Aj Schwanz

So, I last left you with the question of what it would be like for a faith community to sabbath for a year:

• What would that look like?
• What could be revealed during that time?
• Where could God take a group who was willing to lay it all out on the table, let God gets His mits all over everything, and wait to receive?
• Do we really believe that all we do as a church is God’s and for God? Or is it for us and of our own power?

During December I read the book of Isaiah. While everyone else seems to be immersed in Luke, I felt called to look at the “primary resources” behind our Advent readings and meditations. Each day I would read a chapter, trying to figure out what life in Israel and the world at that time really looked like, hoping that would give me insight into how Isaiah’s words might have impacted the Israelites in their day-to-day living. Over my bowl of Bob’s Red Mills high fiber hot cereal with almonds, flaxseed, cinnamon, and blueberries, I’d read and ponder and move on with my day.

Until one day: the day I hit Isaiah 58. The title of the section was “True Worship”. I thought, ‘How applicable to my situation where I’m on a task force discerning the next steps for worship in our community!’ And I ate my gruel and moved on with my day.

Until the next day. When I sat down, gruel in front of my, along with my happy light, and I opened up to Isaiah 59. Except that my eyes went back to Isaiah 58. I tried to move them back down the page: they did not want to budge. It was like that moment in Friends when Chandler proposes to Monica the first time, simply because they had had a fight and he didn’t know how to apologize or make up: everyone was in the room and groaned and turned away except for Rachel who sat at the kitchen table with her hands pressed against the side of her face staring and muttering, “Oh, oh, I can’t not look at it!”

I couldn’t not look at it.

Same thing happened the next day. And the next. And then one of those days happened to be a Sunday, and so I read it during most of church, wondering if I was meant to share it in service.

But no: I was meant to share it during that afternoon’s Next Steps meeting, when I sat silently stewing most of the meeting until finally someone asked if I had something to say (sigh: seriously - don’t they know better?) and the floodgates opened. I can’t remember all I babbled about - it was a bit of a roundabout (shocking, I know). But I do know that at some point I read Isaiah 58 to the group. Actually, I sobbed it out, having to pause because I couldn’t read through the tears (I remember shaking my head to try and get the tears out so I could move on because, dang it, Holy Spirit, couldn’t you move me in some other way so that I’m still functional and understandable? And not quite so soggy? :)).

Isaiah 58

Fasting that Pleases God

1 “Cry aloud, spare not;
Lift up your voice like a trumpet;
Tell My people their transgression,
And the house of Jacob their sins.
2 Yet they seek Me daily,
And delight to know My ways,
As a nation that did righteousness,
And did not forsake the ordinance of their God.
They ask of Me the ordinances of justice;
They take delight in approaching God.
3 ‘ Why have we fasted,’ they say, ‘and You have not seen?
Why have we afflicted our souls, and You take no notice?’

“ In fact, in the day of your fast you find pleasure,
And exploit all your laborers.
4 Indeed you fast for strife and debate,
And to strike with the fist of wickedness.
You will not fast as you do this day,
To make your voice heard on high.
5 Is it a fast that I have chosen,
A day for a man to afflict his soul?
Is it to bow down his head like a bulrush,
And to spread out sackcloth and ashes?
Would you call this a fast,
And an acceptable day to the LORD?
6 “ Is this not the fast that I have chosen:
To loose the bonds of wickedness,
To undo the heavy burdens,
To let the oppressed go free,
And that you break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
And that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out;
When you see the naked, that you cover him,
And not hide yourself from your own flesh?
8 Then your light shall break forth like the morning,
Your healing shall spring forth speedily,
And your righteousness shall go before you;
The glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
9 Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
You shall cry, and He will say, ‘Here I am.’

“ If you take away the yoke from your midst,
The pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
10 If you extend your soul to the hungry
And satisfy the afflicted soul,
Then your light shall dawn in the darkness,
And your darkness shall be as the noonday.
11 The LORD will guide you continually,
And satisfy your soul in drought,
And strengthen your bones;
You shall be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
12 Those from among you
Shall build the old waste places;
You shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
And you shall be called the Repairer of the Breach,
The Restorer of Streets to Dwell In.
13 “ If you turn away your foot from the Sabbath,
From doing your pleasure on My holy day,
And call the Sabbath a delight,
The holy day of the LORD honorable,
And shall honor Him, not doing your own ways,
Nor finding your own pleasure,
Nor speaking your own words,
14 Then you shall delight yourself in the LORD;
And I will cause you to ride on the high hills of the earth,
And feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father.
The mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

What I didn’t know until after I shared is that another church in our area has been praying this scripture over NFC for almost two years, specifically verse 12 (which stood out to me on my initial reading as well as another person in our group).

A member of the task force suggested we sit with this scripture as a group. We did. As we prepare for our upcoming fast, I wonder if others would be willing to think on Isaiah 58 as well, holding up Newberg Friends as well as your own faith gathering if it’s different. What stands out to you? What strikes you? What convinces you? What does true fasting mean to you?

I’m slowly decompressing from the Holiday Parties Programs Shopping Swirling Whirlwind Visiting Relatives Traveling With Tykes Being Awake For 21 Hours On Two Separate Days Extravaganza 2007:  it’s taking a bit.

One highlight of this season came on the Sunday before Christmas.  A few months earlier I had asked the pastoral staff if they would be willing to do a baby dedication that Sunday:  the in-laws and the ‘rents could all be in town, so shouldn’t the church schedule revolve around *my* needs?  :D  They graciously said ‘yes’.

And I’m so glad that they did!  On a beautiful (at least to me) Sunday morning we stood in front of our faith community and pledged to bring Abel Anders up in the way of a Christ follower.  Our community affirmed our desire and gathered around to pray prayers of blessing and affirmation.  It doesn’t get much better than that.

And one of the best things — it’s now online.  So you can listen!  Cause you know you want to.  And yes, that is Abel babbling through most of it:  he never would’ve made it through the Quaker Quietest Period. 

So last night looked like:

• Put Abel down for bed around 9:00ish.
• Nursed him in his sleep before I went to bed because the “dreamtime feeding” is supposed to help him sleep longer.
• He woke up at 12:15 - patted him to sleep for 20 minutes.
• He woke up at 1:30 - nursed him and patted him to sleep for 30 minutes.
• Judah woke up at 2:30 and had had an accident - mostly our fault because a) he was sleeping hard due to not having a nap that day and 2) we forgot to have him go to the bathroom before bed.
• Got to bed at 2:50 after having started a load of laundry and feeding the cat, lest he pace on top of me for the rest of the night.  Jokingly told Jason,  “The sad thing is that Abel will be up in an hour.”  Couldn’t fall asleep.
• Guess who woke up at 3:52?  Nursing.  Patting.  Back to bed at 4:30.
• At 5:30 Abel joined us in bed because he has a thing for memory foam (does anyone know if they make it cradle-sized?).
• And at 7:30am he was up.

Now,  we’re supposed to learn a lot about God - our relationship with Him, etc. - through parenting.  He’s our “Heavenly Parent.”  So, what would be His version of nighttime wakings and feedings?  And what’s there to learn in the midst of the weariness?  Because God doesn’t get weary, but boy howdy:  I sure am.

In my Bible Study homework it says “To become ‘weary’ doing good means ‘to give in to trouble; to become exasperated by difficulty, be defeated in spirit, discouraged, or faint-hearted; to despair, lose heart’ (New Testament Lexical Aids).  The Complete Word Study Dictionary of the NT adds this definition: ‘to turn out to be a coward, to lose one’s courage.’”

The answer apparently is to “spend myself” - but right now I’m wondering if there’s much of me to spend.  I know this is just a season and that it will pass, but my how the season seems to last forever when I’m in the midst of it.

Life has changed, obviously.

Sleep is elusive.
Personal space is non-existent.
Things that are amusing generally consist of watching scrunchy baby faces and hearing the toddler instruct the infant to “take a nap” so he can play Chutes & Ladders with mama.
“How the morning went” is measured by how many times diapers have been changedandchangedagain because we now live with a two diaper pooper.

Jason went back to work last week. After he left and I realized I was alone with the four boys who aren’t able to carry on higher level conversations or rent a car (Judah, Abel, Orley, Jacks), I opened my Bible to Psalms: I read one every morning. This happened to be the psalm of the day. Verse 1 made me laugh a little bit, although I could also hear the foreboding “dun dun dun DUN” movie music: Lord help us all.

Abel Anders
Born Monday
7lbs. 2oz.
19.75 in.

Can’t you see him pondering the wonderment of the revelation of the Inner Light and the relativity of absolute truth?

Even in sophisticated circles where people ought to know better, those who have made staying home and raising children a priority are often made to feel that their lives are being wasted and that they could be doing “more significant things.” When I was a member of the sociology faculty at an Ivy League university, my wife and I were expected to attend get-togethers with my colleagues and their spouses. On more than one occasion someone would ask my wife in what appeared to me to be a condescending manner, “And what is it you do, my dear?”

My wife, who is one of the most articulate persons I know, found a perfect response for such occasions. In machine gun fashion, she would reply, “I am socializing two homo sapiens into the dominant values of the Judeo-Christian tradition so they might be transformers of the social order into the kind of eschatological utopia God willed for us from before the foundation of the earth.”

Then she would smile and ask, “And what is it you do?”

And to those who don’t think mastering the art of sticking stickers all over one’s face is a dominant value of the Judeo-Christian tradition, we say:

Thank you, Peggy Campolo.

From Carpe Diem.

My son isn’t sleeping through the night.

Apparently he feels it is his toddler right, seeing as how he officially entered toddlerhood in September and no longer needs to flash the “early admit” card, to keep us on our toes.�� One way of doing that is to wake up randomly in the middle of the night:�� sometimes crying in his sleep, sometimes yelling as he’s awake, many times attempting to launch over me into the middle of his parents’ bed:�� let me tell you, it’s not the most fun way to wake in the middle of the night having a toddler straddling you staring in your face saying,�� “Dah!”

Ever since Judah was 6 months, he’s slept through the night almost every night.�� Which has been delightful!�� Except I didn’t take it as a delight, but rather a given:�� he has a lot of daytime energy, and so I believe he should NOT have a lot of nighttime energy - it’s the tradeoff.�� But he didn’t sign on to that agreement.�� And now that he’s not sleeping, now that I’m trying to reason with him in my nighttime deliriousness and my daytime sleep-deprived lucidity (that’s how tired I get - I’m trying to reason with a toddler, and I think it should work - HA!), now I realize that it’s somewhat of a gift to have a sleeping child, I’d like it back.

So I try everything I can think of.

Making sure he gets people interaction during the day

Playing with him hard a couple hours before bed

Not feeding him sugar

Feeding him protein before bed

Having a wind-down time

Having Jason read him sleepytime stories

Letting him sleep with his books and alarm clock (he likes to hold things - lots of things)

Plumping up his mattress and putting heavier blankets on him

Making sure the fan is on but not blowing on him

Giving him a drink of water before bed (last night was the first time - totally backfired - he wanted to sleep with the cup and threw his very first, very serious two-year-old tantrum -�� not so condusive towards calm, sleepytime thoughts)

I used to be able to pull this off in college.�� I used to sleep minimal hours and go to class and function as a semi-normal human being - granted, I drank lots of caffeine, ate lots of sugar, and slept 12 hours a night on the weekends.�� But I can’t do this anymore:�� one day last week I left my carlights on . . . twice.�� I have don’t that in years!

My mama called me to see how I was doing, and I told her about the carlights.�� “I just can’t do this!”�� “And you shouldn’t have to, honey” was her kind response, reminding me that this too shall pass at some point.�� It’s a phase - a process, not a destination.�� And my father kindly reminds me that I woke him and Mom up every night for three years.�� Oh, yeah.

The morning after I talked to Mom, something seemed wrong.�� What was it?�� I had slept through the night!!�� My first thought:�� “Never doubt the power of a praying Gran!”�� It turns out that she and a group of folks up at her church prayed for Judah and Jason and me that night.�� The next couple of nights he woke up repeatedly.�� But last night, he only woke up once and went right back to bed.

It floors me when prayer affects me in a practical/tangible way.�� Which sounds silly to say:�� I’m sure praying for character and attitude changes is practical and tangible, but just not as real to me in this phase of my life.�� And how wonderful to know that strangers are interceding on my family’s behalf to God!�� I feel so much stronger, supported - part of the Body.�� I want to do the same for others in return, whether or not I let them know.

It really takes a village to raise a kid; and while my immediate family doesn’t live in our town, they and their village are such a support to us.�� I shared this story with my Bible study, noting, “Never doubt the power of a praying Grandmother!”, and they all nodded their heads vigorously as though letting me in on a secret I didn’t know until then.�� Oh, those Grandmothers - a sneaky, amazing bunch they are.��

Yesterday, after having sat in the dentist’s chair for 2.5 hours in a procedure that has required multiple visits and an endodontist and STILL isn’t done, I was kinda done with my day.�� Yes, many hours remained, but the desire to be productive was drilled away with my temporary filling.

When a day like this occurs, the hardest hour is from 4-5, the hour before my husband comes home.�� For some reason having another individual around gives me a second wind, or at least gives me assurance that I have some back-up in the parenting department.�� I think many mothers feel this way, hence the Oprah Show being on at that dreaded hour - aimed at women, sometimes a little stimulating, but at least it’s distracting.�� I only turn to Oprah in true hours of desperation - yesterday was one of those days.

Except it was not a fun show - nobody won any cars, Rachael Ray didn’t make a guest appearance to engage in lushyness with Oprah, no celebrities broke down talking about “how hard their lives are.”�� No, this was one of her “true life” episodes focusing on “real people,” and those real people happened to be women (specifically moms) who hated themselves.�� One was anorexic, one was an overeater, and though they looked different at night and day, Oprah’s doctor/specialist of the season said their problem stemmed from the same element:�� self-hatred.�� Apparently when asked what is missing from their lives, the number one things said by Americans is “love of self.”�� Oprah spouted off a number of ways self-hatred manifests:�� anorexia, over-drinking, over-eating, over-spending, gambling, gossiping.�� I couldn’t help but thinking, “Where have I heard a list of these compiled before?�� Oh yeah, Scriptures.”�� Hmmm.

What Oprah really whanged on these women was regarding the effects on their children, how their attitudes and actions dramatically affect and shape their children’s future.�� Wow:�� throw on the guilt - very helpful.�� I suppose for some it could be, but for myself, knowing those nasty little things I can’t or don’t know how to change, it pushes me further towards self-hatred, and the spiral deepens.

It’s hard for folks to get help.�� “Life gets in the way.”�� “I’m so busy.”�� “I can’t afford counseling.”�� “It didn’t work last time; why would it work now?”�� But for one group, this is very true - for moms, particularly of young tots.�� I wonder how I’m called to get help as well as make resources available to folks - for support, for prayer, for healing, for wholeness.

As Mother’s Day comes upon us, would you take a look around with me?�� To talk with God about your love or hatred of yourself?�� To ask the Spirit who you might be able to walk with towards the love of Christ?�� It seems like such a small thing, but lately that’s where I see God moving:�� the little details, the casual conversations, the small gifts - I just have to keep my eyes and ears open.

Sometimes I need some encouragement to celebrate. My mother-addlepated mind is already full, and the idea of adding *one* *more* *thing* makes me understand why many folks drink through the holiday season. But in bible study we spent the teaching time sharing with each other about what we do to make the season meaningful. Everything from eating the same food every Christmas Eve (hey Mom: Heidi�s family does fondue then, too!) to attending certain music programs to hiding nativity set pieces and moving them closer to the barn daily representing the migratory element of the Christmas story (how fun!). Sometimes it seems like a bit much: many moms admitted to being Advent Junkies. But one woman spoke up, saying it�s important to have enough traditions to make it special - to makes folks *want* to come celebrate as a family - to celebrate in such a way that kids would feel like they were missing out on something if they were there.

I never thought I was very sentimental about stuff like that. But then as I was unwrapping ornaments last night that were wrapped in paper towels from around 1985, I realized I have my own quirks (see, I wouldn�t let my folks throw those paper towels away: they�s *so* soft, and they are what my ornaments *must* be wrapped in. I always leave a piece of candy in my stocking to remind me what I got during thet previous year (apparently last year was sugar-free Brach peppermints). And every Christmas Eve we attend the candlelight service at NFC which to me is a true celebration: *everyone* is there - friends back in the area to visit their parents, neighbors who don�t frequent the church during the year, all the folks who play music stuff. And then we fondue and open presents.

It�s a bit tricky now that I�m married: my �must do�s� have to mesh with my husband�s �must-do�s�. And, most importantly, we need to make �must do�s� of our own as a family.

How do you celebrate the holiday season? What do you find meaningful?

My friend Steve-O and I were having a conversation the other day: actually, I was pouring out my conundrum-filled heart and seeking counsel. See, next Sunday there�s two good things going on - a couple hundred miles apart. And I want to be at both because I�m asserting my right as an American to Want It All. But No One has granted my deepest desire as a mother to be able to split into two. And that same slacker No One hasn�t figured out affordable teleportation yet. So: state of conundrum.

My wise friend asked a question (he�s good about asking questions rather than pronouncing judgments): was I making a choice out of fear or out of love? Many times choices in ministry are made out of fear rather than a God-placed compassion:

• What if all the young adults leave?!! Let�s make a program to lure them back in!
• What if people stop tithing?!! Let�s do a guilt-laden sermon on how to spend money!
• What if another church offers a program or ministry we don�t have, and then folks attend there instead of here? We�d better offer it, too, even though we have no resources and are totally strapped as it is!
• What if people question if we�re Quaker-enough or Emerging-enough or Evangelical-enough or Post-modern-enough or Conservative-enough or Community-oriented-enough or Socially-active-enough or . . . ? We�d better throw something together right quick!

I find myself doing that with parenting as well. I wonder if Judah should be watching more PBS kids so that he can absorb the bi-lingual programs, or maybe he shouldn�t watch tv at all because tv is bad. Did he nurse long enough? What if I cut him off too soon and he grows up with a detachment disorder? Am I giving him enough protein? What if he doesn�t like to eat veggies? Will he eat bagels and string cheese for the rest of his life? What if I don�t have Baby Einstein playing in the background while we�re going over shapes and doing baby yoga? Oh, it can be so overwhelming.

But what if I make parenting decisions moving out of a place of love? I love Judah, and I love seeing his excitement when he learns new things: let�s play with shapes together. I love seeing how much Judah is enamored when a good song comes on the radio: let�s have some music playing for him to enjoy. I love seeing him feeling and acting well: I�ll feed him what keeps him on an even-keel and keeps our relationship healthy (which doesn�t happen when I try to shovel food down his throat that he doesn�t like - yes, he protests a bit).

And what would that look like if I was part of the Church that�s grounded in God�s love and moved from there, from what His call rather than my panic that I might miss out on something? Just because it�s a good thing doesn�t mean that I�m called to do it: sometimes I have to say �no� (see the above �wishes not granted� for reasons why). Do I want to move out of the panic of fear, or the peace of love?

So I�ve come to peace with my options for next Sunday thanks to wise words from my friend Steve-O (although it�s rather interesting that I�m going to the thing that *he�ll* be at and that he wanted me to come to . . . hmmmm . . . . ).