Wayfarer

This week, we're talking with Kara Kilpatrick. Kara is in training as a psychiatrist, working primarily with adolescents. She's an ordained Presbyterian minister who's also worked as a chaplain. She somehow manages to find time to play the hammered dulcimer and mandolin and probably other things as well. She and Jeno have been at Central for several years now and we're thrilled to have her as part of our writers workshop.As you'll see in this piece that Kara adapted from one of her sermons, she is a master at weaving together intellect and emotion. Her narratives are thoughtful and precise, yet still vibrant and alive, giving us a chance to think and feel differently than we might have before listening.Just a note before we begin. Kara's story is a reimagining of Jesus' anointing in the gospel of luke which involves a woman who is described as living a sinful life. Kara unpacks this reputation and while there's nothing explicit in the slightest, if you're listening with kids, you may want to preview a bit to see what questions you may need to answer later.

This season, we're listening to several writers in our writers group at Central. From personal narratives, to short stories, and poetry, we have a bit of everything. Each week we'll hear from a writer and talk with them a little about their inspiration and process.This week, we're talking with Jody Cabble. Jody is a teacher at Henry Clay High School. She's been at Central for a long time. She's a deacon and is also in our writers group. She even manages to coax classrooms of students to church on a Sunday morning. We're still not sure if it was just for her birthday or if extra credit was involved. I feel like Jody's writing is always an invitation. She coaxes you into a scene, invites you to sit for a while and see what unfolds. And there, in ordinary places we find beauty and wonder, and a grace that invites us to be all-in.

This season, we're listening to several writers from our writers group at central. From personal narratives, to short stories, and poetry, we have a bit of everything. Each week we'll hear from a writer and talk with them a little about their inspiration and process. This week, Aaron talks to himself—more than usual. He brings a story about what happens when life takes a strange turn and you end up spending your summer...at a hot tub store.

This week, we're talking with Jan Fischer. Jan has been at Central since 1988. She was a nurse for over 30 years, spending most of her time working with newborns and infants at Humana Hospital in Lexington, now St. Joseph East. Jan often weave spiritual insights through her stories where we find interesting twists and inventive perspectives. In this personal narrative, she explores her love for gardening and her penchant for taking in unwanted plants and nursing them back to health.

This season, we're listening to several writers in our writers group at central. From personal narratives, to short stories, and poetry, we have a bit of everything. Each week we'll hear from a writer and talk with them a little about their inspiration and process.This week, we're talking with Juliette Wallace. Juliette is a student at STEAM Academy. She's been at Central her whole life and we're excited that she's a part of our writers group. She often brings poems to share, conjuring vibrant imagery with power and conviction.Her story today takes us on a journey up a mountain. Following metaphorically and literally a narrative arc, we find ourselves on the other side somehow different.

Welcome to the new season of Wayfarer. This season we're going to do things a little differently. In the past we've had a smattering of songs and prayers and stories. This time, we're going to narrow our focus a bit. We've commissioned some works for Lent from our Writers Workshop here at Central. Each week we'll hear from a writer and talk with them a little about their inspiration and process. This week, we're going to hear from Anna Walsh. Anna is a teacher at The Lexington School who's been coming regularly to our writers workshop. Anna begins with a comparison of nineteenth century authors Bronté and Austen, and eventually leads us to a tree...with a tiger in it. Let's see where this goes...

This is our last lenten podcast for this year, but our plan is to continue the podcast monthly throughout the rest of the year as well. So stay tuned for more stories from our congregation and from other folks in our community. If you’ve got a story to share, let us know. This week, we’re going to do things a little different. Rather than focus on an interview, we’re going to explore Holy Week with some reimaginings of scripture and some songs. Some artistic license has been taken as we consider what one follower of Jesus may have experienced during this time of trial and suffering.While we know the end of the story and we look forward to resurrection Sunday and the new life that abounds, we also have the opportunity to walk with Jesus through the suffering and the consequences of speaking truth to power. As we contemplate how Jesus stood up to corruption and injustice, perhaps we will see more clearly the systems and institutions that oppress people today. Perhaps we will hear Jesus again say that faith can move mountains, and perhaps we’ll be encouraged to speak to that mountain. Maybe we'll even give it a push along the way.

On this episode of Wayfarer, we'll hear stories from Deborah Alexander and a song from Raleigh Kincaid. I grew up just south of Lexington in Richmond, Kentucky. In high school I remember swearing that when I got out, I would never live in this town again. So, of course, now we live thirty seconds from where I grew up—I timed it.Like most high schoolers, I was often bored, and so one Saturday I decided to take a drive. I went to Tates Creek Road in Richmond and turned right and kept on going. I rolled down the windows, put on my favorite Kansas tape, and drove. In a little while, the road ended fairly abruptly at the river. I was about to turn around, but a man waved me forward onto a ferry. Being the polite and respectful highschooler that I was, I did what he said. I drove onto the Valley View Ferry and went across the river. I had never been this far out Tates Creek Road before and had never been on a ferry either, but I figured I knew the way back and would be fine. I kept on going, and eventually realized I was in Lexington. Tates Creek turned into High Street, and finally, after actually getting nowhere, I decided to turn around. Though I was never really lost, for most of the trip I didn’t know where I was. That feels a lot like life to me. We are often unable to suss out our precise location in the grand scheme of things. We may have a general idea of our direction, but what’s around the bend is impossible to know for sure. And though we may know the way back home, it will be different when we return—and so will we. Often the best we can do is offer a holy guess at what road we might take and see where it leads. After all, is it the path we take or the way we walk the path that matters most?

Today we’ll hear a story from Diane Campbell and music from CJ Powers.It took six years and two schools to get me through seminary. By the time I was finished, I felt like I knew a lot more and was certain of much less than when I started.Little by little, things that had been nailed down for me for as long as I could remember came unhinged. Coffee tables turned up in the kitchen. Dining room chairs slid down the hallway. The TV was in the kitchen sink. The couch was on the back porch. Everything was in disarray. The more I learned about the various threads of thought and tradition in the Christian faith, the more diversity I found within the scriptures, the more I opened my eyes to see the spark of the divine in the other, the less I was willing to say with certainty. I’m still quite an anxious person, but over time this uncertainty has become less unsettling and more freeing. Changing minds is less important than learning to see from another perspective. Having the right answers is less important than opening up to the questions. And the mystery is slowly becoming more of a friend than a threat.

Today we’ll hear a story from Erika Webb and music from the Sanctuary Choir, including the anthem from last Sunday's service with Quinn Chapel A.M.E.Each year just before Lent, we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday. In other traditions, Transfiguration Sunday comes on the second Sunday of Lent. But either way, there’s a connection between the season of Lent and this mysterious story of Jesus’ mountaintop experience with his inner circle. So today, we’re going to contemplate this mystifying story. During this season of retreat and letting go, it’s good to remember that we’re looking forward to something beautiful--transformation. It's a reorientation of our maps, a reorganization of our belongings, a reinvigoration of our stride as we travel the way of Jesus.Sometimes transformation may happen in quiet and solitude. Other times it may happen with good friends. And while some transformations may take place in prayer closets, many may find transformation on sidewalks, or wooded paths, or even rush hour traffic. Some folks have bright and shining moments of epiphany, but I have a feeling that most of us have our revelations more slowly, over years or decades. There is no formula for transformation. There is no procedure for renewal. There is no recipe, except maybe love and patience. Maybe the best we can do is put ourselves in places where we might connect with the Divine, and give ourselves a little grace to exist. Maybe we might encounter the Spirit of God in the stillness of the morning, or in the smile of a friend, in the awkward hellos of a stranger, in the sharing of a meal, in tears of grief, in making a sandwich for someone who's hungry, in painting a picture, or knitting, or reading a poem, or even dancing.And just maybe that grace that we experience will boil over into a gratitude and a love that in turn transforms the world around us.

This week we'll hear a story from Rachel Childress and music from Raleigh Kincaid. It’s week 3 of our lenten journey. I didn't grow up observing Lent, but over the years I’ve come to appreciate this season more. For brooding, artsy-fartsy types like me, it fits. It’s nice to have a time of year when I can be “contemplative” rather than just plain moody. I used to see Lent as constriction—a shoring up of our moralities and behavior. But more and more, I see Lent as a widening. It’s about exploring our interior landscapes, not navel-gazing. It’s about making room, not austerity. It’s about release, not constriction. It’s about reconnecting with the Source of life, not about disconnecting from all enjoyment.I still have this tendency to think that God wants some proof of my allegiance—that somehow God is not satisfied with me as I am. And so I can tend to turn Lent into another way that I have to prove myself to be worthy of Grace, to be worth saving. But that is not the purpose of this season. God is not looking for proof of our worthiness. God is not keeping notes on if we prayed enough or if we used our “driving words” on the way home from work. God is whispering to us, calling us out into the wide open spaces, leading us into fields of grace, pointing us to where the waving wheat of gratitude sways, inviting us to find the streams of fresh clear water that spring up in the most unexpected places. Who knows what goodness may be born in our hearts when we make room for love to flower there, when we make room for life to grow and thrive? Who knows? There may be less room for some things, but I don’t think we’ll miss them.

In this episode of Wayfarer we'll hear a story from Gerard Howell and music from Jane Tatum. It's week two of Lent. I don’t know about you, but sometimes, this journey uncovers things I’d rather let lie. When we venture out into the wilderness, into these quiet spaces, we encounter old ghosts, wounds that still haven’t healed, guilt over things left undone and shame for our hurtful words. Sometimes, even Jesus looks strange--muddied with old images of God formed in fear-steeped traditions, covered with vestiges of a great vengeful eye watching intently for any misstep, tainted with the amalgamation of perfectionistic parenting, power-hungry preachers, and embedded moralities that shame any variance. Sometimes when I try to enter into silence and contemplation, I worry about what I’ll find. Who will I meet? Will it be that vengeful God that still haunts me from long ago? The one that constantly threatened punishment? Will it be the God that demands perfect obedience without question? Will it be the God that is ashamed of me and cannot look upon my sinfulness? Our anxieties can sometimes make it hard to see what God is really doing. And in the end, it must come down to faith. Who is this God we seek? As we look, at the story of the woman at the well, we find a God who is not ashamed of our bad reputations or our social status. We find a God who doesn’t demand perfection or look for ways to punish. Rather, we find a generous God who goes way out of the way to meet with someone on the margins. This God opens up the past in a way that is healing and transformative--embracing all of us, and welcoming us into a generous communion. I hope you see that God that knows you fully and loves you completely, not in spite of your shortcomings, but because you are beloved.

It’s that time of year again. We’re back for another season as we journey through Lent together. This year, we’re going to do things a little different than before. The past couple of years we’ve done a daily podcast throughout the lenten season and I’ve lived in my basement all alone with nothing but enormous amounts of coffee and spray cheese, but this year we’re moving to an extended weekly podcast with what we think are the best sections of our previous episodes. Today we’re talking with Mark Thomas. Mark and Lucy, along with their son Canaan, came to Central last year after returning to the area from Texas where Mark taught Philosophy at Blinn College in Bryan, Texas. Mark and Lucy have traveled to many places, and we’ll hear about one of those trips now as we begin our journey into Lent.

Today we wake to find the tomb empty. Jesus is risen from the dead and is alive. The time of suffering is over and we can celebrate in the life Jesus offers to all. Thanks to Susan Waggener and Pete Grass for reading scripture and to Central's Sanctuary Choir for singing on 'Bright and Early.' This ends our Lenten series for this season, but we'll be back periodically with more stories from fellow wayfarers.

On Holy Saturday, we enter that strange space between. Jesus has died and the disciples have gone into hiding. Today we contemplate the waywardness the disciples must have felt as they waited, struggling with their loss and grief. So today, before our celebrations, we consider this great loss. And yet, the brightness and glory of the resurrection is even brighter when juxtaposed with the darkness of this day. The song we’ll here contemplates what the disciples may have felt after Jesus’ death and burial--the muddle of feelings and dashed hopes that we all experience in our times of grief. And still we hope, for tomorrow is a new day.

Today we follow Jesus to the cross and into the darkness. It seems odd to call this day good, but we come with the faith that God will bring life renewed. We usually don’t have podcasts on the weekends, but there’ll be a couple of shorter, reflective pieces this weekend--one for Holy Saturday, and then one for Easter Sunday. Today, we'll hear a poem by Bill Campbell titled 'Among the Crowds.' Thanks to Christie, Matt, Skye, and Adam Gabbard for reading scripture. The music for the readings is by Matt Gabbard.

Today we follow Jesus through the Passover meal, sharing the bread and cup with his disciples. We’ll watch as he is betrayed, arrested, and questioned. And still, he continues to walk the path of peace. We’ll begin with a prayer from Rachel Childress that she read on Palm Sunday. Thanks to Rebecca, Jamie, Ethan, Juliette, and Millie Wallace, and Isaac Scott for reading scripture. Music by Aaron Austin.

It's Wednesday of Holy Week. On Sunday, we’ll be shifting our themes of unlearning to the theme of learning life as we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, but as we follow Jesus through this last week, there is still suffering ahead. Today, we’re going to hear a story from Carol Hodges, a long-time member of Central. Carol’s shares a story about loss in her life and the support of friends and faith family in the midst of death’s shadow. And how though the scars of our losses linger with us, there is also the possibility of hope and renewed life in the wake of our griefs. Thanks to Gwen and Arnetta Hart for reading scripture for us.

It’s Tuesday of Holy Week. We’re follow Jesus’ movements through his last days of ministry before his death and resurrection. Tensions between Jesus and the religious establishment are growing--the Prince of Peace is an enigma to the power structures of the day, and his way of peace and generosity threatens their power. We’ll contemplate these scriptures together, read by Claudia Hall, Rachel Childress, and Judy Thompson. Also, we'll hear music from Central's sanctuary choir.

It's Holy Week. Yesterday we celebrated Jesus’ coming kingdom with palms, all too aware what this week would entail. Jesus continues to speak out for justice, refusing to change his tune and allow the powerful to rest easy in their abusive, status-based structures. So this week, we’ll follow Jesus’ movements through his last week of ministry. Our practice will be contemplating these scriptures, read by members of Central. In the spaces and gaps around the scripture, listen for God’s word to you. Thanks to Kit and Diane Montgomery for reading and to Jane Howell for her music on the harp.