Today, I am grieving. And while there is much to grieve in the world. Far too much to grieve I'm afraid. I am grieving losses a little closer to home.

I'm grieving the beauty of faces across the room, the comfort of a touch or a hug, the joy of feasting together over a candlelit table, sharing our lives and our hearts, as our voices fall and rise with stories and songs, our bodies resonating with vibration, letting us know that we are not alone.

I'm grieving the tangible, the ordinary, the up close and personal — of presence.

For the past six years, I have been attempting (admittedly poorly at times) to grow in the practice of presence. What does it mean to slow down, to listen, to pay attention and to be present to those around me? What does it mean to be present to my family, my neighbors, my community, my place, and the very ordinary mundane of my life? This journey to be faithfully present has proven to be both difficult and transformative. I experience a richness in my life that is worth its weight in gold. And this I am grieving.

I miss our neighborhood dinners. Jeff's friendly pat on the back with his, "How's it going?" Matt's hearty laugh and appetite. Masoud's cooking that always comes from the heart. Courtney's wine pouring technique sure to aerate the finest $6 bottle of wine. Fred's treats for dogs and kids alike. Juanita's homemade beans. Carolyn's Trader Joes treats. The sound of Genesis and Malachi playing in the background. Becky and Kathy, my 6am walking buddies, tired like me after a long day. I miss the gift of being present and in person with my neighbors.

I miss our sacred gatherings. Cooking in the kitchen with Jenni and her adorable dog Oliver. Greeting the community with hugs and warm welcome. Scriptures. Prayers. Songs sung in beautiful harmonies. Bill's thoughtful, unhurried reflections. Diane's kind and empathetic presence. David D.'s profound rambling poetic. April's refreshing honesty and exuberant smile. Jocelyn's bravery. Carrie's eloquence. Sharing the heartrending grief of what it means to be human. Sharing the heart-bursting dreams of what it means to be the church as we join in the work of love here in our small patch of earth.

These themes of grief and hope persist. We are currently in a Lenten season that none of us would have chosen. Confined to our living spaces, our only connection to the world is through our screens. We grieve a way of life now suddenly vanquished. The world has shifted beneath our feet. And so yes, grief and hope, death and life are very present on our minds. As we approach Holy Week, the “Stations of the Cross”, Good Friday and Easter now resonate with fresh meaning.

What does it mean to journey with Jesus in the grief, the disorientation, the confusion, and the immense hope of Holy Week?

Embedded in the stories that unveil Holy Week, Jesus says these words that eerily parallel what our world is currently experiencing. He, too, was lamenting a time when they would not be together. For the world was indeed heaving and rumbling with the birth of new creation and would never be the same.

“Behold the hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” [John 16:32-33]

Jesus was speaking of the days to come when he would be abandoned by his disciples, distanced and isolated, and he leans into the presence of the Father knowing he is not actually alone. In fact, even death couldn't separate him from Divine Love. And so he encourages his followers, who have "self-isolated" and scattered into their own homes in fear and uncertainty saying, "Don't be afraid." For he knew the grief that they would be feeling. Jesus, in all of his humanity, profoundly felt it too. For the suffering of the cross was before him.

And yet he also knew the joy set before him. "...Jesus...who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." [Hebrews 12:2]

This is what Jesus speaks of when he says, "Take heart, I have overcome the world." Love wins. Death is not the end of the story. This is the greatest reversal the world has ever known. Easter means that we have been liberated from the oppression of fear and death. The evil powers of this age that ravage our world with sickness, violence, racism and greed have been dealt a final blow. And so even now, in the midst of a global pandemic full of disruption, disorientation, grief and loss, we are invited into the birth pains of new creation [Romans 8:18-28].

We are invited to grieve and to hope, to groan and to wait, to dream and to create.

So will you accept the invitation to journey with Jesus perhaps more intimately than ever before? As we move through Holy Week, in the absence of the presence of our communities, let us lean into the Presence of the One who is closer than our very breath. And let us enter fully into both the grief and the hope of our stories.

These themes of death and life, confusion and disruption resonate very closely in these times. And yet there is a place in our souls of deep peace, freedom and contentment that is untouched by any circumstance or hardship — it is a place of Divine Presence. Love. Connection. Communion.
​
As many of our rhythms are now being stripped away, I encourage you to lean into new practices of Presence. Take some time for solitude, silence and reflection. What comfort awaits us as we become more attuned to the Divine Presence who is acquainted with sorrow and suffering like no other? What beauty awaits us as we experience union with a humble, self-sacrificing Love that is more powerful than empire, evil or death? As we join in the birth pains of Holy Week in concert with a world collectively heaving and sighing, let us experience the transformative power of death and life, grief and hope, loss and redemption. This is holy work indeed.

by Jessica Ketola

LIVING IN A TIME OF PANDEMIC
This is uncharted territory. None of us have had to figure out what life looks like in the midst of a worldwide pandemic. Anxiety is widespread - as we worry about the well being of our families and loved ones, our finances, our security, our sanity, and our world! So let us be gentle with ourselves and with each other. These are unprecedented times. Stressful times. There is much we have lost already and we don't know the full measure of the losses to come.

Students from wee-high to college-age are missing out on the power of in-person learning. Neighbors from all backgrounds, cultures and economics are missing out on the richness of community and the structures of support in their lives. Workers across so many industries are missing out on the crucial income they need to survive. Families are mourning the deaths of their loved ones. And those on the front lines— grocery clerks, social workers, health care workers and first responders, are missing the safety they once felt as they enter a war zone every day. There is much to grieve.

ALL THINGS HAVE THE ABILITY TO DRAW US INTO THE LOVE OF GOD
And yet as crazy as it sounds, all of this is the soil to grow in faith, hope and love.

Therefore, since we have been declared righteous by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. We have also obtained access through him by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. [Romans 5:1-5]

God's love remains true. Suffering, affliction and persecution are not new to the world or to Christians historically — and yet nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God.

Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? ...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. [Romans 8:35-39]

Perfect love casts out fear. And so even in times of global pandemic, we can be conquerors of anxiety, greed, fear and loneliness. St. Ignatius' first principle states that “all the things in this world are . . . presented to us so that we can know God more easily and make a return of love more readily.” And so over the course of the next few weeks, we will be exploring what it means to find God in all things - here and now, in the midst of our own fears, worries and constraints. How can we move through what feels like a loss of freedom to find the expansiveness of interior freedom that comes as we grow in love and childlike trust with our Creator who knows us intimately, Christ who understands our suffering, and Spirit who is closer than our very breath.

JOINING IN GOD'S WORK OF LOVE IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD
God loves and invites us to love God in return. Secondly, God loves and invites us to love our neighbors. We are invited to join with God in this work of love that is transforming and healing the world. And in a time of widespread anxiety and economic uncertainty, the call to love our neighbor is crucial, especially for the most vulnerable. As the COVID-19 pandemic affects the ways in which we gather as a church, it doesn't change the fact that we are the church. And we are perfectly poised to be the church in our neighborhood.

"The questions each member of a local church needs to ask are "How can our participation in a particular gathering grow our capacity to be a living expression of the church together in everyday life? How can it really help us to become a tangible witness of Christ's love, and to participate together in what God is doing in the place we live?" -The New Parish

I believe we have been faithfully asking this question and that we are called for such a time as this. I urge you to reach out to your neighbors in this time, especially those who may be sick, elderly, or disabled. I have seen so many great examples of how neighbors are offering to check in on one another and offering to run errands or get groceries for those who are quarantined: See Neighborhood Pods, Neighborhood Flyers, and Curing Our Moral Virus of Loneliness.

Today I conspired with Lynn Newcombe, the Director of Turning Point, our nonprofit that provides free tutoring to students who qualify for free and reduced lunches in the Shoreline School District. With the need for spatial distancing, our tutoring program has closed with the closure of school. However, our community and love for one another has not stopped. In fact, we are putting together a plan to continue to support our families who will be hard hit by this pandemic. Chromebooks, good fiction, and board games are being shared and given. Tutors are being recruited to offer remote assistance. And grocery gift cards will be given out to families now who are struggling to survive! And because of our relational equity over the years, we are able to uniquely bring our neighbors together! And each one of you can join in this work of love in the neighborhood! You can give here toward grocery cards for neighbors in need. (Just select -Lenten Generosity for Neighbors in Need-)

“In love, one always wants to give to the other what one has.” - St. Ignatius.

So what is our invitation to love? What does love compel us to do or to be? How do we show our love for God, for ourselves, for others, and for our neighborhoods?

SPATIAL DISTANCING, NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING
I'm not a fan of the trending phrase, social distancing - as if we are not already isolated, fragmented and lonely! Instead, I am using the term spatial distancing for we absolutely cannot afford to go it alone. And while love may dictate that we keep some spatial distance during this time, I encourage you to make sure you connect, check in, and care for one another!

Last week, we ended up making the decision to move our weekly in-person gathering online and we will continue to meet virtually through the end of March or as needed. It was really heart-warming to see everyone's faces and it was good to connect with one another in these challenging times. So I encourage you to join us this Sunday at 5pm for a Zoom Call. And we will explore these questions. How do we lean into the interior freedom of love and trust in these times? And what is the invitation to love our neighbor in really practical ways? How do we find Love in all things?


​by Jessica Ketola

Last night I traveled back from sunny San Diego on an eerily empty flight. I guess no one was pumped about flying to Seattle when we are at the epicenter of the country's Coronavirus pandemic!

There is a move to contain the spread of the virus here in our area with schools closing, events being cancelled and companies urging employees to work from home. I've heard from those who aren't concerned about it in the least chalking it up with overblown scares in the past, and others who are anxiety-ridden, at-risk or find themselves quarantined with life very much disrupted! As with anything, our perspectives are largely dependent upon our level of privilege and proximity to the threat.

And so I have been asked the question, as followers of Jesus, what is our response to be? And in keeping with the teachings of Jesus and oddly enough paralleling the Lenten journey, I believe we are called to both constraint and generosity that resists fear and moves us toward love.

CONSTRAINT
I believe we must use wisdom and discretion certainly, if not for our own sake, for the sake of those who are vulnerable among us. Many of us are young(ish) and healthy and would survive the virus just fine. But unfortunately, there are others who are more susceptible to its life-threatening effects. And so I urge you to follow the recommendations of King County Public Health. Wash your hands (religiously in this case!) and stay at home if you are are feeling ill. For those of you considered to be high risk, it is recommended that you stick close to home and stay away from large gatherings. Following precautions and using constraint acknowledges the simple truth that we are all connected and that our individual actions have impact on the collective whole.

GENEROSITY
At the same time, as people of faith, we are called not to fear but to courageous love that compels us to love our neighbor as ourself. And so let us resist the urge to panic, to lock our doors and hoard our resources. Historically, Christians have been known for their self-sacrificing compassion and care for the sick during times of plague or sweeping illness. [Check out the response of Christians in Wuhan!] And so let us look beyond our own concerns and look out for the welfare of our neighbors, especially those who are most vulnerable. Here is a wonderful article that talks a little about our own invitation toward transformation: Corona: Disorder as Transformation.

If you are a younger and healthier individual who is fully capable of heading to the store without taking your life in your hands, remember those like my 83-year-old neighbor who should not be in public spaces. If you know of those who are ill, make sure they get the medical care they need. If you have friends or co-workers who are quarantined and isolated, reach out to offer some support, even if it is through your iphone or computer screen. If you are shopping or going out to a restaurant, support your local businesses (perhaps especially Asian business) that might be hard hit in this time. Let us be known for our love, our kindness and our generosity.

By practicing both constraint and generosity, we attest to the reality that we are not rugged individualists independent or silo'd away from "the other". We are more connected than we often recognize. We are meant to be a body, connected and diverse, each part contributing and affecting the flourishing of the whole.

And in a time of widespread fear and all the worst that kicks up in people in the midst of anxiety, we can offer comfort, peace, kindness, mercy and hope. For we will journey this Lenten season toward the Love of God that holds us, surrounds us and pursues us tenaciously. And we are invited to turn away from fear and scarcity and turn towards a generous and courageous love.

by Jessica Ketola

Photo by Benjamin Sow on Unsplash

Last night we gathered for our neighborhood dinner where every week we gather with around twenty of our neighbors to share a meal and our lives. One of our newest attendees is a vivacious 6-year-old girl who loves it so much that she convinced her aunt who was watching her for the evening to bring her! Of course, the big draw are the little friends her age who live in our downstairs apartment. However, I have to believe that this is only a piece of the puzzle — for we are all hard-wired for community.

​You see, there is also Fred, the doting grandpa, who doesn't yet have grandchildren of his own, but who brings treats for the kids every week (and the dogs for that matter) and kindly engages them in play while their parents eat. And we can't go without mentioning Patmon, the sweet golden retriever who serves as a therapy dog by day and the consummate playful companion by night. You add in delicious and plentiful food, raucous conversations, and the warmth and energy of fitting twenty people around the table — and it's no wonder this is becoming a beloved event even for our smallest members.

One thing I know is that when the community comes together, anything is possible. You can feel it palpable in the air. Already, the gifts of the community are being activated. We have gardeners and want-to-be gardeners. We have cooks and those who aspire to. We have tired parents and doting aunts and uncles. We have students who struggle with homework and teachers who offer guidance. We have those with construction skills and those who panic at the sight of a hammer. We have neighborhood activists, marathon runners, cyclists, and beer connoisseurs. We have engineers, therapists, doulas, and business owners. Ours is a diverse community — and one can begin to sense that when we come together, there is nothing we can't solve.

And this is where the dreaming happens. When we begin to grasp that we are not consumers, but citizens, with the power to create a community where everyone can thrive. And I am beginning to hear this around the table these days. For the conversation is subtly changing from what can I do? to what can WE do? And the slightest of shifts brings about an entirely new set of possibilities. For when we move from powerlessness and the overwhelming feeling that there is little we can do — we are filled with a fierce and burgeoning hope that when we offer our gifts in concert with the gifts of the entire community, dreams really do come true.

And so I encourage you this week to let new imaginations stir within you. What are you dreaming about? What good in the world would you like to see that seems currently out of reach? What injustices around you tug at your heart? Like Jesus, what moves you with compassion? What hopes keep stubbornly rising?

And before you censor yourself and give yourself every good reason why this won't work, and quit before you begin — get in a room with your community, some friends, some pilgrims, some neighbors. Share your dreams and see if there might be a collective dream that arises.

Because like my 6-year-old neighbor and her aunt, who taking it all in, told me she was inspired to think about how she could do this in her own neighborhood, you too might begin to appreciate the abundance of riches found in community and realize that anything is possible.

by Jessica Ketola

Photo by Ant Rozetsky on Unsplash

We've been talking about the revelation of God in human form, Jesus in flesh and blood, who walked the roads of Galilee and now the streets of our neighborhoods -- within us and through us and perhaps in spite of us.

It is preposterous that God chooses to reveal God's nature through us - the body of Christ meant to embody love and light. Not as islands but together as a community. This is the mystery of the incarnation and an affront to everything we know to be true about ourselves. Cause let's face it — we are all too well acquainted with the often sordid smallness of our souls and the ways we fail in love. Or at least we recognize it in our neighbor!

This week, the gospel lectionary reading is pointed. 

​Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. [Matthew 5:13-16]

But what does this mean? Some have taken this out of context as license for grandiosity, self-righteousness, imperialism, or judgment. But remember these words are found in one of the most important pieces of scripture, the Sermon on the Mount. And here Jesus describes the nature of God's kin-dom and what we are to embody as followers of Jesus.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.
Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the humble, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of justice, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

This is how we are to be salt and light to the world.

Somehow I don't think Jesus was talking about praying a prayer, attending church 1.7 times a month, going to church activities or being a "good person". This was a complete reversal of the world's systems. This was about becoming people of humility, presence, mercy and grace.

This was a revolution of love and Jesus offered an entirely different way to live.

If we truly are to be salt and light, we must live differently. We will have to go beyond attending meetings and assenting to a set of beliefs and actually begin to live a way of love in our neighborhoods. We are going to have to figure out what it means to fit together as a "body" working together, every part valuable, every gift needed, to embody love.

And to the best of my knowledge, embodiment happens in bodies — in real life and real places, around dinner tables and bus stops, community forums and coffee shops, soccer games and study groups. And it happens best in proximity, when we are literally bumping up next to one another in our everyday lives.

This was so evident this week as I walked with my neighbors Kathy and Becky, as I ran into my favorite grocery clerk, Matt; as I conspired with another neighbor over coffee; as I met with my friend Senait about a community project we're working on; as my neighbor Courtney spontaneously popped over to help prepare a meal; as we gathered on Wednesday for a neighborhood dinner and gobbled up made-with-love cookies from Juanita; as we brought soup to our neighbor Diane who's been sick; and as we schemed about a new gathering place in the neighborhood.

We are experiencing firsthand that there is another way to live.

We don't have to live under the tyranny of fragmentation, anxiety and materialism. Jesus offers us the good life. A life of love and connection, simplicity and sacrifice, forgiveness and peace-making.

And maybe, just maybe, we are beginning to taste of God's dream for us and our neighborhood. Where everything and everyone is pulled into the centrifugal force of Love that is making all things beautiful in their time. 

by Jessica Ketola

 In Advent, we celebrate that God is with us.

God is near. In John 1, we encounter a God, who became flesh and blood to dwell among us. God with skin on, here with us, Immanuel. It is absolutely breath-taking.

The Word became flesh and blood,
and moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
the one-of-a-kind glory,
like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
true from start to finish.
[I John 1:14 MSG]

All this so that we would see what God is like. So we would see this one-of-a-kind glory, this extravagant goodness, and this bountiful generosity.

This is the mystery of the incarnation (God in human form) that now by the Holy Spirit continues in us, the church. Our shared, everyday lives are to be a sign and a witness that God is near.

For are we not meant to be the community of God embodying the compassion of Jesus in the neighborhoods we live in?

Like Christ, aren't we to be faithfully present amongst our neighbors in the particularities of our places, seeking healing, peace, and the flourishing of all? Are we not called to be fit together brick by brick to be a dwelling place for the presence of God?

God is building a home. God's using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what God is building. God used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now God's using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home. [Eph 2:21-22 MSG]

This is why our current models of church fail us. For we are not called to be individualistic, spiritual consumers but followers of Jesus -- being formed and knit together to join God's work of transformation in the world. Much is at stake. For our current brand of Western Christianity seems to have not only lost its mooring but its spiritual vitality and social credibility. It has sold-out to nationalism, economic imperialism, and the idols of technological progress, materialism, and wanton individualism.

Alan Roxburgh, in Joining God, Remaking Church, Changing the World, argues that the traditional, institutional church (like other social institutions) no longer works; it is unravelling. The good news, however, is that underneath the unravelling, God is up to something.

“The Spirit is busy re-founding the church for our time... showing us how to embody a way of life that makes space for alternative patterns of organizing life together—not more and better church programming that tries harder and harder to attract people, but a thicker sense of community that joins people together more holistically and organically."

We are called to be the church.

To be an incarnational community that participates in and demonstrates God's goodness to our neighbors.

This is why we emphasize faithful presence over a slick worship gathering and formational practices over spiritual consumption. We want to join God's work already present here in our place, at our neighborhood dinners, at Turning Point community meals, at the Social Justice Book Club, at One Cup Coffee, and at the Methadone Clinic. We want to join with God's work of peace and wholeness in our community by partnering with the city, the schools, local nonprofits, our neighborhood association and other faith communities. And we want to live a way of Love here together in this place in a way that is compelling to our neighbors.

As the letter to Colossians puts it, “In Christ, the fullness of Deity is presently living in bodily form—and you [Colossians, together among yourselves] have the fullness of Christ” [2:9]. This radical vision of a local community incarnating the reign of God now, of God’s future penetrating the present through a Spirit-led extended family, was vital to the dynamic witness and power of the early church.

No one has ever seen God,
not so much as a glimpse.
This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,
who exists at the very heart of the Father,
has made him plain as day.
[John 1:18 MSG]

Jesus, our Immanuel, came to show us a God with us and among us. And as followers of Jesus, we too, are called to be God with skin — embodying the presence of God in the world. We are called to be a visible, viable, social alternative. We are to be a transformative community living life together rooted in our places, joining in God’s work of renewing all things. So that all those around us can see this God as plain as day and can experience God's love present with and among them.

by Jessica Ketola

​Sitting midst the heartbreak and injustice for those who continue to suffer the unthinkable in migrant detention centers, I am sickened. The reports of horror and degradation continue with pictures of children in cages, separated from their parents, hungry and inconsolable; adults and children held for weeks or months in over-crowded cells, sometimes with no access to soap, toothpaste, or places to wash their hands or shower, sleeping on concrete floors or forced to stand due to lack of space. Reports of filth, unsanitary and inhumane conditions, sexual abuse, hunger, extreme cold, illness and even death. What are we to do but to cry out.

"Arise, Lord! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless." [Psalm 10:12]

Migrant Detention Centers Conditions - Times Article

As we continue through the Psalms, this week I am struck by the psalms of lament, crying out for justice. As much as we would like to read peacefully through the psalms, there is hardly a page that isn't left smoking by a pungent curse. These outbreaks of hate that smite the enemy can be off-putting. We are used to peaceful prayers, sanitized prayers, detached prayers. There is a rawness and honesty in the psalms that is disruptive and yet necessary.

But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted; 
you consider their grief and take it in hand. 
The victims commit themselves to you; 
you are the helper of the fatherless. 
Break the arm of the wicked man; 
call the evildoer to account for his wickedness 
that would not otherwise be found out.
The Lord is King for ever and ever; 
the nations will perish from his land. 
You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; 
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, 
defending the fatherless and the oppressed, 
so that mere earthly mortals 
will never again strike terror. (Psalm 10:14-18)

Eugene Peterson says this in his book Answering God: The Psalms As Tools For Prayer. "But immersed by prayer in this holiness, we see clearly what we never saw before, the utter and terrible sacrilege of enemies who violate a good creation, who brutalize women and men who are made, every one of them in the image of God. There is an enormous amount of suffering epidemic in the world because of evil people. The rape and pillage are so well concealed in polite language and courteous conventions that some people can go years without seeing it. And we ourselves did not see it. But now we see it. And we hate it. We are ejected from our cushioned private religion into solidarity with 'The Silent Servants of the Used, Abused and Utterly Screwed Up'."

So what happens when we no longer distance ourselves and begin to lament? What shifts in our prayers as we begin to cry out on behalf of those seeking refuge from violence at our borders who are only subjected to more violence?

​In the article, Responding to Injustice With Lament, Andy Kim talks about how critical it is for the people of God to learn to lament. Here is an excerpt:

The Lost Discipline of Lament 
The Bible is filled with lament. There is even an entire book devoted to lament (Lamentations, anyone?). Check out Psalms 10, 13, 22, 39, 44, 51, 56, 60, 74, 79, 80, 85, 90, 92, 1 Samuel 30:4, Jeremiah 31:15, Matthew 27:46. We see time and time again that when the God's people are faced with evil, injustice, oppression and turmoil, the Biblical response is often lament.

In Reconciling All Things, Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice help us to understand what lament is, and what it isn't:

"Lament is not despair. It is not whining. It is not a cry into a void. Lament is a cry directed to God. It is the cry of those who see the truth of the world's deep wounds and the cost of seeking peace. It is the prayer of those who are deeply disturbed by the way things are... The journey of reconciliation is grounded in the practice of lament." (pp. 78)

In our pursuit of multiethnic ministry and reconciliation, are we engaging in Biblical lament?

Author, pastor and theologian Soong-Chan Rah suggests that as the church in America, the answer is often a resounding no.

The Absence of Lament 
In a 2013 article, Rah notes that while laments constitute 40 percent of the Psalms, they are conspicuously absent from contemporary American worship.

Rah observed that out of the top 100 worship songs from August 2012 according to Christian Copyright Licensing International (CCLI), only five songs fell into the category of lament, while the vast majority were celebratory praise songs..." (Looking at the current CCLI Top 100, not much seems to have changed.)
​
He explains here and in more depth in his book, Prophetic Lament:

"How we worship reveals what we prioritize. The American church avoids lament. Consequently the underlying narrative of suffering that requires lament is lost in lieu of a triumphalistic, victorious narrative. We forget the necessity of lament over suffering and pain. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart forget."

When we lack the discipline of lament, we run the risk of letting our triumphalism, our anger, our hurt, our fear or our apathy fester inside of us and paralyze us. Biblical lament calls us to sit in the pain, to truly see the brokenness in ourselves and in our world, and to cry out to God.

Are we willing?

Practice Lament 
And so I encourage you to practice lament this week. Engage your heart and soul with the prayers of the psalmists. And along with your prayers, engage your bodies for I am reminded of the African proverb, "When you pray move your feet." And I've included below many ways in which you can participate and engage here locally.

PILGRIMAGE 
"Pilgrimage is a posture very different from mission. The goal of a pilgrim is not to solve, but to search, not so much to help as to be present. Pilgrims do not rush to a goal, but slow down to hear the crying."

How do we put ourselves in the way of listening to those who are suffering? I encourage you to do participate in Lights for Liberty on Friday night or other local events.
​
RELOCATION 
"The practice of relocation [means] taking our very bodies to the hard places and tarrying long enough to be disturbed."

It is easy to be undisturbed at a distance but what happens when we put our physical bodies in hard places? This is one of the reasons I will be going to the border and why it is important to show up at our own detention center in Tacoma (there is an event this Saturday).

CONFESSION 
"[It's] a way of unlearning innocence. As we learn to go out of our way to draw near and tarry with the pain of the world... the challenge is to keep naming the truth, keep being disturbed, keep remember the awful depth of brokenness. The prayers of lament in the Psalms were public prayers, intended to be read and inserted into the corporate life of worship... It is critical that we learn to pray like this, bringing these prayers into public worship in a way that helps us tell the truth and confess in explicit relationships to the brokenness of our own contexts."

This is why we it is important that we pray the Psalms throughout the week and the Prayers of the People together at our gatherings. And we encourage you to write your own psalms and laments so that we can pray them together.

We are invited into the sacred ordinary. This Ignatian idea that God is in all things. Every moment pregnant with the grace of God. God has moved into the neighborhood [John 1], the presence of Christ fills the whole earth, and the Spirit of God lives within. Love. Light. Life. This is God revealed to us and to all of Creation groaning for redemption.

We are often drawn to the extra-ordinary and to the spectacular — but most of our lived experience consists of the very mundane, everyday realities. So how do we receive this Love, Light and Life in our own lives in a way that heals us and liberates us? How do we participate in this Love, Light and Life here on the ground? Here in our schools, workplaces and neighborhoods?

The temptation is to think we must do more or be more. We are waiting for the stars to align until we can be who we are meant to be and can participate in God's work of renewal. We are waiting for that elusive moment when we will have time.

What if we realized that Christ was already here -- in every moment, just waiting to be invited into our everyday?

This is the wisdom of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, among so many others, who said:

“It takes three things 
to attain a sense of significant being: 
God, 
A Soul, 
and a Moment.
And the three 
are always here.”

God. Soul. A Moment. God is always here. God's love is near. Present to us. Beckoning us from the busy. Inviting us from the many demands of life to experience the depths of God's presence.

So let us love the ordinary. Let us love the closeness of God and the sacred, here and now. Let us cherish the everyday, the every breath, the place where we are. For surely Christ is in all of it.

Christ be beside me, 
Christ be before me, 
Christ be behind me, 
King of my heart.
Christ be within me, 
Christ be below me, 
Christ be above me, 
never to part.
Christ on my right hand, 
Christ on my left hand, 
Christ all around me, 
shield in the strife.
Christ in my sleeping, 
Christ in my sitting, 
Christ in my rising, 
light of my life.
Christ be in all hearts thinking about me; 
Christ be on all tongues telling of me; 
Christ be the vision in eyes that see me; 
in ears that hear me, Christ ever be. 
-St. Patricks's Breastplate Prayer

by Jessica Ketola
​

Last Sunday, we talked about our story as The Practicing Church to live into the extraordinary ordinary. To recognize the resurrected Jesus in the gritty mundane of our lives. To join in the work of Easter that is breaking out all around us. To practice this way of love that disrupts and reorders power structures, that is good news to the poor, and that brings freedom to those who are bowed down.

And our text from the lectionary was John 21 where the resurrected Jesus appears again to the disciples. Here we find them going back to their day jobs, many of them who were commercial fisherman. They have one of those terrible nights of frustration and futility as they fish all night without catching a thing. And then this man whom they do not recognize calls to them from the shore, telling them to throw their net on the other side. And for reasons that seem hard to understand, they do it. Even though I imagine some consternation and head-shaking over the nerve of this guy, for hadn't they already tried a hundred times? And so they cast their nets again and this time pull up a catch of fish so large they can’t even haul it in. And in that moment they recognize the Risen Lord. They recognize their friend, their rabbi, their Lord, their God in the flesh, now in a wounded and glorified body. And the story unfolds into these intimate moments where Jesus makes breakfast for them. Can you imagine? God making you breakfast?

I love this story with its rich metaphor amidst the intimacy and humility of Christ. But I am especially struck with how their encounter with the Risen Lord transforms their everyday lives. They are at work, returning to the grind of making a living wage. They are experiencing disequilibrium as they thought they lost everything when Jesus was crucified and then were utterly shocked and in disbelief when they saw him resurrected. He is appearing and disappearing, and walking through walls. And they still have no idea what this means.

But it is here in the sweat and the frustration and the bewilderment that Jesus shows up. It is here on this lake where they’ve spent so much of their life that Jesus transforms the ordinary into extraordinary. And he calls them once again, just as he did three years ago in a very similar scene, to the work of the kingdom. And of course, Jesus does it in this striking scene of incarnation -- over a meal, face to face as they share communion once more with fish and bread, tears and laughter. And he reminds them what this is all about. Love. If you love me, you will feed my sheep. You will continue what I started. You will reimagine your ordinary, everyday lives as the context for resurrection miracles.

And I can't help but think about my own neighborhood and the ordinary context of my own life and all the people and places that I love. And I can't help but feel my own disorientation and bewilderment at times about what God is up to here. For the spiritual journey is full of twists and turns, with many disappointments and deaths. But I hear the voice of Jesus calling me to cast my nets to the other side. To allow the Spirit of God to do the work when I grow tired. To turn what seems like the futility of the ordinary [lost jobs, friendships, loved ones, energy, health, hope or vision] into something extraordinary.

And I hear the invitation of Jesus to come eat the meal he has prepared for me -- feeding my soul, nourishing my body, and kindling hope once again. And then I hear his voice. If you love me, you will feed my sheep. And I am struck by this poignant image that as Jesus feeds me, he asks me to do the same, to feed others the Eucharistic meal. As we gather with our neighbors around the table and at community meals and at the Methadone clinic. We are invited to intimately and humbly serve others and to partake of this bread of life that reveals the Christ - that reveals God among us, that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.

​by Jessica Ketola

​The Practicing Church is ON THE MOVE!!!

We are moving through Lent with prayer, fasting and generosity to the poor. And we are moving our Sunday gathering to One Cup Coffee. And much more than a move from one space to another, we are literally moving as a community on this transformational journey into the heart of our neighborhood. We are opening up wider and we are rooting down deeper.

Last Fall, I had a "holy discontent" that propelled our leadership team into a season of active listening and prayer for our next step as a community. For I was longing to create a place of hospitality in the neighborhood beyond our home that would be welcoming to the wider community. This is the Isaiah 61 call of the church: to be a transformational community that proclaims the good news of Jesus to the poor, brings freedom to those who are oppressed, and participates in the work of renewal in the earth.

So one morning in November I had what I believe was a divine appointment. As we were serving coffee, homemade quiche and cinnamon rolls at the THS Methadone Clinic on Aurora, I began to talk with Scott Sund from Bethany Community Church North. I shared how we wanted to be in a community space in the neighborhood and that we would love to worship in a space like One Cup Coffee. What I didn't know was that Scott had been in a discernment process of his own, praying about how the One Cup space could be used for more of God's kingdom purposes.

Surely the Spirit of God was on the move, out ahead of us!
​
And so after months of conversation, prayers and community discernment, we have seen the doors open wide. Bethany Community Church North is offering the space to us for free for the next 16 months (in Seattle, this is unheard of!). And the cafe reflects many of the attributes we are looking for in a third place. It is welcoming. It is communal. It is aesthetically pleasing. It is accessible. And so we are amazed at God's provision to us through the generosity of Bethany to be able to have a welcoming and visible presence in the neighborhood!

We will begin meeting on Sundays at One Cup Coffee on April 7th at 10:30am!

​We are being invited into a compelling story.

As I met again with Scott today, we were both reminded of our conversation in November and how the Spirit has been at work. As I listened to more of the story behind One Cup, I was in awe. It seemed like such a bold move for a growing community church who was looking for a meeting place to instead invest in the redemption of a dark place in the neighborhood. This kingdom vision is one that can only be born in prayer, and Scott is a praying man. And so they chose to be a part of the work of transformation and renewal in the neighborhood and to invest more in Monday through Saturday than Sunday. [Does this sound familiar? No wonder we have found ourselves aligned.]

For more of the story, check out these articles: 
* Church Moves into Former Colacurcio Strip Club 
* Bethany Community Church Gives Former Strip Club a Holy Purpose
​
We are being invited into a kingdom story.

A story of transformation. A story of community. A story of redemption. A story where we will have every opportunity to practice this radically inclusive gospel — to be a community that is welcoming to the poor, to our neighbors, to the spiritually hungry and to diverse communities. We will continue to root in the neighborhood, to care about this particular patch of earth and the flourishing of this community, joining in God's work of renewal here.   

And like all good kingdom stories, it will not be without difficulty or risk. We are leaving behind the comfort of our home to the foreign unknown of Aurora. We are leaving behind a private space to create a public space. We don't know what obstacles we will encounter, what strengths will be called forth, what darkness we will face or what gifts we will receive. For certain, our love will be tested. We aren't entirely sure it will work or if we will be back to where we started. We will have to experiment, learn and iterate. We know it is temporary and so we will be forced to keep journeying. But one thing we can be sure of...

​It will be a journey of transformation.

​That's because all Kingdom stories are transformative in nature. And while there is much we do not know, here's a few things we do:

We will journey together. 
We are the church, and it is obvious as we gather that God has brought us together with God's purposes in mind. And as I look around the room, I feel grateful beyond words.

We will continue to follow Jesus past our comfort zones into the radical way of love.
So much of the Jesus way challenges everything we know and hold dear. And yet we trust that as we surrender our fears, our preferences, our egos, and our need for control, we will receive gifts beyond our wildest imaginations. We will taste heaven here on earth as we become part of the beloved community where all are welcome, regardless of race, culture, gender, sexual-orientation or class.

The Spirit will be faithful to lead us on!
God has given us a compelling story, and it is still being written. God's faithfulness to us is stunning and we have every confidence that God will continue to lead us and guide us every step of the way.

​So, Spirit, move! Let heaven come to earth we pray!

We are inviting every one of you in this community to join us in prayer. Next week, we will gather in One Cup on Tuesday at 7pm to pray as a community in that space. We will participate in a community fast Tuesday through Thursday, and then of course, we are continuing to pray with Bethany and with the Northwest Vineyard Churches throughout the 40 days of Lent. We believe that this is a timely and important invitation to the practice of prayer and fasting as we make this transition as a community. So join in!


​by Jessica Ketola