James Derkits

Originally Published in the South Jetty I recently taught a class on meditation. This was not guided meditation, or a walking meditation (like the labyrinth), this was just an opportunity to learn the simple and challenging practice of sitting still in God's presence. There are a thousand ways to pray, and I count among my prayer practices surfing and running; they are just as sacred to me as playing music and painting; just as sacred as our Sunday worship with the whole Body of Christ gathered around the altar or working the beads of a rosary. Meditation is not conversational, it is not words-based. It is a practice of stopping. Sitting, and most of all listening to the silent presence of God. Our prayer book describes the prayer of adoration as "the lifting up of the heart and mind to God, asking nothing but to enjoy God's presence." Simple and challenging. Culturally, we don't receive a lot of support, nor training in being still and sitting quietly

For Lent, one of my disciplines was to take a FaceBook break. I'm back on it, and we have a little less than a month of Lent to go. The reason I got off facebook was to see how it changed the way I spend my time. When I think I have some spare time, I tend to check FaceBook. My thinking is: "Someone may have liked something I posted; Someone may have a question about an event; Someone may have posted a really insightful video; Someone may have figured out a harmonious way to move forward in our political arena." So then, I open the app on my phone and time slips away. Sometimes it's a quick check, sometimes it's longer than I'd like. It might give me a sense of gratification. For example, when we posted pictures from Trinity's becoming a parish. It was great to see the comments and likes for that wonderful occasion. Or, I go down rabbit trails and end up watching the "Top 20 Action Stunt Fails" or "Dogs that Climb Trees" video (I ju

I'm in Denver for Bob Burns's funeral and while here, I got word that Dee Tomaszewski died this morning. Both of them were older adults, and either of them could have possibly lived longer under different circumstances, but as it is, their earthly pilgrimage is complete. In our funeral liturgy, we pray "You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return..." In this regard, life is finite. We are born, and we die. We are set on a course, and we know the final destination. At Christ's Eucharistic table, in the same liturgy, we pray: "For to your faithful people, O Lord, life is changed, not ended; and when our mortal body lies in death, there is  prepared for us a dwelling place eternal in the heavens." That's the spiritual reality of life: that while we are mortally limited, we are also connected to something much greater than the limited existence we call "I." We

I have a confession: I'm judgemental.  I know, "...judge not, lest ye be judged," right? That's why it's a confession; not something I'm proud to know about myself, I just know it. I've fought against being judgemental as long as I can remember. I even judge other people for being judgemental. (Let's add hypocrite to the list...it's easier for me to see my problem in others.) Here's how I tend to judge people; here's how I might judge you: I see your car in the parking lot taking up two spaces, and there are no more spaces. In my mind I begin weaving stories about what a selfish person you must be. OR I see a bumper sticker on the back of your car that expresses some hateful worldview, and I make up a story about how you are hateful. OR I may even see you frowning your way through the grocery store, never making eye contact with anyone and (again) I make up a story about how you are so bitter at the world, and you resist showing love to ot

Most days, if I slow down enough, I remember to be grateful for the simple miracles of life. They almost feel like jokes at times, like when I pick up my phone to call John Price and he is calling me right then, too. (It has happened twice this week.) Then there are the greater things like a few years back, when my soul got so stirred up, and situations in my life became disturbed enough that I started looking for a new ministry opportunity on the coast, and then when I made a phone call to a diocese I once lived in, there was this recent opening at Trinity by the Sea, Port Aransas. (And four years later, I am falling ever more in love with this place and it's people.) I wouldn't dare try to explain how those things happen, I just marvel that they do. Looking back at journals through my life, going way back to High School, I describe the subtle urges as Spirit-nudges. When there is something alogical, a tug in the direction of a decision, or just having a gut feeling that w

At the Diocese of West Texas's 113th Diocesan Council Trinity by the Sea became a Parish ! That link will take you to a video of our resolution and procession into council as a parish. We were well represented with Ukulele's strumming, banners waving, and songs lifted up in thanksgiving to God for this historic moment. I wanted to share my address to Council and what Suzanna Reeder said to Bishop Lillibridge when she presented him with his surf board. Both are below. Blessings to all, and thanks to Johnie Swenson and Mark Admire for coordinating the party Sunday--what a weekend! Thank you to our Bishops and to Joann Saylors for walking us through this process in the final stages; to Johnie Swenson who stewarded the process, and to Walt Kleine our treasurer, Sarah Jane Wise our archivist, and our Bishop’s Committee and congregation for going through this Mission to Parish process through which we reflected on where we are in our life as a congregation and discerned