Author: Mari Walker

Faith Stories: Jonah’s Slimy Mess

A Personal Reflection on Jonah 1:17 – 2:10

This summer the children’s Sunday school classes did a lesson about the story of Jonah in the belly of the fish. I had previously assured my class we would make slime my next Sunday teaching – the activity planned before the lesson known – and we decided the slime could represent what Jonah was in when he was spat out of the fish. Now that’s some tactile imagery!

While thinking about that and reading the Scripture something hit me.
Even in our lowest, loneliest moments; in our most overwhelming places and shame-filled spaces; in the dirtiest, stinkiest, darkest, most hopeless spots of our lives, God remains with us, knowing us, loving us. Did you get that? He is present, He knows us and He loves us anyway. When the rough waters of conviction prompted Jonah to go overboard, Jonah put himself in that turbulent, watery expanse, that dangerous, desolate place, and only God’s intervention could save Jonah from himself and his self-inflicted predicament.

Jonah, a singular man swallowed whole by a beast of the depths, stewed and lamented in slimy muck with nowhere else to go; the fish’s gut his sanctuary. Being swallowed up by miraculous, fishy saving grace was Jonah’s best case scenario.  All we know of the three days and three nights Jonah spent in the belly of that great fish is that he prayed.

How frightening, this helpless state. Imagine being alone in the belly of that fish, the preferred alternative, the better choice, given the options afforded by consequences of failing to trust and obey. God’s merciful providence is undoubtedly the way out. It is always present, even if not recognized as such, or smelly or slimy or not very pretty: it is the opportunity to receive the discipline of Abba in His wise judgment and reconcile back to Him, as opposed to inevitable sinking into the depths of certain death in the middle of the vast, deep sea, seemingly outside of God’s presence, a shameful consequence of one’s own defiance.

Repentant Jonah began his prayer in the belly of the fish with a heart of distress. He experienced the very real consequence of his disobedience, but in looking to God his life was lifted up from the pit.

Our loving, unfailing, attentive Father readily provided Jonah a means out of the depths by way of the fish that consumed him. Jonah turned back to God with a renewed heart of humility and a renewed spirit to do the work God again asked him to do – that which he had previously avoided so desperately. That gross, nasty place was his saving grace.  So now I’m thinking: Maybe my gross places are rooms for saving grace to dwell, too.

Truly, it is best to just own our slime and recall the consequences of being consumed by it, lest we forget and be consumed again. And, of course, give it to God.

In prayer, the perspective of Jonah’s heart changed. Isn’t it amazing how God changes us in sweet prayer? Ah, the sickening grief of being lost and alone dissipates, replaced with the awareness of being sweetly sought and found! The joy of hope alive again, even in the slime! What intimate miracles God weaves in our hearts and lives from the time we drop to knees to the time of rising renewed in his power!

Mindful of God’s loving correction, and while in the same nasty space, Jonah grew hopeful, praising God for deliverance and surrendering, once again, as a sacrifice for God’s good and perfect purpose with the resolve to trust and obey. Deliverance and freedom were given to him as God brought him up from the depths, saving him as the fish vomited him out onto dry land. I can just see it – Jonah, standing there on the shore, saturated in muck and gloriously free! Jonah is restored, called and entrusted to God’s service once again! Prayer changed the tone of his heart from selfishness to selflessness and prompted him to turn back to God.

At least in that moment.

And then he was defiant again. And again. And God corrected him again and again. Rightfully, the book of Jonah closes with God’s instruction, and the reader is not made aware of how Jonah responded, whether or not he repented (again).

I’ve gleaned that while our humanity – fear, insecurity, anxiety, selfishness-will never fail to bring us to a place of consequence birthed from defiance, God will never fail to be loving Father and teacher of wisdom, mercifully patient of our anger and frustration. This is truth. Never should we dare to mistake God’s kindness for weakness! But from time to time in our humanity we will most rightfully stand to be corrected. Our Father’s tough, parental love will always convict the heart needing correction. We only need look to the Father and receive the lesson.

How did Jonah respond in the end? As human we can surely count on him, and us, to be obedient one moment and defiant the next. Such is the human condition, juxtaposed against the unfailing, assured, consistent nature of Loving God. So we repent and turn back to God, again and again, and we are forgiven again and again, as we strive to return to the pursuit of service and self-denial, to trust and obey, and to be made trustworthy. Even while we are inconsistent and unreliable, moody and temperamental, spoiled and ungrateful, our loving, patient Abba is the same as He has always been, today and every day. Yes! We can find our faith, even in the slime. Faith found will surely see us through. Again and again and again.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Natalie Cooper

Faith Stories: A Prayer and a Book

As a 20-year-old man in 1982, I felt the presence of God for the first time. A pastor of a church in New Delhi, Roy Smith, stopped me from ending my life. He counseled me for two hours telling me that God loves me and doesn’t want me to die. Roy told me he too felt similar and learnt it from a couple called Carlos and Saroj Welch that his life was precious.

The second time I felt the presence of God was when that couple opened their home to me and embraced me as their son-of-the-heart.
The third time was almost 20 years later in their church in Baton Rouge.
After being accepted as their son, I decided to become a psychotherapist. I finished my graduation with their support and worked in a rehabilitation center for mentally ill people. Then I moved on to work in prisons and with post traumatic stress of survivors who had faced war, genocide and religious violence. My work involved providing psychological support, and I heard daily stories that were brutal, poignant and often made me question the goodness of man.

It was at that stage that I came to visit Carlos and Saroj with my family. Now I was married and had a beautiful daughter. We all came to St. John’s to be present during worship. When I was in India, I always found it a spiritual experience to go with Carlos and Saroj and didn’t want to miss it this time when we were all in USA.

After the service was over, I saw my 6-year-old daughter sitting with other children listening to stories about God’s love. Looking at me she smiled that told me not to come near. “I am fine and God is taking care of me.” Where had I seen that look before? I realized I had felt it in myself long ago and was feeling it again.

Carlos and Saroj went about organizing the choir. Sitting there I was suddenly filled with gratitude for what God has given me. The work that I was able to do with disadvantaged people. Suddenly the stories of refugees, survivors no longer seemed to weigh like a boulder on my mind but like a beacon of light that God wanted me to carry forward. And there was one more thing God was telling me. You have an ability to write, to express yourself that everyone talks about. Write about the suffering of people you work with, the hatred, the bigotry that you see in my name and let everyone know.

I didn’t realize I was sitting alone now and everyone had left, but I had found my mission once again.

As I came back to India and shifted through my voluminous notes and began to read them, they seemed to come alive in my hands. The pages no longer felt heavy in my hands but alive with something I never had felt before. I found about different events I had written, different voices I had heard, the people who wanted their stories of suppression to come out. I felt as if God wanted my writing to do that. It was a moment of reckoning that perhaps comes once in a lifetime. God, I realized, had made me aware that I needed to express the lost voices of the people through writing so that it is not lost and people read them to stand against violence in the name of religion.

I don’t remember when I picked up the pen and started writing. I began to write now but in a different way. Ideas that I had expressed as a psychologist in a few words, in neutral way, gave way to express as an author through crafting of words that came to encompass larger realities of history, memory and identity of a country that is India.

As I finished I named this book The Infidel Next Door.

It revolves around two boys Aditya and Anwar who live in a temple and a mosque next door to each other and their relationship marked by hatred and finding the profound humanity that bounds them despite belonging to different religions. When Islamic fundamentalism threatens a land and everything the infidels there stand for, they confront their inner selves and conscience to find an unknown path.

People from all religions are reading this book. Its themes of forgiveness and redemption is finding an echo with many. 

This book is a reflection of that gratitude of what I felt as love of God from two people who opened their home and their hearts to me.

Because of its references to bigotry and religious violence no publisher in India agreed to publish it. Though they called it a book of courage and a voice against the fear that is being created in the name of religion they felt it would invite trouble. I published it on my own and spreading the word. I want my book to be read by people and institutions working on interfaith healing and reconciliation. That will be my deepest reward.

Persecution in the name of religion is nothing new in this world. Hearing one such story of a man who lived and died two thousand years ago, changed my life and will do to many other lives. There have been millions who have died upholding what they believe is God’s love for us. Many voices which tried to say that were silenced. My voice may be suppressed too but not silenced. Please pray for me so that the strength I found ten years ago to live and write this book never leaves me, so that I do not falter and find the strength to carry on with my mission.

Rajat Mitra
New Delhi, India

Faith Stories: Prayer for our Country 

On the night of Tuesday, November 8 as I sat watching the presidential election returns–flipping from one news station to another (MSNBC, FOX, BBC CNN)–not wanting to believe what I was viewing. My stomach knotted, and I became nauseous as my mind struggled to come to terms with the projected outcome. I finally succumbed to physical exhaustion and climbed into bed as I continued my prayer for peace and unity. I also asked God for guidance– guidance for how I could become an active participant in bringing love and peace to all I meet.

Four hours later I awakened and when sleep did not return, I felt God’s nudge to arise and to pray, and I knew that I was to pray for love and peace to prevail in the United States and also to pray for the man who had won the election, Donald Trump. My prayer continued with the request that we as a country show respect and love for one another. So, although I did not stay awake the entire night, I did hear God’s call to be ready as we face a new chapter in U.S. history. Ten days later during my morning meditation, I found myself reading this passage in Luke (21:34) “Watch out! Don’t let your hearts be dulled by carousing and drunkenness, and by the worries of this life. Don’t let that day catch you unaware.” (NLT)

I felt God speaking to me, reminding me not to allow despair to overcome my life as we face a new chapter in U.S. history. Do not allow my mind to become a trap for despair but to become alert and aware of what I can do to bring loving kindness into this world. None of us knows the future but I believe that prayer–both asking God for guidance, asking God to guide our leaders, and also listening for God’s whispers–shape my/our future. With this in mind, I hang onto the words of Julian of Norwich, “It is God’s will that we receive three things from him as gifts as we seek. The first if that we seek willingly and diligently without sloth, as that may be with his grace, joyfully and happily, without unreasonable depression and useless sorrow.

The second is that we wait for him steadfastly, out of love for him, without grumbling and contending against him, to the end of our lives, for that will last only for a time. The third is that we have great trust in him, out of complete and true faith, for it is his will that we know tht he will appear suddenly and blessedly, to all his lovers. For he works in secret, and he will be perceived, and trusted, for he is very accessible, familiar and courteous, blessed may he be. “(Julian of Norwich Showings, p. 196) Thanks be to God!

I am loved and love others. Amen!

Joyce Clavenna

Faith Stories: The Language of Christ’s Love

At the urging of some friends, I will attempt to convey a very moving spiritual moment for me. This short moment made me realize what healing power each of us possesses if we choose to use it.

As many of you know, I recently went on mission to Cuba. It was such a fabulous experience! Words and pictures unfortunately inhibit an adequate description. Our destination was Ciego de Avila, a six hour van ride from Havana. We all stayed in the parsonage, 6 women in one room and 5 men in another. We worked hard, ate well, accomplished more than our scope of work, and had many a laugh. But the biggest joy was experiencing Christ daily through each other (the mission team) and even more so through the Cuban people we thought WE were serving.  

One day I felt my emotions getting the best of me so I quietly, or so I thought, left the patio area where we took our breaks, ate our meals and had worship. I walked to the area where we were helping to construct their new church, sat on a retaining wall and proceeded to weep. A few minutes later I felt someone put their arm around me and began to stroke my forehead ever so gently – as if to wipe away my sadness. She spoke so quietly and gently while continuing to hold me and brush her fingers across my brow. As is said in our covenant group, that was most certainly a ‘closest to Christ’ moment – perhaps one of the closest for me.

Who is this person? Her name is Iris. She is 28, a single parent, poor as the proverbial church mouse, and has one of the most beautiful smiles I think I have ever seen – genuine and ever-present. She is one of many Cubans who worked hard behind the scenes to make our stay comfortable. She does not speak any English and my Spanish vocabulary is limited to the number of fingers on my hands! But, for that moment, while she comforted me, she spoke the language of Christ’s love. It was all that was needed. I truly felt that it was Jesus himself sitting next to me stroking my forehead.

So, imagine what our world would be like if we could all be Christ-like to a hurting family member, a friend, a neighbor, or even to a stranger we haven’t met yet. As a recipient, I can tell you it is powerful. So, I will look for my own opportunities to be Christ-like and I pray that you will look for yours.  

Bendiciones de Dios,  
Susan Johnston

Advent Faith Stories: Christmas Eve 2016

But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. ~ Matthew 24:43

Sometimes scripture creeps me out. Take for example this little zinger of a warning found in Matthew’s Gospel. Holy Violation! Don’t instructions like these invite us beyond our comfortable safe spaces? Cat-burglar Jesus slips past our snoring doggies and alarm systems, tip-toes around our beds and our sleepy heads, in order to yank away our flat screen TVs and precious laptops.   

I tend to interpret Jesus’s teaching like these as needed attention-getters. I don’t necessarily think our dear Savior means to strike fear in our hearts, so much as keep us on our toes. Holy Reverence is the gentle twin of Holy Violation. Thus, as the Advent Christ chimes his returning glory in our hearts, Christmas Jesus in the manger caresses our previous misgivings and assures again that “Yes, Jesus Christ is both.” The King of Creation returning again, coming to steal away our burdens – TVs and laptops included – the stuff that weighs us down, that keeps us dull and unwatchful, inattentive to Christ’s work, burdened by our more selfish desires. And he is the sweet saving Child of Promise, coming for the 1st time (again), the Incarnation of God’s grace, mercy, and care. Both – the Christ-Child – eternal and transcendent, immanent and now. 

And to this Christ – coming King and Babe in the manger – may we say again, “Come, you Holy Thief, and take away our sins, and steal the stuff that weighs heavy on our lives and in our spirits.”
In these final hours of epic transformation from Cosmic Christ of Advent to gentle Jesus of Christmas, I’m drawn again to the art of Billie Bourgeois. Her work, displayed on our worship guides this past month, entitled “Awaiting,” serves as icon of the season. We may see through her art into images of sacred beauty. Shifting forms and symbolic colors as if to say, “Stay alert. Keep awake therefore.” The Holy Thief, Jesus our Savior, has come to free us from our sin and stuff. And yes, he is coming again in all his brilliant beauty. 

Pastor Jay Hogewood, PhD

“Advent.” 

“Come,” Thou dost say to Angels,
To blessed Spirits, “Come”;
“Come,” to the Lambs of Thine Own flock,
Thy little Ones, “Come home.”

“Come,” from the many-mansioned house
The gracious word is sent,
“Come,” from the ivory palaces
Unto the Penitent. 

O Lord, restore us deaf and blind,
Unclose our lips tho’ dumb;
Then say to us, “I come with speed,”
And we will answer, “Come.” 

~ Christina Rossetti