Spare Keys and Scribbled Notes

Jay Marshall, Dean
Quaker Forum, First Friends, Whittier, CA
Feb. 21, 22, 2004

Several of you know that in addition to being dean of ESR, and a recorded Friends minister, I am also a pastor’s spouse. I’ve actually been referred to as the pastor’s wife on a couple of occasions by nice, elderly ladies who haven’t quite made the shift in their thinking.

My wife, Judi, is an ordained minister with the United Methodist Church. Those who are familiar with that denomination may also know that the United Methodist Church has an itinerant minister system and that pastors are appointed by the bishop to their ministry locations. One major implication of that system is that ministers relocate when the bishop decides it is time, not when the pastor is ready to move on, or the congregation is ready for the pastor to move on.

One day about a month ago when I met Judi for lunch, she gave a startling answer to the question, “how was your morning?” My mouth dropped open in response to her reply. “We’re moving!” she announced. “My start date is March 1^st.”

So on top of already cramped schedules, we now have the added task of sorting through our stuff, giving away as much as we can bear to part with, and packing the rest for relocation. On Thursday of this week, a moving van will pull into our drive and complete the transfer. I don’t know how it is for you, but I find that sorting and packing is an ideal time for reflection and revelation. Memories flood in full force as we rifle through old love letters and birthday cards, or pack up mementos left to us by departed loved ones.

Two things have astounded me in this round of packing. First is the number of spare keys we found whose purpose we have long sense forgotten. I never knew I ever had so many locks to begin with. The thought that I’ve lost or forgotten most of them is quite unsettling. I’m not a forgetful person, and I can’t explain how it happened. Some of these keys were identifiable as luggage keys, which are pretty useless now since one can’t lock luggage on airlines. Some were padlock keys, but only God knows where those locks are and he doesn’t seem to want to tell me. Some are door keys, and even though the locks have not changed since we lived there, and there are no new doors in that house anywhere, we can not for the life of us, ascertain the keys’ mates. Spare keys are an annoying mystery.

The second astounding thing in this packing exercise is the number of note pads I found in desk drawers or on shelves or in piles on my desk. The sheer number of note pads was surprising. It is as though I start with a fresh pad every time I think I may have a useful thought. But more eye-catching was that nearly every one had only a few notes scribbled on it. Many were new ideas that came to me while I was bored during a workshop or meeting. Sometimes I recognized them as the early seeds of ideas that did, in fact, germinate to maturity. Other times, there were to do lists of tasks I needed to keep in front of me. Some times, I had no clue as to the original motivation for the notes. The hand writing looked familiar, but the contents were a mystery. More often than not, they represented creative ideas, good intentions–and unfinished dreams.

In a moment of theological reflection these two discoveries–spare keys and scribbled notes–became more than routine sorting and packing. Those spare keys belong to a lock–somewhere! We only lock those things that are valuable–our treasures, so to speak. Because we keep it locked, the key is essential every time we want to access that treasure. Without the lock and the contents it safeguards, the key is pretty useless–or at least pointless. What does it mean to continue to possess a key as though it is valuable when we have long since lost sight of the lock and the treasure that makes the key meaningful?

In similar fashion, the scribbled notes took on a life of their own in this reflective moment. They were the germ of new ideas. They were the inspirations of a particular moment in time. They were new projects, perhaps creative initiatives. They may have had the capacity to change the world–or at least the neighborhood. Shucks, I’d settle for them just changing me a little bit! For some reason, as the demands of everyday schedules forced themselves upon me, these were set aside with every good intention of returning to them in due time. What does it mean to strategize and dream, only to forget the energizing vision? What does it mean to litter our path with half-hearted ambitions even as we lament the current state of affairs? What does it mean to dream without pursuing those dreams?

Spare keys. Scribbled notes. Here today they represent more than oddities of packing. They are symbols and metaphors of treasures we have been given but whose value we don’t recognize and whose significance we don’t understand. They represent deliberations or experiences we have had which were energizing at the moment, but ultimately proved not to be significant enough to be integrated into the fabric of our life together. Spare keys and scribbled notes represent the accumulation of things that have no significant meaning and thus cease to be much more than clutter around the house. I want to invite you to apply those metaphors to our faith. Are there any spare keys or scribbled notes there? I’d be surprised if there are not. I’m still finding them myself! We can’t avoid it really.

Spare keys are what we get when our faith is based only on what others tell us. It is what we get when our faith matures and we forget to let go of things that once were “right” for us, but no longer fit who God calls us to be. It is what results when we base our identity on history or tradition without our own experience to supplement it. It is what happens when we use language of Inner Light or Integrity without the benefit of a transformational encounter with the God who gives those concepts meaning.

Scribbled notes are what we are left with when we never follow through on plans to change. It is what we produce when we are kings and queens of process as modern Quakers are prone to be, but to be the court jesters of follow-through? More than one group who has asked for my assistance on visioning processes can tell me about the last vision they had. They remember the leaders, and a few of the broad strokes. What they generally can not tell me is in what drawer they filed it. What they frequently confess is that little, if anything, came from it.

The writer of I John gives us one of the best antidotes to spare keys and scribbled notes that we will ever find anywhere. He wrote, “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched-- this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We write this to make our joy complete.

There is always an element of mystery shrouding God and God's activity among us. For all we believe or think we know, as Paul noted, "we see through a glass darkly." For some, the darkness and mystery plant seeds of suspicion and doubt that become obstacles to belief. It is those that John wanted to overcome. For having heard, seen, and touched he was certain it was true. Having, in the words of the psalmist, “tasted and seen that the Lord is good,” he was convinced beyond doubt. That was no less a challenge then it is today. For among them, there was a wide range of opinions about what God accomplished through Jesus. There were those who thought he was a dreamer whose hopes failed. There were those who thought he was a rebel who was unsuccessful against the religious and political powers of the day. We can find modern counterparts to those positions. Some would say he was a good teacher, but nothing beyond that. We can find pockets of belief of this type among us, too. Some suggested he might be a prophet, even Elijah. Believe it or not, some were convinced that while he was from God, he was not real flesh and blood–he was more of a phantom like apparition. Of course, you don't reach out and touch an apparition or a mirage as John said he touched Jesus. And there were some like John, who had seen and heard and touched, and who knew and believed and understood that their part in the story was now to proclaim.

What was that experience that left them with this sense of adamant urgency? According to John, it was that which was “from the beginning”–which is to say eternal and divine. In the beginning was the “logos” as John’s Gospel says, and the logos was with God and was God. So that which they have experienced is, in fact, the divine.

We Friends know something about that direct experience of God. Isaac Pennington wrote, “So that this is our religion, to witness the two seeds (the seed of enmity and seed of love), with the power of the Lord bringing down the one, and bringing up the other; and then to witness and experience daily the same power, keeping the one in death, and the other in life, by the holy ministration of God's pure living covenant.” (Concerning the Sum or Substance of our Religion Who are Called Quakers) Pennington knows of a constant seeing, hearing, and touching of God that leads to proclamation and witness.

Both John and Friends tradition are able to speak about a “lived experience.” They have lived with the presence of God. It is transformational and motivational in nature. It is transformational because having seen and heard and touched God, we will not be the same. It is motivational because, “Lived experience leads to testimonial experience.” The practice of those things we learn become a living testimony.

Proclamation must be one result of our seeing, hearing and touching. Let it first occur among us. Let us learn to hear each other’s experience–not of the latest fad–but of the one who was from the beginning. To do that well, we must worship together. We should read our Scripture and our history communally. Let us listen and learn together. From that process, let us go on to distill our understanding of the message. Then, may our proclamation become external–united without being necessarily uniform!

Do you not think that a chaotic world would like to encounter a living, stable, present God? Do you not think that a world where fear runs rampant would be mildly interested in hearing a message of eternal, unconditional love? Would a group of children and adults who have been beaten down with messages of unworthiness not leap into the arms of a heavenly parent who says we are worthy as we are? As world powers play with nuclear and biological weapons like bullies engaged in a game of dodge ball, would a witness for peace find a welcome reception? We will not know if we do not learn to faithfully proclaim that which we have seen and heard and touched–that which we know to be true.

Friends, our experience is important. The most important thing is to know God, not to know about God. The most crucial thing is to experience God, not to be totally dependent on the experiences of others. That experience transforms us. It guides us. It empowers us. It connects us with, and even interprets, the stories of those who have preceded us. Out of that richness, we Friends need to embrace the responsibility for proclamation–but only those things we know to be true. In Quakerese, we need to publicly answer the question, “What cans’t thou say?”

Our history is a litany of Friends testifying to the leadings that grow out of the experience. Is our current, present moment, sufficiently charged with that type of living testimony? My question: what will our generation be remembered for? May we keep only keys that we know how to use and may the leadings that inspire our scribbled notes not leave us until we complete their task.