Lamentations 3:19-26
New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition
19 The thought of my affliction and my homelessness
is wormwood and gall!
20 My soul continually thinks of it
and is bowed down within me.
21 But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
25 The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
26 It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
22 The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
God’s mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in Them.”
25 The Lord is good to those who wait for Them,
to the soul that seeks them.
26 It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
This declaration of hope in the middle of an entire book of Lamentations is like a bright blue patch of batchelor’s buttons flowers in the midst of a field of manure.
Tuesday was a manure kind of day for me.
When my feet hit the floor my left ankle was sore. Did I sleep wrong? On my ankle? How???
Then I had my shift at the Federal Courthouse doing accompaniment, and there were so many people on the court docket that I chose to stay an extra hour, which was fine, but being on alert, scanning the area for ruffians in gators, is intense.
And Google translate was not being my friend! A young man asked me if I was government or something, and in the process of using google translate to explain that I am a Pastora here to protect you from Immigracion thugs – well, I didn’t realize that thug would translate to murderer!
So sorry!
Did not mean to scare you!
Let’s try, Immigracion jerks… jerks translates into Idiots!
Much better!
After my 2 hour shift that turned into 3 hours on hard pavement,
I limped back to my car with my ankle tendon still hurting.
$19 for parking!
Sigh.
And went to work.
I just didn’t have the creative energy to write my sermon, so I figured I’d work on my homework for the MBA in Nonprofit Administration that I was telling you about last week. Remember how I told you that the Fundraising class I’m in is kinda uncomfortable for me?
Well, it’s not just because we’re talking about money.
I got an email from my Fundraising Professor telling me that she had taken my post down because she felt that my response to the discussion prompt was not humble enough. And she sent me a post by another student as an example of how she would like me to post.
The post that she held up as an example was a fellow clergy student, posting how he does not know anything about how to receive donations of complex assets. and that he doesn’t even know if his church finance team knows anything about donations of complex assets. I love that for him!
Complex assets, by the way, are things like – donations of stock, real estate, or even a harvest of soybeans.
I was surprised by the idea of a donation of a harvest of soybeans, because the only crops I’ve ever seen donated are hazel nuts or strawberries that were packaged and sold in the community.
But, I am quite familiar with donations of stock, real estate and even a Charitable Lead Trust – where the Trust is willed to a series of family members until the last one dies and then the church gets what’s left.
And, might I say, Church, that your Finance Team, and your Board are very smart and experienced and do a great job managing donations of complex assets!
In my original post, I addressed the lecture and readings on the topic of donations of Complex Assets from the point of view of how we already handle those assets according to United Methodist policies. But apparently that’s bragging! She wanted me to pretend that my Church isn’t awesome and that I don’t know anything about complex assets. Apparently it’s arrogant of me to be an experienced Pastor.
This is not the first time she has taken down or edited my posts, but it will be the last, because this class ends this week. Hallelujah!
Then… after editing and resubmitting my work, and copying the head of the program on all that nonsense, because that’s what one calls academic censorship and I’m not having it…
Then… my beloved daughter Gwen is mad at me because I overcooked her noodles.
I’m sitting at the table at 8:30 at night, finally eating dinner when she thrust a cold, leftover, gluten free noodle under my nose and demanded that I taste it. (I thought it tasted fine.)
Then she proceeded to ask, with barely restrained rage, that I NEVER cook her noodles again, because I ALWAYS overcook them. And noodles should NOT be a liquid, which I thought was a little overstated, because it was still noodle shaped, just rather soft.
So, I apologized and promised to never try to cook her noodles again.
I get it.
She had gotten home from a long day at work, which takes a lot out of her as she lives with chronic, constant pain, and she was looking forward to leftover gluten free noodles, one of the few things she can eat with her Crones disease, and she likes her noodles al dente. Mushy noodles were just too much to deal with while tired and in pain.
I know that. So I don’t argue, I just apologize.
I’m sorry that I made my baby girl’s day harder.
And that’s on top of all the usual stuff.
You know, the erosion of Trans and women’s rights.
People starving and dying in Gaza.
Troops being deployed to our city.
Climate change…
Tuesday was just a manure filled day.
But then my husband got home and suggested that we go swimming, because Tuesday was the last day of the community pool being open.
And yes.
It was cloudy and cool and sprinkling.
But the pool is heated and it’s not like the rain was going to make us wetter.
So we swam in the rain.
And my Very Patient Husband quietly listened until my annoyance had run its course.
And we swam laps and looked at the heavy clouds backlit by the glow of the moon.
And there was some peace in the steadiness of the rhythms of creation.
There was mercy in the rain after a long, dry summer.
There was reassurance that tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow;
the sun will rise again.
There is love between people, even people who overcook the noodles.
Love that flows like water unceasing,
from God our source, through us and among us…
Love that cannot be stopped, even by death.
Hope flowers like bright blue bachelor’s buttons.
Not in spite of the the field of manure,
but because of it.
Hope blossoms ever more brightly among that which needs to be composted.
That which needs to be apologized for.
That which needs to change.
And now, a judge has ordered the deployment of troops unconstitutional.
And the head of the program acknowledged that my professor had engaged in academic censorship and gave her a talking to.
And the sun is shining.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
God’s mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
new every morning;
new every morning;
great is your faithfulness, Oh God
Great is your faithfulness.
