Call to joy

Despite the fact that Ash Wednesday is in a week, I'm suppressing the desire to write about Lent; it isn't here yet, and there is still quite a bit of celebrating to do between now and then--one baptism and one pancake supper (and, of course, one vestry meeting--but it's possible that that isn't as much an occasion for fireworks). One of the most wonderful things about observing a liturgical year is also one of the most challenging--how in the world do we stay where we are? How can we not look forward, or look back? How to stay gazing out from the mountain top (this Sunday's Gospel) without descending into the valley of the desert (the first Sunday of Lent)?

This past Sunday, we had a children's sermon and a wonderful group of kids come up and sit together. Our Gospel was the story of Jesus calling Simon Peter and James and John. Jesus is teaching by the lake, and climbs into Peter's boat so the people can hear him better. Discouraged by not having caught anything all night, Peter lets him in and listens to him teach. Jesus tells him to let down the nets, and all are astounded at the enormous catch--so many fish it nearly sank the boat. Peter and his friends then leave everything to follow Jesus, who tells them that they'll fish for people from now on.

This story is powerful for me because it reminds me that wherever I go, and whatever I do, God is with me. God gives us our gifts to be used in the service of God. Everyone has some skill that gives glory to the One who created us. For our kids' sermon I invited the kids to write their gifts on their own fish, and the answers were as varied as our kids (though "annoying my sister" did come up twice...). Whether dancing, reading, smiling, canoeing, writing, drawing, playing piano or soccer, or just playing, our kids give glory to God, and they know it. Ella Hobin is fond of castles. So is my son Isaiah.

But we forget. We know that God takes pleasure in them just as we do, but we forget that God takes pleasure in us, too. As Brother Roger of Taizé reminds us, Christ's call is to joy, not gloom.

It's a good time to remember that call, and soak up as much as we can. It might seem paradoxical to feel a call to joy so close to Lent, but I think it's a good time for it. Brother Roger's counterpoint is instructive. The opposite of joy isn't sadness--there is plenty of that in life, and even in the life of faith there is space for it. But gloom is something else--gloom is when we are turned inward and see only our own anxiety and our own worries. It's essentially self-ish; centered on the self, it takes ME and MINE as the most important category.

So for now, there is celebration--leave the mourning to Lent, but remember that even then there is space for joy, the joyful freedom of life centered on Christ's self-giving love for us. But for today, look for both the joy and celebration that meet us and love us where we are.

Blessings,
Sara+