Jesus' Way of Trust 6: Laugh with God

Jesus is gone. His absence leaves a gaping hole in the world. This is a day of quiet, a day of deep sorrow. And yet, underneath the silence, God is busy planning a celebration for us, with the whispered excitement of the host of a surprise party. The air is electric with God’s anticipation of the great moment. Any minute now the door to the tomb will roll away and new life will burst out to surprise and delight us. God wants us to see and believe. I think God also wants us to laugh.

Alongside the wonder and grandeur of Jesus’ resurrection, there are some terrific comic moments. Mary Magdalene mistakes Jesus for the gardener and starts berating him, demanding that he tell her what is really going on. On the road to Emmaus, Jesus disguises himself as a fellow traveler and cons his disciples like some Scripture-study version of a pool shark. He first pretends total ignorance, then turns around and thoroughly trounces them with his knowledge of the prophets. When Jesus appears to the Twelve, he stands and lets them poke him all over, and even eats a broiled fish to prove to them he is not a ghost.

Learning to trust God can be very serious work. But laughter is also at the heart of any loving relationship. Who do we trust more than the ones who know how make us laugh?

Jesus' Way of Trust 5: Remember That You are Human

Twice in the first week of April, I touched my finger to a vial of blessed oil and then gently made a sign of the cross on someone’s forehead. One belonged to Maddie, who was born prematurely last fall. She has a number of health problems, and her family requested a private baptism so she could be blessed before she went in for surgery to repair a diaphragmatic hernia. She is a tiny but very alert person, who looked right into my eyes as I touched her with water and oil.

The other forehead belonged to Eleanor, who by coincidence also had a diaphragmatic hernia. A few days before she died, I gave thanks for her ninety years of faithful life and blessed her on her way to God.

In most of life, we notice first how people are different – how they look, how they act, what they are able to do. As babies, we have not acquired all those traits yet, and as we lay dying they all fall away again. What shines through is our simple, vulnerable humanity. Seen just as a human being, a person is so beautiful that it feels impossible not to respond with blessings and with love. These are the moments when I find it easiest to believe that we are made in the image of God.

In his final hours, Jesus is stripped of his status, his friends, his freedom, his clothing, and his control over his body. He responds in very human ways. He shows his weakness: he falls, he thirsts, he cries out in grief and pain. He also shows his heart of love, offering forgiveness to the crowd, comfort to his mother and his disciple, and hope to the criminal beside him. In both his vulnerability and his compassion, he shines with the beauty of his humanity. Even before he is raised to new life, he reveals the glorious image of God.

Jesus' Way of Trust 4: Pray with your Whole Heart

Deep in his heart, Jesus has felt the days and now the hours counting down. What will he do with these last precious moments before his arrest? After he finishes his final supper, he leaves his work behind. He has taught what he could teach, healed what he could heal. He goes to the Garden of Gethsemane to find a moment of quiet to be with God.

As the Christ, the Son of God, Jesus feels God’s will within him pulling him towards this final showdown with the powers of hatred and death. And yet he is a human being, as fragile and fearful as any other. There, in the garden, he shares his whole self with God. He is not afraid to ask that he be released from the burden of his mission. Let this cup pass from me, he pleads. Do not ask me to drink this bitterness. Jesus does not receive what he asks for. But, in this moment of honest communion with God, he does find peace. Something shifts inside him, and he finds that he is able to face the challenges before him. With utter acceptance, he tells God, “Let your will be done.” Prayer works, though rarely in the way we wish it would. Prayer does not shield us from heartache or make all our troubles go away. But it works. It brings us closer to God, and it helps us to trust that God will give us the strength we need to face whatever may come.

Jesus' Way of Trust 3: Share the Dream

Tomorrow night, we will gather to remember Jesus’ last supper with his disciples. Knowing that soon he will have to leave them, he gives them a final commandment: “Love each other as I have loved you.” To show them what this love looks like, he wraps himself in a towel and stoops down like a servant to wash their feet.

Jesus has a dream of how his followers will treat each other. He knows it will be hard for us to learn to love and serve each other. Even as he tries to tell his disciples what to do, Peter argues with him, insisting that Jesus must act like a master, not a servant.

Later that night, the ties of love between them will be stretched to the breaking point. Judas will betray Jesus to the authorities. Peter, terrified that he will be taken too, will deny that he ever knew Jesus. From that day on, Christians have failed in love countless times, turning on each other and using Jesus’ name against other people. Jesus shared his dream anyway. And the dream lives on. Jesus’ words have inspired extraordinary acts of love. Christians have given their riches to feed the poor, risked their lives to serve the sick, stood up to unjust laws, sheltered innocents from violence, and accepted outcasts as brothers and sisters in Christ. Jesus teaches us to share our dreams, even when we doubt they will ever come true. One dream inspires another, spreading its seeds far and wide. Our hopes take root in unexpected places, sometimes places we will never see. Let us give our dreams to our Lord, and trust the God of all growing things to make them bloom.

Jesus' Way of Trust 2: Accept Gifts of Love

In his last days, Jesus is invited to a dinner in Bethany. A woman breaks open a jar of expensive perfumed oil, wanting to honor Jesus with the best that she has. She takes the ointment and begins to anoint Jesus’ feet.

As the luxurious scent fills the house, the disciples all turn to see. They are working people from Galilee, unaccustomed to using fine perfumes or being anointed before dinner. They believe in Jesus’ radical rejection of wealth: To enter the kingdom of God, he said, you must sell all you have and give it to the poor. They are shocked that Jesus does not send the woman away to sell the jar and lets it be spread on his feet instead. But Jesus accepts the gift, just as it is given. He trusts that God is using this woman to give him exactly what he needs. Her loving gesture helps him to accept that soon he will die. Instead of fearing a lonely death, he imagines caring hands anointing his body for burial. How many times have we pushed away a gift or a compliment? “Oh, it was nothing,” we say, or “You shouldn’t have,” or “Thank you so much for the offer, but I’ll be fine.” What would happen if we joined Jesus and trusted that God sends gifts into our life for a reason? What if we let go of all our protests and just said a heartfelt “Thank you”?

Jesus' Way of Trust 1: Tell the Truth

Jesus enters Jerusalem to adoring cries of “Hosanna!” It is almost Passover, and the holy city is full to bursting with pilgrims. The crowds are riveted by his words and the stories of his miracles. They run before him, laying down palm branches as if he were a king returning home from a great battle. With the people behind him, Jesus has the opportunity to do something big.

What does he do with this power? In all the gospels except John, he goes to the temple and accosts the moneychangers. He challenges the pilgrims, who use them to convert their foreign money into a proper temple offering. Here we do not see the gentle teacher who uses stories to lead people gradually towards a new way of looking at things. This is Jesus the prophet, declaring the truth with fierce words and actions. He cries out, “This is a house of prayer!” as he turns over tables and scatters coins.

Jesus knows his message will be unpopular. But he does not need the crowd to build him up, and he does not fear their disapproval. He is so firmly grounded in God that God’s truth is all that really matters to him. He trusts God to be beside him no matter what happens next.

May God open our eyes, even when what we see is a difficult truth. May God open our mouths, so we may speak the truth we know with the courage of Christ.

The Trough in the Waves

From Rev. Thea:

Yesterday's post was the last of the Lenten reflections from the people of Calvary. I have been deeply touched by the ways you have bravely shared your faith and lovingly opened your hearts to each other’s stories.

For the daily reflections during Holy Week, I will offer you some of my thoughts on how Jesus showed trust during his journey to the cross and beyond to new life.

This poem has been on my fridge all through Lent. For me it captures the spirit of quiet, searching faith that I find in this season.

God bless you!



Trough

by Judy Brown


There is a trough in waves,

A low spot

Where horizon disappears

And only sky

And water

Are our company.

And there we lose our way

Unless

We rest, knowing the wave will bring us

To its crest again.

There we may drown

If we let fear

Hold us within its grip and shake us

Side to side,

And leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.

But if we rest there

In the trough,

Are silent,

Being with

The low part of the wave,

Keeping

Our energy and

Noticing the shape of things,

The flow,

Then time alone

Will bring us to another

Place

Where we can see

Horizon, see the land again,

Regain our sense

Of where

We are,

And where we need to swim.

Donna Joyce: Feeling the Spirit

I discovered God’s presence at Calvary one day. I believe that it was around Easter time. I was singing with the choir, and everyone was very quiet. I felt something in the air. I knew in a minute it was the Holy Spirit. It was so palpable, very strong. I remember thinking: I am experiencing this, I wonder if everyone feels it. It lasted for a few minutes, and I didn’t want to talk, for fear of losing it. Then, the service went on. This was the Holy Spirit, and I knew it was there. It was a very real feeling. I prayed that everyone felt it. It was exciting, and also very loving.

Jim and Paola Arthur: Walking with Jesus

From Paola: One of my dreams was that someday I would be able to visit Jerusalem. The opportunity came, and my husband and I took a ten-day tour to the Holy Land. While visiting the Church of the Nativity, my husband got separated from the group. When I could not find him, I reported it to our guide, who immediately began looking for him in and around the church. I was getting worried because the streets were narrow and crowded with people and shops. There was not much room for parking cars, let alone big touring buses. I asked God to help me keep my mind clear and not to panic, and to watch over my husband. In the meantime, Jim, who realized he had lost our group, had left the church and found his way back to the square, downtown, where some of the buses were parked. He found our bus driver, who took my husband shopping with him, and then brought him back to the bus. When they arrived back at the bus, the driver called the guide and told him that my husband was fine and they would come meet the group. I have asked God for his help and guidance on many occasions, and he has never disappointed me.

From Jim (as told to Rev. Thea): When we were in the Holy Land, I realized how hard Jesus’ followers had to work for their faith. I sat in a boat on the Sea of Galilee and tried imagine getting out and stepping onto the water like Jesus asked Peter to do. It sure didn’t look easy to me! We traveled to see the holy sites on buses, but the disciples walked long distances, up and down the hills. It seemed like every church we visited was up on a hill. I pulled a muscle in my leg just trying to visit the churches in the Old City of Jerusalem. We went to a monastery that was even further up, high on a mountain. The road wound around and around, and got too narrow for the tour bus. I can’t imagine climbing all that way with just a donkey. I learned that we should never take our faith for granted. People went through a lot to keep it alive and pass it down to us.

June Blair: The Cross above Me

I remember when I was very young, my parents dressing up all five of us kids on Sundays to go to the Calvary Church. Reverend Zimmerman was the pastor then. All I remember about him was that he seemed very big and lived in the house next door to the church. Going to church was part of the family weekly routine, but I didn’t realize back then the meaning of all that was going on.

I remember when Reverend Swenson came to Calvary. I was older and he seemed more like a regular person to me than the ominous figure Reverend Zimmerman had been. My brothers and I went to Sunday school and we were all confirmed at Calvary. We attended fairly regularly for some time, but I still didn’t realize the meaning of all that was going on.

After a few years, my family became involved in Drum and Bugle Corps and our weekends were taken up by practices and competitions. Church didn’t seem so important any more. I knew that my faith and belief in God was strong, but the church seemed like nothing more than a building to me.

Several more years went by and I would go to services at Calvary periodically but still, never grasped the meaning of all that was going on. I was married in the Calvary Church and my first child was baptized there. Every now and then, I would feel the need to go to church but I never could explain why. I knew that every time I walked in to the church, the big huge cross hanging high above the altar would strike me as something bigger than I could understand or explain.

Then one day, life threw me and my family a curve. I blamed God for disrupting my comfortable life and wondered what we had done to deserve it. After months of being angry with God, I began feeling so alone and frightened. I didn’t know why but, I knew that I had to go back to Calvary. The first day I went back, as I was sitting in the pew waiting for the service to begin, I became overwhelmed with emotion. I realized that I had never felt so safe in my life as I did right then. Over the course of the next several months, I began to realize the meaning of all that was going on in the church. I began to understand that this was all part of God’s plan for me and my family and that the church was as much a part of who I am as my name is. I know now that all those trials and tribulations were meant to bring me back to where I belong; with God at Calvary Church.

Now every time I walk into the church and see that big huge cross hanging high above the altar, I swear I hear God say, “Welcome home.”

Calista Greenough: Sharing the Blessing

This is God’s house and He is here today.
He hears the songs we sing and listens when we pray.

Now that’s a real old song! It’s a start to learning about church, and going on to learn about the things inside, such as the font, the pulpit, candles and cross, etc. And that’s what we did.

I sang in the choir, junior and senior, and came to love the altar linens and paraments, and the beautiful fabrics of the church season. So, eventually I joined the altar guild and became a licensed lay leader, a chalice bearer and a lector. Each of these roles is so meaningful and has added so much to my life.

Then I became an LEMB [Lay Eucharistic Minister B, or Eucharistic Visitor] and able to take communion to the sick and shut-in, truly a great privilege. Phil Bateman, Joe Schramm, Jane Dickinson and I were in the first group from our church to go to Saint Paul’s Cathedral in Boston for our training. I can’t begin to describe the feeling I’ve had each time I’ve taken the sacraments out to grateful people. I’ve ended up gaining more from them.

My special person was Barbara Wentworth, who was in assisted living in Peabody near the Danvers line. What a lady! It was my pleasure to know her. She died at 101.

My faith in God and in prayer has seen me through ups and downs so far. Thanks be to God!

Neal Grasso: My Grandmother's Faith

My grandmother was a spiritual woman who, without question, put all her faith in God. Growing up I never understood how she was able to steadfastly trust that God would always see her through life. I've experienced difficulties in my life, when I could hear my grandmother saying "Trust the Lord, mi hijo, he's always there for us."

My grandmother's words were never more powerful to me than on the night my daughter, Mia, was born. It was a quite simple moment that reminded me how important it is to trust God. After Mia was born I sat alone with her in the delivery room while the doctors took Stacie into an operating room to locate and repair a minor source of bleeding that they were having trouble with. It was about 2:30 am and I was in a rocking chair near the window just staring at Mia. I was in awe as I softly sang to her while she slept in my arms. I was also a little scared. While the doctors assured me that there was nothing wrong with Stacie, I was worried because I couldn't be with her at that moment, when I so wanted to be.

I remember thinking about this new, incredibly important, responsibility I now have. It wasn't just the two of us anymore; it was the three of us. How could I be there for both Stacie and Mia when they both needed me? It was then that my grandmother's words reminded me to "trust the Lord". Her voice continues to remind me how important it is to trust God.

Erika Bianchi: God Guides Us

Approximately five years ago, on a beautiful warm, sunny morning in Southwest Florida, my husband, Bob, and I went out to run some errands. Upon entering the store, I said to Bob that I would get the potholders, and asked him to get paper towels.

After selecting the potholders, I went in search of Bob. When I located him, he was empty-handed.I asked where the paper towels were, and he replied that he could not find them. I found that a bit odd, particularly since he was at the end of the aisle which housed them, but I grabbed some paper towels, and we proceeded to check out.

As we walked to the car, I glanced at my husband, and thought he looked a bit stressed or anxious – I was not sure which. I asked him if he was all right, to which he replied that he felt “strange”. When I asked what he meant by “strange”, I realized that he was having difficulty expressing himself. My heart was pounding, because I was very afraid that Bob might be having a stroke. I knew that I should remain calm, and tried to remember all the questions one should ask in such a situation.

Once we were in the car, I asked Bob his birth date, address and telephone number, and to my horror, and his extreme dismay, he could not remember any of those things. He could follow directions, such as raising his arms when asked. However, when I asked him to repeat a simple sentence, he was unable to do so. I was now convinced that it was a stroke. He was acutely aware of the fact that he was unable to recall basic facts, which made him extremely anxious.

I told him that I was going to drive to the hospital, to which he was vehemently opposed, and insisted that we return to the condo. Several times while en route to the hospital, Bob insisted that I turn around and drive to the condo. My instinct told me that I must go to the hospital, but I was terribly conflicted. I knew at this point that Bob’s fate was in God’s hands, and I asked God to take care of him, and to guide me to do the right thing. God guided me to do the right thing, I believe, because I felt a sense of absolute certainty that I had to disregard Bob’s insistence that we return to the condo, and proceed to the hospital.

And God protected Bob, for which I am eternally grateful. He had not suffered a stroke, but had suffered an episode of what is called Transient Global Amnesia, a non-stroke related phenomenon, which can last from several minutes, to several days, and which causes temporary short-term memory loss. Doctors are uncertain as to precisely what causes a TGA. Bob’s memory began to return shortly after we arrived at the Emergency Room, and was completely back to normal later that day. After a three day hospital stay, and many tests, he was discharged in excellent health and, thankfully, has never had another TGA. The outcome of that day is something for which I thank God daily.

Jim Gordon: Lift the Awful Sadness

‘Trust in the Lord with all you heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path.’ Proverbs 3:5-6

I had been separated from my wife for about four months when my mother had her first stroke. The last time I had spoken to my wife was two weeks prior to this, and she told me she was sure she wanted us to divorce. Our six-year marriage had been unraveling for the past two years, and, though she had told me it was not entirely my fault, I still felt like a failure in the eyes of God.

At this same time, the company I was working for was selling off divisions. I went into work one morning and discovered that we had been sold, and within three weeks I was part of a lay-off of six hundred people. This was the only place I had worked since college, a period of almost twenty years. My mother passed away within the next two months.

I had experienced the death of my marriage, the passing of my mother, and the loss of my job within a span of about six months. I had no siblings or anyone my age I was close to, and I was consumed with bitterness and grief. I was still a young man in my early forties and wondered how I would recover from this series of events.

It was at this time that I put my trust fully in God. I prayed every day that He would help me through this and lift the awful sadness from me. Over the course of weeks and months, God helped me to regain my sense of purpose in life. A dear cousin became like a sister to me. I had recently come back to Calvary Church, and a fellow parishioner helped me find the job I have had for the last fifteen years. As I reflect back on this period of grief and healing, I am certain that God wants me to be happy, fulfilled and fully alive.

Karen Graves: Coming Home

When I was in my early 30's, I ended a 13 year relationship with an alcoholic. In the years leading up to the closing of that door, I thought about leaving many times. But I was stubborn, and also thought that I knew best. I thought that the proof of my strength was in the staying, and I thought that I was in control of the situation -- that I knew what I was signing up for by staying. And being alone again seemed so very scary, even as being in that relationship became more and more frightening. So, for a time, I ignored every sign that I was making a mistake. But those signs kept coming, faster and louder - until it seemed as though the entire universe was shouting at me to stop, to admit that I didn't know what I was doing after all.

And eventually, reluctantly, I did. I was finally honest with my friends and family about what was going on. I left. And it was painful. Really really painful. But also -- freeing. I reconnected with friends I had pushed away. I traveled. I started to remember who I was, underneath it all. During that time of rediscovery and discovery, I began attending church in the town to which I had moved. And discovered something else about myself -- I hated going to church alone. I would sit in the pew, and feel lonelier and lonelier. The parish was very friendly, very welcoming -- but instead of feeling uplifted at the end of each service, I would feel defeated.

My mother suggested I come back to Calvary, even though it was a bit of a drive from my new apartment. The stubborn streak kicked in again. "I am a fabulous independent woman now! I don't need to go crawling back to familiarity!" I thought I knew best, and that what I needed was to conquer my weakness and force myself to get used to going to the new church by myself. But what I actually did was stop going altogether. And I missed it.

Christmas was approaching, and my mom tried again: "Why don't you just come sing with us for Advent, and on Christmas Eve? We're doing the Healey Willan service music... " Throwing my favorite service music out there was a sly trick, but it still sounded innocent enough -- no strings attached, after Christmas I was off the hook. I walked in the door the next Sunday morning, and I knew that I was home. A few weeks of Advent turned into several years of Wednesday night choir practices and Sunday morning services. I reveled in the familiarity. I felt a reconnection to my spirituality that I had feared was gone for good.

I've always found it fairly easy to believe in God. But trust is a different story. So many times, I am convinced that I know best -- and I stubbornly stick to that path in spite of all nudging, gentle and otherwise, in another direction. Yet, when I finally do pick my head up and listen, I often realize I have been making things needlessly difficult for myself. So it's a challenge for me. A challenge to stop and ask myself, "Am I being stubborn again? Or is this really the path God wants for me right now?" It's a challenge for me to give up that control. But I keep trying, because when I succeed, what comes my way is almost always better than I could ever imagine.

Fred Gates: I Must Remember God Loves Me!

From his early teens until he died, my son Bruce desperately struggled to overcome his addiction disease. For 10 years following his discharge from the US Air Force, his addiction habits controlled his life. Even after he married and had a son his addiction habits didn’t change. While under the influence of alcohol, he was arrested for assault and battery against his wife and two-year-old son. (There was no bodily injury.) He returned to their empty apartment, started to play with his son’s toys, broke down and cried, and left the apartment.

This was about the same time that an AA sponsor gave Bruce a Bible. The Bible became the foundation of his survival. He read the Bible daily and thoughtfully marked it with comments. Painstakingly he printed on the inside over of the Bible: The Repentance Prayer, The Serenity Prayer, and The Lord’s Prayer for easy reference. He also wrote: “I Must Remember God Loves Me!” This must have been one of the lowest points in Bruce’s life and Bruce felt that only God loved him.

Over the years, Bruce was arrested several times for charges resulting from alcohol abuse. For the last four years of his life, Bruce was severely punished by an erroneous felony charge that cost Bruce his life. Unknown to me at the time, Bruce’s last words to me were: “I’m tired. I love you Dad. How’s Mom doing?” Yes, Bruce, you were tired and God loves you and so do your family and friends.

Fay Voisine: There is a Reason

I received the following poem in a sympathy card from a friend:


Have faith:
Every event we experience
and every person we meet
has been put in our path for a reason.

This reminds me that God has a plan, even though sometimes it is hard to understand.

Becky Lee: Life will Go On

It used to be so easy to trust in God. When I was a child I had a supportive family, plenty of food, and a beautiful home. As I grew into a woman, I thought that anything was attainable as long as I worked hard. I got into the school I wanted to go to, and eventually attained my dream of being a mother, wife and doctor. God was a provider; as long as I did my part, good fortune would follow.

However, it is not so easy. Although I had seen plenty of tragedy during my residency, it was never personal. It seemed to happen to other people, not me. I was impressed by a dying person's faith in God, but did not think more of it than that.

The untimely deaths of my father and sister-in-law challenged my beliefs and my faith. How can I trust a God who would take a young woman just starting her life, full of potential? How would my children deal with these losses without losing their own faith and self assurance? It was an overwhelming and isolating time.

However, life did go on. We all found the strength to move on with our lives. We resumed the natural rhythm of life, and learned to talk of our lost loved ones with humor and gratitude. I came to the conclusion that nothing is promised us. We do the best we can with what God provides us --good and bad. We need to trust that in the end we will be cared for and loved, and that life will go on.

Marge Watson: I Know that You Care

When Rev. Thea asked me to write about how God played a part in my life, I looked back and decided to start at the beginning. At the age of two months, my birth parents brought me to a boarding house. They left and never came back. Something guided them there. I think God was on my side that day. The owners of the boarding house kept me and raised me as their own. I had a wonderful childhood. They say God works in mysterious ways. I believe he did that day.

When my first child was born, she did not breathe. The doctor called in a nurse to say a prayer over her. Within minutes, she let out a cry. The doctor said, “That did it.” God was on my side that day also. How many times I have called on him, I cannot say. A lot!

When my third son was born, he was a preemie. Rev. Allen Cark came and said a prayer over him and also me. I was so grateful I gave Allen as a middle name to my son. And again God was on my side. He made it.

My husband and his family worked the family farm. We prayed a lot back then. As God says, “Ye who tilleth the soil is closest to God.”

After 54 years together, my husband passed away. When he was in the nursing home for seven months, I wrote this poem for him and put it outside his door in the glass.

Dear God, hear my prayer
I know that you care
The man who dwells within
Is not the one who has been
He is loved by all
Please answer my call
He’s been through life’s trials
Let there be peace of mind
For the rest of the miles
Please God, hear my prayer
I know that you care

God has been there for me in so many ways. I believe He is still on my side. I still have a great family and lots of friends. Now that I am elderly, they all keep in touch with me daily.

John Gettings: Nothing More, Nothing Less

“Excuse me,” a man blurted out from behind me as I stepped off the curb and into a dark, slushy parking lot.

Although another overnight snowstorm had pummeled the area and delayed the opening of my office that day, it was dark again now and after a morning of shoveling and afternoon of working I was ready to head home—just as soon as I remembered where I parked my . . .

“Could you give me a ride to the train station?” the man abruptly continued.

I peered back over my shoulder just in time to see the man ease himself off a curb near the bus stop and walk with a slight limp toward me. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, and through his pockets he was holding together an unbuttoned London Fog–style raincoat. I immediately recognized him as someone I had never seen before in my life.

“I’d heard that the busses might not be running tonight because of all the snow. Could you give me a ride to the Beverly train station?”

Now, the car ride from where we were standing to the train station would take little more than five minutes, and the tangent wouldn’t take me very far off my route home. But those very practical thoughts were quickly replaced: “What does he really want?” “What’s my excuse?” “Is he trying to steal my car?” “Is this a scam? “Is this the thing I read about in that email forward I got last week?” “Should I do this?”

I thought it was an odd request. (Although, in hindsight, “hitchhiking” in a parking lot—when drivers are outside of their cars—makes a lot more sense to me.) And although I know we’re reminded in the Bible not to neglect strangers and show love and compassion for them, a lot of people these days, like me, have been conditioned to consider the worst possible outcomes first.

So during my frantic search for an answer, I decided to not only use my instincts, but also put a little trust in God. I was reminded to act responsibly but think compassionately in situations like these.

This night in particular I knew I wasn’t going to end up in the police blotter, out a nine-year-old Honda, or on the Internet. I was just going to do something nice for someone I didn’t happen to know.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Garvin Moore: The Navigator

I was raised in the Methodist Church down South, which meant going to Sunday School every Sunday with the rest of the kids. It was interesting, full of good stories, but not much different from going to regular school during the week. I didn’t go to church much during two years in the Navy, of four years of college. I didn’t make a personal relationship with Jesus until I went to a religious camp for a week at the invitation of a friend from work. While there I met a young man from a group called the Navigators. He was able to make Jesus real for me. He also invited me to attend a Billy Graham rally in New York, where I went forward with others to commit myself to Jesus.

I graduated from MIT, but needed to lean on Jesus for support when I got into difficulty as a graduate student, and battled depression for years. HE helped me get my life back on track during a career as an engineer with the Raytheon Company, and later on when I battled lymphoma contracted on my eightieth birthday. Since my Billy Graham experience, church has been a vital part of my life. I try not to miss it.

Ray Lemieux: Finding Calvary

For several years my wife and I were looking for a new church that would help us to feel close to God again. We were checking on the Internet, and talking to others about their churches. After a while, we even thought that we might go back to our former church and try to make a go there. In 2009, through God’s hand (we believe), we found out there was a town-wide Thanksgiving Ecumenical service being held at Calvary.

We decided to attend the service to see what Calvary was about. The first thing that we noticed was how friendly the people were. We barely got in the door when someone approached us and asked if we were new or “eight o’clockers”. We mentioned that we were from another church and the welcome was quite appreciated. During the PEACE, we were asked by several other people if we were new. The moving around and greeting others during the PEACE was new to us. We asked a few questions of those that approached us, and everyone was very up-beat about Calvary. After the service we got to meet Rev. Thea and she asked if we were visiting.

We fell in love with Calvary that day and came back the next week. After a few weeks, Rev. Thea asked if she could talk to us in her office. Although, we both are usually quiet and reserved, after talking to Thea, we volunteered to be ushers, and the rest is history.

We trusted God to show us the way, and He did.
This photograph of the altar at Calvary Episcopal Church was taken by Greg West.

Sally Gamble: You are not Forgotten

Many years ago in the early 60’s I was in a bad place. I was married but had lost my first two children. With my third I had to spend 6 months in bed. What a miracle, I had a beautiful healthy son. But, the cycle continued. Two more losses and I had 1 more son. This continued until finally I had one more son and a daughter but had spent almost 2 years in bed in the process. I had prayed for children but thought had God was punishing me in some way by taking my children. Counseling was not offered at that time, you just got through it on your own. I felt lost and thought that he had forgotten me.

A few years later when I was on Vestry we had a vestry retreat day. We were asked to tell the person next us something that troubled us but nobody knew about. I was lucky enough to have John Joyce as my partner. He listened carefully and was very comforting and made me feel as if someone cared. About a month later Donna called and invited me to a healing service for people who had lost children. It was just what I had needed and I will forever be grateful to her for her kindness. I learned that God did care and was helping me in a way I hadn’t realized. I highly recommend it to anyone who has lost a child. It was a great help in my healing process.

Gina Burke: Comes the Dawn

Comes the Dawn by Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn.

This poem has always reminded me about my relationship with God and it seems to resurface at the exact moment I need it the most. I trust that God will help me find strength through adversity and although I am not promised an easy road, or even an uncomplicated one, I always have the opportunity to start again. When I read this poem I remember that my trust in God is really about his belief in me.I trust God to be my source of strength so that I can “accept my defeats” and “decorate my own soul”. I trust him to remind me that we all need to cultivate resilience because if we don’t get up after being knocked down we can’t live lives that honor him. If we don’t learn from our mistakes and trust God to open those proverbial windows then we won’t be able to experience the happiness that is intended for each of us.

Most recently I heard this poem at a colleague’s memorial service. The woman we gathered to remember had experienced her share of defeats and setbacks. What struck me throughout the service was how many friends she had from all walks of life. There were countless stories shared about her warmth, her generosity, and her love of life. Her ability to persevere and give to others made her a truly wonderful person. I trust that God will be there with me throughout my life to remind me that I have the strength to be the kind of person she was, the kind of person that I want to be.

Bill Hooper: Saying Goodbye

The theme of the Lenten Blog is "Trust in God" which may be more easily said than done. Barbara, Joan and I recently had an opportunity to place our trust in God's plan for us.

Our Family had a Siberian Husky named Shamrock, a gentle giant who loved to take walks and never, never missed a meal or snack. He had been rescued more than four years ago but now, at age 14, found life a struggle. God intervened, made us more aware of Shamrock's needs and guided us through the decision to end Shamrock's life. Simply put, we had to trust our hearts.

What might have been an emotionally devastating day turned into a spiritually uplifting event. The Knitting Ministry and other congregants became involved in Shamrock's last days by providing a Prayer Shawl and heartfelt wishes of support. Rev. Thea agreed to offer a special blessing on Shamrock's last day. The beauty of God's plan quickly became evident when we wrapped Shamrock in the Prayer Shawl while Rev. Thea spoke the blessing for our faithful animal companion and for ourselves as good stewards of God's creatures.

We continued on to the Animal Hospital where the staff greeted us with kindness and compassion understanding the difficult decision we were undertaking. They did not know how much easier the decision was once we placed our trust in God. Again, we wrapped Shamrock in the Prayer Shawl and held him to help calm his fears while the medicine was administered. God took him quickly and quietly. The staff withdrew to give us the time we needed to grieve the loss of a loyal dog. When we were done, we symbolically covered Shamrock with the Shawl to return him to God's Domain.

The day ended with each of us remembering our animal friend's life and last day. The day also ended with joy in our hearts knowing we had placed our trust in God and He had rewarded our trust by making us comfortable with the one decision beneficial for Shamrock.

Later that day a phrase from a song I heard years ago crossed my mind. It seemed to reaffirm our need to trust in God: "Don't let the light go out. Let it shine through our love and our tears."

Thanks be to God for all of His creation.

Diane Kessler: Stitch by Stich

The women sit in the parlor in a loose circle. It is Tuesday morning and time for the prayer shawl knitters to gather. Their hands are busy and they visit about this and that until someone – and it can be anyone in the group – announces, “Let us pray.” All quiets as a candle is lit. There are many prayers for prayer shawl communities. The prayer chosen always seems to be appropriate for the day, even if only through a line or two within it. I sit quietly and listen with my heart open and my mind at peace. This is the group (along with the choir) that did so much for me when I was lonely and afraid, that welcomed me in with open arms and taught me not only how to knit, but also how to re-enter a faith community. This is a group that lives by faith and knits it into every shawl produced. They are ready to wrap anyone in need in warmth and love. I am a grateful recipient of their bountiful gifts, and I give thanks for what they have done to rebuild my trust in God stitch by stitch every Tuesday morning.

Nancy Gilman: That Little Voice

After saying I would write on the subject of “Trusting God” I quickly found I was not sure where to begin. To me one of the greatest gifts of my faith has been the freedom to “let go and let God” as the saying goes and experience a certain amount of freedom from worry, glimpses of what it must be like to live as a lily of the field. When I see a friend without a spiritual path struggling with the weight of the world on their shoulders, my heart goes out to them while I thank God I am on a different journey. Yet I find myself just as often being humbled by my failure to trust God, and thanking God for being more persistent than I am obstinate.

As a child it seemed obvious and easy to turn to God for the big stuff, a favorite relative dying, moving 500 miles away, getting my own room etc…As a teenager it seemed that God was there but as distant and disconnected from the daily details of my life as the societies of biblical times were from modern America. If one were careful one might catch glimpses of God during Holy Week but certainly not when trying to decide what’s for dinner. However in college as I did crazy things like do a junior year abroad and still finish a Mechanical Engineering degree from MIT in the 3 years remaining, a series of blessings came to me, and I became convinced that the Holy Spirit had to be looking out for me. There is something about being perpetually short on sleep that makes it easier to believe that the little voice might be divinely inspired. It is a belief that has continued to serve me well, however imperfectly I listen. It was then that I fell in love with Lent, as a time to make changes and clean my spiritual house, so that I could hear that little voice from my heart over the din of the many voices in my head.

Fast forward to Epiphany 2010. Our family was without a church home. I had the naïve idea that we didn’t require all that much. A church that would accept all of us as we were; my loving passionate 6-year-old who wanted her communion her way, my precocious 9-year-old who had out grown the concept of God as a Santa Claus figure and wanted more than pretty pictures from Sunday School, my husband the musician, and me the cradle Episcopalian with a preference of congregations that are prepared to embrace change and grow. I went online and made a list. Something about Calvary’s Website that caught my attention, but it was SO far away. We spent Lent going to the closest fit of those that were close but that little voice was hesitant to declare the search over and after a most unsatisfying Easter service, we started anew. We gradually started increasing the distance but didn’t find anything we liked better. I was rather mad at that little voice and thoroughly discouraged by this point. I can remember telling God “IS IT REALLY TOO MUCH TO ASK!!"

Then one day when I was already late to work but needed that one thing from the grocery store, I parked next to a white car with a Calvary bumper sticker. The first time I saw it, it merely reminded me of how mad I was at God so I went in and got what I needed. The second time I saw it I was “too busy” and Danvers too far away so I threw my bag in the car and started on my way. As I was leaving, my eyes were drawn to the bumper sticker a third time and finally I decided to trust one more time and I turned around and went back and left a note for the owner of the car and it felt good. And so we found ourselves at Calvary for the first time at Pentecost, celebrating the gift of Holy Spirit, as present in our lives today as in the lives of the disciples 2,000 years ago.

Carol Pechinsky: The Faith of a Child

The spiritual foundation and childlike faith I was given as a child are what give me the foundation to live my life. If only as an adult it were so easy to still hang on to this faith and trust. As I’ve grown older I find the corners of my mind contain many doubts and questions. My faith greatly varies in its degrees of strength and weakness. It is at times like these that I realize the childlike faith I felt as a child makes me more vulnerable and needy as an adult. My mind wants to be in control. Yet thankfully, God always seems to creep in and take over.

During the summers we spend in Wolfeboro , N.H. at our camp built by my grandfather in 1938, I find I am often restored to that feeling of childlike faith. Walking in the woods early in May and coming upon numerous ladyslippers (last year 80+)—some still white and maturing and others fully pink and mature. (I used to tell our sons when they were young that unexpected moments like these were “Thank you God" moments.) So also is the feeling I get when I walk down to the lake in early morning and the fog is just lifting off its surface. Sunlight is just creeping over the mountains across the lake and the first words that come to me always are, “I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help? My help is in the name of the Lord who hath made heaven and earth.” It is so simple to feel God’s presence there. (Thank you God.)

Last June as I was standing in the early morning on our dock (dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt), my 38 year old son ( dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt) came quietly up behind me and said, “Mum, aren’t you going to church?” (It was 7:50 then, so I guess I hadn’t planned on going.) My reply was “Well, we usually go at 8. “ He replied, “Come on, I’ll go with you. ” (Thank you God.) And off we went dressed as we were. Of course we were late, but somehow I don’t think God really cared.

And probably the most precious time I feel God’s presence is the time I spend with our two grandsons—5 and 15 months. Whether we’re in Wolfeboro or home in Georgetown, their innocence and trust brings me back to that time of life. Their comical antics and responses, their vulnerability and sweetness do make ME a child again. (Thank you God.) In all these ways God reveals his presence to me and my doubts and questions have vanished! I indeed DO trust God!

The two most restorative prayers I pray every evening are in the 1928 Book of Common Prayer:

O Most loving Father, who willest us to give thanks for all things, to dread nothing but the loss of thee, and to cast all our care on thee, who carest for us; Preserve us from faithless fears and worldy anxieties, and grant that no clouds of this mortal life may hide from us the light of that love which is immortal and which thou hast manifested unto us in the Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (For Trustfulness….pg. 596)

Almighty God, we entrust all who are dear to us to thy never-failing care and love, for this life and the life to come; knowing that thou art doing for them better things than we can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (For Those We Love….pg.597)

Henry Witham: The Birth of Love

Trusting God is something I have not always understood. Between numerous battles with depression and the self doubt associated with it I have often had trouble trusting in anyone or anything. However in recent years I have been trying more than in the past to find my way in God. In this time I have found a peace that I believe has allowed me to find the love of my life and marry her. It has allowed me to grow closer to my oldest daughter and be prepared to welcome my youngest. In all this I had to learn to trust that God was guiding me both now and in the past and I am the stronger person I am now for the troubles I went through before.

As most of you all know my youngest daughter was born last March 15. What you may not know is that there were some serious difficulties. My wife developed a serious case of pre-eclampsia and as a result we were told that an emergency C-section was necessary. The C-section itself went fine for my wife. The medicine they used to stave off seizures in her caused the baby’s immune system to be depressed to where she struggled to breathe on her own at birth. As you can imagine this was a very scary, harrowing time.

I remember going outside once my wife was in recovery and the baby in the NICU. I remember just crying for a few minutes trying to understand what had just happened before calming down and calling the family to let them know what had happened. Through this I kept thinking of the blessing we had gone up for in church the week before, knowing that the birth was imminent. How God was watching over us and how I had to trust that he would guide everything to be fine.

Over the next 16 hours my wife got back to herself and the baby slowly came around slowly being weaned off of the oxygen and being able to breathe fine on her own. She was born around 11:00 PM on March 15, and she was finally wheeled into the room to her mother for the first time around 2:30 PM on March 16^th. I was allowed to pass Erin to Renee and I remember feeling all the love of heaven pass through me as I handed her to her waiting mom. If ever there was a divine moment in my life this would be it. A couple days later my other daughter joined us in the hospital and I remember sitting back and watching the three of the together. I remember feeling a love in me I never thought was possible, a love I now feel every day, a love that could only be made possible by God.

June Connolly: Through the Storms

I wrote this poem to express who God has been in my life:

Life has its ups and downs,
Life has its smiles and frowns.
With God’s help we go on,
Facing each and every storm.
God is our friend, you know -
Jesus has taught us so.

Fran Weil: An Inspired Journey

Recently, I met a delightful woman named Louise, who came to the Calvary Perfect Paws Pet Ministry from some miles away to see what we were all about.

Louise -- a spritely and articulate widow -- lives with her devoted Yorkshire terrier, Coco.

And, like her self-assured little dog – all four pounds of her --Louise is wonderfully calm, self-contained and self-reliant.

So, Louise told me, when her church offered to draw together a group of five women volunteers to travel to Haiti to help with relief efforts that are still going on, a year after the devastating 7.0 earthquake it sustained, she raised an enthusiastic hand and opted to go.

Why? “Why not,” she laughed.

Her children were concerned. They worried that Haiti was so far away, communications were so difficult, and that conditions would be challenging and downright unpleasant. They worried that their Mom would be too much at risk.

But Louise was determined. Neither the threat of political unrest, nor the coming rain season, nor the danger of cholera or the many other serious diseases that rage in the devastation that is Haiti today, were going to deter her from going and doing something to help.

So, she left Coco with a relative and off she went, to do something she had never done before: help build wooden shelters for refugees who lived in tents, to help them survive through the coming rainy season.

What impressed her the most, she says of this “life transforming experience,” as she reverently refers to it, was the unquestioning faith and pure trust in God that she witnessed from the people who suffered all that devastation. In their daily lives, yes, and in their regular and deeply felt worship services, the people of Haiti Louise got to know, displayed the truest, most unshakable trust in God.

My new friend – a confident spiritual being – was amazed to see how firmly and matter-of-factly the Haitians she met displayed their trust that God would lead them out of misery and provide better days.

There were no recriminations; no anger or cries of ‘why us?’ Instead there was a solid trust that God would be at their sides while they rebuilt.

“Some people live lost,” said Louise. “It’s hard to live God 24/7.” But the Haitians -- ravaged by loss by earthquake -- took comfort in living ‘found and cared for’ by God. “There is comfort in the feeling of not having to do things alone. They have God, and they trust in Him.”

I can’t help but think that God puts people like Louise directly in our path to remind us to live ‘treasured and cared for’ by God … and most of all, to trust.

It’s like the unknown scribe said, “No God, no peace. Know God, know peace."

Nance Proctor: Songs of Faith

When the 9/11 tragedy happened - when my younger sister died a painful death with pancreatic cancer -----I had a destroyed "Trust in God".

How did I recover this important outlook for my life?

From the age of 10, I have sung in a Church Choir. The Music Ministry was fun and meaningful for me. Not that my voice is a great contributing talent, but it FEELS GOOD to sing out the familiar songs. When "Trusting God" became questionable for me, I would HEAR the words to the hymns I was singing.

Lyrics like "My faith looks up to thee" (#691 in THE HYMNAL 1982)----may thy rich grace impart strength to my fainting heart-----"or Beethoven's Hymn to Joy------"melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of clouds away". Great healing for a troubled heart!

Listen to (#664) "My Shepherd will supply my need-----He brings my wandering spirit back when I forsake his ways---" How can anyone know Psalm 23 set to music and be uninspired?

Tears (of joy) spill from my eyes when we sing the beautiful German melody-----"fairest Lord Jesus, ruler of all nature----thee will I cherish----my soul's glory, joy and crown." ( #388 in our Episcopal Hymnal.)

So many wonderful ways to praise God - TRUSTING GOD.

Bob Linden: If You Feel Your Knees Getting Weak (Stogie's story)

I was barely four years old when my mother walked me over to the Church of the Holy Name in Swampscott. She held my hand and explained that "This is where we go on Sunday mornings to learn about God and his son Jesus. You'll be in Mrs. Walker's class with some of the other boys and girls your age." My mother admonished me that I should pay close attention to what Mrs. Walker said. She was often joined by Mr. Cummings, who looked and talked importantly. the older people at church and at home around our dinner table referred to Mr. Cummings as "Our Rector". For the next dozen years almost all of my activities centered around the Church of the Holy Name and a gathering of friends and family that came to dine at my mother's table.

Life and time went on. Our country went to war. I joined our Army. This meant I had to go over to Europe on a big boat, the Queen Mary, with 17,000 other soldiers. When I said good-bye to my mother, she simply said, "God bless" and "If you feel your knees getting weak, just get down on them." I thought about God and Jesus quite a bit.

I was about 19 years old and near a railroad station in Rudolstadt, Germany when my army pal and squad leader Cpl. John Stojik, known as "Stogie", and I emerged from several weeks in the Thuringian forest. We were part of company E, 346th Infantry, 87th Division and had encountered the German army after we crossed the Rhine river. We had captured and secured most of the city of Rudolstadt when Stogie took our squad into the center of town near the railroad station. He asked me to check out a small railroad signal house about 50 yards down the tracks. I looked in the front door and window, and came back to report that I had found nothing threatening. Stogie said, "Good, I'll check it out." He disappeared around the corner of the building and I heard two sharp cracks. Another man in our squad ran back to me to say that Stogie had been hit. I rushed up to him. He was down, gurgling blood, and couldn't speak. He had two massive wounds in the chest. I couldn't stop the bleeding with two compresses. I was crying.

Stogie's last word was, "Mother," as I cradled him in my arms. I could hear my platoon sergeant yelling for me to come back to where he was. I was stunned, but I got down on my knees. For how long, I don't know. The final moment of Stogie's life was very special and private for me. Today I choose to believe that the attendees were select: God, Stogie, two mothers, me and just one other man who peacefully said, "Amen."