Snowy Sabbath

There's a silence in snow that is unique and profound.

I can remember in 1993 when Pittsburgh got 36 inches of snow overnight, and my father and I dug our way out of our house. There was a dampened silence in the air, as though the world demanded stillness.

I can remember it as an adult in 2010 when a blizzard made our cars look like barely identifiable drifts of snow. There was a silence that caught your breath, as though nature was showing off and insisting on our praise.

And every year, the first flakes of snow in the air bring a magical silence, a stillness that is dripping with awe and wonder. Last night, I stayed up and watched until the rain turned into snowflakes just so that I could see them reflected in the streetlamp.

Perhaps the silence is because people are not venturing out and making all kinds of noise. Or perhaps there is a scientific reason why quantities of snow dampen sound. And perhaps it's just the majesty of snow that changes my heart. But perhaps there is just something about the way that God designed snow that demands rest and sabbath.

Today, some of our very wise and thoughtful staff made the challenging decision to close Unity Presbyterian Church today and tomorrow to protect people from venturing out onto icy and snowy roads. It's never an easy decision, canceling church, and no matter how bad the weather, there is a sense of something missing on Sunday morning without it. 

A lot of northerners scoff at the South for its cautious attitude toward white fluffy flakes, but I have found this to be the most endearing and beautiful thing about the South (besides biscuits...and grits...and fried chicken...). There is an attitude reflected in the South that the work will still be here tomorrow, and it won't miss us today. There is a sense that slowing down is not a weakness but a strength, that pausing is healthy and good. There is a value that perhaps the warmest, most beautiful memories can be made as families huddle up in their homes during a storm. While I'll never eat snow (I grew up in the city...you never know what's in your snow), I readily embrace the understanding that snow days are sacred, holy space, a space where God enters in unexpected and profound ways. God himself rests at the end of his work of creation: not because God was tired or couldn't continue, not because God was weak, but because God showed for us an example of the sacred gift of silence, the sacred space of rest. Perhaps Sabbath rest is God's version of a snow day: a chance be still, to be silent, and to appreciate all that God has done. 

I wrote this prayer to be read this morning in worship, but I wrote it on Wednesday, knowing I might not be sharing it from the lectern. At first, I considered pulling a previously written prayer, so that I wouldn't be doing extra work just in case we didn't have worship. But instead, I thought I might like to have some words for all of us. No matter if we're in our PJ's or sitting by a fire or still cuddled up in our beds, here is a prayer for us:

It seems fitting that today we light the candle of peace as the chaos of a storm brews around us. When I think of peace, I think of the halting stop and the deafening silence that a good snow storm brings upon a town. Peace, you see, is not the absence of chaos, but a sense of stillness, calm, and rest when all around us is in chaos. As we come to a time of prayer, we invite Jesus to bring peace into the chaos that fills our hearts, our lives, and our world. Let us pray:

Father God Almighty, like a kind parent, 
you hold our world in the palm of your hand
You make wars to cease and you call us to put down our weapons. 
Bring peace to our country: 
where there is hatred and division, bring your love and acceptance. 
Where there are men and women 
who are fighting in wars,
bring a solution and safety. 
Where there are natural disasters, 
bring help. 
Where there are acts of hatred, 
may peacemakers rise up to spread your word. 

Lord Jesus, we invite you.

Messiah, Emmanuel, as God who dwelt among us in the flesh, 
you held out your hand 
to include the outcasts, 
and you lived 
as though the world were full of people 
just waiting to be loved. 
In our lives,
 where there are family members we struggle to spend the holiday with, 
may we be agents of your peace. 
Where there are people being ugly at department stores 
or in the Amazon comment section, 
may we be agents of your peace. 
Where there are hurt feelings 
and cranky toddlers and bitter teenagers, 
where there is anger and brokenness, 
may we be agents of your peace. 

Lord Jesus, we invite you.

Spirit of the Living God, as the power that breathes your spirit in us, 
you seep into every millimeter of our being. 
You know us entirely, 
physically, emotionally, and spiritually. 
Where there is doubt, bring us serenity. 
Where there is fear, 
bring us a sigh of relief. 
Where there is illness, bring us your strength. 
Where there is injury, bring us your patience. 
Where there is stress, bring us your calm. 
Where there is chaos, bring us the deafening silence of your snowy-calm peace, 
that we may learn to look for your quiet, restful presence 
even in the most bustling of times. 

Lord Jesus, we invite you.

In this season of Advent, we wait for your coming, and we invite you into our lives, in much the same way that you, Lord Jesus, invite us. You invite us to be your disciples and to follow your ways. May we do so this day and every day, in the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

Have a blessed snow day everyone!

Inspired: Reflections on Year of the Bible, Rachel Held Evans, and the Halfway Point of 2018

Rarely in my life has a year been so singularly focused in my spiritual journey than 2018. At the beginning of the year, Unity Presbyterian Church undertook the journey of reading the Bible through one year, and Alex and I vigorously signed our names to the banner committing to Bible reading time as a couple for the first time in our 8 years together.

I took on this challenge for several reasons: I haven't read the Bible from cover to cover since my freshman year of college; I wanted this chance for Alex and I to do this together; I wanted to walk with the congregation I serve as they take on this challenge. But I would say one of the great motivating factors was my stubbornness. I want to take the bible seriously. I want to make myself uncomfortable with the gritty, violent episodes of the Old Testament and wrestle with the seemingly chauvinist, non-inclusive axioms of the New Testament. I didn't want anyone to be able to accuse me of not taking the Bible seriously. (Not always literally, but seriously. theres a difference).

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Warning: I'm about to say something shocking:

I really don't care for Christian writings.

I've read so many memoirs, self-help books, trendy new understandings of faith, and with very few exceptions (basically just Lauren Winner), I overall find Christian writing to be lazy, self-centered, and overly simplified. I've often wondered why we offer simple, trite, McDonaldized art to the Almighty God who demands our very best. So, needless to say, when faced with the opportunity to read an advanced copy of Rachel Held Evans' new book called Inspired, I approached this reading with a strange combination of trepidation and excitement. I wanted to fall in love with scripture again, but I was terrified to have my heart broken.

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I began to read Rachel Held Evans' work with my same skepticism. After all, I'm a pastor. I have two degrees in theology, and multiple awards for my Bible Trivia knowledge; I'm a gosh darn Bible genius, and I'll probably end up going through the book like a red pen on Red Bull, making theological corrections and poking holes into inferior insights. That is, if I can deflate my head long enough to see the words on the page...

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 But this skepticism faded away rather quickly. There was something seductive, earthy, and tangible about the words that flutter across the pages of this book. Whimsical, reimagined stories; gritty, raw confessions; thoughtful, challenging assessments. Inspired is a beautifully written collection of creative stories based on scripture paired with thoughtful, academic-but-readable reflections on scripture. Even with my academic background and my stubborn attitude, I found myself captivated on Evans' every word, drawn in like a fish on a hook.

The timing of reading this book alongside my journey through Year of the Bible was one of those serendipitous coincidences, kind of like buying Chips Ahoy and realizing you also have a can of Reddiwhip {best combination, or best combination? AmIRight?} Or maybe more appropriately, like breaking your leg in the parking lot of the emergency room. As I labor through the onerous task of Bible reading, I found Inspired to be a literal source of inspiration for me, a fount of realistic optimism, a fresh ointment for an old wound. Rachel has set up the chapters according to genre and roughly in sequence throughout the Bible. If I had had this at the beginning of the year, I would have led a small group to read through it alongside their Bible readings as a way of giving new perspective to challenging stories and encouragement when we get bogged down with the depressing stories of Judges and Kings. As is, I will be encouraging this as a study for the latter half of the year for our congregation. With a study guide available, this would be a highly engaging and easy-to-pull-off study for small groups or congregations. Rachel's theology is very much in line with mainline denominations, and her appeal stretches among multiple generations, genders, cultures, socio-economic statuses, and walks of life.

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The most compelling part of Inspired in my experience was the chapter entitled "Resistance Stories." In the world right now, progressive Christianity has a lot of wind in its sails. The PCUSA among other denominations made ground-breaking decisions about inclusion of the LGBTQ community with regard to marriage and ordination; protest marchers at the Women's March and March for our Lives touted signs with Christian messages; and more and more we are seeing people who are followers of Jesus Christ who look, believe, and act differently than we may have imagined 20 years ago. However, all too often, we progressives aren't leaning on Scripture or going back to the Bible to understand our world. Instead, we are dismissing parts of scripture as old, irrelevant, or too difficult.

What I love about Inspired, in particular the chapter on "Resistance Stories" is that Rachel gives us a very clear, biblical approach to social justice in our world. While much of this book reflects views that can be found in other academic works, her attachment to storytelling and scripturally sound theological perspective are unique and authoritative. This is the progressive manifesto we need in today's times. And while she offers an unapologetic progressive viewpoint, I find it to be compelling to a variety of political, theological and social perspectives.


An apocalyptic event or vision, therefore, reveals things as they really are. It peels back the layers of pomp and pretense, fear and uncertainty to expose the true forces at work in the world...


Without accusation, persecution, or blame, Evans exposes the idolatry, power differentiation, and syncretism of our world today in a way that all of us can connect to.

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Maybe you're like me and you're looking for someone to put your heartfelt struggle with scripture into eloquent words. Maybe you've never read the Bible and are looking for some guidance about how to start. Maybe you've read the Bible a million times and are looking for a fresh new perspective. Maybe it's time we all felt a little more..inspired.