Stones in my pocketPosted on August 7, 2012 by Rebecca Husband Maynard — No Comments ↓

I have an affinity for stones. Not gem stones, although they are quite lovely, but rather stones that remind me of the rock of the Earth from which they came. I like that rocks and stones were on Earth long before God created human beings. Stones, fragments of rocks, remind me of creation and the God who formed the Earth and thought it was good. As Susan Palo Cherwien writes in Crossings: Meditations for Worship, “Rocks are the elders on earth…In the rock is the memory of all that has transpired in the universe’s forming” (p. 5).

I appreciate that in the Hebrew Scriptures it is noted that Samuel took a stone and placed it on the ground to indicate that “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” It was their Ebenezer, “stone of help.”  The stone pillar that Jacob set up was the witness to the agreement made between Jacob and Laban. I relate to the psalmist who declares that God is my rock and my refuge. I consider stones to be visual reminders of God’s rock solid presence. Stones mark the place where God has helped me.

I remember reading the book Jewel by Bret Lott years ago. The one line out of the whole book that I can’t seem to shake is when Jewel’s mother refers to the stories of who Jewel was and where she came from as “stones in your pocket.” How often I have thought of the stones in my own pocket. These are stones that, when I stick my hand down in my pocket, I can’t help but bump against them, relishing their rattle and how they slip through my fingers. I often pick out one stone and roll it around in the palm of my hand, considering all sides, seeing how I helped shape the stone and the stone shaped me. These stones are the stories that define me, stories that make me who I am today. I believe that our own stories are integral to helping us discover who God created us to be and how God works in, through and with us.

We all have stories to tell. In my ministry I am able to witness how essential it is for each of us to know our story and tell our story.  And listening to one another’s stories helps us take notice of the filament of grace that links us together as God’s beloved creations. Often, it is only when we pull out one stone at a time and examine it faithfully that we see the intricacy in it. We can take the time to marvel at the fine lines of grace that encompass it, remember the making of the smooth edges and acknowledge the pain of the sharp points.

We all carry stones in our pockets. As we take each one out and consider it, we might just find that the stone has a story to tell. One that is as old as the hills and as new as God’s mercies each morning.

This post originally ran on the ABPnews Blog  www.abpnews.com/blog 

The red infernoPosted on November 2, 2012 by Rebecca Husband Maynard — 4 Comments ↓


I am totally engulfed in the red inferno. Flames of red and ribbons of yellow lick at my skin, yet I remain cool and indifferent to its intense heat of color. As I strain to look up, up, up, my eyes wide with delight, I can’t help but smile like a Cheshire cat at my good fortune. My neighbor’s tree is responding to the call of autumn with such passion and intensity that I stop my early morning walk to stand and allow its splendor to thoroughly saturate my senses. I can’t move. I breathe deeply. My eyes veer back and forth, up and down, trying to absorb every nuance of the celebration of color that is partying around me. I gently draw my lids closed and desperately try to remember every color and how it feels to know my heart is so inflamed with love for God’s creation. For a few heartbeats of my life, I know no anxiety, stress, anger or impatience. “Thy kingdom come…on earth as it is in heaven.” I was experiencing what I believe to be God’s reign right here, right now. Yes! It can happen if I am willing to participate with God in creation and to realize that God is just waiting for me to jump in.

This moment takes me back to a small island country. I see the urban sprawl of its capital, its dusty and dirty roads, ramshackle houses and sad countenance. Yet I remember in that distant memory the little window box hanging on one of the houses. In it is planted a few festive flowers, making the house a home, the city a tad more hospitable and palatable for its neighbors. I am grateful for whoever took the time to participate in God’s glorious creation, breathing God’s sacred presence into a place that some might say God forgot.

At the same time, I am whisked back into another memory. I am driving through Romania in the midst of the years of the reign of terror. The bus is full of our high school concert choir. From my window I see many a field of joyful sunflowers, lifting their bright faces to God in praise of sun and water and earth. St. Francis would have been pleased. I know I surely am. God hasn’t forgotten God’s precious creatures, even in the middle of desperation and darkness brought about by human minds and hands.

Coming back to reality, I immediately think of those engulfed in the flames of war and lives disrupted by falling gunfire, not rays of sunlight or the fanfare of changing leaves. While I believe in the mysterious power of prayer, in this moment lifting up a prayer for them seems too easy, too much like Pollyanna. What to do? Only one thing – I must take this God moment with me and use it to infuse my day with awareness of God’s presence. I need to make myself available so that I might be that flaming and brilliant red leaf to someone who needs passion or joy or just a word of kindness. It still smacks of excessive optimism, but then I pause. Isn’t that what I pray each day, for God’s will to be done and for me to have a part in it?

I can’t stop the violence, the sadness, the hatred, or the anger of the world, but if I have faith at all in a loving God, then I must acknowledge God’s own broken heart and tears that water the sunflowers and the red maple tree I stand under. No, all is not right with this world. But I pray that God will help someone who has their eyes shuttered with the burdens of this world to look up and around, to see that a loving God is working in and through us to bring beauty into the lives of others. Maybe the pleasure that God just brought into my morning is the smile I share with someone who seems to have nothing to smile about. There is no easy answer. I take my smile with me and offer a prayer to be God’s bright red leaf today.


This post originally ran on the ABPnews Blog  www.abpnews.com/blog 

Thais of the heart
Posted on May 31, 2013 by Rebecca Husband Maynard — 1 Comment ↓

A Catholic nun and a Baptist minister walked into a Thai restaurant.  They sat down and ordered Pad Thai.  Over noodles and conversation they discovered that, long ago and some 500 miles away, they were connected to the same roots.  Sister Janis went to high school at the parochial school that I walked by each day on my way to the public school.  I nearly spit out my tea when we realized how close we were in distance back then in a large northern city, and here we were in a small rural town in the foothills of North Carolina having lunch.  We never knew one another until Sister Janis came to town to be the pastoral administrator for the local Catholic church.  We continued our lunch as if we were long lost friends.

Catholics and Baptists weren’t always so congenial, I am told.  I never knew any different.  I blame it on my parents.  Every summer my father planned a one to two week family vacation by car.  When a Sunday was involved, we attended worship at a local church in whatever town we were visiting.  I loved it.  Just the other day, my middle brother stared at me incredulously when I said how much I liked doing that.  “You actually enjoyed that??” he questioned while shaking his head. Obviously, he wasn’t so taken with this foray into exploring other churches. And, I might add, different denominations. That was the beginning of my ecumenical education. I loved it so much that I became an ecumenical snob because I could cite the theological and liturgical differences between the different denominations. My parents also helped me understand the Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Jewish and Hindu faiths, because we had friends who practiced them.

I have found that, over the years of my ministry, having knowledge of and connection to other denominations and faiths have enriched my own.  I have discovered wonderful worship and study resources, and new spiritual practices that I would have missed had I not had these relationships.

My disappointment comes in finding out how little people know, or care, about other faith practices, if they aren’t their own. Unfortunately, this leads to distrust and dislike. In one particular instance, I was writing a letter to our local ministers’ association the year I was president. My letter was inviting other pastors to join us and I described our group as ecumenical. When I asked the vice-president to proof the letter for me, he immediately requested that I remove the word “ecumenical,” as it would scare some pastors away. I commented that we are ecumenical. “Yes, but just don’t use that word,” he replied.  I couldn’t believe it or understand it. But he was right. My ecumenical innocence bubble had burst.

Being ecumenical doesn’t mean I give up my own theological stance, but it does mean that I respect others’ views on practicing their faith — whatever it is.  I continue to be fascinated with what I learn from others about their faith. I have found that sometimes the different view they share with me calls me to deep reflection. I have even incorporated a new perspective or two into my own beliefs. My spiritual life continues to grow as I discover new ways of praying and worshiping. I believe in a God that is bigger than what I can understand of my own faith – and others’ faith.  God can handle that I venture into other churches, synagogues and temples. God knows my heart and God also knows that it grows three times bigger each time I take the time to truly listen to the heart of my fellow sister and brother in faith – whatever their faith or denomination may be.


About Rebecca Husband Maynard
Rebecca is an ordained Baptist minister and founder of Stacking Stones Ministry, an ecumenical ministry providing retreats, spiritual formation and labyrinth events, and spiritual direction, for churches, religious groups, and individuals.

This post originally ran on the ABPnews Blog  www.abpnews.com/blog