Aj Schwanz

This weekend Jason and I got a break from our little Turbo Tyke while he spent the night at Jason’s sister’s house. Did we spend our time staying up late, going out to dinner, enjoying long strolls, dancing until the wee hours, going to hear cool speakers like Brian McLaren, playing video games until dawn? Not so much. Instead, we both attended our respective boards: it was Northwest Yearly Meeting’s annual MidYear Boards. Jason presented an introduction to the new Yearly Meeting website; I tried to keep Trey and Shawn from distracting Jason by praying to “Dear 8 pounds 6 ounces baby Jesus, new born, not even spoken a word yet” during the presentation.

I must admit: I had a bad attitude going into the weekend. Thanksgiving and gratitude were not the top characteristics of my demeanor. The boards have been reorganized, and very few folks know what’s going on, especially with regards to my board (Local Outreach). Seriously: we looked at the budget, trying to make budget plans for 2008, and could barely figure out what we were spending money on this year, much less try to dream about what sorts of funds we’d need in a year plus. We could dream up all sorts of programs and resources, but if it’s not what the faith communities *really* need, then what’s the point? Who are our faith communities we’re serving/representing anyway? A number of us questioned about being on the board: should we just go back home and work in areas we can actually be useful in?

But I think we can all be useful: we can share our stories from our worship gatherings, our local areas, our past experiences. We can call out themes and leadings we see happening locally and Yearly Meeting-wide. If only we can stay awake during our meetings (man, they’re long).

The conversation of “numbers” came up multiple times. For some folks, hearing “numbers means growth” is a practical, linear statement: healthy organisms grow. For others, it makes them remember attractional experiences when they were brought into the church and left out to dry: “They kept hammering, ‘Bring your friends!’ into my head, but why would I do that when *my* needs weren’t even being met? Why would I bring friends there to be hungry like me?” The communication issue grew with the folks who’ve had good experiences with growing numbers: “We bring them to Christ. We disciple them. We help them grow, in practical ways such as budgeting and in spiritual ways such as prayer and healing. They in turn bring their friends because needs are being met.” They were talking about the same thing, but the words cause major blockage.

One of my blockage markers: “We need to grow Quaker churches.” I know: how could that be a block for a ‘raised in the Quaker church’ girl such as myself? I must be honest: I don’t care about growing Quaker churches. I care about furthering God’s Kingdom, calling folks into Kingdom living, whatever that may look like. Again, the board was divided: it was somewhat fun to have the Area Superintendent in on our conversation at that point: he really cares about growing Quaker churches. Before the furrowed brows became too engraved, a friend spoke up, noting that he does enjoy the Quaker tradition, but he thinks of the distinctives “not as some sort of trophies or awards or plaques to display on the wall, but rather tools we use to indwell/embody Christ to others.”

And that made my weekend totally worth it.

Yesterday while pulling onto our church’s street, we saw one of our worship gathering’s families trying to cross: a father with two girls.

“Guess I shouldn’t hit them, huh? That probably would not be in the spirit of SuperBowl Sunday.”
“No, but you could play the game where you get points for knocking off hats or Bibles.”

We laughed in a very non-violent Quaker way. I then mentioned to Jason about Bible Fellowship on Wednesday.

“We were talking about ways we observe the Sabbath. That family stays home all day, doesn’t shop, utilizes leftovers. One of the kids naps, the other will — get this — sit for over an hour and read.”
“That’s so not fair.”
“I know!”

This family really wanted to rest: to tread lightly on the earth. On Wednesday, another friend shared about how they as a family felt that the Sabbath was not for working but for communing and celebrating, so they tended to get takeout, use paper plates, and invite friends and family over for a time of fellowship. I told Jason I’d like to experiment with the later “because I’ve done the former as a kid, and it isn’t all that fun” (yes, Mom and Dad, someday I will have gone to enough Journey to Wholenesses to be healed of my scars of youth :)).

That morning I had been thinking about the Sabbath some, especially as I turned on my computer. At Womens Bible Fellowship Lisa McMinn has been facilitating a discussion of her book The Contented Soul. One element of it includes observing the Sabbath: “Sabbath rest invites us to pause, to reflect on where we have been and where we are going . . . People who uphold the sabbath cease from doing that which they perceive as work . . . The sabbath gives us permission to set aside whatever we feel is essential to accomplish and to remember that the God who sustains us is abundant and sufficient. Sabbath rest is one of God’s good gifts, a discipline intended to bless us” (118-120). She mentioned how one of her family’s Sabbath day observances is not turning their computers on, giving themselves permission not to work or respond to emails. That sounds appealing, but can I get my itchy trigger finger to agree with my idealism?

The Sunday message was titled: “Do What Jesus Did: Focus on the Essentials” from Luke 6: 1-11. Christ was getting busted for doing no-nos on the Sabbath: letting his disciples pick grain to eat, healing someone of a non-life threatening issue. The idea is that Christ was not to be ruled by the nit picky laws of the Sabbath (many which the Pharisees created or interpreted rather than being declared from On High), but that Christ was the *LORD* of the Sabbath. The message sharer noted that Christ’s life was not marked by having a Sabbath day, but having a Sabbath week - month - year: a Sabbath lifestyle. If we are to follow the essentials, that includes following the Lord of the Sabbath in having that sort of life as well: a life marked by doing what the Father tells us, abiding, taking our hands off of the control stick.

Did you know that the Lord’s Sabbath day never ended? At least, it certainly looks that way in Genesis. Every creation day is marked by a “so ended the day, and began the next day. And that marked the first/second/third/so on day.” Except for the seventh day. On the day when God rested, stepped back, and said, “This is good,” — well, that day is never concluded in Genesis. God is still living in that Sabbath rest, and we are called to that as well! Adam and Eve kinda biffed it up for us when they decided to take control, and then we were exiled from that rest. But then Christ came, redeemed the situation, and we are once again able to exist in that Sabbath rest - actually, *called* to live in that rest - with Him and God. Wow.

So what does that mean for our daily lives? During open worship I was drawn to verses mentioned in the article my dad gave me on living a life of praise and thanksgiving. I couldn’t remember the exact verses, but knew they were in Hebrews. Turning there, I found a section on a Sabbath rest for the People of God. Resting: turning to Christ: abiding with God: releasing control (work): good stuff.

Do you observe the Sabbath? Do you feel like it’s a once-a-week thing or a life-thing? How do you abide in God’s rest?

The other day I was driving home from the library, and I had a thought (no, it didn’t hurt much). I grabbed my cell phone, because sadly enough, it’s much safer for me to talk on the phone while a certain Little Man is contained by straps in his carseat than it is to talk on the phone at home when Dr. Entropy has no restraints.

“Rose Valley Friends Church, Bobbi speaking.”
“Hi, may I please speak to Joe Gerick?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“His daughter”
“Oh, just a moment.”
[Long pause.]

“Elllo?”
“Okay, so I read the chapter out of the book you gave me, and if we’re supposed to do all things with praise and thanksgiving and not grumble at all, then how do we exist in a dysfunctional church situation? Cause the New Testament may not have any grumbling in it, but it certainly does call Christians out when they’re not following their role as part of the body of Christ. So how do you live in that situation?”
“Uhhhhhhh . . . . .”
[Pause]
“Wait: you’re not my dad.”

Nope: I had reached my dad’s co-pastor whose daughter happened to call when I did; the lines got crossed.

“Nope, he’s on the line with my daughter, and I really hope she’s asking him an easier question than that!”

I apologized profusely, laughing (and my backseat driver was laughing as well; he didn’t know why; he just thought it was appropriate), explaining how I tend to just dive into conversations with my dad because I like to keep him off balance (I feel it’s my duty as his daughter to keep him on his toes and not always be so confident in his answers).

So I finally got connected with my dad:
“Hey, Sweetie!”
“Oh, Dad, two things: I think I really confused Jeff, and I think he’s *REALLY* glad I’m not his daughter.”

Dad laughed. A lot.

And of course he had an answer and more. Cause that’s Dad: he knows. And that’s me: I confuse.