Investing in God's Kingdom

I received my first set of offering envelopes, at the age of 13, during the yearlong confirmation class at Reid Memorial Presbyterian Church in Augusta, Ga. It was thrilling - and a little overwhelming - to be considered grown-up enough to play a part in the church’s overall mission. My banker father, who was serving as an Elder at the time, helped me calculate an accurate tithe based on the weekly allowance I received which was supplemented with periodic babysitting. That same year, singing in the choir, making Chrismons during Advent, visiting shut-ins, and participating in youth group events took on new meaning; I was beginning to understand the value of serving my faith community with my tithe, my time, and my talents.

  At St Andrew’s, Dan and I have found great joy in many ministries, but we are always most impacted by the opportunity to work with our youngest members. In a recent conversation on the playground, we asked the children what happens with the money in the collection plates.  “Charity”, replied Cliff. How wonderful! As we pondered this question together, other answers were shouted out: the playground equipment, the salaries of our priests and staff, the candles at the altar, the lights in the building, the goldfish and juice boxes for Chapel! 

One of our great challenges as Christians is to teach our children that as stewards of God’s church, we are each called to serve with our time, talents and resources. The annual pledge campaign is really a stewardship campaign, a perfect time to reflect on how we can invest in God’s kingdom right here in our community. 

-Karen Waddill

 

The Glories of a Parish Retreat

 

As I was jotting down ideas for this Net Cover focusing on our recent parish retreat, (40 of us at Chanco on the James from Sept 13-15!) I was caught off guard by flashes of memories of myself as a child, attending parish retreats with my own church family. I grew up in South Carolina, so most of those people I no longer see, and I certainly have not set foot at Camp Gravatt since about 1995. But the experiences I had there with my childhood church have undoubtedly shaped me into the person I am today.

 The first strike of deja vu came when we pulled up to our room at Chanco. My children have been to Chanco several times so they immediately jumped out of the car to survey the grounds and confirm that everything was as they left it, just like my friends and I did when we rolled up to our retreat center on Friday evening. I remember the sense of safety and empowerment that came from being able to traverse a place without adults knowing my every move. Whereas “home” in our everyday lives is defined by the property lines, at a retreat center, “home” is a state of mind. “Home” is with fellow parishioners who become extended family; “home” is the retreat center itself, which is owned by all of us and none of us at the same time. As the other children on the St. Andrew’s retreat became familiar with the grounds, they too, delighted in the freedom to move from place to place without fear of getting lost, needing to call ahead, or wait for adult supervision.

 Another special moment I’m stealing from a conversation with Joe Allen the Monday after the retreat. In the dining hall the retreat leaders displayed sign-up sheets where you could volunteer to lead an activity during free time. Joe’s favorite retreat moment was watching the children joyfully rush forward: Edward volunteered to lead a hike at 3:30. Madeline and Rachel scheduled time to collect seashells. Ralph started a poetry-writing group at 4:30. Shiloh and Abigail signed up to be worship leaders at Eucharist. Children saw themselves as leaders, not just participants, in the retreat. They felt safe to take creative risks and be themselves without hesitation.

 One last memory. If you’re familiar with Compline, you’ll know that the words, “Guide waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping…” are sprinkled throughout the liturgy. When I heard these words Saturday night at Chanco I had a flashback to myself as a child, half-asleep in my dad’s lap, in the twilight after a long day with our church family. In the meals we shared at Chanco, in the nightly compline, there was a structure and a rhythm to life but without the rush. As a child I felt a sense of true peace knowing that, at least for those precious 36 hours, I was surrounded by people who were completely in the moment with me. I’m so grateful that the children on our Chanco retreat were given that gift of presence, too, which is so precious yet so rare.

 God is always calling us to let go of the barriers that separate us from truly knowing one another. On a parish retreat, we arrive as individuals and family units, but leave feeling like we are part of an extended family. We arrive feeling stressed but settle into a routine where busy-ness and productivity are no longer the measure of our worth. We arrive as adults or children, and watch in wonder as the adults become more child-like and the children take on adult roles with joy and confidence.

 In other words, on a parish retreat we get a small taste of what it’s like to live in God’s kingdom. It is God’s constant call to us to build God’s kingdom on earth, brick by brick. Going on retreat reminds us how real God truly is. Once you’ve experienced it, it’s hard not to share it with others. So…

 Chanco 2025, here we come!

- Ginny Chilton

Imago Dei’s Self-Emptying

 Because I couldn’t fit everything about my sabbatical into an hour presentation during the forum on Sept. 1st, one of the things I had to curtail was a mention of the importance of self-emptying as foundational for seeing the image of God (imago Dei) in who and what God created.  I take that from Philippians 2:7 in which Paul notes that Jesus emptied himself on the cross.

Jesus’ example of self-emptying is not the emptiness of clinical depression, which can be devastating, but emptying of the ego, anxiousness, despair, etc.  It is not emptying yourself of your identity, it is emptying yourself of all manner of noise so that you can know and embrace your truest self as it is known in Christ, i.e. who you were created to be.

The most important word in the Christian faith, the greatest commandment, is love.  Sin is separation from God, neighbor, and self; a broken covenant relationship.  Sin creates the conditions for dehumanization, exploitation, and harm.  I have found that, for me at least, following Jesus’ example of self-emptying is the only way to nurture empathy and compassion (co-passion, meaning to suffer with), to be one with who and what God created, thus making it much more difficult to exploit and harm who and what God created.  Self-emptying’s bottom line: If you’re full of yourself, you can’t be full of God’s Light and Spirit.

- Marc Vance

 

The importance of a positive word

 Dear friends,

 
When I taught fifth- and sixth-graders, I developed an exercise that we used periodically when classroom relations weren’t going well.  Each of us, me included, would write one positive sentence about each other person in the classroom.  The sentence would begin with “I like;” “I respect;” or “I admire”:  

• I like the way Sam lets other people share the soccer equipment. 
• I respect the way Sam is always on time. 
• I admire Sam’s ability to draw caricatures. 

The point was that a person didn’t have to like Sam to be able to come up with a genuine and positive statement.  (A true confession:  I didn’t always like all of my students, but with God’s help I could always find something truly positive to celebrate about each of them.)
 
In a recent sermon, I mentioned my dear friend Ted Bailey, who died four years ago at the age of 97.  Ted was a retired Episcopal priest who attended St. George’s, Newport News during my time there as rector.  Ted had served as an interim priest at St. George’s some years prior to my arrival.  He adored the congregation so much that he chose St. George’s as his home parish when he finally retired.
 
Sometimes it can be difficult for a rector to have retired clergy in a congregation, especially when the retired person once served the same parish.  It is understandably tempting for the former leader of a congregation to share abundant suggestions about how best to minister to that flock.  Not infrequently, former clergy also share criticism—comments that are usually couched as helpful input for the new rector (but often don’t feel that way).
 
Ted Bailey never did that.  Part of his ministry with every person he encountered was the gift of encouragement.  He ministered to me every time he attended worship at St. George’s. 
 
After each service, Ted made a point of sharing a specific, positive comment about the day’s worship or forum:  praise for a line in my sermon that particularly struck him; appreciation for the care I put into planning the morning’s adult forum; gratitude for the way I’d spoken some part of the liturgy.  Every time Ted spoke with me, he blessed me with positive words that nurtured my soul.  My sense is that every time Ted Bailey interacted with someone, he saw it as a God-given opportunity for him to offer love and encouragement. 
 
What if I were more like Ted?  What if we all were?  What would it be like to come to St. Andrew’s and find it a place where our comments to one another were consistently words of praise and gratitude and thanks?  I’m not talking about insincere flattery, but about genuinely positive words chosen to build each other up, to help each person feel seen and appreciated.
 
Let’s try it.  And let’s thank God for giving us such precious opportunities!
 
Blessings.  -Anne

September

September has always been an overwhelming month, with start ups, potential hurricanes and being in a new place in my life. Most of my moves have permeated this month, and start ups always follow endings, whether it be the end of summer, or of a life phase.

Having moved to a rural area to be closer to family and to live in a one story house near water, I had expected some semblance of calm and simplicity. From my kitchen window I have a view of generational comings and goings, and I am reminded of my younger years of motherhood segueing into empty nesting and grandparenthood, as this move has been marked by the entrance of a second great grandchild  (Forehand), and the engagement of a grandchild (Margaret to Nash).  A flurry of wedding planning has begun 14 months before the expected wedding on Nantucket.

Since my work in the world involves a lot of companioning people through endings, this is a major change for me, as I have the best seat in the house to watch my three children, my 7 grandchildren, 3  bonus grandchildren, and now two great grandchildren in their life passages with very few distractions.

I am reminded of the reading from Ecclesiastes as I step into September this year.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:2a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;3a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;5a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

Loving and ever patient God, In this new season of life, may I be aware and present to the times that bring joy, and may I endure the harder times with grace, and gain wisdom from them. Amen.

—Katherine Gray