(Originally published at "A Year of Service" 5/11/16)
"Like sunflowers that look towards the sun and as a compass needle seeks the pole, so your minds should always turn to the Lord."
Conferences, p.29
St. Mary Euphrasia
This quote came across my screen today at work. Mary Euphrasia is the founder of the order I work for and Melinda, our Mission Effectiveness Coordinator, regularly sends us inspirational quotes from ME's writings. I always read them and from time to time the quote will resonate deeply with me or will spark an old memory or lead me off into a rewarding avenue of thought. I guess that isn't all that difficult to do since I live so much in my own head, but Melinda has a genius for selecting a phrase or quote that contains so much good stuff.
When I read the quote I thought 'well, that's me!' My mind constantly turns to god all through the day. It's certainly not the same god that I grew up with. It's not a supernatural smiter or miracle worker. I don't really know what god is but I am like that sunflower. Why do I still do that?
And then I thought of my mom and I remembered the stories she told of the time when I was a baby when she and dad took me before the church and dedicated me to god. Of course I don't remember it but she always spoke of the dedication with pride.
One Sunday just a few weeks ago a young couple at Compton Heights Christian Church brought their newborn to the front of the church and Pastor Jacque held the baby and dedicated it before the congregation. It was a moving ceremony but it didn't last very long. It seemed more a way to bring the child into the church family than a dedication of the child's entire life to god. Afterwards I thought about the other infant dedications I witnessed while growing up in the church. From what I remember they all seemed brief, not that remarkable. My dedication was probably not that different.
What I'm realizing for the first time is, regardless of what actually happened in the ceremony, its meaning was huge to my mom. I can't remember her ever speaking of my siblings' dedications but then I'm the first born. When she talks about my dedication she always says "We dedicated your life to God."
I suspect my mom saw parallels between her experience of my birth and dedication and the Bible story of Hannah and her son Samuel. Hannah couldn't bear children. She prayed so earnestly at the temple that her behavior violated the customs of how women should behave. God gave her a son, Samuel. In return, she took him to the temple to live as a servant for the priest Eli. My mother lost two babies before I was born. When I was born the midwife said I was dead too. The umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around around my neck and I wouldn't breathe. Apparently I was grey all over, not pink. After much prayer I began to breathe. Mom must have prayed many prayers before my birth. Perhaps she made a deal with God, like Hannah, to dedicate her first born to service.
Unlike Eli though, I was not forced into the ministry. While growing up I heard lots of other adults voice the expectation that I would become a preacher but neither mom nor dad ever said that. Consequently, I never felt that I had to become a preacher. Instead, what I felt was an extraordinary closeness, a personal relationship to God, a blessedness even, from childhood.
Did the retelling of the dedication story over the years do that to me? Has my face constantly turned to god as a result of the expectations set up by my mother's experiences? Those may sound like positive outcomes, but there is also a darker side. I was taught explicitly that I would always have access to supernatural help. Did the dedication represent a bargain? Have I always expected reciprocal gestures from god, a reciprocal amount of attention to my needs? This is a question I have never thought to ask myself before but when god didn't answer my fervent teen-aged prayers that he make me straight we went through a break up of monumental proportions. Of course. How could it have been any different?
A lot of answers I seek are still inaccessible to me. Maybe they will always be beyond my reach but of what use is it to complain about parental actions and unrealities taught to children? After all this time there is only the sorting through of the remaining threads, the making of meaning in the midst of my reality. I certainly have not been dealt with harshly and I'm beyond complaining. This world of beauty would be much less beautiful without the call I hear and to which I respond.
When god called out to Samuel in the night he misidentified the call. He ran to the priest Eli and said "Here I am". Eli's contribution was to teach Samuel to identify the call to service as the voice of god. For a few years now the world has been calling out to me. There is so much to do, so much need among people and among the creatures of creation. I have heard the call and have responded but where does the call come from? Is it coming from the earth? From my neighbors? From within my self? From god? Can the answer to all those questions be yes?
Right now I am playing with the idea that god can be understood as the totality of our love and existence - nothing less than that and nothing more than that. I know the Bible says god is love but I'm still having a hard time seeing past the old image of god as the supernatural ass kicker in the sky who doesn't exist. I'm mulling this over in my mind and attending church and seeing which parts do and don't match. In the meantime, there is a lot of work to do and I continue to answer the call. Maybe it doesn't matter where the call is coming from. Speak; for thy servant heareth.
