So many other things are...

things like moving ahead,

fixing what's wrong, planning what's next,

diagnosing the problem,

cramming more into a day than one person can possibly do before the sun goes down.

But waiting...

when we are waiting for the light to shine,

when we are waiting for a wound to heal,

nothing in all the world is harder than waiting.

So, in your mercy, Lord, wait with us.

Be our very present help in waiting. Heal our frenzy.

Calm our fears.

Comfort those who at this very minute

are with every anxious breath and thought waiting for they know-not-what.

Transform our in-the-meantime into your time,

while we wait with each other, sit with each other,

pray each other into hope, surrounded by your presence,

even in the darkness.

Especially in the darkness.

Click on schedule a visit to let us know you are coming.

We would love to see you this Advent Season.

We joined another church in 2004, and there we were attracted to the faith and joy in a woman who had a dream of a new kind of church. When Jan left that chruch to follow where God was calling, she invited others along.  We knew we were heading on another journey of a different kind. There were fewer signposts here; this “new monasticism” was completely foreign territory to two ex-YWAMmers who had been attending fundamentalist churches, knew nothing of St. Benedict, and one of whom was distrustful of anything that even smelled like Catholicism. But there was something new and fresh about Abbey Way that kept pulling us in. God had plowed the field well enough for us both to not fear a new journey together, and he has not disappointed. It has been new and we have been changed in unexpected ways.

This week I took a bike ride. I chose a course that I normally ride with Ken, a complicated path around Rice Lake and I-94 in Maple Grove. Ken knows which turns to take and which ones not to take and so normally I just follow him, but this day I decided to try it and see if I could find my way around. About half way through I came to a choice – right or left – and neither way was familiar. I chose the one that stuck closest to Rice Lake, and found myself surrounded by unfamiliar ground. I thought, "I can still do this. Heck, I go to Abbey Way! I’m not afraid of unfamiliar ground."  I figured as long as I was in the general area (I could still see Rice Lake and still hear the traffic on I-94) I couldn’t be too far off. I wound through new neighborhoods and pathways, still within earshot of my bearings, until I started to see familiar sights and then friendly landmarks leading me back home. The bike ride was longer than I expected, but I made it.

We’ve all taken rides on unfamiliar pathways, some deliberately and some we’ve been dragged into. When I got into trouble at college, when my mother died, when I left home to find my own way, when we left friends and jobs and moved to Atlanta, when we left friends and jobs again (even a child) and moved to Minnesota – all have been forks in the road leading us to the unfamiliar. But I keep checking my Bearings and am assured this is the right road, and now and then I see friendly Landmarks assuring me I’m on my way home.  Keep going, fellow travelers.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

(from Natalie Sleeth – Hymn of Promise)

Sunday, August 3, 2008

We asked for community . . .
this, too, is community.

And warfare.

Give us the wisdom and courage and stamina
to close ranks and do battle.

Some blossom in trials.

Others long to retreat to supposed safety and quiet.

No one wants to hurt . . . for themselves or others.

We want to celebrate . . . anniversaries, graduations, births . . . but pain?

Yet one does not come without the other.

We cannot play and not work.

We cannot simply receive and not give back.

This is community.

The parties in the mansion on the hill,
and the garbage dump on the other side of the tracks.

The laughter . . . and the sobs.

Alone time and sharing.

Feast and famine.

Lagging behind, catching up, growing together.

For richer, for poorer.

As one we stand in Your authority and fullness
in spite of what our eyes behold and our hearts feel.

We do all in the shadow of the cross,
the bright light of Your resurrection,
and the clear hope of Your ascension.

We walk together in Your authority,
and treasure Your comfort and strength.

You formed us, each one, Lord.

You gathered us together.

Complete our leavening into a community that looks like You . . .
            “simple,
            centered in God,            
            in search of higher things.” (RB, p.138)

Amen.

An original prayer by Ardie.

All rights reserved.

As a visiting speaker reminded us last night, this commitment to a life of continual conversion, turning and returning, takes a gentle and faithful community around us to help, console, encourage, exhort and support us in our intentiional life of becoming more and more Christ like.

I am encouraged by what I see happening at Abbey Way. As we are willing to turn towards each other in open vulnerability, desiring to see the best in the other while calling forth truth and integrity in living, God's mercy is melting and molding us into a community.

The journey is long but we are actively on it...with each other.

So what's the connection? An ancient monk named Benedict and a professor named Peter.