Blog Posts

Char Cox 11/17/22 Char Cox 11/17/22

Tell My Story

Content Warning: This post discusses depression and suicide.

Tell my story,

She said.

If it will help someone,

She said.

If it will give someone hope,

She said.

If it will make a difference,

She said.

If it will let someone –

Anyone –

Know that they are not alone,

She said.

If it will help someone believe in second chances

And forgiveness

And grace enough for today

And a God who loves, deeply loves,

She said.

Then tell my story.

Please, tell my story.

All she asked was that I change names and places

So that the truth in her story would

Be in the universality of the story itself,

Rather than in the specificity of her identity.

Tell my story,

She said.

And so I have.

For nigh on 30 years
I have done what she asked me to do –

Over and over again.

I have told her story.

It has been an immense privilege –

A gift

And an honor

To tell her story

In conversations

And devotions

And reflections

And sermons –

A story of

Grace

Mercy,

Forgiveness,

Love,

And hope –

So much hope.

Over the years,

Of telling her story,

She and I lost touch with each other.

As so often happens,

Our lives intersected

In a particular time

And in a particular place,

And the farther we both moved

From that intersection,

In time

And circumstance

And life experiences,

The fewer reasons we had

To stay in touch,

Until eventually –

We simply didn’t.

But she –

And her story –

Have continued to live

In my heart

And in my mind

And in my own reservoirs of hope,

As a tangible presence

Of promise,

An embodied sacrament of a living hope.

Then the other day,

Through the chances and

Happenstance

Of social media,

I learned that she had died –

Unexpectedly,

By her own hand,

Amid the crushing weight of depression.

She who had freely given me –

And literally hundreds of others

Through her story –

Hope –

Had lost all hope,

And surrounded by the overwhelming

Presence of its absence –

She took her own life.

In the days since I have learned this,

I have vacillated between

Sorrow

Grief

Guilt

Regret,

And probably a host of other things

That I haven’t yet been able to name.

At the same time,

I have remembered

Joy

Laughter

Deep conversations

Hard-won wisdom

Grace

Gratitude

Love

And yes –

Hope –

The hope that once

Bubbled up and out

From her like a river flowing full in springtime.

And in my remembering,

I still hear her voice

And her words –

Tell my story.

And so,

In her memory,

And in defiance of all that overwhelms

And presses in

And around

And upon

Any and all of us –

I do,

And I will

Tell her story -

In the sure and certain hope

That the truth which it speaks

Just might stir

Even the most sorrowing heart

to Hope once again.

As I have always done,

I will honor her request –

And now her memory –

By changing all recognizable details.

Mia was, what some might call,

A woman with a reputation.

Her life had been marked by

Challenges,

Difficulties,

Addiction,

Mental health struggles.

This reputation surrounded her –

Often preceded her,

And cast a shadow behind her.

Mia had not grown up

With a connection to

Any faith tradition,

But as an adult,

She had been baptized

And thought it important

For her children to be connected to,

Raised with

An understanding of –

And relationship to –

Church.

Her oldest son loved to sing,

And so the children’s choir

At the local congregation

Became their primary connection

To Church.

As happens with children’s choirs,

They would sing in worship on Sunday mornings.

When these Sundays

Came around on the calendar,

Mia would drop Michael off

At the curb

And tell him she would wait for him

To come out when he was done.

Every time,

Michael would beg,

Please come hear me sing, Mama.

And every time,

Mia would shake her head,

And reply with a variety of reasons

As to why that was not possible.

One on particular Sunday,

Mia dropped Michael off

As she always did.

The now-familiar

Back-and-forth

Played out like liturgy between them.

Please, Mama, come hear me sing.

I can’t, honey, you know that.

Please, Mama.

Not today. Maybe some other time.

You always say that.

I know. Maybe someday.

Promise?

We’ll see. I love you. Now go, before you’re late.

Love you, too.

And off he went up the sidewalk to the front door

Of the Church.

Sitting in the car,

Mia felt her heart racing

As the minutes ticked by.

The closer it got to starting time,

The more she wondered –

Maybe I should.

It would be good for Michael.

I could sneak in the back,

After everyone else is seated.

No one would see me.

I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.

And I could leave as soon as the song is done.

She played it over

Several times in her head,

And right before the bell tolled 10:00,

She slipped in the door.

The ushers were still in the narthex.

They exchanged glances

And raised eyebrows,

But one of them handed her a bulletin.

Without making eye contact,

She took it, and slid into the

Thankfully empty,

Back pew,

Just in time for the children

To take their places on the chancel steps.

As soon as Michael found his spot,

His eyes looked out

To the gathered congregation,

And to his surprise

And utter delight

He saw his Mom.

Without the slightest hesitation,

He waved one arm –

And then the other –

High over his head –

To make sure that she would see him.

Chuckles went through the congregation

As heads turned collectively

To see who Michael was waving at.

And then Mia saw them –

The pulled-tight-faces

On the turned-around-heads

Shaking,

Expressions of disgust.

And she heard it –

Two different people

Spoke words

Loud enough for her –

And everyone else to hear.

What’s she doing here?

Poor little boy.

Doesn’t even know what kind of mother he has.

It was all Mia could do to stay in that pew.

She wanted to flee

With every fiber of her being,

But she knew that if she got up and left then,

Michael would be devastated,

And the scene would be worse

Than it already was.

And so she stayed,

The heat creeping up her face,

And her palms turning clammy,

She stayed –

Determined to leave as soon as the song was done.

When the children were finished,

Michael took off down the center aisle

Toward his Mom,

He got to the back pew

Just as Mia was standing up to leave.

Michael, however,

Had a different idea.

He planted himself in the aisle,

Right at the end of the pew,

And pleaded with her to stay.

Not wanting to cause any further disturbance,

Mia sat down,

And Michael took his place beside her.

It was then

That Mia looked ahead in the bulletin.

She saw that Communion

Was to be celebrated on that day.

Good God,

She thought.

I can’t do that.

How long has it been?

I don’t even know how they do it anymore.

As the hymns were sung,

The sermon was preached,

And the prayers were prayed,

Mia decided that they would simply stay in the pew.

There was no way that she would

Parade up in front of all of those people.

When the time came,

One-by-one the ushers

Dismissed the pews.

With each passing pew,

Mia’s heart raced a little faster.

She had whispered in Michael’s ear

That they were not going to go up,

And she hoped that he would listen.

When the ushers got to the back row,

However,

Michael was up and out of his pew

Before Mia could do anything about it.

He got about six pews down the aisle

Before he realized

That his mother had been serious –

That she wasn’t going to Communion –

That she wasn’t with him –

And in that moment,

He stopped.

Turned around.

Looked directly at his mother.

Held out his right hand

And said –

Or rather shouted –

Loud enough for the whole congregation to hear –

Come on Mama. Jesus is waiting.

And in that moment,

Mia –

Lifted by something

Other than her own volition –

Got up from her pew,

Reached for her son’s outstretched hand,

And went forward to the table of grace.

When she told me

This story,

She told me that in Holy Communion

On that day –

For the first time in her life –

She believed in Hope.

Come on Mama.

Jesus is waiting.

It literally breaks my heart

To know that the hope

Which filled her on that day,

So many years later,

Escaped her.

But,

Tell my story,

She said.

If it will make a difference,

She said.

If it will help someone,

She said.

And so,

I have.

And I will.

And you,

Beloveds,

Whoever you are,

And whatever is happening

In your life

As you read this missive,

You matter.

Your story matters.

You are important.

You are precious,

And valued,

And important,

And loved.

Life can be hard.

It often doesn’t make sense.

Hope can be elusive –

But help is available.

Help.

Is.

Available.

988 –

The Suicide & Crisis Lifeline –

Is always available –

24 hours a day.

Seven days a week –

With free and confidential support.

Don’t hesitate to use it.

There is no shame is reaching out.

A listening ear will greet you on the other end of the line.

That’s a promise.

And if you

Are wondering what you

Or your Church

Can do,

How you can help

Someone who is struggling –

988 –

The Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

Has a host of resources

To assist you in playing a part

In the emotional well-being

Of one another.

Bearing one another’s burdens is,

Afterall,

Part of our vocation,

Our call

As followers of Jesus.

Tell my story,

She said.

It is my prayer,

That in telling my friend’s story,

Someone else’s story

Just might be renewed in

Hope.

May it be so.

Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox

Rev. Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox (affectionately known as “Char”) holds a Doctor of Ministry Degree from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, with an emphasis in Spirituality; a Master of Sacred Theology Degree from the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg, with an emphasis in Preaching and Worship, a Master of Divinity Degree from Luther Seminary, and a Bachelor of Arts Degree from Augustana University, Sioux Falls. She has served as a pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America for over 28 years, serving in seminary, collegiate, and congregational settings. She loves reading – especially memoirs and historical fiction, and enjoys writing poetry, travelling, and all things winter.

Facebook | PrChar
Website | Charlene Rachuy Cox

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Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.

As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.

Char Cox 9/8/22 Char Cox 9/8/22

Six Words

I have long been fascinated

By the six-word story –

Six words to tell a complete tale,

Six words to capture an experience,

Six words to engender emotion,

Six words to draw the reader in,

And

To leave the reader changed,

Six words to say everything there is to say,

Six words –

Succinct,

Carefully chosen,

Complete.

I first discovered the six-word

Phenomenon

several years ago

when I was reading memoirs.

My goal was to read

a book a week,

And in the process,

I searched for titles

by reading reviews online.

One day,

when I was scrolling through the results for

“must read memoirs,”

I stumbled upon

The Six Word Memoir ® project.

After finding the website,

I ordered and read,

“Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs,

by Writers Famous and Obscure,”

edited by Rachel Fershleiser and Larry Smith.

By page 20,

I was hooked.

As I read

Entry after entry,

I was amazed

at how just six words

spoke volumes.

Six words

told complete stories.

Six words

captured

Moods

and memories.

Conflicts

and crises,

People

and poignancy.

“Born in the desert, still thirsty.”

-Georgene Nunn

“Savior complex makes for many disappointments.”

-Alanna Schubach

“Joined Army. Came out. Got booted.”

-John Baumeister

“Followed rules, not dreams. Never again.”

-Margaret Hellerstein

“On the playground, alone. 1970, today.”

-Charles Warren

“Everyone who loved me is dead.”

-Ellen Fanning

“Time to start over again, again.”

-Dan Petronelli

And, still one of my favorite –

“Asked to quiet down; spoke louder.”

-Wendy Lee.

It wasn’t long

before six words

became a regular spiritual practice for me.

Review the day

in six words.

Portray the experience

in six words.

Process the feelings

in six words.

Succinctly summarize

both joys and sorrows,

trials and triumphs,

hopes and fears

in six words,

Day after day,

Week after week,

Month after month -

It became a framework

to put things into a healthy perspective,

to both celebrate

and let things go.

Before I knew it,

I found myself

thinking in six words

about things both

humorous

and serious.

It even became a part of my

sermon preparation –

Write the sermon in six words –

and then write the whole sermon.

It was –

and is –

Both life-giving

and life-saving.

When the pandemic descended

upon

and engulfed the world

in early 2020,

I found myself

wondering what I could do

that would give people

a space,

a place,

and community

amid lockdown

and isolation

to not feel so alone.

We couldn’t be together,

but we needed each other.

With so much

Upended

And suspended,

I – we –

Needed some way to

Articulate,

Put into words -

Name

what we were

Thinking,

Feeling,

and Experiencing

amid so much fear and uncertainty.

Late one night,

In March of 2020,

I formed a Facebook group -

“Six Word Snapshots.”

The timeline photo

said then,

And still says now -

“Staying home

Washing hands

Praying more.”

The invitation is this:

In six words only,

write about what you are doing

amid these changing times.

What brings you joy?

How has your life changed?

What are your challenges?

How are you passing the time?

How are you

"making the best of it?"

What are you thinking about it?

Remember –

six words only –

no more, no less!

I invited a handful of my friends.

They invited more.

And it grew exponentially

In a matter of hours.

People wrote -

People responded

And with one six-word post

after another,

a community was formed.

People wrote of their sorrows:

And suddenly tears, despite the sun.

People wrote of their exhaustion.

I miss my motivation. Too tired.

People wrote of their loved ones who were sick:

Rest eternally, Dad. Kick COVID, Mom.

People wrote of strained relationships:

Painful relationship with mother. Weird day.

People wrote of unemployment:

Husband’s job loss is permanent. Sigh.

People wrote of the unsettled-ness of time:

Really? It’s not Friday? Who knew?

People wrote of the everyday things that were keeping them going:

Warm, delicious homemade cinnamon raison bread.

People wrote

and wrote

and wrote,

and they are still writing.

The posts are more infrequent now

and are often not related to the pandemic –

Prayers, friend's heart valve surgery tomorrow

Friends' happiness makes my heart giggle

Yippee, back to work at 80

Making play dough tonight! Kneading …Therapeutic.

But there is something profoundly holy

about this

six-word experience

and the ongoing way that

it meets people’s needs

to speak

and be heard,

to name something –

anything, really -

and have someone respond.

In recent months,

my personal six-word practice

has taken on

yet another

a new form.

Through my work as the

Program Director for Congregational Thriving

at St. Olaf College,

I have the privilege of

stewarding

The Nourishing Vocation Project,

a project through the

Lutheran Center

for Faith, Values, and Community

with generous support from

Lilly Endowment Inc.

The Nourishing Vocation Project

is a four-phase experience

that invites individual participants

and whole congregations

to deepen their understanding

of God’s call

upon their life and work

so that they can thrive.

Foundational to this project

is a spiritual practice

that I have created, called

Vocare.

Vocare,

from the Latin,

meaning “to call,”

is designed to

help you discern

and embrace

your multiple vocations

so that

you can more intentionally

live life on purpose

for the common good.

Vocare

invites ongoing reflection upon

six words –

Values,

Openness,

Call,

Attentiveness,

Regrets,

Experiences

of God’s presence.

Vocare

invites you to regularly

dwell with these questions –

What do I value,

and how am I living my values?

To what am I being asked to be open?

How do I respond?

What voices are calling to me?

Which ones do I listen to, and why?

Where am I giving my attention?

Does my attention align with my values?

What are my regrets?

What insight do I gain from them?

When, where, and how have I experienced

the presence of the God in my everyday life?

Values

Openness

Call

Attentiveness

Regret

Experience –

Six words

that can

nourish ongoing discernment,

Six words

that can

nourish the pursuit of purpose,

Six words

that can

nourish the living of

our multiple vocations in daily life,

Six words

that can

lead you to more intentionally

live life on purpose for the common good.

I commend this practice

and its six words

to you.

Incorporate it

into something you are already doing –

Put these six words

in your head

and write them on your heart.

Think on them

when you go for a walk,

Commute to work,

Have your devotions,

Mow your lawn,

Sit down at table with your family,

Take a shower,

Plan your budget,

Lay out your monthly calendar.

Give them space in your thoughts

when you go to bed at night.

Let them greet you

when you wake

In the morning.

Welcome them

as a companion

on your daily journey –

whatever that journey may be

and wherever that journey

may take you.

You just might be surprised at how

these six words

lead you to clarity

when life is confusing –

Point you toward intention

when meaning is allusive,

And deepen your understanding

of God’s call

upon your life and work –

in the everyday moments

of everyday life

so that

you can

more intentionally,

live life on purpose for the common good.

And who knows,

You may even end up with some

Amazing six-word stories along the way!

Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.

Char Cox 7/7/22 Char Cox 7/7/22

Words Create Worlds

I am a lover of words.

I love what words are, and I love what words do.

When I was a child,

my three favorite books were

the white dictionary,

the red thesaurus,

and the green book of rhyming words.

I spent countless hours

trying on new words for size,

tasting them in my mouth,

savoring them in my ear,

and settling them into my mind.

Words, you see,

seemed to crack open a window

into worlds as yet unimagined.

I especially liked big words

with lots of syllables

that rolled around in my mouth

like a marble in pinball machine,

just for the privilege of being spoken out loud.

But then in high school,

I had a teacher who taught me

to never use a 50-cent word

when a nickel word will do.

“Think,” he said

“about the power of what most people would call

‘throw-away-words,’

like prepositions.”

To prove his point,

he had each of us choose one preposition

about which we had to write

a poem,

an essay,

and a short story.

His directions were so simple

that they seemed impossible:

“see what kind of world a preposition can create,”

he said.

“If you can grasp the power of the preposition,

you will begin to scratch the surface

of the power of words.”

The preposition that I chose

was “with.”

I remember nothing that I wrote,

but I do remember the feeling of the exercise,

something akin to a

life-changing “aha.”

Words are not neutral –

even the little ones,

I learned.

Words are laden with inherent power.

They can be a weapon,

or they can be shield.

They can create,

or they can destroy.

Regardless of the moral dictums of “good behavior,”

words cannot be taken back.

They cannot be un-spoken.

The exhale cannot be inhaled.

And users of words?

Well, users of words

bear both the privilege

and the burden of that power.

It seemed,

in that “aha moment,”a weighty thing,

that power,

to be thrust upon the shoulders of anyone,

but especially high school students,

Several years later

When I read

“Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity,”

by Abraham Joshua Heschel,

three words leapt off the page

and returned that adolescent

classroom exercise not only to my memory,

but to the everyday living of my life.

“Words create worlds,”

Heschel’s daughter, Susannah, wrote

of the wisdom her father taught her.

Words.

Create.

Worlds.

Indeed they do,

and theologically we say that it is so.

In one creation story,

God speaks –

God utters words –

Breath-given-voice -

and all that is

comes into being.

It is through the breathed-out creativity of God

in and through words –

“and God said” –

that creation comes into existence.

It is through the expelled breath of God,

uttered and blown across the face of the deep,

that the imagination of God comes to life.

One could assert

That without words –

all would still be formless void.

Words create worlds.

In the other creation story,

When God gives away God’s breath,

the human creature comes to life.

And with God’s breath,

God gives away God’s voice,

God’s ability to utter not just sounds –

But words.

With this holy generosity,

the human’s life becomes inspired with power,

animated by God’s own dynamic breath,

God’s own dynamic Word.

Hence,

the holy privilege of the spoken word -

of breath-given-voice -

is an imitative act of creative,

imaginative gift-giving,

breathing out power

to give life away.

Words create worlds.

But what kind of world do we create with our words,

with this holy, creative power?

I return often to these musings,

but they have especially been on my mind as of late

as each day seems to widen the chasm

in our ever-increasing divisive way of being –

and way of speaking –

with one another.

And in my musings, I keep returning

not just to the weighty privilege

and the holy burden of words –

but to that little, nickel word

through which I chose to fulfill that high school assignment,

oh, so long ago –

With.

For you see,

we who are cross-marked

and Spirit-sealed

have been both gifted and tasked

with speaking not just any words –

not carelessly or thoughtlessly

tossing about words

as if they are nothing;

rather we have been both gifted and tasked with

words that are in the service of the Word –

the Word -

through whom all things came into being,

through whom we have all received grace upon grace.

We have been both gifted and tasked

with the holy exhale that

brings to life among us

God who is –

with us always,

even unto the end of the age.

We have been gifted and tasked

with witness –

by and through our words -

to the withness of God –

a withness that not only makes

a withness with one another possible,

but that indeed is our call as human creatures,

tasked with stewarding our planet home.

Now, I have no magic wand to wave

that will somehow

bind up the wounds and bridge the divide

of our fracturing common life,

but I do wonder,

and I imagine,

and I hope

that maybe –

just maybe

a reminder that

words create worlds

will beckon us again and anew

to remember that the same Spirit

who went out in the rush of mighty wind

bringing forth speech –

that same Spirit

fills each of us –

and all of us

so that

when words come forth from our mouths,

they might be filled with the creative power of life,

rather than the destructive force of death.

They might imitate the holy act

of imaginative gift giving,

breathing out power that gives life away

and cracks open a window to yet unimagined ways

of living –

truly living –

with one another.

speak Word

into the chaos

over the void

in my now --

with me

to me

through me

bring me to life

that your breath might voice speech in me

breathe into me your Word

that I might breathe out your life in speech.

Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.

Joe Davis 4/4/22 Joe Davis 4/4/22

Dreamer's Manifesto

At our upcoming retreat, Renew on May 2-3, we are delighted to host Joe Davis, a nationally renowned poet, educator, and theologian. Joe has partnered with Church Anew on several initiatives including our digital worship offerings and, most recently, giving a talk for the inaugural season of Old & New. He shared his original poem, “Dreamer’s Manifesto” as a benediction to this seven-part video series produced by Church Anew.

Join Joe Davis, Nadia Bolz-Weber, and others at Renew, May 2-3! Details and registration.

Joe Davis

Joe Davis is a nationally-touring artist, educator, and speaker based in Minneapolis, MN. His work employs poetry, music, theater, and dance to shape culture. He is the Founder and Director of multimedia production company, The New Renaissance, the frontman of emerging soul funk band, The Poetic Diaspora, and qualified administrator of the Intercultural Development Inventory. He has keynoted, facilitated conversation, and served as teaching artist at hundreds of high schools and universities including in New York, Boston, and most recently as the Artist-in-Residence at Luther Seminary where he earned a Masters in Theology of the Arts.

Learn more

Church Anew is dedicated to igniting faithful imagination and sustaining inspired innovation by offering transformative learning opportunities for church leaders and faithful people.

As an ecumenical and inclusive ministry of St. Andrew Lutheran Church, the content of each Church Anew blog represents the voice of the individual writer and does not necessarily reflect the position of Church Anew or St. Andrew Lutheran Church on any specific topic.

Blog Posts

Tell My Story

Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox

Six Words

Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox

Words Create Worlds

Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox

Dreamer's Manifesto

Joe Davis