The Spiritual Gifts of Winter, with Rev. Sharon Edwards.

The Spiritual Gifts of Winter, with Rev. Sharon Edwards. Series: Standalone Services A Spacious Christianity, First Presbyterian Church of Bend, Oregon. Scripture: Psalm 116.

Curious about finding meaning in the “winter” seasons of life? Join us this Sunday (online or in-person) as Sharon Edwards shares a hopeful message about rest, darkness, and renewal. Come as you are, explore at your own pace, and see how winter might be a gift, not just something to endure.

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At First Presbyterian, you will meet people at many different places theologically and spiritually. And we love it that way. We want to be a place where our diversity brings us together and where conversation takes us all deeper in our understanding of God.

We call this kind of faith “Spacious Christianity.” We don’t ask anyone to sign creeds or statements of belief. The life of faith is about a way of being in the world and a faith that shows itself in love.

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Keywords:

Winter, spiritual gifts, rest, darkness, Psalm 116, sadness, wintering, nature, renewal, patience, waiting, holiness, growth, connection, prayer., presbyterian, church, online worship, bend, oregon

Featuring:

Rev. Dr. Steven Koski, Rev. Sharon Edwards, Becca Ellis, Brave of Heart, Guests

Transcript

Whitney Higdon: 0:33

Welcome to worship at First Presbyterian. We, at First Presbyterian, practice a spacious Christianity, which means, no matter where you are in your faith journey, you belong, and there is space for you at the table, there is space for your doubts and questions. We believe doubts and questions are a gift that invite us into deeper conversations and a more authentic faith. We believe diversity is a strength. Every story is sacred and everybody matters. We do our best to live the spacious and radical love of Jesus so that all might have a chance to flourish in this world. We are so glad to connect with you in this way. We would also love to worship with you in person, if you're ever in the neighborhood on Sunday mornings at 830 or 10am and never hesitate to reach out to us to learn more about us or how we might support you. I hope you enjoy this worship service. Welcome.

Becca Ellis: 5:02

Come and lament with me. We are in this together. Come and let sorrow make you strong. Come and lament for broken hearts and lives, for lovers who leave and parents who abandon, for those who are hungry and teenagers who grow up too soon for the break that never comes, and the bills we can't pay for our tired bodies and souls come and lament, because today, in most days, we are both broken and beautiful. Come and lament with me. We are in this together. Come and lament with me, for those who flee violence and seek refuge, for those who are starving, for those who try to find peace by starving themselves, for those who have been abused and the cancer that spreads for blisters and stubbed toes and hairs that Split, for those we love who never get better, for those who can't get warm enough to sleep, for those who wake to find that their beautiful dreams are not real. For betrayal, heartbreak and all who are lonely come and lament for today and most days, we are both broken and beautiful.

Sharon Edwards: 6:53

The fog makes it impossible to see much of the path ahead, but much of the trail is familiar to me for a while, this white, foggy darkness feels like a comfortable canopy, even a gentle quilt, narrowing down life to this precious moment enveloping me in safety and security just when I think I know where I am, a whole tree with wide, thick branches comes into view, blocking my path. This magnificent beauty is a casualty of the dangerous winds from a few weeks before I stand there dumbfounded at the violent death of the tree and everything that it has crushed in its falling in that moment, the fog feels suffocating, and I struggle to breathe, and I can't help but think this is what life looks like right now. It has been a practice for some people of faith to equate the seasons we witness in the created world to the seasons of our spiritual lives. And since we are presently in January, I thought it might be intriguing or even helpful, to explore what winter may offer us, what spiritual gifts nature invites us to for our own learning and growth in winter, the Heartbeat of nature slows down this season has heavy eyelids, the pace of production creeps or even comes to a full on stop as the extravagance of summer becomes a distant memory. Animals hibernate and limbs become barren, and plants pull back into themselves or appear to die all together in places where the temperature drops, the land and water freeze and all movement stops, there can be a harshness in the heart of winter. Now is not the time to grow, it is the time for restoration of energy. Many of us live lives where fallowness and withdrawing is not really an option, but I think winter invites us to consider at least where for a bit, every once in a while, we can let up on the accelerator and slow things down a bit. Choose carefully. Winter, seems to say, for without some rest, our soil wears out and loses nutrients, all of creation needs. Time to pause and have its spent energy renewed like a blanket of snow upon the forest, allowing a hush of winter to fall upon our lives. However, perhaps the greatest gift that winter offers us is darkness, the lessening of light and the increase of the length of night are necessary ingredients to grow again. Now I know that all of December we talked about getting rid of darkness, we wax eloquently about the shining light into the darkness, but here in winter, we allow for darkness. I'm not talking about the darkness of evil or hatred or injustice, but rather the personal darkness of sadness or grief or the times and places in our lives where it seems life is frozen, or it is so dark we do not quite know the way this kind of darkness is a natural part of the rhythm of nature and the truth of our very human lives. Listen for a moment to a portion of Psalm 116 it is a song of Thanksgiving that a person offers a poem written after a difficult time of life that has been endured, overcome and survived. I love God. The Psalmist sings because God has heard my voice and my supplications, because God inclined their ear to me, therefore I will call on God as long as I live. The snares of death encompassed me, the pangs of Seoul Sheol laid hold on me. I suffered distress and anguish. Then I called on the name of God. Oh, I pray save my life. Gracious is God and righteous. Our God is merciful. God protects the simple. When I was brought low, God saved me return O, my soul to your rest, for God has dealt bountifully with you, for you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. I walk before God in the land of the living. I kept my faith even when I said I am greatly afflicted. This is an eloquent and honest song, and in it, we hear the echoing experiences of winter and the hope that comes from weathering it. When we are in the heart of winter, we can often try to find a cause which can be helpful. We sift through past months like a fine tuned detective, looking for clues and evidence as to why we should or should not be where we are. We examine and cross examine, and then our rational minds rework and revision and reframe everything, leaving us with plenty of reasons to be somewhere else, anywhere else but where we are in this place of winter. Katherine may, in the book wintering, the power of retreat and rest in difficult times, writes about this inner season of winter. Plants and Animals don't fight the winter. They don't pretend it's not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they have lived in the summer. They prepare, they adapt, they perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through winter. Is not the death of the life cycle. It is its crucible. We live in a good vibes only culture in a numb out anything and everything that doesn't feel at least a bit good in winter, we are led to face those vibes that are uncomfortable and painful but absolutely necessary. Again, Catherine writes, but if happiness is a skill. Then sadness is too perhaps through all those years at school, or perhaps through other terrors, we are taught to ignore sadness, to stuff it down into our satchels and pretend it isn't there. As adults, we often have to learn to hear the clarity of its call that is wintering. It is the active acceptance of sadness. It is the practice of allowing ourselves to feel it as a need. It is the courage to stare down the worst parts of our experience and to commit to hearing them the best we can. Wintering is a moment of intuition. Our true needs felt keenly as a knife. Our anger can tell us where we feel powerless. Our anxiety can tell us where life is off balance, our apathy can tell us where we are, overextended and burnt out. Our emotional, mental, spiritual states are messengers. St John of the Cross dared to call them holy, even in darkness. Parker Palmer, a Mennonite teacher, pastor and author, suggests that winter is the place where the visible and invisible meet. He writes for me, wintering through begins with remembering that snow, ice and death are not the whole story of what's happening in the world outside my window, deep in the earth, in a world I can't see, life has hunkered down In preparation for rebirth from that fact of nature, I find it easy to embrace the larger reality that all life, including mine, is dependent upon a vast web of being from which we arose and to which we will return, however Deadly conditions may be in the visible world, these invisible interconnections are constantly working away at making all things new. And this is the truth the psalm speaks of and invites us to breathe in this day, we are connected to the one who made us and loves us through all of our seasons, we are woven together with others, and this is a gentle reminder it's okay to ask for help in the midst of winter, may you find others who honor where You are, and do not try to push you forcefully into spring. PSALMS like this, writes Walter Brueggemann, a Hebrew Testament scholar, are songs of new orientation. We eventually experience depth of growth and renewal, not in spite of our winters, but because of them, inextricable. New Life comes that time in the woods when the fog suffocated and the fallen tree blocked my path, and I was lost for but a moment. A Robin came with its red breast. It landed upon the small branch, and there it seemed to say, in the midst of winter, it has been said that the robins are one of the few birds that sing their mating song all the way through winter. They sing in the darkest time of year, perhaps Perhaps practicing for spring. Let us pray ground of our being. You gather us into the darkness of winter. You call us into the warmth of your heart. When deep loneliness comes, you cradle us in your comforting arms and teach us to trust what we cannot see. You reveal to us the necessity of patience and the holiness of waiting in the dark. You teach us to grow wings in our soul. Sorrows darkness and offer us new eyes to see. May we trust our seasons of winter, may we know when it is time to seek others' wisdom and assistance. May we know your love so deeply that it will flow through us to others in their need. Amen, May the God of all of our seasons enfold you. May you be strengthened in courage for your living, and may you know that all are held in the great web and love. Peace be with you.

Whitney Higdon: 24:28

Amen. Thank you so much for joining us, and we hope you enjoyed this worship service. If you would like to make a donation helping make these podcasts possible or support them many ways. First, Presbyterian seeks to serve our community. You can make a financial gift online@bendfp.org every week, we hear from someone thanking us for the gift of these broadcasts and what a difference they make. Your support makes that possible. Our church is committed to reach beyond our walls, bringing hope where there is. Despair and love where it is needed the most. Your generous support helps us to be generous in love. Go to our website, bend fp.org, and click on the link. Give online. Your support is really appreciated and makes a difference in people's lives. Thanks again. I hope to see you next week.