Eric Keck emailed me today with this in the message line: Get cho ass blogging again woman.

Right. Okay, I needed that. Here it goes.

A few weeks ago we did this at ThPM for “church.”

I had been telling the crew that we were finally going to get serious about consistently doing the ignatian examen, or at least our version of it which I call the examen of light. (Couldn’t dare to do things the standard way now could we? Having made a pet of the anti-conformity bunny and all…) Anyhoo, I was all ready to do the examen, had these pretty floating candle thingies and everything, when my friend Heather talked me into going jogging with her in the mornings. (Well actually she jogs, I walk.) We have this route along the Burke-Gilman trail that we take every day, and on the second day I noticed this one spot where an office building faces a concrete wall. I think what caught my eye were the gerbera daisies on the desk. They were so bright in contrast to all the grey. Then I noticed that all the desks were facing the window, even though all they could see was a strip of light and a concrete wall. The Muse struck and the rest of the week all I could think about was how ThPM should go and “chalk” up that ugly old wall. A random act of kindness. The light in me reaches out to the light in you, gerbera daisy person.

So I asked people what they wanted to do, and a few replied, and in general folks seemed okay with scrapping the “holy” stuff to go do the chalk. But I just kept thinking, what am I doing? Aren’t I supposed to be pastoring these people? Aren’t we supposed to be, like, learning the Bible and nurturing our souls and stuff? Then, at about 5:30p on Thursday (we start at 7pm) I got it–a whole sermonette in downloaded form. So here it is, in bullet form for you:

Why We are Chalking

1) Because you should always listen to your Muse. Paying attention to the little inspirations that strike you cultivates an attitude of attentiveness, and that’s important. In Mark 15, Simon is described as “one who lived expectantly.” I believe the Bible is story that we find ourselves in (as Brian McClaren would say.) It’s a narrative in which we have a place, in which we are a character. “Tell me a story Grandpa, one about trolls, and make sure I’m in it.” (As Eugene Peterson would illustrate.) I find myself in that bit of the story—one who lived expectantly. I want to live expectantly. I want to listen to the Muse and act on it, even if it makes me seem like a crazy person. We actually hail from a long line of crazy persons…Sarah laughing at God, Moses telling people a bush asked him to lead a revolution, pretty much all of the crazy-haired prophets. It seems like the Muse + crazy persons = kingdom come, at least a lot of the time.

2) Because it’s the Seasons of Light (Easter, Pentecost, Solstice) and we should celebrate the light while this season is with us. This is part of what I mean when I saw we are a neo-monastic order. We pay attention to the God-created seasons and celebrate how they reflect aspects of God to us.

3) Because doing this would be an act of incarnational living, and ordinary attempt at extending the loving hand of God. This would be something we did not out of a missional program, but out of a genuine impulse. There’s got to be something good in that, something meaningful in that kind of authentic extension of love.

4) Because doing this thing rings bells for me. It reminds me of the goodness that is generated by spontaneous acts of generosity and kindness. I can remember three such acts that were offered to me that have forever ingrained something definitive about how “God is love” into my memory.

Mordechai Edel: When we lived at Regent we were the place to celebrate the holidays. We were married and had all the stuff–the serving platters and the candlesticks and such–so all of our friends gathered often at our ramshackle apartment for meals and parties and things. When it was time for us to graduate and to move home, one of our friends presented us with a drawing by one of my favorite local artist, Mordechai Edel. It was a picture of a woman lighting the Sabbath candles and drawing the smoke over her head. All our friends–all of the broke “starving students”–pitched in to buy this piece of art for us. They all wrote us a card thanking us for the hospitality we’d offered in our home, for lighting the Sabbath candles for them. I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so surprised by gratitude.

Stomach Flu: Once, when Eden was less than one year old, Paul and I both got the stomach flu. I remember I was so sick, I had to just lie on the floor and watch Eden play and hope that she stayed content because I knew I couldn’t take care of her. We would get her food set up; feed her, then lay back down, leaving all the mess in the kitchen. Finally, I called our friend Kami to see if she could come over after work and bail us out. Not only did she come and feed Eden, and put her to bed, but she also cleaned our kitchen and our bathroom. I still can’t believe she risked all those stomach flu germs – after an 8 hour day at work. Generosity and bravery!

Lumenaria: A few years back we came home from Christmas Eve services to find our front steps lined with paper bag luminaria. Each one was a different design; stars, Christmas trees, etc. I’d never seen anything so sweet and lovely—so “oh holy night.” I never found out who did it, and I’ll never forget it.

Random acts of kindness do matter.

5) Because it cultivates a spirit of generosity. “Listen carefully to what I am saying and be wary of the shrewd advice that tells you how to get ahead in the world on your own. Giving, not getting is the way. Generosity begets generosity. Stinginess impoverishes.” (Also in Mark, I think)

Generosity begets generosity.

Doing this silly thing, following this impulse of the Muse will help shape us. This is how we facilitate a way living. This is how we become who we are.

And even if it doesn’t do all that….at least it will be fun, at least it will make someone smile.