Placing a call

Richmond Hill is a special place where a lot of folks pass through for lots of different reasons. Some come for quiet reflection, some for wonderful worship. Some come thirsty for knowledge. Others come simply to be fed, either at the altar or in the refectory, and maybe enjoy some fellowship. Whatever your particular need, this place holds us all.

Richmond Hill holds many special places. The chapel is one such special place here. In addition to praying there for the City three times a day, the community comes together there for a Eucharist every Monday evening. During his sermon Monday night not long ago, Bob Hetherington commented on the particular importance of maintaining balance among one’s spiritual practices: personal, corporate, and, your work in the larger world.

Making oneself available to listen to what God might be saying to you is important work. There are many ways to do this work, but I think it really is a question of how engaged are you in hospitality of the heart? Open eyes and ears help open the heart to receive the Lord when he calls on us.

The open heart allows our mind to open — open up to possibilities of engaging our selves in our surroundings. So far, so good. As long as we are open and receptive to the prompts and nudges the Spirit provides, we’re all done here, right? Not exactly. Openness and receptivity is great. But if that’s all we do, it’s a little like Roger Federer swinging at a tennis ball, then coming to a screeching halt just as the ball touches the strings of his racquet. Of course he doesn’t do that. He follows through his stroke, usually with stunning results.

Whatever we see, hear, or feel as a spiritual prompt, we need to follow through. And our follow-through ought to be grounded. This requires solid footwork and a place to stand. You want to understand your calling, your vocation? Look at where your feet are pointing.

Location is a huge part of vocation. Does location inform vocation? Yes. How? Responding to the call involves posture. Where are you? What are you doing? Sitting? Standing? Attentive? Are you running to it? Or, running away?

As you begin to heed your call, pay attention to where you are. You might be strategically placed to build a little bit of God’s kingdom right here, right now.

Are you willing? That’s a good place to be.

Richard Rumble

April 2015

Advent shuffle

Well, we’ve come to it once again. My favorite time, my favorite place. It’s that “not yet there, but getting close” time. What is the meaning of Advent? Ad venire, Latin: to come toward. Toward what, and toward whom, is the real question.

Advent is the dawning of a new year. It’s the set-up narrative, preparing us for the birth of our Lord. It’s a New Year’s party. It’s a new life party. And it’s a birthday party. 

What gift do you give to a Child? Or, for that matter, to the One who has everything? Two years ago, while preparing for an Advent program I do, a song came to me. It was a gift. I call it Walking the Kingdom Walk:

Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind

Was I coming?  Was I going?
I don't know — it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load

Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk

Was I coming?  Was I going?
I don't know — maybe You'll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine

Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!

Was I giving?  Or receiving?
I don't know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer

Was I giving?  Or, receiving?
It's both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.

Richard Rumble
December 2014

Belong to the longing

Writing in my journal this morning, I had a few questions: What/where are my longings? Can I feel them? Name them? Will I find them underneath and in between all the should-ings and the must-ings? Why pay attention to them?

Indeed. Why pay attention? For one thing, I can’t help it — it is in my nature, my DNA, my genes, my “nine-ness” (from the Enneagram, a dynamic personality system which describes nine distinct and fundamentally different patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting).

With regard to the Enneagram, as I understand the nature of a Nine, we are Mediators. We are hard-wired to pay attention — highly sensitive and tuned in to people and our surroundings. And what if that sensitivity is so occupied with outside stimuli that it cannot respond to any inner promptings? See, the outer drowns out the inner. Where does that leave me? Often too preoccupied to listen to the still small voice of the spirit. Not a good thing to be cut off from, I think.

As I read through The Essential Enneagram (a book we encountered in the RUAH program), it invited me to consider the following questions: How have all the people and things around me been pulling at and competing for my attention? How indecisive have I been? In what ways have I gone along with others’ agendas and plans? In what ways have I been sidetracked into focusing on secondary priorities or inessentials?

All this questioning leads me to wonder about finding and maintaining focus in a world chock-a-block full of distractions. What might be useful for finding one’s focus? And maintaining that focus once found? A tool, a discipline or a practice might be just the ticket here.

What can help me set my priorities straight? What already exists in our rich Christian tradition?

Lectio divina is an ancient monastic practice designed to be a “long, loving look at the real.” It works through four stages or steps: read, reflect, respond, and rest. Lectio becomes a container for awareness of inner movements and voices. That’s good, as far as it goes. But I need something more: action. Some outpouring of all that contained goodness.

Once these inner longings are heard clearly, then perhaps I will honor them through action. And action is surely required to build beloved community, which is where I long to belong.

Richard Rumble
September 2014

Fruitful thinking

Summertime is upon us. Among other things, this season is a time of ripening — a time of fruitfulness. Does this affect us in our own lives? Maybe so, let's see.

I awoke early the morning of the longest day of the year. I was up, so why not take a quick spin on the Jerusalem Mile before chapel? In that pre-sunrise light of the summer solstice I found my way to the labyrinth.

There are many ways to walk the labyrinth. Often, I’ll carry something specific with me into its opening. This time, I had nothing particular in mind. I just walked in. By the second turn, I was talking to God.

“Thank you, Lord, for this most beautiful morning, and for this beautiful place. I cannot believe I have the grace and good fortune to call Richmond Hill home. Awesomeness abounds! I am so grateful!”

“So, here’s the thing, Lord. Are you calling me? How will I know what my call looks like? I figure you know — plus, you’ve equipped me with appropriate skills, interests and talents to get the job done. I believe I’ve got the willingness to follow and serve. I know I’m in a good place and location to get the work done. But what does this call actually look like?”

“Well, there’s your problem,” a dear friend said as I shared this question with her. “You mean, ‘What does this call sound like?’ You don’t see a call, you hear it.”

“Let’s not get picky. I’m visual. And I’d like to see it,” was my response. Anyway, what we’re talking about here is a matter of recognition — how do you recognize exactly what is your call?

Recognition can come in many forms: what might it look like, sound like, feel like? “It looks like a good opportunity. It sounds like a great idea. It just feels right.” These are forms of internal recognition. But what about external recognition? How does validation appear?

There are passages that appear in the gospel about good trees producing good fruit. Both Matthew and Luke comment that bad trees cannot produce good fruit.

What makes the good fruit good? Is it God, by His divine design? Or, is it humanity — who tends the orchard? It’s a combined effort no doubt. A good yield is just that, a good yield. The evidence resides in an overflowing basket, for all to see. Touch. And taste.

The answer to my question is clear. If you’re looking for the good fruit, be sure to check your personal produce aisle. If your fruit looks good, congratulations. Chances are you’re probably in the right field.

Richard Rumble

July 2014

A spirit of decision.

As I sit here writing this article, we are celebrating the Feast of the Ascension — a capstone finish to Jesus’s work here among us. His disciples had been through an quite a lot with Him — His Baptism, Transformation, Crucifixion, and now, Resurrection.

What do they do after He passes this 5th milestone of His ministry? They go back to town and head for the Upper Room. They shut the door. And there they sit, until the promised Advocate arrives (10 days later at Pentecost). That Advocate (the Holy Spirit) blows them out of their safe haven and into the the streets — first Jerusalem, then Judea, Samaria… and then, well, that breeze is still blowing. It won’t stop until it’s reached the ends of the Earth.

I’m realizing that all of us can retreat, at one time or another in our lives, to that Upper Room. My head is my Upper Room, and, for much of my time, it is my residential address of choice. Getting stuck in that room is a problem. When I get stuck, eventually I figure I have to make a change. Deciding what that change could be and figuring out what to do next is the hard work of discernment. 

The Latin root of discern means to sift or to sort. Options must be generated. Outcomes weighed. Risks assessed. Opportunities recognized. And choices made. 

Choosing means deciding between: what will I give up in this choice? — and, what will I hang on to? I am finding this framework to not be all that helpful. It immobilizes me. 

I’ve discovered a key to help me unlock this conundrum. There is a hint of desperation contained in the phrase “hang on to.” Actually, it reeks of reluctance. A better, more helpful way to put it is: what do I want to give myself to freely? That freedom is a call to fidelity — being faithful in identifying one’s gifts, and being faithful in joining those gifts to the needs of the world.

Where can you find the safe space to find out what you are really thinking, feeling, struggling with? Get out of your head, and into community. A program like the Vocare School here at Richmond Hill is an excellent option — it equips you with time, tools, and a safe, supportive community to do the hard work of deciding what might come next in your life.

Remember, the call is not to remain in some safe, enclosed space. The call is to move out — into your circles of connection, virtual and real. It’s the Spirit’s call to renew the face of the earth. 

And that’s a kingdom call.

Richard Rumble
June 2014 

To be seen and heard

There are many different ministries that serve this broken world we call home. And lately, I've been thinking about one in particular: the ministry of presence.

When my youngest daughter entered seventh grade, she had a new teacher for religion, a class that her older sister adored. The original teacher passed away unexpectedly during the first week of school, hence the arrival of the new teacher. “How do you like her?” I asked at dinner one night. “Well, I like her a lot,” said Elizabeth. “But she says the same thing every day at the end of class: ‘Girls, your presence is gift to me.’ That is so weird!”

“Actually, that's wonderful,” I replied. “Importance and humor. Not bad for a teacher right out of seminary.”

That young teacher is now the head of the religious studies department. She modeled the principle of presence to her students. Presence is witness, and witness is powerful: I see you. I hear you. I witness you.

What happens to us when we are seen? And heard? And what happens to us when we are not?

Presence can be a powerful, affirming ministry. There are both aspects of giving and receiving going on in this dynamic. Seeing and listening are both examples of the gift of engagement.

Early in Matthew’s gospel, just as Jesus is embarking on His journey of public ministry, the writer tells of God’s reaction to the scene by the river Jordan. The heavens opened, the dove descended, the Voice was heard — “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Wow. What affirmation! He hadn’t done anything yet, but what a powerful way to start your day!

Last fall, we began working with the Vocare School here at Richmond Hill. Fifteen students from many walks of life are seeking out what comes next in their particular journey. They’ve been equipped with lots of tools for this task, but perhaps the main one is their small group discussion.

In those small group circles, souls emerge in answer to questions asked. We witness one another in ways very different from polite, perfunctory, casual encounters of the normal day to day.

We are looking for signs of the presence of God’s Holy Spirit, pointing to the emerging of the authentic in the life before us.

Look, listen, behold. And be held in the mysterious wonder of the gift of presence.

Richard Rumble
May 2014 

To be a Steward

What’s the deal with stewardship? It’s an interesting word. Steward. Sometimes, it’s a noun. Less often, it’s a verb. How does this ancient concept apply to lives lived in this millennium? As a concept, should it apply to me as I work through my discernment? How?

It’s an interesting idea. It involves action without ownership. In Bible stories things are given to a steward — tangible things, such as: a house, a vineyard, or, a sizeable sum of money. And with the tangible comes the intangible: responsibility, trust, and time. The master then departs, leaving the stewards to their own devices.

In the New Testament, one tale is sometimes referred to as the Parable of the Talents. It appears at the end of Jesus’s ministry as He heads to Jerusalem. In the 25th chapter of Matthew’s gospel, the Stewards’ tale is sandwiched between a story of readiness (Ten Bridesmaids) and an account of Final Judgment (Sheep and Goats).

Talent is the start of the narrative. Today we take talent to mean a special natural ability or apptitude for achievement. Back then, it was a measure of weight — approx. 200 pounds in gold for the ancient Hebrews. (So, at a price of $1300 an ounce, a talent of gold today could be worth 4.16 million dollars — a sizeable chunk of change!). As he heads out of town, the big man calls in his stewards, doles out the talents, and then he vanishes for a while. Upon his unexpected return, he calls them in again — “Circle up! Tell me lads, what’s been happening around here?”

Accounts are rendered. Some of the reported returns are astounding (who wouldn’t love to see such growth in a retirement portfolio?). Affirmations abound — “Well done, good and faithful servant…but wait, there’s more!” Except for the guy who played it safe. He lost everything. Harsh treatment, right?

For years, every time I read the story, I fully identified with the risk-averse steward who buried his precious talent in the ground. But what if I could identify with the other stewards — what might life look like then?

How did those stewards achieve that return, I wonder?

First, they acted. They did something. They engaged. Second, I believe they bet it all. No holding back. And why should they? Those talents were on loan, never theirs to begin with, but, theirs to do with whatever they could. Stunning freedom. Immense possibility. If only one can see the largess of the Owner. He endows, then steps aside. And longs to see what we might make out of the abundance of His generosity.

Here’s hoping for good ideas and some courage to act.

Richard Rumble
April 2014