Week 6: God's Never-Ending Adventure

And so we come to the final chapter of the book, in which Epperly discusses . . . well, the final chapter. It's not exactly a happy thought for the holiday season, but here it is: You are dying. I am dying. We are all, without exception, dying. As one of my seminary professors liked to say, "Last time I checked, the mortality rate was still 100%." We all know this on some logical level, but we still don't usually believe it. We tell ourselves it won't really happen, at least not until some distant day far, far into the future, so we don't need to think about it now. But sooner or later, we do think about it. Maybe we lose a close friend or relative. Maybe we are in a serious car accident or get worrisome news from the doctor. Maybe we just suddenly wake up in the middle of the night with the certainty that death can come for anyone at any time, even us. It shakes us to the core. Death is scary, the ultimate unknown. We've never died before, so how can we know what it's like?

Of course, we have ideas of what it's like. We get them from movies and religious tradition and first-hand accounts of people who have had near-death experiences. There is a bright light at the end of a tunnel. Or there are dead loved ones offering welcome and reassurance. Or there is singing so beautiful it can only be angels. Or there is a fiery pit where demons torment evildoers forever. These and other ideas of death and what lies beyond are embedded in our cultural memory. In the final chapter of his book, Holy Adventure, Bruce Epperly offers a different view on this subject, as he has on so many others during our journey together. I quote a rather lenghty passage here, because it is a good summation of his thinking on the afterlife and because it stands in such contrast to traditional thinking.

"For many persons, the vision of eternal life can be threatening as well as reassuring. Dualistic images of the afterlife suggest a separation of the sheep from the goats and the saved from the unsaved. In this dualistically divided universe, only certain humans can achieve their purpose in this life and the next. Others are not only lost eternally but also are condemned to utter darkness and meaninglessness. Such dualistic theology suggests that death is stronger than God! According to such a view, at the hour of death, God is rendered powerless -- a victim, if you will, of God's own abstract justice, which ultimately proves itself stronger than God's love for creation. Stated another way, such dualistic theology asserts that God's attitude toward you immediately changes at the moment of your death. Though eternity lies ahead for you, if you have not chosen Christ as your Savior in the right way, your fate is sealed, and there is nothing God will or can do about it. From this perspective, God's love is finite, limited, and conditional.

In contrast, an adventurous and holistic spirituality affirms that God's never-ending holy adventure is dynamic and life-transforming. Creativity, relationship, and transformation continue beyond the grave. At death, God welcomes all things into an everlasting community of love and healing with the promise that unexpected adventures of growth and creativity lie ahead. Within God's realm both sheep and goats find a home." (pg. 179)

How does this strike you? Is it difficult for you to reconcile his thinking with scriptures like Matthew 25:31-46, in which Jesus tells the story of the sheep and goats to which Epperly refers? Or do you believe with Epperly that in the end God welcomes all things home? For Epperly, both in this life and the next, community is key. "At the moment of our death, our personal identities are not lost but cherished in an adventurous community in which God's presence and passion for wholeness is unfettered. In this loving community, the 'lived omnipresence,' which only occasionally characterizes our everyday experience, will become our daily delight." (pg. 181) I got chills reading that last part, because I desperately long for the occasional awe-inspiring "brush with God" to become the norm. Every time I have one of those divine encounters, it lasts only long enough for me to wish that I could live forever in that moment, and then it's gone. As a song I once heard put it, "We breathe you in, then we exhale." No matter how much I want to, I can't hold my breath forever. So when Epperly writes that maybe that actually is what "forever" will be like, I find that a deeply comforting possibility. I suspect that I am not alone in this.

As a hospital chaplain, I have had the sacred privilege of being present with many people as they took their final breaths, passing from life through death to whatever lies beyond. Each time has been different, but every time I have felt that I was in the presence of the holy, and it was a sense of peace, not of fear. I have no way of knowing for sure what those who died were feeling, but those who did show signs of lucid thought and feeling in their last moments never seemed afraid. Their dying seemed much easier for them than for those they left behind. Grief is never easy. The loss of someone we care about is inevitably painful, and we often wonder how we could have been a better spouse/child/friend/parent/sibling, etc. to that person now that we have no more time with her or him. This is a universal phenomenon, and sometimes the only comfort in our grief is that we are not alone. Everyone around us has experienced or will experience a significant loss, and as Epperly reminds us, God is also intimately familiar with loss. I believe it is because of the Incarnation that God is able to empathize so completely with us, and I take great comfort in that. "God is 'a fellow sufferer who understands,' as philosopher Alfred North Whitehead asserts. God feels our pain, anguish, and guilt. God knows the good we failed to do and the pain we inflicted. God embraces our lives in their totality and calls us to experience healing in the midst of our pain. We can grieve with hope because God is not finished with our lives or the lives of those we love. Despite our pain and doubt, we can trust that God has a vision of wholeness for us and our beloved." (Pg. 189) Even after death, God is not through with us.

How God's continuing plan/dream for us and all of creation continues to play out after we die is a question I will not presume to answer. As we discussed in class, when it comes to so many things about God, we have to confess that we just don't know. Epperly believes this is exactly the right answer, and helps us avoid some very dangerous pitfalls. "A sense of God's deep mystery provides the antidote for too much certainty about subjects such as the afterlife. Too much certainty perpetrates violence upon persons and belief systems alike. It can lead to exclusion, objectification, and spiritual abuse in faith communities; intellectual abuse in academics; and emotional abuse in relationships. When we think we have all truth, we create artificial boundaries between companions and outsiders, saved and unsaved, orthodoxy and heresy. Those outside our religious camp can become the objects of spiritual warfare and violence when we assert that to become one of 'us,' others must forsake their deepest insights and understandings of the holy and unconditionally accept ours. We may even threaten anyone who does not hold our views with the ultimate act of spiritual and ideological violence: eternal damnation and alienation from God." (pg. 193) We do not have to look far to see his logic. The proof is all around us, played out in churches as well as on battlefields.

Those opposed to Epperly's paradigm of universalism often argue that it gives people license to do whatever they wish here on earth, that our actions have no eternal consequences and don't really matter. The author disagrees, however. He does have a place in his theology for divine judgment and wrath; he just understands them differently than what many of us are used to hearing. "Ultimately, the image of God's 'wrath,' so beloved in certain Christian circles, is not about divine destructiveness and violence but rather about God's opposition to all that stands in the way of justice and wholeness. Thus, there is no contradiction between the ideas of divine justice and universal salvation. . . Divine justice asks, 'What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?' God also asks, 'How are you contributing to the beauty and well-being of the earth and its inhabitants? How well are you practicing justice, loving mercy, and hearing the cries of the poor?' If this life is a process of spiritual evolution and transformation, you can only imagine the beauty and wonder of God's loving community in which Christ will bring wholeness to all things. . . Every creature will experience its true relationship with God, and in that experience each will claim her or his vocation as God's beloved child." (pg. 197)

I'm content to answer, "I don't know," when faced with questions about the afterlife, but I hope that Epperly gets some of it right. I hope he's right about a lot of things as I look back over the six chapters of Holy Adventure. I hope that God doesn't have everything planned. I hope that we are co-creators in shaping the world of which God dreams. I hope that God loves it when we improvise. I hope that God's redemption dream for the world includes dogs and live oaks and butterflies and jellyfish and daisies and lots of other creatures, not just people. I hope that the reality present in Christ inspires the wisdom of all the world's faith traditions and we are all on this holy adventure together. I hope that our lives are a blessing to God. I hope that we are so interconnected that there is no "other," and that we will all one day realize that. I hope that we and our choices matter. I hope that God hears the wordless longings of all creatures as prayer. I hope that we will all live forever in a loving community where God's unhindered presence is our everyday reality. I hope for so many things. And this is a good time of year for that, isn't it? One of the themes of this season of Advent is hope.

I hope that these blogs have been worthwhile. I don't know how many people actually read them, but for those who did read and comment, thank you. Being part of this discussion has been one of the things that fed my soul recently. If you can't tell, I very much enjoyed Epperly's book, and if you haven't already read it, I would encourage you to do so. Look for it at your local library (though I don't know how many have it), or buy it here. As always, here are some daily affirmations to take with you on your journey.

My life is an eternal gift to God.

My loving actions bring joy to (a particular person) in this life and the next.

Nothing can separate me from the love of God.

God gives me strength to face today's challenges.

I embrace my sorrow, knowing that God is with me.

I can respond to (a particular loss) with God as my companion.

I trust God with life's mysteries.

I journey into the unknown with God as my companion and guide.

I am in God's hands this day and forevermore.

God's love embraces all things eternally, even (a difficult person or enemy of our nation).

I have an important role in God's everlasting adventure.

God has given me all the resources I need to be God's companion in healing the world.

And finally, here are the last few questions to think about and comment on, before we go our separate ways on this adventure.

• What is your vision of life after death?


• What do you fear most about dying? How does your faith shape your response to dying? When and where have you experienced God's love being stronger than death?


• Do you believe that persons receive rewards or punishments in the afterlife? Do our present lives make any difference in the nature of our afterlife?


• What is your opinion about the doctrine of hell? How do you balance God's love and justice in your own life and in the lives of others?


• What is the greatest insight you have received during this adventure together? How has it changed your life?


• What commitments to your spiritual growth do you intend to make in the future? What practices do you intend to continue in order to nurture your spiritual growth?

It has been a great ride. One member of the class wrote me a wonderful note about the book's impact. "I walked up stairs, turned corners, and opened doors I didn't even know existed. Thank you," the class member wrote. I would say much the same thing to Mr. Epperly if I could. His book has left its mark on me, and I mean that in the best possible sense. I hope that some of what you have read here will stay with you, as we continue the journey on which our traveling companion is God, and for which we draw our own map, together.

Week 5: Healing Adventures

I apologize that this is over a week late. Partly it was due to technical difficulties, and a very busy week. However, perhaps there was a mental block to blame as well. Bruce Epperly’s Holy Adventure has thrown a lot of challenging ideas at us, but this week’s may have been the most difficult for me. I hit a roadblock very early on, with the affirmations for the first day of this week’s readings. Usually, as I have done each day’s readings, I speak each affirmation aloud and then choose one to focus on for the day. But as I spoke one of these first affirmations, I choked on the words. “My body is beautiful,” I tried to read. But I clearly did not believe it. And as we discussed that day’s reading in class, I found that other women (unfortunately there were no men present at that class) had similar experiences. We simply could not affirm the beauty of our physical being.

A few times, the subject of heaven has already been raised in class, and people have half-joked about the hope of finally being attractive there, of leaving behind this “shell” of a body and existing as pure, beautiful spirit. That sounds nice. But it isn’t very biblical. The idea that we humans are exclusively spiritual beings trapped, for now, in prisons of flesh owes more to Greek philosophy than Christian theology (though Paul does seem to subscribe to such a philosophy at times). After all, in Christ, we believe that God took on a human body and fully experienced everything that living in physical form entails. If our bodies don't matter to God, then why the Incarnation? And why a resurrection in which Jesus returned from the grave not as "pure spirit," but also a body that still showed the scars of crucifixion? Epperly points out that embarking on the holy adventure includes embracing our identity as part of the physical universe which God created and called “very good.” He writes, “Embodiment, sexuality, and relationships alike reveal divine creativity and wisdom. . . Whether young or old, slender or obese, wrinkled or smooth, our bodies reveal God’s loving handiwork. . . We love God in the world of the flesh by treating our own bodies and others’ bodies in ways that promote healing and wholeness.” (pg. 150) That seems to be difficult for most of us to do.

In this society, certain body types are valued more than others, and our view of our own and others' bodies extends beyond a physical assessment. Most of us make judgments of a person's worth based on his or her appearance, particularly if that appearance doesn't fit the cultural norms. "Our social attitudes may diminish the personhood of others and lead us to treat them as less than fully human," Epperly writes. He challenges us to "be attentive to your 'self-talk' as it relates to your own embodiment and the embodiment of others. How often do you look at yourself or others in terms of beauty or judgment? In what way do you see others' bodies -- as temples of God or as places of ugliness? How do you judge your own embodiment? Do you affirm the wonder of your body just as it is?" (pg. 152) I must admit, I did not like my answers to those questions. How would you answer?

On a more positive note, Epperly turns to 1 Corinthians 6:20, and with Paul exhorts us to "glorify God in your body." He cites my favorite line from the movie Chariots of Fire, when Olympic runner Eric Liddell explains to his family that, though he believes God created him to be a missionary, God "also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure." Is there anything you do that gives you such a feeling that God is pleased with what you are doing? When we discussed this in class, several people said they had similar feelings when they played sports or otherwise pushed their bodies beyond perceived limits. Epperly gives several suggestions of ways to honor God in our bodies: physical practices such as yoga, qigong, tai chi, walking, jogging, swimming; spiritual practices like meditation, prayer, silence; being mindful of what we eat, giving thanks, choosing foods that are healthy for us and grown in a way that is good for the environment and for the workers who grow it; taking a sabbath day for study, refreshment, and worship each week; finding creative ways to nurture our relationships with others; volunteering our time to help others in healthy ways; commiting ourselves to a healthy Christian community that nurtures our well-being and supports our commitments; massage, Reiki, therapeutic touch, hugs, physical intimacy, etc. (pg. 154) Finding ways of incorporating some of these into our lives is one means of accepting that God loves our physical bodies and intends for us to live fully in them.

One question that Epperly invites us to ponder this week is, "Where do you need healing?" The area of body image is a place in need of healing for many of us. Another very common affliction in our society is stress. We live in a world where we are often encouraged to push ourselves to the point of exhaustion, and workaholism is celebrated. "In many circles the more stressful you describe your life, the more committed your colleagues assume you are to your work. Peace of mind and equanimity are often viewed as signs of lack of commitment and ambition. . . As a model for today's professionals, Jesus' ministry balanced hard work with sabbath rest." (pg. 160-161) The author encourages us to find moments of peace throughout the day, remembering that God is our partner on this adventure, and so we do not have to do it all by ourselves. We do have some control over how much we take on, and so can limit to some degree the amount of stress in our lives.

However, Epperly is also honest about those times when things beyond our control shake our lives to the very core. He quotes the beautiful poetry of Psalm 139, in which the psalmist asks, "Where can I go from your spirit? . . . If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. . . If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,' even the darkness is not dark to you, the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you." (Ps. 139:7-8, 11-12) As the psalm continues, the writer finds that there is truly nowhere to go where God's spirit is not. Reading the passage at different times in my life, I have been sometimes comforted, sometimes annoyed by the tenacious nature of God's love. Even if we wanted to get away -- and sometimes we foolishly do -- there is ultimately no escape, no place where God's presence will not find us. As one old hymn says, "The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell. It goes beyond the highest star, and reaches to the lowest hell." (From "The Love of God" by Frederick M. Lehman)

When I read Psalm 139 with patients in the hospital, as I often do, I usually leave off the last few verses. I doubt that I am alone in this. After all the poetic assurances of God's love, we then read, "O that you would kill the wicked, O God!" Readers are often shocked to find such words in the Bible, and we are uncomfortable with them. But Epperly does not shy away from these last verses, and is correct when he writes that "even our anger, hatred, and guilt are an essential part of our prayer lives if we are to be truthful to ourselves and God. . . God will not stop loving us even if we no longer love ourselves. God will not hate us even when we hate others." (pg. 166) To that I can only say, "Thanks be to God!"

Besides overwork, another imbalance valued in our society is complete self-sufficiency. We like to convince ourselves that we can survive without anyone else's help, pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and succeed all by ourselves, thank you. Sooner or later, however, we all learn of our need for others in various ways. Life is not all success and happiness, of course, and Epperly believes that "The wisdom of the Cross is that God is as present in pain as in celebration." (pg. 169) In our moments of sickness, weakness, aging, even dying, we are given, as the author puts it, "the gift of vulnerability and interdependence. . . Left to ourselves, we are lost. But when we claim our place in God's dynamic and interdependent universe, we continually discover resources and inspiration beyond our own powers. . . Though we may wish to remain independent agents, we will become stronger in faith and life as we claim life's radical interdependence as a grace and a gift." (pg. 170) We talked about this a good deal in class, especially in terms of our interdependence as a faith community. This church has been, for all of us who spoke, a place where we feel comfortable making our needs known, whether they be social, psychological, spiritual, or practical.

Providence Baptist Church has also been, for myself and another class member, a community of people who keeps us alive, in more than one sense. Let me see if I can explain. At a very dark time in my own holy adventure, when I was questioning the very tenets of my faith, I had a very angry conversation with the pastor and told him that I didn't think I could believe in God anymore. My pastor told me, essentially, that it was okay, that the church would believe for me awhile. And so in the ensuing days and weeks, when I felt at the end of my rope and began to think I had lost my faith, I would remind myself, "No, I haven't lost it. Providence is holding it for me." Every time I walked into a worship service and looked around at the members of my church community, I would feel that these were the people with whom I had left my faith in safe keeping, whether or not they knew it. I experienced some of what Epperly describes, that "we can trust the faith of the community to believe on our behalf when we can no longer pray, sing, or remember the traditions of faith." (pg. 174) I felt comforted by that thought, and could somehow believe that a time would come when I was ready to pick up my faith again, and it would not be hard to find. That turned out to be the case, and another member of the class had a very similar story.

This next thought may seem morbid, but working in a hospital does lead me to think about death more than the average person. I believe that, should something happen to destroy my sense of who I am -- whether death, illness, or traumatic injury -- the people at Providence are some of those who would remember me, ensuring that I was not really lost. It is, again, a comforting thought. I also find peace in the knowledge that, in Epperly's words, "our value as God's beloved children is not based on reason, productivity, language, imagination, or even self-awareness, but on God's abiding, adventurous and non-negotiable love for all creation. I believe that in the evolving adventure of living and dying, God never forgets us, nor does God quit working in our lives. All things are treasured in the divine memory." (pg. 173) In the memories of those we love, we will live on for a time after we are gone, but in the memory of God, we are treasured forever. That is among the many things for which I give thanks this week.

Next week, in the final chapter of the book Holy Adventure, we will look much more deeply at death and what lies beyond -- the last adventure. Until then, here are some of Epperly's daily affirmations from this week's readings. If you like, choose one or more to meditate on as you go about your own adventure this week.

My body is the temple of God.

My body is beautiful.

I glorify God in my body.

God made me (name a characteristic of yourself), and when I (name an action), I feel God's pleasure.

I mediate God's healing touch in every encounter.

I protect vulnerable persons from unhealthy touch.

God is with me in all the storms of life.

Peace is only a moment away.

Regardless of how I feel, God supports me.

I am always at home, because God is always with me.

God's grace is sufficient for me.

God strengthens me in my vulnerability.

I rejoice in the graceful interdependence of life.

I am God's beloved child in every season of life.

Finally, I leave you with a few of Epperly's questions to stir your own thoughts about this week's topics. I welcome your responses to them in the comments below. I am thankful for all of you who have contributed to this wonderful conversation over the past few weeks. Some questions to ponder:

• How do you define healing? How does it differ from curing? Is it possible to experience healing when a cure is not possible?


• What social beliefs stand in the way of your appreciation of your body and the bodies of others?


• What activities give you joy and allow you to feel God's pleasure?


• Jesus often went to a "deserted place" to pray. Where is your personal "deserted place"?


• In what areas do you need to experience personal healing? What practices promote healing and wholeness in your life?

Week 4: Called to Service in the Universal Body of Christ

On a warm afternoon last week, I was walking my dog, Hurley, on the beach at Isle of Palms. Since tourist season is now over, dogs can be off leash during certain hours, and Hurley was running free a few feet ahead of me, sniffing everything in his path. Suddenly, I saw what he was just about to put his nose on and yelled, "Hurley, leave it!" Like the (usually) obedient dog that he is, Hurley looked at me and stepped away from the object he now saw as forbidden -- a dead jellyfish washed up on the beach. I encouraged my dog to follow me in a wide path around the potential stinger and we kept going. But as we walked, I found myself continuing to think about the jellyfish. What is the purpose of such a creature? I wondered. How does it fit into God's dream for the world? That is when I realized that this book has really gotten to me! A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have given a second thought to whether or not God cared about a jellyfish. After all, it is a literally brainless blob, and its defining characteristic is its ability to cause other creatures pain. Why give it a theological thought?

But after reading this week's lessons from Epperly's Holy Adventure, I can't help but reflect theologically on the jellyfish and its place in God's universe. Epperly points to Romans chapter 8, in which we read:

"For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies." (Rom. 8:19-23)

Was this jellyfish in its own way a participant in this longing for a different kind of world, a world that we humans are supposed to help create? Did it somehow do its part in the groaning of labor pains to help birth that new world? The verses following these tell us that when we do not know how to pray, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us with wordless prayers -- sighs or groans, depending on your translation. Did the jellyfish, in its unique jellyfish fashion, actually pray? This was a lot of heavy stuff to think about during a stroll on the beach! I believe that to all these questions, Epperly would respond affirmatively. He challenges us on day 22 to "commit yourself to experiencing the wonder of life in the nonhuman and the human world in new and different ways. Recognize holiness in your animal companions. Watch documentaries about nondomestic creatures. Make a commitment to see every creature as a revelation of God." (pg. 125) It is easy for me to recognize holiness in my dog. Hurley teaches me a lot about God's unconditional love, forgiveness, and delight in us. But to see the revelation of God in a slimy jellyfish? I think for most of us, that is a stretch!

Yet it is a stretch Epperly invites us to take. He reminds us of Paul's vision of the body of Christ in 1 Corinthians chapter 12, in which every part is connected, even the smallest parts are important to the whole, and those parts which may seem most insignificant (or most disgusting) are vital for survival. Lest we humans think too highly of ourselves, Epperly gives us a more balanced view of our place in the cosmos. "Your existence is essential to the well-being of the body of Christ, but so are the existence of plankton, Amazon rain forests, and companion animals or pets and the swirling of galaxies and revolving of planets." (pg. 127) We do matter immensely to God. But we are not the only ones. Matthew 10:29 gives us Jesus's famous teaching on seemingly common sparrows, which can be translated as, "not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father." I couldn't help thinking that day on the beach that perhaps this was true even for the jellyfish -- that it did not die alone there on the sand, but was never apart from God. It was a comforting thought, because if that is true for the jellyfish, it seems safe to say the same for us. So, astonishingly, I did see the revelation of God even in a jellyfish.

This goes hand in hand with one of Epperly's key ideas. The theological word for the concept is panentheism, "the affirmation that God is present in all things, and all things are present in God. Panentheism is to be distinguished from pantheism, which asserts that God and the world are one and the same reality. . . At the the heart of panentheism is the affirmation that God is as near as your next breath and the next person you meet on the street. All moments reveal God, and all actions live eternally within God's experience of the world." (pg. 129) Would you consider yourself a panentheist? How would a panentheistic worldview change the way one interacted with the rest of creation?

Talk of panentheism may sound like heresy to some of us. The idea of nonhuman elements of creation being a means of God's revelation and a part of God's redemption dream can seem radically new. But, Epperly points out, the idea is rooted in scripture, as "the biblical tradition is profoundly creation-affirming. Salvation is not just about humankind and its relationship to God, but encompasses the whole planet. . . The universe is the birthing room of divine creativity, and all creation lives in hope of actualizing its role in a community that embraces God and all creatures." (pgs. 137-138) This may be a very different way of thinking about familiar concepts. What does salvation look like for a jellyfish or a dog? I don't know. But then, if I'm honest, I'm still figuring out what it looks like for a human, too. What do we need to be saved from? Is it only eternal punishment in hell to which we are referring? Surely not. On a day by day and moment by moment basis, we all, in various ways, pray for salvation from many things -- illness, loneliness, depression, anger, failure, fear, pain, hunger, danger, and more. In this, we humans are not alone, and Epperly seems to agree with me that perhaps even jellyfish pray. "God hears all cries and wordless prayers for mercy and relief, whether they come from hungry children, abandoned animals, or persons marginalized because of race, gender, or sexual orientation." (pg. 139)

Taking notice of the natural world around us can help reconnect us with God and remind us of our own symbiotic relationship with the rest of creation. We need the trees and soil and water and insects and animals and all, just as they need us. And every one of us is likewise dependent on God. It is all too easy for us "self-sufficient" humans to forget this. Spending time observing the workings of the cosmos can be just the reminder we need. "The faithful day-to-day rising and setting of the sun do not require our strategic planning, 'best practices,' or purpose drivenness. The ever-present fidelity of God invites us to nurture graceful playfulness even as we seek to bring healing and justice to the earth." (pg. 142)

We can learn from the sun, the sparrows, the dogs, and yes, the jellyfish. All of us are on this adventure together, alongside the God who provides for us every one. Watching Hurley on the beach is delightful because he is completely carefree. He trusts me to warn him of dangers like the jellyfish, and so he runs joyfully along the water's edge, exploring every new thing he finds, tail and tongue wagging. Periodically, he looks back at me, taking a playful stance that invites me to join him in his blissful gallop. When I do, I may be joining him in worship unawares. Epperly says that "we praise God best by rejoicing in our lives and sharing our joy of life through acts of generosity, kindness, and hospitality. . . We praise God by being fully alive to the beauty and wonder of our unique and precious life and the uniqueness and wonder of all things." (pg. 144) May we live fully this week, aware of our place in this interconnected community, this web of creation, the body of Christ.

Here are some of Epperly's affirmations for this week. If you wish, choose one or two to repeat to yourself as you go about your day, and see how it may help center you in God.

My calling is to be God's partner in healing the world.

I honor God's Spirit in the nonhuman as well as human communities.

My gifts bring healing to my human and nonhuman companions.

My gifts bring healing to (a particular animal or human).

All persons are my neighbors.

I reach out in love to both strangers and enemies.

In Christ, I am joined with all creation.

My well-being and the well-being of the planet are one.

I experience God in the voices of the earth.

I listen for God in the pain and beauty of the nonhuman world.

I experience wonder and beauty everywhere I look.

I trust God's care in all things.

I breathe joy with all creation.

I laugh with God at life's hilarity.

It is my hope that these affirmations will be meaningful for you this week. Here are some questions to think about and respond to in the comments below:

• 
  Where do you experience beauty?
• 
  Do you think the nonhuman world shares in God's aim at wholeness and salvation? How should we weigh our care for humans in relationship to our care for the nonhuman world?
• 
  In what ways are we called to live simply so that others -- including the nonhuman world -- can simply live?
• 
  How often do you take a "beauty break"? In what ways does the appreciation of the beauty of creation transform your daily life?

Lastly, I wanted to share a link to this beautiful video. It served as our closing prayer in class. The images are from the BBC/Discovery Channel docuseries "Life," and the song is called simply "The Prayer." (The subtitles are in Portuguese, but the lyrics are in English.) Enjoy this glimpse into the beauty of the nonhuman world.

"Life"/"The Prayer"