image by Ariel Burger

1.  What do you expect from “a word”? What is a life changing “word” that you have received? Do they come often or consistently or rarely? 

It’s clear that “Word” is more than letters on a page. “Word” speaks in a multitude of voices. Before Covid shut down the pool, swimming was an essential space for decluttering my thoughts. It was a trustable place in that it would more often than not quiet my mind and expand my imagination. At times I got the sense that I was floating and carried by something much bigger than my cognition. Not always but on most days, I would leave the pool calmer than when I jumped in. Swimming with me was a loving presence who offered to unlock the steel trap of my mind.  

One memorable morning, breaking through my cluttered thoughts, I heard, “Someday you will have the mind of Christ.” I remember that particular in-breaking well but not in the way that I can pull it out for an immediate stress relief. It is a cherished memory that tells me that I was met by God who is willing to use my limited human vernacular to communicate to me his love language. These words we hear I think remain in the realm of mystery and refuse to be cornered and itemized.

What is it about the Word made flesh, often simple, yet so illusive? This morning we listened to Nadia Bolz-Weber on the Bible for Normal People podcast (episode 157) and she described Scriptures as the Living Word. A Word that is able to speak into different life experiences across the span of history with evocative power, shifting and morphing, discerning for what needs to be heard in each particular moment. In my need for quick fixes and desire for intellectual mastery, I have a propensity to deaden the words I hear. File God’s whispers away for easy access whenever I need a spiritual or emotional boost.

Like the verse says, when I receive the Word as living and graciously given by the Spirit, morning by morning, like manna, I am awakened to something alive and interconnected. The promise of harmony between head, heart and body is made possible through the authentic sharing of words and silent listening spaces with the generous Trinity of Father, Son and Spirit, which spills over into deep, spontaneous and life-giving conversations with my human community and close friends. The lavishness of the Word is even reflected in those inarticulate moments connecting me with the beauty of creation where the generative voice of God was first heard.

— Bev

I have been listening to Anna Robinson from the Nomad podcast (bonus content) and she does a contemplation called "nature speaks of divine mysteries". The steps are to find an object in nature (I usually choose a flower at the shop) and then:

• Observe what you can about your object.
• Foster curiosity - wonder about it. 
• What would it be like to be this object?
• Is there anything you like to ask God about during your contemplation? 

I shared it with my break out room on Sunday Zoom and Eldon said - "God sees you how you see the flower.” I have never really thought of it that way. It felt like a real blessing to me.

I long for these words to come daily! It seems a little more like a gentle breeze every couple of months rather than a lightning bolt every day but it does seem to carry me. And I can think of other examples in my earlier life that I will never forget. So even if the words do not come often the ones that do tend to stick!

—Mel

That God speaks I do not doubt: there is the Word spoken in nature, the word spoken in Scripture, and word spoken in Community.  A Word, even a word from God, comes out of relationships that are already here, they are ready to be engaged in a deeper conversation. God has given us curiosity, imagination and a self-reflective consciousness. He doesn’t insult us by sky-writing things in the clouds.  Word as mediated possibilities means that it is wrestled out of life, like Jacob wrestling and being wounded by God. (Doesn’t the name Israel mean “wrestles with God”?) I think that the more rooted we are in the related-ness of our lives, our imagination, our work, the less we long to hear a word than to be a word for others.

— Eldon

A recent life changing word that I heard came while I was walking and contemplating my occupation. What made it so interesting is that it did not circumvent my creative curiosity, and exploration of options. I had enjoyed being a learning tutor during the summer with a 15-year-old boy with autism. I had planned to explore this further through volunteering at Rossbrook house, but Covid restrictions led me to give that up. I was allowed the experience of playing with tutoring possibilities through a refresher course in pre-cal Math, and though I enjoyed the learning, it didn't draw me. And I worked for 2 weeks at an elementary school which also felt exploratory. When the words came "My burden is light,” I took it as a direction reflecting that my present work situation allows me to focus my energies outside of “job."  My occupation can reflect the organic workings of God in my life, but I gave up seeking more emotional fulfillment and investing my energies in a career change. So listening and acceptance came into the picture, but the word didn't prevent the dignity of my process. 

— Marilyn

At Watershed over the years, we often speak of “hearing a Word.” What does it mean though? 

I’m reminded of the desert fathers and mothers of the 2nd and 3rd century. Seekers would approach them saying, “Give me a word that I may live.” I like to think that’s what draws us all together — a hunger for this life-giving Word.

Enneagram 2’s have a propensity to being religious and searching for Words. I can identify with that, since from an early age I’ve always tried to be “good". But it’s not always pretty folks. As I encounter problems, I tend to “gear up” and have all kinds of “words” flood my mind. For example, verses will come at me thick and fast, or “spiritual advice”…but this does not qualify as a capital W “Word”. It feels more like relentless “advice” that my unconscious is giving me to squirm out of difficulties and to be honest it feels oppressive. It's not accompanied by the fruits of the spirit. I would call this self-sufficiency.

A real “Word” liberates and sets a person free. It’s not necessarily connected to “good feelings”, at least at first, since it might require obedience that is uncomfortable. Like the saying, “The truth will set you free, but at first it might make you miserable.” 

Sometimes the liberation comes instantly, with all the knots coming untied at once. A recent one for me was after my recent car accident. I hadn’t been hurt physically but was still shook up, and working hard as though nothing had happened. Paul told me it was ok to slow down as I recalibrated. I instantly felt set free. 

At other times, the Word feels nebulous. I often feel that way when I’m praying for direction with what to do in my day, or in a decision. This was the case in leaving school more permanently. I was listening closely to feedback I was hearing from friends, in scripture, in prayer, and I finally started taking tiny steps towards what I was hearing. It felt awful because it was a life change, but as I took baby steps, I received increasing peace. 

Whether the Word is instant or slowly evolving, I would say that God has never ever let me down (and I see that in others as well). Whenever I’ve asked, I’ve received. Over the years, (our) Paul has often said God never lets us down when we ask sincerely and out of deep need. We can always get that light switch turned on.

— Lydia

What to expect from a ‘word'? A ‘word’ can be unsettling, pushing me to do something I would not otherwise want to do, but also it can clarify and calm my monkey-mind imagination. Words, I believe, come from outside my ordinary experience, from the Spirit, which paradoxically also dwells within at a deep level. They can resonate from Scripture, spiritual conversation, moments in nature, in prayer and meditation. They incarnate the right idea for the time and place we happen to find ourselves in. They often come at the request of an inner cry for help, if only a groan.

One avenue is dreams, and I seemed to have one last night that resonated with me!

I dreamed of being in a busy school-like art room. We each had what looked like drafting tables where we were busily working on projects together and separately. The air was full of expectation. Paul played as art teacher! And then I was transported back in time to the same room, a basement, but now it was largely empty. Bev and a few others were there. There had been a recent fire which had led to the windows (or was it part of the wall) being gone, open to the air outside. It seemed like I was back on our college campus in the 80’s. (Somehow I thought it was 1986 in my dream.) Bev was pointing to the open window. And I gathered that Paul was still our art teacher back then, although I didn’t see him directly.

I woke up with a feeling of gratitude, and a sense of recognition about what the dream meant. It was one of those calming-type ‘words’. Picking up on a theme from Sunday, that we have been blessed in community with an underground stream that has channelled the same kind of life-giving, grace-based covenant of Christ over decades. Despite living and worshipping in the metaphorical basement, a place for discards and misfits, Paul has been instrumental in modeling for me how to to interact with Christian faith, with a degree of emotional and spiritual intelligence. Having him as an ‘art teacher’ reminded me of a photo I took of him years ago, which after adding a filter, pictured him as a painter. In a way we not just art students, playing with our God-given gifts and applying them to our lives? Faith, after all, is not a science but an art of discernment.

— Lyle

2. Do you see examples in life where the truth of Yahweh contradicts the power and authority of the powers that be?

Right away I thought of a recent example from the news where a crisis led to cooperation between formerly competitive parties. The crisis was the Covid virus, and the cooperation was between two drug companies.  Drug companies have a reputation for having an overriding interest in profit, and this was an occasion where the interests of Yahweh (health for all citizens) contradicted their "business as usual":

In February, 2020, White House officials got on the line with J&J executives to talk about the urgency of the Covid situation. They concluded that they had to think much bigger and much bolder than usual. They knew that had to take bold action and overwhelm this. That February phone call helped lead to an agreement with Merck — a competitor that had given up on its own vaccine work — to help produce J&J's vaccine and use its facilities to get it into vials.

The virus has had this effect in other areas as well, where God seems to be using it to get our attention and remind us of the truth about the lives we're living. The "lesson" might be how complacent we've been about the health of the planet, or the enmity between nations or our own personal patterns and habits that need realignment. "Lockdown" and "social distancing" has made many of us aware of how interconnected our lives are, and how communication with "the other" can give us a larger perspective and increased compassion. Many of us have also been given the chance to focus on meditative practices and a reassessment of what we really need, and what we need to give up. The temptation is the same for us as it was for Israel - will we rely on our own "light" or surrender to the darkness and silence needed to depend wholly on God?

— Penny

I read an alarming article about how the Babylonian Church (Evangelicalism) has treated one of its former heroes. Here is the account:

https://medium.com/belover/cancelling-eugene-peterson-c25ccae8af98

I admit that this article is a trigger for me personally. I have seen this pattern of crucifixion too often. It is bad enough when evangelicals express their unforgiving natures concerning those who are actually caught out in human fallibility and then go on to discount any contribution the ‘sinner’ has made before being found out. Whether it is Tony Compolo, Christopher Heuertz, or John Howard Yoder, Evangelicals delight in shaming and punishing those who, for whatever reasons, have failed to live up to their professions of faith. I am reminded of the saying that, “The church is the only army on earth, who intentionally shoot their wounded.”

The sheer number of Jesus-followers who have failed to reach perfection ought to confirm that communities of faith should be hospitals for the wounded. The Babylon Church has enculturated itself through adopting a punitive view of justice rather than a restorative one, a forgiving balm of Jesus’ example of profligate forgiveness. Our communities ought to recognize that Jesus came for sinners to restore them.

The Medium article on the treatment of Eugene Peterson goes well beyond the idea of restoring a sinner to committing the horrendous sin of destroying the reputation and peace of a godly, but not perfect, Servant. Eugene’s fate is not very different from the Servant Song, where the righteous are spit upon and tortured. The Babylonian Church of Christendom reflects the same vindictiveness as their right-wing social media, calling for hangings and violence. Both do this in the name of righteousness and purity without considering the entire context or hearing the complete story.

The entire story is this man’s whole life and its legacy. In Peterson’s case, his gift to all of us includes: his vulnerability, desire to recount the gospel for ordinary folk, his service to a church (one that often back-stabbed him in board meetings and such.) Peterson, as he aged, continued to care pastorally for many, writing incredible books of inspiration and devotion. Then in a throw-away line to a journalist, he dared to suggested that he wasn’t absolutely positive of modern and biblical sexual ethics, a complicated subject all of us struggle with. Peterson ought to be considered an exemplar of discipleship; instead, he was driven prematurely to dementia.

Thus ends my lament. An afterthought comes, “How do we restore the broken Babylonian church?” Isn’t it possible that we could mirror their despicable behaviour by cancelling them? Instead wouldn’t it be right to take up the example of Isaiah’s Servant joining Eugene serving without too much griping, for indeed, he did gripe. To educate, to emulate, and to pray for mercy on all of us. And for the power to become a Servant community, a whole lot more like Christ than Judge Judy.

— Paul

This response is related to the first question but also pondering the quality of God’s word as one that is confrontative, energizing, liberating, etc - just thinking of Jurgen Moltmann connections here too. I have at times felt addressed in what felt like a more visceral level. The reading in our upcoming Moltmann chapter (Jesus Christ for Today’s World) speaks of the Spirit with this energizing creational aspect. Keating also describes growth and healing with fruits such as freeing up energy. 

If you’ll indulge a bit of Moltmann, he describes the Resurrection as a ‘confronting event in the past which in the Spirit determines the present because it opens up the future of eternal life’. An attempt to paraphrase might be … the present, brought to God and the confrontation of death can lead to Life - not a distant ‘otherworldly life’, but our present this worldly Life.

On a personal note, a hope for this Lenten period was that what needed addressing/healing in my past blunders might be healed to allow for possibilities of a ‘new future’, whatever that might be. These things are stored in our bodies/psyches til we can let them go. One recent morning, I found myself placing the ‘past’ in a box - perhaps I could leave it at the cross, let it go. But where did this leave me? It seemed a bit like looking in an abyss. During the night I woke up with a jolt, ‘the resurrection!’ and it was like I understood that that past/present/future had been touched - although I don’t actually understand what it all means. It brought such a shift in my disposition, and hopeful energy. It will take time to unpack and see where things go but I think the same Spirit has always been ‘addressing’ her creation.  

—Verda

In the On Being podcast with Rabbi Ariel Burger, the Rabbi related a story that his son had told him. His son had gone to Israel on a study tour. Part of their curriculum was to travel from Israel to Poland to visit the concentration camps. While in Poland, his son’s best friend disappeared for a day with one of the adult chaperones. When his son asked his friend why he had disappeared this is what he was told. 

The friend’s grandparents had been taken to a Polish concentration camp during the war. The grandmother was given a job in a rabbit farm run by a Polish farmer. (The Nazis were experimenting on the rabbits for medical research). The Polish farmer soon realized that the rabbits were being treated better than the Jews so he started to smuggle food in to give to the Jews. But one day the Polish farmer noticed that the Jewish grandmother had cut herself and the wound was now infected. This wasn’t a problem if you had access to antibiotics but of course the Jews didn’t have access to medicine. So the Polish farmer took a knife and cut his arm and then placed his cut arm over the grandmother’s infection giving himself the infection. He then went to the Nazi authorities and told them that he was one of their best farmers who was ensuring their access to the rabbits and that he need antibiotics for this infection. He got the medicine and shared it with the grandmother who then survived. 

The sons friend had gone to visit the Polish farmer to thank him for his act of kindness and to thank him for his life. 

This story seemed so Christic, with the Polish farmer willing to sacrifice himself for the grandmother. It reminded me that there are people motivated by their better angels who stand against the power and authority of the powers that be. 

Moltmann writes: “The living God always calls to life ... His nearness makes us living, always and everywhere.” I think it is the Spirit of this God that helps people resist the powers of death. We see the supreme example of this in Christ resisting the political and religious authorities of his day. But we see it in smaller ways wherever people resist. It is a reason for hope. 

— Cal

I’ve often talked about the weariness that the constant over-demand that work can effect. The pie factory. And even though I’ve been saved from it many times, each assault requires a new response. I’m hoping to retire next May so I’ve been thinking a lot about what to pass on or not. Together with others I’ve worked on a kind of manual or app for best practices in our team. We adopted this process and it worked for us. It made things easier for the team. Over the last month or so I’ve started to see decisions by management that undermine this process. They say they value the process but their actions show them trying to work around it. So I’m seeing something I put a lot of care into being eroded in a “death by a thousand cuts” kind of way. I know I need to bring myself with integrity to work. But it’s hard to be intentional when you see your work being whittled away. Hard not be angry. Part of this is also me wondering what legacy will I leave behind. Is passionate disinterestedness even possible here?

Paul and Bev reminded me that the only thing I have control over is my attitude. In one sense I know that management’s crazing-making behaviour is just part of the business machine. No surprise that it will do what it wants to do, regardless. One of my concerns was that I didn’t want to tube out, which wouldn’t help the team. In my anger, tubing out is tempting. But maybe I could “tube out” on being invested in what management does. Be loyal to the idea but agnostic about its implementation. I need to keep advocating for a process which helps the team, reminding folks of it and why we came to it in the first place. And then...walk away in a sense. And in terms of legacy...I know things will change after I leave, and I won’t care. Maybe I can just move up the timetable on not caring. As long as I’m having integrity by being loyal to the value behind the idea, then it’s on them what they do with it. I’m still bringing myself to work. 

Sounds so obvious but hearing it again in a slightly new way was just the reminder I needed that God is more powerful than the business machine. The Spirit in Isaiah and in conversation helped my anger transform into hopeful action. And I got a chance first thing this morning to aspire towards passionate disinterestedness. It went better today. 

— Linda

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