A SACRAMENTAL NEW DAWN

On a cloudy and breezy day in early Spring, a few flowers peek their heads out of the ground. They will provide a glimpse of color into an otherwise dreary scene. They also serve as a foretaste of the new life that is to come. In this world that is God’s creation, death somehow leads to life. Plants that wilted just a few months ago, provide fertilizer to the dirt, while bulbs and seeds below ground feed upon that food as warmth serves like a trumpet call heralding their triumphant moment of new dawn.

The Holy Week vigil we observe resembles this cycle in so many ways. The cross, an instrument of shame, violence, and death, ultimately becomes a trumpet call to us to contemplate new life. A tomb becomes more a place of reverence and love than it does a place of fear and sorrow. A death signifies a new dawn. We are reminded that God’s way is so different than our perception. Death never holds the final word, but rather serves as a gateway to more life. Our Lord obediently approaches the cross, knowing the pain is temporary while the grace is eternal. Darkness covered the land, but only briefly, for the cross we now wear as a sign of faith shines brightly as a beacon of God’s Love. This week reminds us that God is in the business of life, and nothing of this earth can stop that. So, we pause, for a few days, and remember a sacrificial death, before we gather to celebrate a sacramental new dawn. Amen.

-Rev Jeffrey G Mikyska

THESE HALLOWED GROUNDS

On a hot summer day, a small group walks along the trails marking an old battleground. A warm breeze blows continuously across the flat prairie terrain. One cannot know from where it comes or to where it goes, but it provides relief, nonetheless. Perhaps it is the Holy Spirit somehow announcing the presence of God upon these hallowed grounds. As the group stands in measured silence, echoes of screams and shouts can still be ‘heard’ – or maybe ‘felt’ – from more than a century ago. There are bullets carved in stone. Tears were shed here, and final breaths were taken here. There was no hiding. The blood of violence and hatred was spilled into this dust. There are certain places in this world where time freezes in one instant and never moves forward again.

There is yet another truth that exists as well. God was here. God is here. Amid the most gruesome moments of human behavior, God never shies away. In fact, God becomes ever more present. On battlefields, on city streets, in twin towers, in refugee camps, or even on a hill in Jerusalem as a cross is lifted up, God stands and declares this to be Divine ground. God weeps with us. God places trembling hands on the shoulders of the suffering and scared. God pours love into the hearts of the bereaved. God blesses…and offers grace for the taking. God won’t back down. There is nothing in all of humanity and our many weaknesses that can make God step back from us. God simply will not surrender to our sin, violence, and hatred. And so, our darkest places, including battlefields and even tombs, become God’s places of work. This is why these historic fields, and our old cemeteries, feel so hallowed to us. God is here…especially here. The flow of God’s Love is like the wind. One cannot know from where it comes or to where it goes, but it provides relief, nonetheless. It is never-ending. Amen.

-Rev Jeffrey G Mikyska   

A YOUNG PLANT’S STORY

A young plant sits in front of a window, soaking in all the light she can get. She has made a home now in this office, distributing oxygen into the room and cleaning the air for her new owner. Her road here was a difficult one. At one time, she graced the Chancel and Altar at a church in Western Springs, displaying beauty weekly during worship. But sadly, her home church closed, and she was simply left behind as an afterthought. Slowly, her life was fading away in a dark and cold church with no inhabitants. That was until her new owner walked in, spotted her all alone, and scooped her up. In the few months since, she has once again perked up to be her glorious self.

This little creature of God may not have a voice, but she certainly has life granted to her by the Lord of all Creation. God, the Master Gardener of all things, has blessed and molded her. She has purpose in this world, as other life could not exist without the trees and plants that are ultimately the lungs of God’s master plan. It is never enough to be thankful for human life only. This young plant, in her short life, has experienced new life, both as a witness on the Altar, and as a sad participant in a certain slow death herself. We, too, find ourselves as sad participants in a certain death at some point in time, as we remember especially in this season of Lent. But only briefly…For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his! And so, on this mundane day, she stands gloriously in her little corner, looking beautiful and graciously doing her job. She is living her new life, as do each of us on every given new day. Thanks be to the God of Creation who continually calls forth new life in all that lives. Amen.

-Rev Jeffrey G Mikyska

LIFE’S MEMORIAL MARKERS

A house stands empty, awaiting new owners. Its hallways silently echo voices of its past who have called this place home. Two generations of one family grew up on this property, playing whiffle ball and soccer under trees that served as bases and sidelines. One bedroom in particular spent the better part of four decades adorned with pennants and flags declaring fandom toward the Bears and Hawks, amongst others. Birthdays, graduations, and baptisms were celebrated here. Tears were shed here. The driveway was host to epic basketball games and hockey shootouts. At times, music boomed out these windows, and in other moments the deck hosted family members in quiet solitude. Life happened here.

The grandfather, who was once a child here, has occasion to drive by every now and again. He became a young man, then a father, and eventually even went into ministry while living in this house. Life’s transformations and transitions were marked here. Storms pounded these walls, leaving scars in their wake. But most of what happened in this place was love. The love of a family. The love of friends. The love of God. It is love’s seeds that were planted, and rooted, here. That is what draws him back when he is in the area. In his mind’s eye he sees himself playing a game with his dad, shooting hoops with his mom, and playing hockey with his son. He remembers laughing and crying in those rooms. He knows that he has been, and still is, blessed by his time here. For the love we receive from God and others is eternal. Grief may come along, but the love behind it never fades. Thus, this neighborhood always evokes a smile, as it is a memorial marker in a life that continues to unfold. Thanks be to God…

-Rev Jeffrey G Mikyska