Art by Jyoti Sahi

Today is Maundy Thursday in Holy Week. A day full of story and meaning. The last supper. The first communion. The profanatory foot washing. The flagrant betrayal. And I am struck by the invitation of Jesus that begins with a kind of humility, debasement and intimacy that is hard to receive. Here he seems to be signaling his followers that the way of Jesus is an inglorious one as he takes on the posture of a slave and embraces our most filthy, base parts and makes them clean.

I loved this reflection by Urban Faith Staff:

Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, and I am thinking of that night so long ago. I am putting myself in the scene, this soul-weary, overweight, middle-aged black woman who needs Jesus with everything in me. In my mind I am there with the disciples. I am present with my Jesus. You are there, too. Can you see it? The upper room in the drafty edifice, us stumbling in exhausted. We are starving. It’s just before the Passover Feast. So much has happened. So much will happen.

We gather together for a simple supper. Even Jesus has a kind of weight-of-the-world weariness about him. He’s talked a lot about going away lately, but he is fully present now, and his love has arms that hold us close. Still, a sadness lingers in his eyes. It reminds me of how the poet prophet Isaiah describes him, as a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.

The table is set, and we recline where we’re seated, grateful to be with him. Our cups are lined like guards before us, full of wine. A basket of bread lies in the center of the table. Later he will tell us the wine is his blood poured out, and the bread his body broken. Later. Now we sit. Night, as thick and palpable as fog, surrounds us. The flames on the candles bow and rise in the breezy room, as if they too, worship our Lord.

Then Jesus sets aside his outer garments and dons an apron like a slave would wear. He pours water in a basin. We exchange puzzled looks.

“Give me your feet,” he says.

We are stunned silent, each of us carefully removing our sandals, unsure of what to say–what to do–faced with such shocking humility. Foot washing is the worst of tasks, despised by a servants gesture. Yet Jesus kneels before us, one by one, and washes our feet. I watch Him move from person to person. Dear God, Jesus is on His knees, pouring water on our rough soles. The Son of God, the Son of Man, washes us as if the pitcher contains, then releases, his own tears. The water slips between our toes, and the filth of the world falls to the ground, ground now hallowed by His presence. We couldn’t help but feel emotional. Some of us wailed as he worked.

He sure knows how to make a mess of things.

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I too feel the sting, "This is all too much, Jesus! Turn your gaze away!" And yet Jesus tells us that we cannot be a part of what he is doing unless we surrender to the vulnerability of this act.

And I can't help but think about what this means for us today as we traverse through the world. For so often, we find ourselves attempting to hide our filthy, undesirable parts to present a shiny image that is presentable. And yet Jesus seems to be saying that unless we allow him (and it seems others) into our vulnerability, we cannot have any part of the kindom.

And then the kicker. Jesus says, “as I have done… so also must you do." We are invited to take the posture of a slave, giving up power and privilege and entering the mess of others. I think about it as I prayerfully walk my neighborhood, as I encounter my neighbors who are struggling to survive on minimum wage, as I share a table with my neighbors who are grieving loved ones, as I greet my neighbors without a home to call their own, and as I befriend the refugee and the immigrant. What does this act of vulnerability invite of me?

This is the path of descent. This is the path of the cross. This is the path of recovering our humanity, embracing the inglorious and calling it holy. This is the glorious mess of Maundy Thursday.

​by Jessica Ketola

Art: Triumphal Entry by He Qui

Last week, we gathered for the first time in our new space at One Cup. And it was more glorious and more disruptive than I had anticipated. The glorious part was that one of the primary reasons that we moved to this space was so that we could be welcoming to the community -- and right off the bat, we had many new faces among us.

​And you, the community showed up in a huge way! Thank you to everyone for all of your help from setting up, to running slides, to leading worship and loading cars. You rock! There seemed to be a tangible sense of excitement for this next leg of the journey and what the Spirit is up to in us and in the neighborhood.

But along with the glory, there were the inevitable bumps. The disruptive parts were what we might expect in any transition -- sound issues, logistical challenges, distractions and the discomfort of the new, reflected in the deer-in-the-headlights looks as I scanned across the room. I'm sure you saw mine as I struggled with the microphone! All of us trying to make sense of the new environment. The donuts helped. And of course, all your lovely faces.

WE are the church. WE are the community. WE as the gathered people are a dwelling place for God's presence. And it will just take time to create a culture of home here. And that is exactly what we will do! For we are creators of culture, not passive consumers, and we have the opportunity to come together to create something beautiful.

And this is the nature of change and transition, both the invitation to glory and to death. And as we talked about last Sunday, this is the way of transformation. Discomfort and challenge is always a part of the growth process, and yet it leads to life - a full and expansive life.

As we approach Holy Week, we are invited to experience transformation in the journey towards the cross. And we can ask the question, "What in my life is being invited to die? Where do I need to surrender? What of my own suffering does Jesus want to enter?"

I encourage you all to take some time next week for reflection as we move through Holy Week.
▪ What Is Holy Week?
▪ Ignatian Spirituality: How To Do Holy Week
▪ The Holy and The Human: A Reflection For Holy Week
▪ Unlock The Stations Of The Cross: Examen Style
▪ The Stations Of The Cross

For we must place the hope of the Resurrection, the promise of newness and life, against the background of death and endings. It is only in walking through the shadows and darkness of Holy Week and Good Friday, only in realizing the horror and magnitude of sin and its consequences in the world incarnated in the dying Jesus on the cross, only in contemplating the ending and despair that the disciples felt on Holy Saturday, that we can truly understand the light and hope of Easter morning! - Dennis Bratcher

This Sunday is Palm or Passion Sunday and we will begin the journey with Jesus to the cross and we will reflect on what it means to die with Christ. And then on Easter morning, we will remember resurrection and we will celebrate the NEW - newness of life, new gathering spaces, new mercies, and new hopes and dreams.

​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

Last Sunday marked the first Sunday of Lent as we began our series, On Earth As It Is In Heaven around the teachings of Jesus' famous Sermon on the Mount. [If you missed it, you can listen here]. And as we read his manifesto, we are invited into a whole new way of being in the world.

We are invited to repent [to turn around, to change our hearts and our minds, to come home] for the kingdom of heaven is near. These are the postures of repentance and Lent. These are the postures of death and of birthing. These are the postures of transformation. These are the postures of surrender.

Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the humble and meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who are persecuted for doing good. For they will receive a taste of heaven here on earth.

This is counter to everything we crave as humans. Success. Wealth. Status. Gratification. Independence. Control. We do not like to be poor, to be weak, or to be lowly. We often disdain our hunger and our need. We do not enjoy suffering, mistreatment or betrayal. In fact, so much of our human experience is trying to prove ourselves. Trying to prove that we're strong, invincible, knowledgeable, or in control or at the very least NOT WEAK...

And yet Jesus invites us to weakness.

The season of Lent invites us to surrender.

But it is a different kind of surrender -- not to a foe but to LOVE.

"Perhaps the word "surrender" should be enough for my prayer... Not the surrender of submission to an enemy, but the opposite, the laying down of resistance to the One who loves me infinitely more than I can guess, the One who is more on my side that I am myself. Dwelling on this thought of letting go, and handing myself over to the Spirit will bring me much closer to the experience of Jesus than the word 'discipline' which so many of us have been trained to invoke at the beginning of Lent. It should help us smile at our anxious attempts to bring our life under control, the belt tightening resolutions about giving up this or taking on that. What we are called to give up in Lent is control itself!" -Martin L. Smith, A Season for the Spirit

What we are called to give up in Lent is control itself.

Powerful words and a powerful invitation as we begin the Lenten season. An invitation to die, to let go, to surrender.

And so I will leave you with two reflections this week. One of my own and the powerful litany this week from Fran Pratt.

My prayer is that you can begin to experience heaven here on earth as you find new postures of surrender and weakness.


by Jessica Ketola

REFLECTION: What Is It That Needs To Die?

All transformation requires a death, a loss of what has been, a letting go. This is not easy work. This is not comfortable work. This is neither for the faint of heart or the indifferent. Rather, it requires a daring tenacity and a robust faith. A willingness to risk and to fail and to iterate.

And yet death comes before life. The seed dies before the new tender shoot emerges from the earth. This is the way of Lent. This is the way of the cross. This is the way of birthing. This is the way of dying.

This is where the mystery of the tomb coalesces with the miracle of the womb.

And so, what is it that we need to surrender? What is it that needs to die? What is it that we need to let go of? And as we journey together with community fasting and prayer, what collectively is it that we need to give up?

Is it our comfort? Our need for success? The ways in which we want what we want when we want it? Our individualism and our independence?

Is it our reluctance to commit or to be inconvenienced? Our prejudices? Our resentments? Our fear? Our jealousies? Our insecurities? Our wounds? Our self-hate?

Or is it our need to please others? Our need to be validated? Our need to be important? Our security? Our need for control? Our power? Our privilege? Our possessions?

What is it that needs to die?

Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die. So the saying goes. But Jesus promises us that as we lose the striving and scarcity of our own small lives, we will enter the expansiveness of His full and abundant life. [Matthew 16:25] That as we enter the paradox of the tomb, of death, surrender, and letting go, that in time from the womb of our deepest desires, new life will emerge.

Spend time this week reflecting on the invitation to surrender. Listen for the Spirit to speak to you afresh.

A LITANY FOR WEAKNESS
Fran Pratt franpratt.com. Used with permission.

Oh God, we come to Lent to face ourselves:
Our desperate need to prove our worth;
Our hunger for reputation, wealth, and influence; 
Our ego's power over us...

Read More on franpratt.com.

Last Sunday, we took some time to envision the kind of community that we dream about being a part of as The Practicing Church. If anything is possible, who do we want to be? What does it look like? What are we up to in the world? And it was a generative and hopeful exercise. I heard themes around inclusivity, welcome, authenticity, diversity, justice, community engagement and grassroots, catalytic movement. And I am so excited to see how God's dream emerges in us, around us and through us!

As we have been actively listening, praying and leaning into our next step as a community to create a place of hospitality in the neighborhood, we have seen the doors fling wide open. And so I am thrilled to announce that we will begin meeting on Sundays at One Cup Coffee, as soon as March 31st! This has been a decision that we as a community have been prayerfully discerning for several months now. And we are amazed at God's provision to us through the generosity of Bethany Community Church North to be able to have a welcoming and visible presence in the neighborhood! Surely the Spirit of God is at work!

This week also marks the beginning of the season of Lent, which is the 40 days before Easter that the church sets aside for repentance, generosity to the poor, and prayer. And I can't think of a more perfect time to begin to pray the prayer that Jesus taught us to pray, "Let your kingdom come, here and now, on earth as it is in heaven," as we move into our new gathering space.

For 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.

And as we do this, we will journey through Lent around Jesus' teachings of the Sermon on the Mount. And as I was ruminating on this with Carrie Cates, she sent me the following thoughts:

[I see the Sermon on the Mount] fundamentally about the weaving together of heaven and earth. Lent is this quiet season of repentance, prayer, fasting - rooting down into the essence of what it means to be a follower of Christ. The Sermon on the Mount calls us to such practices, practices of bodies and of systems, which change our posture in this world. At the same time, it calls us to change the posture of our hearts and minds, to invoke the blessings and hopes of heaven. I don't necessarily see that Jesus says that you must focus more on heaven or more on earth. The implication seems more to be that there is a ceaseless flow between earth and heaven; that our hearts, bodies, and actions can be a part of bringing heaven to earth; and heaven (the shalom, the wholeness, justice and perfection of God) is at least in part manifested in us. I think of Rilke's poem that talks about returning to first things, about learning to fall so that you can fly:

"If we surrendered 
to earth's intelligence 
we could rise up rooted, like trees."

The more deeply you root into earth, the higher you reach into heaven.

And so we will begin the transformational journey of Lent by praying, practicing, and manifesting heaven on earth. We will join together to participate in God's dream for us and for our neighborhoods, as we wrestle with the challenging teachings of Jesus to orient the whole of our lives around this revolutionary way of love. We will repent from scarcity, white supremacy, individualism and consumerism and we will stand in solidarity with those who suffer. And we will make space in our hearts for God to come and to dwell in us, meeting the deepest longings of our soul and awakening us to the abundant life we were created for.


by Jessica Ketola

God has given us a compelling story. It is a story unfolding. A story in process. A story unfinished. And much of the work before us is to celebrate this story, clarify this story, articulate this story, and live into the richness of this story. It is a story that God has given us and it is one that is still being written by our faith community along with the Spirit.

For we are The Practicing Church. We are a people on a journey. A people who desire to take the teachings of Jesus seriously. Not as something to add to our already busy, stressed out lives, but as a way of life. And we believe that this takes practice. That transformation doesn't happen by good intentions or osmosis but by practices that form us in the way of Jesus. And so we participate in communal practices, formational practices and missional practices that align our lives with the values of God's good, wise and loving kindom.

And in doing so, we experience transformation. In our own lives, we find we are on the inward journey to come home to God and to our true selves and the fullness of who we are created to be. In an age of anxiety and fragmentation, we cultivate spiritual practices that ground us in the love of God and become a sanctuary for our souls. And we find ourselves growing in faith, hope and love.

At the same time, we are invited to journey together. From the small and isolating individualism of our culture into the rich expansiveness of community. We are invited from scarcity to the abundance of the kindom, to be a part of something much bigger than ourselves. To invest our time, our energy and our resources on what matters most. Our small offering, just like the parable of the loaves and fishes, can then be blessed, broken and multiplied many times over as it is shared with the community.

This compels us on the journey outward from the captivity of consumerism into creating culture. We are called to join in the Spirit's work of reconciliation and healing in the world around us, in our neighborhoods, our schools and work places. We are called to participate in the work of justice, peacemaking and renewal. We are called to repent from our indifference, bias and pride to learn how to love our neighbor and our enemy, our brother and the stranger. To see the face of Jesus in the face of the poor.

As we continue to pray about our next move as a community, we keep this story in mind. For we believe it is a compelling story. One that is needed today in an age of anxiety, fragmentation and division. For we need practices that offer us a path home. Like the Hero's Journey, we will need to leave the known world for the adventure of the unknown, to engage a wider world, to encounter trials, to face the enemies of our soul, to discover new strengths, and to ultimately die to our false selves only to to be reborn. To find wholeness and shalom with ourselves, God and others.

Join us this week as we collectively dream, envision and reimagine what it means to be the church! Add your voice, your creativity and your passion to our unfolding story!


by Jessica Ketola

Last Sunday, we talked about contemplative spirituality as a necessary antidote for our souls [If you missed it you can check out the sermon podcast]. For it is the portal to the direct life-giving presence of God. When we are rooted in contemplative spirituality, we are more receptive and malleable in the hands of God, and the life of Christ flows more freely through us.

So Chris Heuertz in his book, The Sacred Enneagram, asserts that solitude, silence and stillness are the lifesaving corrections to the absurdity we've fallen into - the addictions, the coping mechanisms or whatever is out of control in our lives. And he insists that contemplative practice is crucial to living into transformation and wholeness in our lives.

That said, it's unfortunate that we tend to resist solitude, silence and stillness because some aspects of our awakening, growth and development cannot be realized without them. Each is a work of grace, a work only God can do in us. We need practices that open us to this grace, this work of God. God is love and therefore God can be trusted.

In silence, God will do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.This is easier said than done. First, we must being to recognize our inherent addictions and compulsions that we use to cope with our sense of inner dread. We all have them. When life goes sideways, these are the primary ways we seek to regain a sense of being okay.

[And by the way, these are the same temptations of Jesus recorded in the gospels: the need for power and control, the need for affirmation and esteem and the need for security. Curious? See blog post and sermon podcast.]

Stillness as the antidote to our need for Control
Some of us are obsessed with control. (According to the Enneagram, these would be types 8,9 and 1 in the Gut Center.) When life comes at us, we seek to gain equilibrium by funneling all of our drive and energy into some illusion of control. But according to Heuertz, stillness is crucial for us. Because for those of us with drive, whether we are fighting for justice or mediating peace or fixing what is broken in the world, what happens when we stop? Who are we without the good we do? And so when we are forced to stop, we may realize how over-identified are with our drive to do. Stillness then becomes a necessary counterpoint to our need to control and brings us into freedom.

Solitude as the corrective to our need for Affirmation
Some of us are obsessed with the affirmation and approval of others. (According to the Enneagram, these would be types 2,3,and 4 in the Heart Center.) And so for us feeling types who are addicted to the affirmation and opinion of others, solitude is crucial. Solitude functions as a corrective to the dependency on connection and comparison to somehow validate ourselves. So then, who are we when we are alone? When we can't meet the needs of another? When we can't read a room to get what we want? When there is no one around to see and appreciate us? And so often when we are disconnected from ourselves, we never fully feel embraced by others and we can feel lonely; and yet if we can connect to our true essence we can bring our true self into relationship. And so solitude is key in this recovery. Because in solitude, we allow space for our true essence, our soul, to emerge. Solitude teaches us how to be present - present to God, to ourselves and to others with no strings attached.

Silence as the counter to our need for Security
Some of us are obsessed with security and survival (These are the thinking types 5, 6 and 7 in the Head Center). And for those of us who cope by anxious thought processes in our heads, silence is crucial. Is it possible for us to turn down the inner noise - everything that serves as a distraction - to be able to really listen? Can we stop searching for answers long enough to hear the answer within? Can we stop worrying long enough to hear the quiet voice inside assuring us that everything will be okay? Can we dial down our anxious addiction to adventure and opportunity to hear that everything we need is already present? Silence helps us learn how to listen to the voice of God in our lives, a voice we may have been unable to recognize before. Silence helps us listen to the people in our lives who speak loving words of truth or affirmation over us. And silence helps us to listen to ourselves, both our desires and our fears.

When we give ourselves to contemplative practices marked by solitude, silence and stillness, our souls are nurtured, our gifts blossom and our true selves emerge. Contemplative spirituality calms the body, stills the emotions and quiets the mind. And in so doing, it liberates us from ego addictions, giving us the freedom to make major corrections to our behaviors informed by our True Self.

In other words, contemplative practice brings transformation.
So that we can become more like Christ as we follow the Way.

And so I hope you will begin to experience the richness of contemplative spirituality as you try some new practices this week! I have included some resources below to spark your imagination and curiosity.


CONTEMPLATIVE PRACTICE

• Centering Prayer
• Centering Prayer App
• Lectio Divina
• The Prayer of Examen
• Welcoming Prayer
• Fixed Hour Prayer
• Daily Prayers - Sacred Space
• Daily Prayers - Pray As You Go App
• Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton
• Strengthening the Soul of your Leadership by Ruth Haley Barton

by Jessica Ketola

​This week, we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day and this beautiful dream he had of the beloved community. Dr. King worked tirelessly for the day when men and women everywhere, regardless of color or creed, would be equal members of the human family as children of God. Not only did he die for this dream, but his life was tragically snuffed out before he ever tasted of it. And sadly, this dream still alludes us.

I believe this dream is the dream pictured in Revelations where the great multitude is gathered, every nation, every tribe, every people and every language worshipping together. And I believe that this message of reconciliation is THE MESSAGE of the gospel.

"For God in all his fullness was pleased to live in Christ, and through him God reconciled everything to himself. He made peace with everything in heaven and on earth by means of Christ’s blood on the cross." [Colossians 1:19-20]

And yet we are living in divisive times where hate, fear, greed and violence often feel like they are winning. Where war and genocide still occur, where racism and oppression are rampant, where walls are built to keep the "other" out and children are separated from their parents. There is a collective groan, one articulated by the Psalmists long ago.

O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? 
How long will you look the other way? 
How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, 
with sorrow in my heart every day? 
How long will my enemy have the upper hand? [Psalm 13:1-2]

This was the prayer we uttered in Turkish and then English at the Peace Feast on Sunday as we shared a meal with Turkish Muslim Refugees. A fitting prayer in response to the stories of oppression, incarceration, and harsh treatment the Turkish refugees experienced and are still experiencing by being a part of the wrong social group. They fled from forced poverty and inhumane conditions in prison as everyday teachers, civil servants and journalists were locked away on unsubstantiated "terrorist" charges. Not unlike so many in the world today persecuted because they are the wrong race, culture, affiliation, religion or political party.

It was hard to believe that these kind and gracious people I sat across the table from were a threat to their government. But then again, our own government was founded upon these same racist, prejudiced principles.

“Our nation was born in genocide when it embraced the doctrine that the original American, the Indian, was an inferior race. Even before there were large numbers of Negroes on our shore, the scar of racial hatred had already disfigured colonial society. From the sixteenth century forward, blood flowed in battles over racial supremacy. We are perhaps the only nation which tried as a matter of national policy to wipe out its indigenous population. Moreover, we elevated that tragic experience into a noble crusade. Indeed, even today we have not permitted ourselves to reject or feel remorse for this shameful episode. Our literature, our films, our drama, our folklore all exalt it. Our children are still taught to respect the violence which reduced a red-skinned people of an earlier culture into a few fragmented groups herded into impoverished reservations.” Dr. King.

Hagar and her husband Nazim were beautiful people, explaining to us how Hagar's name is derived from the Abraham story, a story we both share as Muslims and Christians. Yes, indeed, we are brothers and sisters. And God's work is one of reconciliation and peace. I could tell this resonated between us as we exchanged contact details, promising to continue the conversation before we said our goodbyes.

This beloved community is the community that I want to work towards building. Far more than a nice ideal and a nod to justice that I as a white, privileged woman can feel good about for a day, I am committed to join in and support this work over the long haul as I learn from and follow those who have gone before.

The world doesn't need our niceness, white folks. Neither does it need our mediocrity. Instead, we are invited to follow the radical teachings of Jesus.

As the civil rights activist and author, Dominique Gilliard has challenged us, "Pastors please stop domesticating the radical teachings and example found in the Christ!"

And as a church, this is the work. God's work of renewal, healing and reconciliation in the world. And we get to be a part of it.

▪ As we share meals with Turkish Muslim refugees and extend warm welcome and solidarity for the suffering of their people.

▪ As we show up in our places to join the work with our neighbors at The Beloved Community event in Edmonds, the MLK event at Casa Latina, the Edwin Pratt Living the Dream event at Shoreline City Hall, and the Shoreline Social Justice Book Club.

▪ As we gather around tables with neighbors and strangers alike as we did last night. I had the gift of meeting Massoud, an Iranian American, and hearing the heartbreak of his story as he shared about the loss of his beloved wife. Yes, we are brothers and sisters, all of us, longing for connection, aching to be heard, yearning for home.

▪ As we lament and create songs, poems and art that express our prayers and our dreams for all of us to flourish. Check out Cecelia Romero Like's poem this week.

▪ And as I prepare to attend our Turning Point community meal tonight in honor of Martin Luther King Jr., I look forward to taking in the beautiful diversity that at times takes my breath away. A reminder that heaven is near. A vision of the beloved community -- where Christian and Muslim, Eritrian and Ethiopian, Filipino and Mexican, indigenous and immigrant, those with homes and those without, those with parents and those aching for their loved ones -- will all come together and experience the power of community.

"The cross is the eternal expression of the length to which God will go in order to restore broken community. The resurrection is a symbol of God’s triumph over all the forces that seek to block community. The Holy Spirit is the continuing community creating reality that moves through history. He who works against community is working against the whole of creation." Dr. King

May you follow the radical teachings of Jesus. May you include those who others shun. May you listen to stories and experiences that are foreign to you. May you give up power, privilege and preference so that the voices of others can be heard. May you break bread with those whose ideology offends yours. May you learn to love your enemies.

by Jessica Ketola

​This last Sunday, we continued our conversation about Soulful Living. Many of you are familiar with the classic comedy film, What About Bob?. In it, Bill Murray plays this neurotic, phobic, obsessive-compulsive personality with innumerable needs who follows his exasperated therapist, played by Richard Dreyfuss, on vacation.

But Bob has needs.

He has terrible anxiety leaving his house. And I quote, “I get weird. I get dizzy spells, nausea, cold sweats/hot sweats, fever blisters, involuntary trembling, blurred vision, dead hands, numb lips, fingernail sensitivity, pelvic discomfort, difficulty breathing, difficulty swallowing... What if my heart stops beating? What if I’m looking for a bathroom and I can’t find one and my bladder explodes?” Yes, Bob has needs. And yet in this analogy.

Your soul is Bob; and you are Richard Dreyfuss.*

[*Stolen from the book by John Ortberg, Soul Keeping.]

It is the nature of the soul to need.

Thomas Aquinas wrote that the neediness of our souls is what points us to God. For we are limited creatures, virtually in every way; in our intelligence, our strength, our energy, our morality. But as Kent Dunnington puts it,

“We are limited in every way but one: we have unlimited desire.”

We always want more: more time, more wisdom, more beauty, more chocolate, more Netflix. This is the soul crying out. In a sense, we never have enough. And yet the truth is that the soul’s infinite capacity to desire is the mirror image of God’s infinite capacity to give.

The unlimited neediness of the soul matches the unlimited grace of God.

Which is great for those of us who are afraid of our need. That somehow it is too much, shameful, or despicable. Afraid that we may be overwhelmed by the abyss of our need. But God’s grace is boundless. And surely, if God’s grace is enough for Bob, it is enough for us.

So the soul is needy. The soul desires. What the soul truly desires is God.

We may try to fill that need with other things. Which is in fact at the root of our sin, our idolatry, or what we would call addiction. This is simply the soul meeting its need with anything that disrupts our communion with God.

And so while we may try to fill that need with other things, the soul will never be satisfied without God. The psalmist speaks of this in Psalm 84, “My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.”

The soul needs to be with God.

And throughout the Scriptures, we see that the soul was designed to desire, to search, to thirst for God. Our souls thirst for God as parched land thirsts for water. Our souls desire to be with God, to be seen and to be known and to be held. Our souls are clingy the Psalmists say. Our souls cling to God. Our souls wait for God. Our souls stalk God (like Bob). For we are meant to live in the very presence of God.

Our souls will never find rest until they rest in God.

And this is the way we are created. To be in abiding communion with God even as Adam and Eve walked with God in the cool of the day.

But I don't have to tell you that modern life today is a hostile environment for the soul. There is no time for rest, let alone resting in God. And yet our souls are hungry. Our souls are weary.

A Beautiful Invitation

Jesus said this, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” [Matthew 11:28-30 MSG]

This is such a beautiful invitation from Jesus to us. That we could come to him and recover our lives and learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

Join us this Sunday as we continue our conversation about Soulful Living and examine how to practice the presence of God in our everyday, chaotic lives, learning from Brother Lawrence, Saint Ignatius and many mystics and monastics who have gone before us.

For our souls need. Our souls need God. And our souls need rest.In fact, they crave it. The soul knows only borrowed strength. The soul is meant to rest in God like a tree rests in the soil, like a branch rests in the vine.
​
May you answer this beautiful invitation of Jesus to come and find rest.


by Jessica Ketola

Happy New Year! I hope your holidays were full of meaningful connections and at least a little bit of rest and relaxation in the midst of the hubbub. I know I always enjoy the freshness of the new year and the opportunity to reflect and to discern what the Spirit is inviting us to. And so as I write to you this morning, I am full of hope as we embark on a new year together as a community. God's faithfulness to us this far has been absolutely stunning, and I am fully confident in God's goodness to lead us forward.

When we relaunched The Practicing Church just two years ago, we had a dream. Of being a community that was actively seeking to live into the way of Jesus together. Of being the church, not simply going to church. Of becoming incarnational, the-presence-of-God-in-human-form kind of people in our neighborhoods, schools and workplaces. Joining in God's work of reconciliation, peace, healing and renewal. And while, we are a people in process, this is happening! So many of you are on the ground in your classrooms, in your counseling offices, in your nonprofits, in your homes, workplaces, and neighborhoods. You are present. You are listening. You are engaging in the work of Jesus.

We had a dream that we would be a community. That church wouldn't look like consumption but contribution. That every member could offer their gifts to create a beautiful mosaic. And that every person would be saying yes to their unique call and vocation, moving on the contemplative journey inward, the activist journey outward and the communal journey together. And this too is happening! We are regularly inspired by the musicians, poets, writers, contemplatives, activists, engineers, teachers and artists among us. I love Sundays, especially the ones where multiple and diverse voices and gifts are offered. And I love that you all are committed to being on the transformational journey. I get the sacred privilege of hearing many of your stories of courage, healing and growth in your lives, and you inspire me.

We had a dream that we would begin to embed in our neighborhoods to practice the simple mandate to love our neighbor. We had a dream of living in proximity and intentionally building community in a way that was sustainable and rich. And while the scale has been smaller and the pace slower than we had imagined, we are also beginning to see some beautiful things emerge! Our neighborhood dinners every Wednesday now include 12-15 of our surrounding neighbors and we look forward to connecting each week. And life in our neighborhood is sweet. The daily rhythms are rich, from seeing our housemates everyday, impromptu dinners, football games watched together, movie nights, and missing ingredients borrowed to early morning walks with neighbors, tamale making parties, shared gardens, and neighborhood murals. We are beginning to hear the deeper stories of our neighbors, and a robust community is forming.

We had a dream of participating in the flourishing of our community. Of participating in equity, justice and renewal. And while we have so many burgeoning dreams, we are becoming a part of the fabric of care in Shoreline. Through Turning Point's work of equity, inclusion, empowerment and education, we are bringing neighbors together to care for one another. Through the Shoreline Social Justice Book Club, community meals, the Community Resource Team for Shoreline youth, Richmond Highlands Neighborhood Association, Coffee and Breakfast on Aurora, and peacemaking events, we have the privilege of being a part of what the Spirit is up to in this community.

And I am so grateful. Overwhelmingly grateful. As I call each of your faces to mind; as I remember all the promises of God to me personally and to us as a community; as I meditate on the faithfulness of God to us over and over again; I am filled with hope.

Happy New Year! May 2019 be a year of deep connection, soulful living, and wild adventure!

by Jessica Ketola