My 3- and 5-year-old sons are playing superheroes again. In the heat of battle against the “bad dudes,” my 3-year-old sustains an injury. Being a superhero is a dangerous line of work. Immediately, he turns back into my preschool son, and he’s tugging at my legging, tears streaming down his face, expecting words of comfort, hugs, and kisses. Of course, that is exactly what he gets. My kisses still hold magic for him, and he’s off bringing down the powers of evil again in no time.

 
Part of me

My 10-month-old son is upset, probably a result of the two teeth coming in at the same time. With a worried brow, he locks his eyes with mine and whines. As soon as he latches, he calms down and settles into a deep sleep. As he sleeps, my mind wanders back to when they were kicking and rolling around in my womb. I delight in the memories of them, when they were still physically a part of me. I found great joy in knowing they were growing from a few cells to the screaming, plump babies that greeted us on their birthdays.

Their birthdays did not come without some blood, sweat, and tears. My oldest son’s arrival was the worst of the three. The pain was disorienting and scary; I had never experienced anything remotely close. I will be forever grateful for the nurse on duty, who talked me through the contractions and helped me successfully birth my firstborn. I can still hear her voice, giving me direction and assuring me that everything was going to be fine.

Motherly depictions of God

Until recently, these experiences were all just a part of “a day in the life of. . .” some precious memories to me, others were so routine that they blur with countless other instances of the same. But a few well-timed cues from the Holy Spirit, and I am seeing these things through a new light.

See, each story I just mentioned aligns with a description of God. A feminine description of God. God as a mother who comforts her child. “As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.” (Isaiah 66:13) God as nursing mother, (Isaiah 49:15), and God’s children as newborn infants (1 Peter 2:2). God who is pregnant and gives birth (Isaiah 46:3-4, Deuteronomy 32:18, John 3:5). God as a woman in labor (Isaiah 42:14), and God as the midwife delivering a child (Psalm 22:8-10).

There are more examples too. . . God as a mama bear, God as a mother eagle, Jesus as a mother hen, God as a woman looking for her lost coin. The list goes on, and on, and on. But we rarely lift them up in churches, at least not any that I’ve attended. Until I looked into it, I had no idea there were so many passages that spoke of God in feminine terms.

Even when there was a passage with a feminine description of God, it was not really mentioned. When I learned about the woman looking for a lost coin, I learned that we were the lost coin and God was looking for us. I don’t recall anyone asking me to ponder why on earth Jesus chose to compare God to a woman doing housework.

It seems that God has far less of a problem being referred to in the feminine than we have with referring to God in the feminine. We don’t talk about God as woman or mother, even though the biblical witness does and even though the saints before us frequently did. We are poorer in our understanding of God for not lifting up those passages.

If you didn’t realize it–and some people really don’t, because we often only refer to God with male language–God is not a man. God in human form, Jesus, obviously is, so there’s that. And we talk about the Trinity in terms of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But that is just language we use trying to describe the indescribable.

Any language about God is just that… it’s about God. It is not God, and it doesn’t capture the entirety of God. So leaving out entire chunks of how God is described leaves us with less understanding of God, which is why we should pay attention when God is described in terms of a woman, and as mother.

God comforts us as a mother comforts her child. That deep bond– the one that allows my kisses to retain their magic with my sons for a while longer and the one that still makes my stress melt away at the sound of my mother’s voice on the phone–that is a glimpse of the bond God has with us. Since mothers are notoriously imperfect, we can rejoice that even the most beautiful part of our relationships with those who have mothered us is just a hint of God’s love for us. How does knowing that shape how we understand God’s grace?

Imagining God

We tend to make our relationship with God so educational! Theology has its vital place in our life with God, so I am not denigrating it. But sometimes we make believing in God more about the head than the heart. What if we thought of our relationship with God less about getting the answers right, and more about being like a newborn? You know what the newborns I have cared for love most in life? Being snuggled up and drinking some of mama’s milk. My infant does not know my birthday, or what my favorite color is, or what my interests are … but he knows me and trusts me unreservedly.

What if we imagined our life with God as a time to get close and receive life-giving nourishment, trusting God in the same sort of way as an infant trusts her mama?

What if we saw God’s work in the world similar to a woman in labor pains? Labor is awful, it is horribly painful–and it is beautiful and miraculous. God’s redemptive activity in the world might cause pain, both to God and to us. But God’s work is also beautiful and miraculous and ultimately produces life.

How does it help us realize God’s pervasiveness in our lives to know that God was with us at our births, helping us into the world? Or that God is with us during times when we’re being reborn in some capacity, giving direction and cradling our new life in the Divine arms? What if we imagined God during those times, we imagined God encouraging us as the nurse encourages the laboring mother?

Finally, how does it help us understand ourselves to think about God’s feminine descriptions? There is not a single woman I know who doesn’t struggle with self-acceptance. We’re too fat. Or too wrinkly. Or too tired. We fear we’re not good enough friends, daughters, spouses, sisters, or mothers.

But we have been made in God’s image; male and female God created them (Genesis 1:27). We can rejoice in that and live out our call as women who are God’s children without so much worry over being incomplete somehow. God makes us complete. It doesn’t mean we never make mistakes and never sin… it does mean that we can stop being so hard on ourselves for not being our (or someone else’s) idea of perfect. We can go about even the most mundane parts of our lives knowing that God is involved in all of it.

When we start realizing that God is not contained by any one type of imagery, we grow in our understanding and our relationship with God. We begin to see ourselves as God’s beloved treasures; and the tasks of our lives as God’s work. And we begin to share the joy that comes from all of that with others, and we find that God has changed not only us but our world.

Discussion questions:

1. Which of the biblical feminine descriptions of God resonates with you? Why?

2. Do you agree that it is important to include female imagery in our understanding of God? Why or why not?

3. Does it make any difference in your self-understanding to think of God in feminine terms? Why or why not?

Prayer:

O God, both Father and Mother of us all, we thank you for the many ways you teach us about yourself. Thank you for nurturing, loving, and protecting us more fiercely than the best mother. Thank you for giving us so many women who reflect you as they nurture, love, and protect those around them. Guide us as we seek to understand and to imitate you in our lives. Amen.

Michelle Terry is on the adventure that is life with God with the members of Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Middletown, Ohio, where she is the pastor. She and her husband are the proud parents of three young sons.

Check out the April podcast here and on iTunes.

When I think about the state of the environment–all the facts, figures, predictions, and failures–I’m completely immobilized with fear. Scientists have been issuing warnings and admonitions to get our acts together for a while now, and we’ve ignored these modern-day prophets. What can one little person do to make a difference?

I could live the life of a steward like Joseph. And so could you.

My son studied in Sunday school the story of Joseph, the part where Joseph interprets Pharaoh’s dreams in Genesis 41. In one of Pharoah’s dreams, he sees seven fat cows grazing along the banks of the Nile. Seven thin and ugly cows come along and eat them. But after the seven thin cows eat the seven fat cows, they are still thin and ugly. Joseph understands what this means, and interprets the dream for Pharoah: 

God has shown to Pharaoh what he is about to do. There will come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt. After them there will arise seven years of famine, and all the plenty will be forgotten in the land of Egypt; the famine will consume the land. The plenty will no longer be known in the land because of the famine that will follow, for it will be very grievous.
Genesis 1:28–31

Joseph then suggests a disaster preparedness plan —during each of the next seven plentiful harvests, save for the lean years ahead. His plan is put into place, and enough food is saved that no one starves during the famine. Joseph’s stewardship, as my son’s Sunday school lesson said, “uses resources fairly.” Joseph and Pharaoh take immediate action — they might be afraid, but they don’t let fear immobilize them. There’s no room for that in the stewardship job description — we have too much work to do!

Earlier in the book of Genesis, in the first chapter, we are called upon to be stewards of creation and to use creation’s gifts fairly, justly, and sustainably.

God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth. God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” (Genesis 1:28–30) And it was so.

It is easy to read this passage and interpret our dominion over all things as meaning that we can use it all however we see fit. But dominion does not mean domination — God has given this great earth, all living things, to us as a gift. As gracious receivers, shouldn’t we treat it well? We are called to be stewards of this gift, wisely exercising the dominion God has granted to us. Like Joseph, we trust God’s presence in everything we say and do. Stewardship is our created frame of mind.

Remember last summer one day when it rained and you were bummed because you couldn’t go outside after work? Retune your thinking. In my city, it is hard to know when the earth is thirsty because so much of it is covered with houses, watered lawns, paved parking lots, concrete streets and sidewalks, shopping malls, and so on. We don’t see the dry, cracked, dusty earth. We need to look at each weather variable and appreciate the brilliance of God’s self-sustaining creation.

Get some plants for your office and home, and tend to them. Take a break, go outside, and gaze at the clouds. Relax into creation. Get off the inclement-weather-hating bandwagon. Get back to an earth-centered attitude toward the weather and the seasons and notice the earth’s changes and needs.

This is the day the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

Every day, appreciate creation. Go outside, and say out loud to yourself or someone else, “What a beautiful day God has made!” And mean it when you say it. It’s amazing, the difference you’ll feel toward creation when you make a practice of being grateful for it.

We stewards also need to make changes in our lives that reflect our gratitude for creation. For an immediate impact on the earth, start watching what you eat. Truly healthy foods are healthy for both the environment and our bodies because they require minimal processing, packaging, or shipping. Instead of processed fruit or energy bars, choose the actual source material: Eat an apple! Try eating lower on the food chain several times a week. This means going meat free, focusing on vegetable combinations and other sources of protein. Explore and experiment with new recipes.

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16–18

Do you notice the cycle here? From our thankfulness, we pray. From our prayers grows thankfulness. Prayer is not restricted to Sunday mornings or just before bed. Nor does prayer need to be formal. Talk with God about the earth; pray for the healing of the earth; pray for your strength as a steward; pray for a miracle. Do this everywhere, especially in the grocery store when you’re about to choose between the cheapest item and the fair trade item.

Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints.
Ephesians 6:18

Pray for your fellow stewards. Pray that each one of us does what we can to use creation fairly, faithfully. As Luther says in his explanation of the eighth commandment, we need to look upon everything our neighbor does in the best possible light. So when you talk to others about the earth, assume the best of them. Know that they will do their part when they know what is needed of them. Share what you’re doing as a steward, help them do the same, and inspire them to do more. We need to hold each other accountable as stewards by actually talking about what we’re doing successfully and what more can be done.

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.
Psalm 51:10

God is still creating. In our new sense of urgency about the environment, there is a new sense of hope among those of us who understand ourselves as stewards. We know that we need to practice our gratitude for the earth, make some simple changes in our lives, pray to God about this, trust that others will do their part, and let others know that we are trusting them.

Amy Waelchli lives with trust in the stewards of this world.

Janelle Neubauer, 24, a first-year seminary student at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago talked with Cafe’s editor, Elizabeth McBride, about ways churches can reach a young adult audience, and support her as she develops into a leader of the church. Listen to this winning episode here and on iTunes.

Saturday, April 6, 1-4

Bethlehem Lutheran Church
212 S. Broad Street
Middletown, Ohio 45044

Here’s the invite.

RSVP on facebook.

Rachel and I sat together at a café on a rainy Seattle morning. I’d flown across the country so that we could spend a couple of precious days together before she had her first child. On the cusp of her transition into motherhood, we felt a bit like Mary and Elizabeth visiting one another. We shared our dreams and hopes and fears and frustrations as we have done countless times over the 18-year stretch of our friendship.

We laugh to recall how our friendship started: our freshman year in college I approached her and said something like: “I think we will be friends.” I was right. We fell into friend-love, became nearly inseparable, and now nearly 20 years later, we both count our friendship as an enduring sign of God’s grace and love in our lives.

Our friendship is precious partly because we both know it could have turned out differently. You see, our friendship fell apart our sophomore year of college.

We spent a year basically not speaking to one another. Thankfully, by our senior year, we grew close again—close enough that when I moved overseas after college, she spent a summer visiting; close enough that we still find ways to visit one another wherever we are. We now talk nearly every day.

Our friendship has waxed and waned with periods of silence and distance, but except for that time in college, we never had acrimony. But oh, during that time…

The dark times
Throughout the years we occasionally mentioned the dark times, but usually only in passing or even as a joke. It wasn’t until we sat together over eggs and coffee that rainy morning in Seattle that we talked openly and directly about what had happened.

We tried to remember exactly what caused us to pull apart. Rachel had transferred away for a semester and when she transferred back the troubles began. I was suffering from the wicked combination of a broken heart and undiagnosed depression. That alone would do it. I was also jealous that she had direction and purpose at a time when I was floundering, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. The very things that I had so admired in her—confidence, an extroversion that made people feel loved, good humor—now seemed threatening. I felt invisible. I lashed out. She only knew that I was angry and felt enormous resentment from me. Neither of us understood what was happening.

As we talked in Seattle, we both shared our feelings without blame. We also both listened without defensiveness.

What happened to pull bring us back together, I asked. She remembered that I wrote her a letter saying that I still cared about her. It meant the world to her. We both recalled what a relief it was that I studied abroad for a semester. We both needed space.

I remembered a moment in chapel the following spring, right around Easter, where something happened that reconciled us. I don’t remember any details but I do have a hazy memory of sitting in a particular pew and knowing it would be ok between us. Easter has always been a time when we celebrate the resurrection of our friendship.

She remembered that she had been cared for by other friends. Especially important was a pastor/professor who reached out to her. He gave her space to sob and grieve. He also helped her admit that she couldn’t forgive me. He told her something about allowing God to be the one who forgives and to trust that grace could work out our situation. We both remembered with awe and regret a mutual friend who was caught in the middle. She miraculously managed to be a kind friend to each of us without taking sides. We recalled gentleness overall. No pressure to reconcile faster than either of us was ready for. We kept saying the word grace.

Grace and time
As we sat at that café, the final healing of a tear that happened decades ago took place. The grace-filled combination of time and each of us being happy with our own lives allowed us to claim responsibility and to offer forgiveness. We each said that we were so sorry; that we just didn’t know how to navigate all we were feeling then; that we loved each other. We also talked about how the dynamics between us that had caused the conflict were still present in our friendship. They rear their ugly heads at times. Now that we know them, we can care for our friendship much better.

We both agreed that God’s hand was guiding us. There is no way, two kids (one of whom was depressed) caught in the swirl of college with all its pressure and emotions could have pulled our own selves together. God did it and we are both grateful. Obviously, every relationship that experiences a rift is different. From the resurrection of our relationship, I made the following observations. I offer them here with hopes that they could be helpful to you.

Resurrection happens over time (even Jesus needed three days) and is always an act of God. It certainly won’t help if you go about it faster than you or the other person is ready for. Healing takes time and space. Allow both. Rachel and I didn’t know what our relationship would look like after we got resurrected. The resurrection was possible because we allowed it to become whatever it would become.

If a resurrection occurs, a death has also occurred. Grieve it. New life will not come until you acknowledge what has been lost.

At some point, if you cannot find healing within a relationship, you may need to step outside it permanently. I’m thinking here especially of divorce. Even if a relationship is not able to be resurrected, the individuals in the relationship are never outside God’s care. This is counseling rule #1, yet I find it hard to remember. Our resurrection was possible because Rachel claimed her own stuff, including not being able to forgive me. And over time I did the same. Blame does not help. Nor does asking the other person to take responsibility for something they are not ready to claim.

Walk through it at an honest pace. I am ashamed to admit it, but I was probably not ready to fully apologize until that morning at the café. By then, my apology was complete. But in ways verbal and non-verbal, we had been apologizing to each other the whole time. Walk through it at an honest pace, but walk through it. Thankfully, we forgave each other at many turns. When you have been hurt, it can be tempting to withhold forgiveness. The hurt never heals until you forgive and even then, it can still surface. Rachel and I had other friends who helped support us. The time spent with the pastor/professor healed and helped Rachel know she was cared for. Other friends helped me find my place in the world. Our mutual friend was—and still is—a miracle.

Ask God to give you patience, clarity, kindness, and grace.

The Rev. Sarah Scherschligt is the senior pastor of Peace Lutheran Church in Alexandria, Va. When she prioritizes well, she enjoys ultimate Frisbee, pottery and time with her family and friends. Someday, she’ll find the time to blog again at www.thebarefootpastor.blogspot.com

The culture teaches us that we should avoid death for as long as possible. We are bombarded with the latest health information about what we need to do to lose weight, look younger, and live longer. Our society has an intense fear of death. Sometimes I marvel that we even have funeral homes and cemeteries. They only serve as visual reminders to us that people die … that we will die, right? Yet, funerals and cemeteries and memorials in honor of a deceased loved one continue to play an important role in our lives.

Death and dying
The chaplaincy portion of my internship takes place at St. John’s Lutheran Ministries in Billings, Mont. St. John’s is a nursing facility that provides health care and nurturing environments for its residents. Staff and volunteers work tirelessly to create a supportive and positive environment–so even though there is death, there also is an atmosphere of life, joy, and hope throughout the campus.

Life? Joy? Hope? How can any of these be present when we constantly deal with dying and death? Caring for these residents as they live out their lives has been an honor. There is one event that sticks in my mind that clearly illustrates just what an honor it has been.

A couple months ago while I was on call, a family member asked if I would be able to come and sit with her aunt while she—the niece—went home to take care of a few things. While the aunt had a small family, those who lived nearby loved her deeply and didn’t want her to be alone. So, I made my way back to the campus.

The campus that night was peacefully quiet and mostly empty. Only the overnight staff were around. As I entered the care cottage where this resident lived, an overwhelming feeling of thanksgiving filled me. What a precious opportunity this was. The niece had never met me, had no idea who this chaplain was that would be sitting with her aunt, and yet she trusted me to be a caring presence.

I had never before met the resident I came to sit with; she lived in a different part of the campus than where I worked. I know many people for whom this would have been a uncomfortable, possibly scary, situation, but for me it felt right. Peaceful. Joyous. This small, white-haired, old woman was comfortably curled up in her bed. Her slow breathing calmed me as I settled into a chair, and even though I knew that in all likelihood I would receive a call in the middle of the night that she had died, I wasn’t sad that she was dying.

Belonging to the resurrection
Everything that I know about God’s love and grace has helped me to see death in an old age as a beautiful experience. The way our bodies have been designed to shut down and die is as miraculous and awe-inspiring as the way we were formed and born. Death is where our baptismal promises are completed, because in baptism we are joined to Christ through his death and resurrection. When we die, we belong to the resurrection.

For all of us who have lost loved ones–most especially when the deaths weren’t because of old age–we hold onto these baptismal promises. We know they aren’t a magic potion to make us feel better about death, but the hope our very lives is built upon.

When Paul writes to the church in Corinth, “Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. …‘Death has been swallowed up in victory’” (1 Corinthians 15:51-54).

Lent offered us a place to rest from our society’s fear of growing old and dying, a time to remember that it is from dust we have come and to dust we will return. God offers us the way to eternal life, freed from the fear of death.

Jenna Pulkowski is serving as an intern at Atonement Lutheran Church and St. John’s Lutheran Ministries in Billings, Mont. She attended seminary at Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. A few of her favorite things include playing with dogs, knitting, chatting with the youth at church or the residents at St. John’s, and consuming copious amounts of coffee—not necessarily in that order. She’s still unsure of what she wants to be when she grows up, but for now she loves the ministry she’s able to do as she works towards being an ordained pastor.

Discussion questions

1. What is your earliest memory of death or dying? How did it impact your feelings about death as you grew up?

2. How does faith and the religious tradition as a Lutheran inform your beliefs on dying and death?

3. In what ways are do you share the joy of Christ’s resurrection with others?