Simple Gift of Ice Cream

'Tis the gift to be simple,
'tis the gift to be free,
'tis the gift to come down
where we ought to be,
and when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained
to bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed,
to turn, turn, will be our delight
till by turning, turning we come round right.

-Shaker Song, 18^th Century

I really enjoy ice cream. Really really really enjoy ice cream. Last night, a group of friends and I celebrated a friend’s thirtieth birthday with dinner out.  After the plates were clean and the Birthday cake we brought was consumed, our server brought us the biggest ice cream Sundae I have ever seen - ten huge scoops of Crank & Boom in three different flavors, served in a gigantic bowl, with whipped cream and magic shell on top, with ten spoons. When the waiter set it down on the table, all were surprised. Everyone at the table, including our lactose-intolerant friend, got really excited. There was no question that we had already eaten cake – this ice cream was divine. We passed the bowl around and around and around feasting on delicious and wonderful creamy locally crafted ice cream. Finally, one of our friends stopped eating long enough to ask the server how the ice cream ended up at our table – he pointed to the owner back in the kitchen. We sent our thanks. 

Long after the ice cream was gone, my friends and I sat in the parking lot, joking and laughing with a sugar high. It was really good ice cream. As I drove home, I contemplated what a great night it had been and how easy it was for the owner to share her gift. It was a huge bowl, but it was not a huge gesture on behalf of the owner, and yet, it made a recent thirty-year old and her ten friends smile and giggle like third graders for hours. Enjoying the gigantic ice cream, made with some of the best ice cream, with my ten closest friends was the highlight of my week. It was communion with the joy of creation.

Driving home, I reflected on how easy it was for that owner to share with us and how her sharing with us created an infectious joy. Some of the best gifts we have to share are the simple ones.

Wednesday night’s Dr. Steve Stratton has been speaking to us about how we have the innate ability to effect and feed off of one another's emotions. By smiling a simple smile, saying kind words, or doing a nice gesture we alter the psyche of those around us. Simple gifts of our selves, shared with each other make a happy world. 

I think Jesus probably shared similar gifts with his Disciples – gifts of his presence through listening, sharing a simple meal, the gift of friendship laughing and crying over a bowl of something sweet, the gift of enjoying life and the effect that we can have on one another, the gift of sharing Sabbath and rest with friends.

And over time, I’d like to think that Jesus’ simple gifts to us have grown our joy. That my joy and celebration for life and all of God’s creation effects you and your joy and celebration for life effects me, and that all our lives together are building the body of Christ into one large bundle of thanksgiving and joy. Do something simple today, share some joy! 

James 1:17-18  Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

Anxious about Earthly Things

Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure.

That is the collect for this week.

It is sometimes hard to remember not to be anxious about earthly things. We hear of earthly things in the news, we are inundated with ads, and social media demands our constant attention.  Demands are made on our time, talent and treasure by our job, family, school, church, community, or organizations that we belong to. But are these heavenly? Are these enduring? Last week we heard about the “good shepherd” and how the flock would be left while the shepherd sought the lost sheep- freeing it from its struggles and carrying it back to the flock.  Am I (are you) a good shepherd?  or are we like sheep that have gone astray?

I couldn’t help but think of our choristers while contemplating these concepts: loving things heavenly, holding fast to what shall endure and the good shepherd. These children embody these concepts.  In the Cathedral Boys and the Cathedral Girls Choirs, we assign new singers a “shepherd”. The shepherd is responsible for making sure their “sheep” knows what to do for rehearsals and services. The shepherd watches out for their sheep, guiding them through rehearsal routines and terminologies, helping them make the correct marks in their music, making sure they have everything they need for a rehearsal or service and have it in the right order, and to be available to answer any questions. The experienced singers love having this job. The sheep love having a mentor. It creates a community of caring. We have 25 girls and 16 boys to start the choir year.  Six are brand new to the program. Our head choristers have taken on leadership roles with conviction and love.  The Boys and Girls spend, on average, a minimum of 6 hours a week in choir rehearsals and services.  Choristers come from all over Lexington, Frankfort and Versailles. They develop enduring relationships with each other, all the while using their God given gift for music.  To me, this is heavenly.  Watch them when they sing, you will see it in their faces.

We are all asked to be good shepherds: for our families, our communities, our church and even the earth. We are asked to love one another, with real and abiding love, not the “ I love my new iphone” kind of love. We deserve the love of one another. God is the ultimate good shepherd, who offers enduring heavenly love.

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moths nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  Matthew 6:19-21


Kathleen Balling, Music Assistant

Finding God in Our Broken Relationships

We still know them by name. The people we thought would be by our side and stand with us through thick and thin. But something happened. Maybe it was our fault. Maybe it was beyond our control. Either way, the people we thought we could go through anything with are no longer there. Best friends. Close family. Valued co-workers. But why did it have to happen this way? And where is God in the midst of these broken relationships? In this clip, Pastor Steven Furtick explains the greater purpose we find when someone we love leaves our life.

Click here to view video blog.

 Pastor Steven Furtick, Elevation Church
 Originally posted on www.stevenfurtick.com on September 5, 2013.

Changes: unsafe at any speed

Almighty God, by the radiance of your Son’s appearing you have purified a world corrupted by sin: We humbly pray that you would continue to be our strong defense against the attacks of our enemies; and grant that [this____________and] whatsoever in this church has been stained or defiled through the craft of Satan or by human malice, may be purified and cleansed by your abiding grace; that this place, purged from all pollution, may be restored and sanctified, to the glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
--Prayer to restore a consecrated church item that has been profaned, p. 318, Book of Occasional Services

One of the writers I've come to appreciate on our own Episcopal Cafe is George Clifford, simply because he's not afraid to walk to the edge about some things we hold dear about our church in a visceral way--for instance, his recent suggestion that the printed Book of Common Prayer is going the way of the dinosaur. However, it was one of the comments that really got my mind going, one by EH Culver:

"They may replace real candles with flameless ones, but I doubt that anything can make a thurible safe and yet still able to do its job. After all these centuries, lighting the coals and producing an impressive cloud of smoke constitute the messiest, most dangerous liturgical action of all. If there's a way to clean this up, I haven't thought of it."

All of a sudden it clicked for me--our obsession with (and our reaction to) the various Holy Accoutrements mimics the visceral tension of understanding ourselves as Christians and growing into the people God calls us to be as individuals and in community.

Anyone who has been an Episcopalian for any length of time has the Holy Hardware we love, and the Holy Hardware we can't stand. I'll confess mine. I love real bread at the altar (can't stand Holy Fishfood,) and want RED, not white, wine (What? Plasma of Christ? No way!) There are people who love incense and people who can't stand it. There are people who feel physically ill from the notion of being denied a BCP to hold, and people who would just whip out their smart phones and deal with it.

Now...the reality is I know in my heart the Eucharist is still the Eucharist, even if it does have the liturgical equivalent of a Necco wafer of bread, and a white wine that looks like the most protein-starved blood donor I've ever seen. But that tension bred by choice and technology, rather than concentrating on our reaction to it, should be our teacher instead. Notice that the things we most often react to, are the things that are tactile and sensory. Books vs. e-books. Candles vs. oil-candles. Wine colors. Crisp folds and pristine whiteness when it comes to corporals. Incense or the lack of it.

In short, we want to pick and choose between our messy and dangerous things--but full speed ahead Christian discipleship takes us out past the boundaries of safe and comfortable. There will always be a place where being Christian and doing Christianity feels distinctly unsafe and palpably uncomfortable. To stay comfortable is to die--it insulates us from the realities of a broken world, a world that is crying for us to be a participant. It's why the mainline Christianity of our parents and grandparents is beginning to look like a mausoleum of hollow, empty churches. We are, I believe, called to use our own awareness of our discomforts in our church communities as training exercises for the discomforts we will encounter in taking our stories to an increasingly unchurched society.

How can your own personal unease with changes in worship in your home parish become a springboard to your own personal sense of mission in the world--a world that's potentially messy and dangerous? What are we inadvertently profaning in the church be insisting it remain "the way we've always done it?"



Borrowed from epsicopalcafe.com. Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid.