The Power of a Reset

I’ve written before about my dog Zoe, who has been having a hard time ever since we moved this summer. Despite our new condo being a major size upgrade from our little apartment, with big bright windows and lots of space to sniff around, I’m pretty sure Zoe misses her old neighborhood, old friends, and old rhythm. The way she’s expressing this lately is in a newfound reactivity to other dogs. She’s always been a little “iffy” with meeting new pups, something I attribute to her suspected year or so in dogfighting before she was rescued. Never humans – she loves ALL of those – but frequently dogs, and it’s markedly worse since our move.

We work hard on this, all the time. And I’ve tried lots of strategies – we cross the street when we see other dogs we don’t know, I distract her with treats to stop any staredowns (from either side). We’ve learned some adorable and useful tricks, like standing in between my legs, or spinning in circles, or shaking my hand, to get her mind off the other dog and her stress level down.

I’ve also tried yanking her leash, pulling, yelling, scolding – you name it. Not that these “techniques” have helped at all – and I certainly don’t rely on them anymore, but sometimes I get frustrated and they come out too.

But as I’ve learned more and more about dogs experiencing reactivity, I have stumbled upon really helpful resources and suggestions.

The latest was this: when your dog gets triggered into a big reaction while out on a walk, consider ways that you can help them reset. Dogs can do this on their own, through behaviors like giving a big shake or stretching their body out in a play bow. Or you can do this simply by heading home, resting, relaxing, and trying that walk again another time or even another day.

Well, this morning it happened again. We were reintroduced to a dog we’ve encountered several times before, and while Zoe took some time to sniff him and think about it, the situation ended with her lunging and snarling. I was devastated. Sad for us, that we’ll continue to struggle meeting new doggie neighbors as long as this persists. Sad for her, because she’s such a sweet, snuggly pup around humans or at home. Sad for all of the work we’ve put in that doesn’t seem to help. Wondering where to go next and what to try differently.

We went home, and I put on some coffee, made a few calls, did some work. Zoe climbed up next to me on the couch, and snuggled right in. There were lots of pets, lots of hugs, lots of quiet time.

And after lunch, we tried again.

I kept a careful eye out as I usually do for oncoming dogs, but this time when I turned a corner to evade a black lab and his owner – they followed us. And came right up, asking for an introduction. My heart sank, and I tried to explain that Zoe was quite selective – only to watch her sniff this puppy, jump back, and then exuberantly start to play with him.

And five minutes later, a couple blocks from home, she met another dog – and did the same.

I was so excited, so proud of her, so relieved – and Zoe was so happy, too – that we ran most of the way home.

I will never again doubt the power of a reset.

Not for my dog, and not for me.

Not for any of us, really.

It’s been a hard couple of years, since March 2020. We’ve been through the mill a couple of times, particularly as a church, and it can be hard to remember what brought us together in the first place. All of those long-simmering disagreements and festering resentments can combine, like Zoe, to keep our stress levels up and our patience with each other down.

But I wonder how we might reset, even as we’re likely to experience more interruptions to our life together as we continue to live through a pandemic.

How do we find spaces and times where we can simply be and have fun together?

We have hard work to do, and we’ve spent so much of our time lately doing it – through business meetings and discernment sessions and open forums. Through boards and committees, through listening sessions. But what about the fun of being a church family? What about singing in the upper room, watching our kids dance, sharing a cup of coffee, playing in the gym? What about gathering on Facebook to bake something delicious, or bringing flowers to someone in Brandel?

We need those things, too.

We need our resets. Moments to remind ourselves what we love about each other and what we simply enjoy about each other too.

Our God is a God of delight, and we were created (among other reasons) because God delights in us, and wants us to delight in each other.

Let’s not forget that, in a difficult season. Let’s not forget that we need each other, not just for wisdom and help and courage, but for love, for laughter, for joy.

So as we continue in a difficult moment, let’s also remember to take our pauses, our resets; to find our refreshment and seek our joy – together.

-Pastor Jen

The Blessed Sacrament

I’m of the opinion as a struggling preacher that the Lord’s Supper, the Eucharist, Holy Communion, the Blessed Sacrament — whatever name you’re familiar with — is the best sermon ever preached! Every time it’s the gospel strained clear, good news for every poor soul who comes.

For all the good the Protestant Reformation did now five hundred years ago, I often have sensed, and do now more than ever before, that when we replaced the communion table with the pulpit at the center of worship, we got it wrong! Up until that time, for the first fifteen hundred years of church history, the Eucharist was the primary means by which people encountered or experienced God. It was only after the Reformation that the locus of God presence (at least for us protestants) was transferred to the Word.

The results of this move are worth considering. When we elevate the pulpit at the expense of the altar, it’s easy to cease being “friends” who share the same experience, and instead become “students” with “teachers” who teach us varied and different interpretations of the Word. This is at the heart of so much of our debates and schisms in the Church today, our loss of the Blessed Sacrament and our blessed Savior’s love as our primary and shared experience. Further, when the pulpit takes primary place, we become spectators, consumers of a Word directed at us, rather than participants who come to a feast of grace. Worship is to be primarily evaluated, along with us preachers and teachers, and none of us can preach or teach better than Christ Jesus, who spreads a table, and says with love, “My body, my blood for you.” Love of all loves.

Gerard Straub writes: “Saint Francis of Assisi experienced the Eucharist as a Sacrament of Love in which God became his spiritual food. He needed the refreshment of Love’s presence the way his lungs needed air. Nourished by Love, Francis was able to love in turn all of creation. As Christ’s Body and Blood became one with Francis’ body and blood, Francis was able to become Christ to everyone he met.” (The Sun and Moon Over Assisi).

I am grateful that our own sanctuary space has the pulpit, albeit a bit elevated, off to one side, letting the altar remain in the middle. Maybe it’s time the Word and its telling, the sermon, fully point us and lead us to the Sacrament again. Maybe it’s time to share the sacrament every week, because we know that we can never get enough of the redeeming love and presence of Christ — and because we know that with that taste of grace in our mouths, leaving, we can’t help but love each other more.

What do you think?

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

The Blessed Sacrament

I’m of the opinion as a struggling preacher that the Lord’s Supper, the Eucharist, Holy Communion, the Blessed Sacrament — whatever name you’re familiar with — is the best sermon ever preached! Every time it’s the gospel strained clear, good news for every poor soul who comes.

For all the good the Protestant Reformation did now five hundred years ago, I often have sensed, and do now more than ever before, that when we replaced the communion table with the pulpit at the center of worship, we got it wrong! Up until that time, for the first fifteen hundred years of church history, the Eucharist was the primary means by which people encountered or experienced God. It was only after the Reformation that the locus of God presence (at least for us protestants) was transferred to the Word.

The results of this move are worth considering. When we elevate the pulpit at the expense of the altar, it’s easy to cease being “friends” who share the same experience, and instead become “students” with “teachers” who teach us varied and different interpretations of the Word. This is at the heart of so much of our debates and schisms in the Church today, our loss of the Blessed Sacrament and our blessed Savior’s love as our primary and shared experience. Further, when the pulpit takes primary place, we become spectators, consumers of a Word directed at us, rather than participants who come to a feast of grace. Worship is to be primarily evaluated, along with us preachers and teachers, and none of us can preach or teach better than Christ Jesus, who spreads a table, and says with love, “My body, my blood for you.” Love of all loves.

Gerard Straub writes: “Saint Francis of Assisi experienced the Eucharist as a Sacrament of Love in which God became his spiritual food. He needed the refreshment of Love’s presence the way his lungs needed air. Nourished by Love, Francis was able to love in turn all of creation. As Christ’s Body and Blood became one with Francis’ body and blood, Francis was able to become Christ to everyone he met.” (The Sun and Moon Over Assisi).

I am grateful that our own sanctuary space has the pulpit, albeit a bit elevated, off to one side, letting the altar remain in the middle. Maybe it’s time the Word and its telling, the sermon, fully point us and lead us to the Sacrament again. Maybe it’s time to share the sacrament every week, because we know that we can never get enough of the redeeming love and presence of Christ — and because we know that with that taste of grace in our mouths, leaving, we can’t help but love each other more.

What do you think?

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson