“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

34 “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”  Matthew 6:28b-34

I just started reading a new book called “The Remarkable Ordinary: How to Stop, Look and Listen to Life” by Frederick Buechner. In the book, he shows how art and music are mediums that teach us how to look at the extraordinary of ordinary life. He uses a famous haiku by Japanese writer Matsuo Basho:

An old silent pond

An old silent pond

Into the pond an frog jumps

Splash silence again

Matsuo Basho

Buechner describes how this literary work frames a moment in life that would largely go missed. Essentially, this is what all art does, be it painting, poetry, or song, the artist captures a moment and frames it. Buechner asks the question how much do we miss because we aren’t looking? He draws on our inability to notice that which we do not expect to be there. And he invites the reader to be mindful and notice the ordinary.

For fear of beginning to sound like a book review, even though I do highly recommend this quick read by Buechner, I want to draw your attention back to our current circumstances. Maybe like me, you are beginning to tire from listening to the news. Every time my iWatch buzzes with a news update, I used to rush to read the new article. Now, I am numb to the alerts. This doesn’t mean that I care any less for the situation at hand, no, quite the opposite.

I am just tired of the noise. And fortunately, I am living in conditions that allow me to shift my perspective, I realize this is not the opportunity for everyone and for those of you who fall in that category know I, and all staff at Grace are holding you in prayer.

Instead, I want to frame moments like an artist at a canvas. The image of Pastor Craig Breimhorst at the waters of the Jordan river as I dipped my hand into the water and then drew the sign of the cross on his forehead, reminding him, “Through the water and the word let the Holy Spirit ignite Craig into a life of service to God and to others. Craig, child of God. You are marked with the sign of the cross and love of Christ forever.” Little did I know only weeks after this Craigs body would succumb to the COVID-19 virus, and that he would die, falling back into the arms of Jesus (just like he always said he wanted to do). Or the image of my family reunited under the same roof once again, something we didn’t think would happen when I first left after High School graduation for southern California to perform and teach with the Young Americans. Our experience now framed in meals shared, cards games played, Family Feud episodes viewed and so much more.

I want to knead my frustrations and worries into the crust of a delicious pie.

I want to stop and listen to the silences in between the notes of our lives in order to appreciate when the sounds return. I want to sit on the outdoor patio and soak in the sun, or feel the rain drops on my skin. I want to wave at every person who walks, bikes, or drives past. Looking them in the eyes like Whistler looked at his mom in his famous painting Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1 or as it is more familiarly known, Whistler’s mother. We need not be artists in such a term to look at life in such a way that allows each face we encounter to be a face bearing the image of God.

The other day in my scroll through social media, a friend posted an image of himself in a mask. In his caption of the image he spoke of how thoughtlessly he thanked the attendant at the grocery store. He said the response surprised him, “Wow, I  haven’t heard that in a few days. You’re Welcome.” His plea in his post was a reminder to thank those you encounter who are still working and are working in order that you can have the things you need. This is what cutting through the noise looks like. The moment you stop to say thank you and look someone in the eye, even though you assume everyone else is doing the same and you are surprised to hear differently.

What Buechner’s reflections gave to me is the permission to stop, look, and listen to the things I would normally ignore because my attention was being absorbed by news and other distractions. And as reflecting on Pastor Hahn’s sermon last Sunday, it is in the remarkable ordinary moments of life that God is present, like in the breaking of the bread. And so I offer the same invitation to you, what ordinary moments are you framing to capture the remarkable presence of God.

“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”  Matthew 6:28b-34