. It’s not meant to be comfy, it’s meant to be exercise: meditation that exercises my whole person, fo…

Implicated along with the lost son

A Lenten Reflection for Wesley Uniting Church : Lent 4, 31 March 2019

Lament of the Lost Son Luke 15:11–32 and Psalm 32. Lent 4.
would I be happy,
this rejection of you

would I be happy,
telling you the truth
of all the wrong I’ve done?

I have kept such silence,
have stayed far from you,
and I am wasting away;

my stomach makes my moaning,
for my voice fails me,
my strength fails me,
I have failed me, and you, and God.

would I be happy
if I came home
to you?

could I be happy,
bearing the shame,
all my losses, to you?

I abandoned Wisdom,
though you would teach me;
I discarded the principles,
the respect you sought to instill;

I have nothing left, now, but
regret, and can I let that go?

can I stand, the memory
of your strength to sure me up
in my weakness?

can I walk toward you,
the memory of love enough
to guide my way?

can I hope to be happy,
bringing my shame home
to you?

can I hope to know peace,
falling at your feet?
can the memory of y…