Thoughts From The Journey

Awesome and Meddlesome

2011-11-14T14:05:00.001-05:00

I have no idea how I first met Hugh Hollowell and was introduced to Love Wins Ministries but he's become one of those friends that you swear you've known your whole life. You know, the one who is SO MUCH like you but keeps you honest and real? Yeah, he's like that. Awesome and meddlesome, all at the same time.

Growing up as a preacher's kid at Central Baptist Church in downtown Miami, FL meant seeing lots of homeless folks...even serving them a hot meal on occasion from the mission at the back corner of the church parking lot. But it never meant getting to know them. Or seeing them as real live human beings.

Leave it to Hugh to make me re-think that old script.

I end up subscribing to the Love Wins newsletter and one day read this post about/from Tony. Specifically, this:

“Please tell the people who give you this money that I am so grateful. That I could not have made it this long without you guys. And that while it may not seem like a big deal to them, it has changed my life. Hell, it probably saved my life.”

Damn it, Hugh.

That night, my family becomes a monthly contributor to Love Wins. Hugh DM's me on Twitter to say that we rock. I tell him to shove it because it's a pittance and I want it to be more. I can almost feel him roll his eyes when he responds, "You don't know what I can do with a pittance."

In the next few months, I can't get Tony off my mind. Eventually, I email Hugh and ask if there's any way I can get in touch with him. Become his friend and let him know that someone other than Hugh cares about him and wants to know him personally.

Tony agrees and we start emailing. Just getting to know each other. When Tony mentions that he could use some dishes and kitchen supplies, I just smile and shake my head. God's sense of humor and timing continues to slay me...I have a ton of stuff I've "inherited" when a great-aunt passed away.

I had the opportunity to give these things to Tony in person yesterday. I got to see where he lives, hug him, introduce him to my daughter, and talk smack about NC football teams. I discovered that his birthday is close to my anticipated due date and promised I would email him when I found out the sex of the baby at the end of this month.

Hugh told me today that I have no idea what that short visit meant to Tony. I told him that I know what it meant to me.

Because, you see, Tony is my friend.

Everything I Say About God is Wrong by Katie Jo Suddaby

2011-07-08T17:56:00.002-04:00

Everything I Say About God is Wrong

(aka, My Lusty Affront to Apophatic Theology)

by Katie Jo Suddaby

Everything I say about God is wrong.

Beautifully,

sensuously,

dangerously

wrong.

Wrong like the lowest organ pipe.

Dark and powerful,

It’s rumble hits you-

feet and ass first.

Church roof shingles shake and fall.

My God is a resonating wrong

a beautiful wrong

that whisks away all thought of right

like the curls on the girl

you’ll never have...

It matters more to have touched them once.

To open my mouth about God

is the wonderful slip in the bathtub

wet toes stubbing

knee slam

forehead hits the side

a face-full of wet plastic curtain

Even if you haven’t laughed in years

you’ll hear yourself out loud now

and wish someone was home to see you

naked

wet

and laughing

A dripping, sighing, smirk.

Dangerously, Beautifully, Confidently;

Everything I say about God is wrong.

If it looks like a duck...

2011-06-13T15:13:00.003-04:00

I love Seth Godin's blog. I love how he thinks, how succinct he is and how he calls a spade a spade. Today's entry hit close to home as I consider what the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship means to me after 20 years of existence. The 20th anniversary celebration will happen next week in Tampa, FL and I have to wonder if we've considered any of Seth's points:

An organization uses structure and resources and power to make things happen. Organizations hire people, issue policies, buy things, erect buildings, earn market share and get things done. Your company is probably an organization.

A movement has an emotional heart. A movement might use an organization, but it can replace systems and people if they disappear. Movements are more likely to cause widespread change, and they require leaders, not managers. The internet, it turns out, is a movement, and every time someone tries to own it, they fail.

A philosophy can survive things that might wipe out a movement and that would decimate an organization. A philosophy can skip a generation or two. It is often interpreted, and is more likely to break into autonomous groups, to morph and split and then reunite. Industrialism was a philosophy.

The trouble kicks in when you think you have one and you actually have the other.

Very often we refer to ourselves as a "movement" or a "fellowship" but I don't know that anyone knows what those terms mean. And, as Baptist polity makes us a bit cantankerous when anyone claims to speak for all Baptists (for those who may not know - since each congregation is autonomous, there is no hierarchy/synod/presbytery/bishop that makes decisions about "what all Baptists believe"), we tend to be über careful...and I suspect we don't want to define those terms. But we're 20 years old now. And if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck...wouldn't it just behoove us all to call it a duck instead of "NOT chicken"? Let's stop defining ourselves by what we're NOT and start saying what we ARE. Organization, movement, or philosophy?

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday: Mixed Signals (4/17/11)

2011-04-20T22:47:00.001-04:00

I love musicals. Old musicals in particular but I’ll go to them all. I’m one of those strange people who really think life would be better if we had a soundtrack and just spontaneously burst into song. For example, this is the point where the music would swell and I would begin a stirring piece that would tug at your heart strings. Like something from the Sound of Music, “Climb ev’ry mountain…” Or maybe a toe-tapping number like the moment in Guys and Dolls when Nathan sings “The people all said sit down/sit down you’re rockin’ the boat” as his testimony. Well, maybe not that particular song...

I think the reason I like musicals so much is that sometimes the songs convey more emotion and depth than just dialogue. You can see why our text today has been set to music by a variety of composers – even before Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar there was Handel’s Messiah. Do me a favor and close your eyes. Picture the scene – we’re near Jerusalem, on a ridge called the Mount of Olives and the air is dry and hot. The sun’s beating down and there’s a haze around us. We shade our eyes and see a group approaching – shimmering in the mid-day heat. Listen as Matthew tells us the story:

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, 'The Lord needs them.' And he will send them immediately." This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, "Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey." The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee."

Do you see what I mean? Can’t you just hear the swell of the strings as Jesus swings himself onto the donkey and begins his triumphal entry as Messiah? Can’t you hear the crowds as a huge choir singing Hosanna/Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord? Can’t you hear the minor chords as the Pharisees slink around in dark passageways, hissing “Who is this?” Or maybe they were more like Harold Hill in the Music Man, working the angles for their con, “Ya’ got trouble right here in River City/Trouble with a capital T.”

What we have here folks...are mixed signals. When I was growing up, Palm Sunday was a celebration that usually entailed an Easter cantata, a processional of children waving palm branches and an emphasis on the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem – the king come to town. The Jesus parade. What I missed was verse 10 – “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The whole city was in turmoil! Other translations say the city was stirred or shook up. The Greek here is eseisthe which is the word from which we get our word "seismology" –– the study of earthquakes. Paints quite a word picture, don’t you think? The whole city was eseisthe! In complete chaos & turmoil. How did I miss that?

Maybe you never had that problem. Maybe you’ve always been aware that Palm Sunday is the signal that Lent is drawing to a close and Holy Week is beginning. That this picture we see of Jesus as the Messiah, smiling and waving to the adoring crowds, is the beginning of the end. The end of Jesus’ earthly ministry. The beginning of his suffering and death.

But we have more mixed signals than just what we find in verse 10. Look at what the crowds were shouting – "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" I know, some of you are looking at me like I’m nuts. “Yeah Christina, they’re praising him…where’s the mixed signal?” See, the issue is with the word hosanna. While most modern dictionaries define it as being praise or adoration, that’s not entirely correct.

The word is of Hebrew origin and means please save or save now. In Jewish liturgy, the word is applied specifically to the Hoshana Service, a cycle of prayers from which a selection is sung each morning during Sukkot, the Feast of Booths or Tabernacles…which was a different observance than Passover, okay? You with me here? As recorded in the Mishnah, part of the people’s worship would include processing to a place below Jerusalem called Motza and pick branches of willows to place around the altar. This historical tidbit gives us a bit more to wrestle with, doesn’t it?

Maybe the crowds weren’t waving palm branches. In fact, in our text today, there’s no mention of palms. Only John says anything about palms…Luke and Mark line up with Matthew here. Only branches. So, they could have been willow branches that people had gathered to celebrate Sukkot. But wait, I thought Jesus and the disciples were coming to Jerusalem to observe Passover? Do you see what I mean? Mixed signals. People shouting hosanna – beseeching Jesus to save them. Placing branches on a dusty road to be trampled by a carpenter riding a donkey instead of around the altar in Jerusalem. No wonder the whole city was eseisthe. That’s…heresy!

And what about when Matthew refers to Jesus fulfilling a prophecy? Did you ever realize that when Matthew quotes from Zechariah, he deliberately omits part of the prophecy that refers to the king coming in triumph and victory? Of course, this is Matthew’s recounting of the events and he’s allowed to tell the story from his point of view…but does that flavor what we believe about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? That the humble servant we see riding a donkey is fulfilling only part of the prophecy? Or is he just fulfilling it in a different way?

You may be asking yourself, “Just where are you going with all this, Christina?” My goal isn’t to completely unsettle you this morning but to give you pause. Too often we focus on the triumphal entries in the Bible and neglect the paradox that accompanies them. Those mixed signals we tend to ignore because we just don’t know what to do with them. Joy and suffering, tragedy and triumph, cross and resurrection.

So, going back to the whole Jesus parade thing I was talking about…when I was growing up, we would jump from celebrating Palm Sunday (Yay Jesus!) to celebrating Easter. We didn’t spend a lot of time talking about all that led up to the resurrection. I want you to hear part of the scripture that follows Jesus’ triumphal entry. Listen to this mixed signal and tell me what you hear: Matthew 27:11-31:

Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed. Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!” So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified. Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

The paradox of the Jesus parade and the passion of the Christ…what do you do with paradox in your own life? How do you respond to the mixed signals? A financially prosperous year that is disrupted by a cancer diagnosis? A 16th birthday celebration followed by a devastating car accident? A church filled with people who love God but are burnt out and tired? In his book, Learning to Fall, author Philip Simmons talks about the need for seeing life as a mystery, not a problem to be solved. He claims we can participate in mystery…in life…only by letting go of solutions.

And so I ask you again, what do you do with paradox? What will you do with the Jesus who doesn’t provide answers or solutions? What will you do with the Jesus who rode a donkey into a city in turmoil? What will you do with the Jesus who didn’t answer Pilate? With the Jesus who asked God why he had been forsaken? What will you do with these mixed signals we get from our text today?

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that Jesus’ whole ministry was full of mixed signals. Healing on the Sabbath, spending time with outsiders, praising the good deeds of Samaritans…none of these things made sense to the religious people of his day. In the same way, if we only look at today as the triumphal entry, we miss how it sets the tone for the rest of the passion.

Nothing about the processional is particularly grand or triumphant. And we know this day marks the beginning of the end. We are moving towards suffering and death. But what awaits on the other side of the cross…on the other side of Easter? Our faith is full of mixed signals, isn’t it? Be patient, beloved. Easter is coming.

Sermon for Lent 5A: Life Always Wins (4/10/11)

2011-04-10T00:49:00.001-04:00

If we’re friends on Facebook, you probably saw that I considered titling my sermon “No More Zombies” today…I mean, did you HEAR that passage from Ezekiel? He hears a rattling and the bones come together with sinews and flesh and skin but no breath?! (shudder) I was going to show a clip from the zombie classic, Army of Darkness, to illustrate this but I just couldn’t do it. Zombies freak me out!

Growing up, I couldn’t watch scary movies of any kind because I would have terrible nightmares…in fact, I’m going to show my age here and ask if any of you ever watched the 1963 stop action movie, Jason and the Argonauts? It used to come on during the weekends every now and then when I was growing up and even though it scared me, I always watched it. There was a part when skeletons come popping out the ground, complete with swords and shields, and they go after Jason and his crew because he stole the golden fleece. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, Google Jason and the Argonauts – there are several YouTube clips and you can get the movie on Netflix!

Anyway…I would watch that part through my fingers because I was so scared…but I couldn’t look away! THAT’S the clip that plays in my head when I hear this passage from Ezekiel. Verse 11 says, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” The skeleton army wins! But wait…in verses 13 and 14, God says, “You shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.” Yeah! No more zombies!

But wait! There’s more! Check out our New Testament scripture for today, John 11:1-45. Yeah, I know, this is a lot of verses but it’s a familiar story and worth hearing again in its entirety. Read John 11:1-45 (NRSV).

No zombies here, either! The God of Ezekiel who reassembled dry bones into breathless corpses and then breathed life into them is the same God who breathes life back into Lazarus and commands him to come out. Life wins! If we trust this God who has been faithful since Ezekiel’s day, then we MUST believe that life always wins!

But…the truth is, we don’t always believe that, do we? We look around our world and we see too much evidence to the contrary. Protestors are still being beaten and killed in Egypt, the death toll in Japan is over 25,000 after the earthquake and tsunami, Libya is in the midst of a violent military takeover…but that’s halfway across the world – not something that hits too close to home, right? Surely life always wins here in the good ole’ US of A.

Really? With our federal government almost shutting down due to financial turmoil? With the gas prices rising and the cost of beef, milk, vegetables, fruits and butter skyrocketing? With all of the secret things in our lives that we don’t tell anyone that are killing us slowly? Life always wins?

Let’s be honest here. Sometimes we’re the zombies; the valley of dry bones, Lazarus sealed up in the tomb. Sometimes we’re Martha and Mary, falling at Jesus’ feet and wailing, “If you had been here...if you really loved me…if you really listened to my prayers…none of this would happen!” We want to believe…oh, how we WANT to BELIEVE that life always wins; that Jesus is the Messiah! But when confronted with the tombs of our life, with the stench and decay of death heavy in the air around us, our faith falters. And Jesus weeps. Just like at Lazarus’ tomb, he stands shuddering, shaken to the core. Maybe we can even hear a hint of anger in his sobs…a defiance of death?

Jesus traveled to Bethany to pick a fight with death—to announce that death doesn’t get the last word – to claim that the Resurrection and the Life…ALWAYS…WINS. “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Our job, beloved, is to unbind the grave cloths of others…to let them go! And as we unbind others, we are also set free. So this morning, if you’re dead in the tomb, bound by past hurts, illness, grief, doubt, despair, addiction, abuse…whatever binds you – listen! Hear Jesus’ voice calling to you! Come out! Come out and believe that life always wins!

Sermon for Lent 4A: Miracle Mudpies (4/3/11)

2011-04-03T00:32:00.005-04:00

When I was growing up, I was NOT a tomboy. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did like to play outside, ride bikes, jump on my friend’s trampoline…you know, typical kid stuff. But I DIDN’T like to get dirty. I wasn’t prissy but I just had no use for getting myself dirty…sweaty was fine. Dirty was not. Except during the summer. That’s when I would go to the mountains of NC with my grandparents. They would rent a small house on the side of a mountain for the summer and it would just be the three of us for weeks on end. No television, no video games, no other kids nearby…what was a city girl to do? Read…A LOT. Pick blackberries. Climb trees.

And make mudpies. Summer was the exception to my rule. I would take dozens of tin pie plates out to the side yard, dig up a patch of grass (I’m sure the owners LOVED that), turned on the hose for a bit and began to work in the hard dusty red clay. I would let the water soften it a bit and then grab a handful and start kneading it, shaping the mud…I loved the feel of the mud squishing between my fingers and getting under my nails…I loved getting it to just the right consistency for the perfect mudpie. I’d pat it into the pie plates then add various twigs, grasses, flowers and berries to decorate the top. And then I’d set them out in the sun to bake for a few hours…but not before my grandmother would hose me down from head to foot because I’d be covered in red mud. I loved it.

Jesus apparently liked making mudpies, too…we just heard Mary read that Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes…now, I know what you’re thinking. Ewwwww, right? Let me give you some context here - The people of that day believed in the medicinal use of spittle. I mean, we all know about the unique cleaning properties of Mama spit, don’t we? C’mere…you’ve got something on your face there…hold still while I get it. In our scripture for today, in Jesus' hands the familiar folk remedy becomes a way for physical healing AND spiritual revelation to happen.

I also can’t help but think that Jesus' use of mud recalls the creation story, where God brought forth life from the dust of the earth in Genesis 2:7. Jesus' healing of the blind man actually CREATES sight for him. The man was blind from birth, so he never had sight that could be restored or given back to him. Instead, Jesus creates sight from nothing -- just as God created the world from nothing.

After his sight is restored, we see his neighbors asking him if he was the blind beggar and he says over and over, “I am that man.” They want to know how he can see now so he tells them over and over how it happened but they just don’t believe it. So then, in verses 13-34, he’s taken to the Pharisees and they ask him the same question and he tells them the same story but they don’t believe him so they call in his parents. Niiiiice, right? Just what you want when you’re getting the second degree…your PARENTS dragged into it. And they totally wimp out on him!

Look at verses 20 and 21, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” Throwing him under the bus because they were afraid!

But he continues to tell his story and, in fact, gets a little irritated with the Pharisees. Look at verse 27, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” HA! And then he beats them at their game in verses 30-33, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” And that upsets them to the point that they kick him out. I love it.

He tells his story over and over again but no one believes. Not quite the picture of evangelism that we Baptists like to see, is it? What if…each time we tell our story of faith, when we share it with others, maybe the point isn’t that they’re changed or saved but WE are changed? What if the simple act of telling our story over and over again draws us along on our journey of faith? In the same way, as a church tells it’s story over and over again, perhaps that doesn’t draw lots of new people in…it CAN…but more importantly, it begins to change US as the church and draws us along as a community of faith.

In verses 35-38, “Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” The man answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him.

Each summer when I made those mudpies, that simple experience changed me. If we understand that Jesus was fully human and fully God, what if every miracle that he performed was helping him grow in his faith and understanding of God…that they were increasing his connection to God? So that by the time he was ready to go to the cross, each of those experiences had made him stronger and prepared him for what he was going to do. We’re here in Lent, journeying toward the cross – this story and miracle is one stop along the way. What if this miracle mudpie that created sight where there was no sight…what if this miracle not only occurred for the blind man but for Jesus? If Jesus really understands completely what it is to be human (all of our pain, joy, suffering, and doubt) – what if this miracle mudpie changed him along HIS journey?

You might not see where you’re going as a congregation but the more that you tell your story, the more God will give you a new vision…new eyes…new hope to see clearly who God is calling you to be as a church. In the coming months, will you be willing to be changed by telling your story over and over again? Are you ready to see? It might take a “miracle mudpie” or two but I’m willing to get dirty. Are you?

The Best Worst Poem I've Ever Written

2011-03-28T21:35:00.001-04:00

My buddy Deanna and I were laughing tonight about all the bad poetry we wrote as teenagers - the angst we felt so deeply and felt compelled to write about (since we were so cool and deep). She found a notebook that contained her poetry from elementary, middle and high school and posted one of her "worst" poems on Facebook today. She inspired me to go digging and here's the gem I found tonight. I am still wiping away the tears as I laugh and post this...the best worst poem I've ever written. It has no title or date but I'm guessing it was late 80s, early 90s. I have no clue who I wrote this about but he must have had silky hair...'tis true. So, without further ado, dear readers, enjoy:

Moonlit waters caress the sand
With a gentle, loving touch
And as we walk, you look at me
And your eyes say so much.

The night wind is gentle,
Caressing and warm
And it ruffles your silky hair
I tickle you, you smile and laugh
And caress my cheek with care.

I love you, 'tis true
What more can I say?
Yet something is never quite right
Just like the waters with the moon on their waves
That hide the evil from sight.

I'm not saying we're evil
Not you nor I
but perhaps together we're wrong.
So let's stay apart
For a while at least
And our friendship will stay strong.

After reading this with Deanna and Matt (my husband), we all felt compelled to add our commentary for those poetry students who need the interpretation for the test later. Yes, there will be a test.

[We all agree that this starts out like standard teenage love mush]
Moonlit waters caress the sand
With a gentle, loving touch
And as we walk, you look at me
And your eyes say so much. [Do they? Really? Since when do boys' eyes say anything?]

The night wind is gentle,
Caressing and warm
And it ruffles your silky hair
I tickle you, you smile and laugh [I tickle you? Who tickles people in a poem? Really?]
And caress my cheek with care.
[Apparently, I was into caressing. Lots of caressing. The waters caress the sand, the wind is caressing, and you/he caresses my cheek. What's a good Christian teenage girl to do? When I'm not tickling, I'm caressing...or being caressed. Of course, in a non-sexual way. Naturally.]

I love you, 'tis true
What more can I say? [And here's where I went wrong. I really should've stopped writing right here. 'Tis true.]
Yet something is never quite right [Oh boy. Truer words were never penned.]
Just like the waters with the moon on their waves
That hide the evil from sight. [Oh no! Something dark and scary is rising from the waves. What is that? Not our love!]

I'm not saying we're evil [How could we be evil? Say 'tisn't so!]
Not you nor I
but perhaps together we're wrong. [Oh...this is so wrong.]
So let's stay apart
For a while at least
And our friendship will stay strong. [Really? This is how I said "Let's be friends" back then? Wow.]

[There are simply no words. Not one nor two. No words.]

So there you have it. The best worst poem I ever wrote. Or, at least that I can find. You're welcome. I do what I can to bring some sunshine into your life on a dreary Monday.

Our True and Full Self

2011-03-21T11:14:00.001-04:00

What we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are . . . because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. - Frederick Buechner

I deeply appreciate Buechner's thoughts on this idea of our "true and full self" - as a person who has spent her life being told that she is "too loud" or "too assertive" or "too bossy", I have struggled with who I am as opposed to who I "should" be. I have been told that my personality is acceptable in a man but not a woman; if I would just do what I was told, life would be so much easier for me; women want to lead because of Eve's disobedience in the garden and I should try harder to be submissive and fight this obvious manifestation of sin in my life to please God. If you're laughing incredulously at these statements, believe me - they were said in all seriousness and "concern" for my spiritual well-being.

I am thankful for Kayla who was on my ministry placement council while I was in seminary. As I related some of these comments that I had heard throughout my life, she leaned forward and said in a quiet yet powerful voice, "Don't let other people 'should' on you." I took her words to heart and have tried not to look back.

But it's hard. It's hard when you're told over and over again that you're too loud or abrasive. When you're told you need to choose between your vocation and your avocation because it will ultimately compromise your pastoral authority. I've spent the last few months doing a self-check because when you hear the same thing over and over, it's hard not to think that the only common denominator in all the equations is me/my personality. Am I mulishly clinging to a false sense of self and grieving God's Spirit? Am I wrong to want to be completely who I am?

Ugh. Existentialist drama. Or, as one of my friends has bemusedly said to me on several occasions, "You think too much." I wonder if my atheist friends have these same kinds of thoughts. Or if my fellow clergywomen from the North or West bump into these kinds of things. Is it just a Southern phenomenon? Or is it something that only happens in religious circles? Help me out, folks. Am I alone in this?

Why I Stay

2011-02-28T15:48:00.002-05:00

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. --Teddy Roosevelt

After reading the dire straits the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship seems to be in, I felt it necessary to do some reflecting on why I continue to believe in it when so many of my friends and colleagues have left. I think the quote by Teddy Roosevelt helps explain why I continue to cast my lot with this particular community. It isn't easy...choosing a ministry of persistence over one of prophecy. I confess, I am drawn to the voices crying out in the wilderness - to the prophets who call for change and a radical departure from all that has been. But I've found that I don't necessarily feel more at home with folks in the Emergent movement (in all its many iterations) than I do with my Baptist family. I had to chuckle when I read my friend Rachel Held Evans' blog posts, 13 Things That Make Me a Lousy Progressive and 13 Things That Make Me a Lousy Evangelical - I'm right there with her. Stuck in the middle...

But I keep on keeping on. For some of my friends who have been maligned and trampled and abused by a church, I am their pastor and spiritual mentor. If I had a quarter for everyone who says, "If you were the pastor of a church, I'd come back", I'd have a few hundred bucks. That sentence humbles me and breaks my heart simultaneously.

So, I stay in the Baptist arena and "strive valiantly" and maybe, just maybe, plant some seeds and tend to my little garden in the kingdom of God right here and now.

True Intimacy

2011-02-21T10:10:00.000-05:00

I love Henri Nowen. Rather than try to expound on his eloquent words - I'll let them stand alone and see what you think.

Human relationships easily become possessive. Our hearts so much desire to be loved that we are inclined to cling to the person who offers us love, affection, friendship, care, or support. Once we have seen or felt a hint of love, we want more of it. That explains why lovers so often bicker with each other. Lovers' quarrels are quarrels between people who want more of each other than they are able or willing to give.

It is very hard for love not to become possessive because our hearts look for perfect love and no human being is capable of that. Only God can offer perfect love. Therefore, the art of loving includes the art of giving one another space. When we invade one another's space and do not allow the other to be his or her own free person, we cause great suffering in our relationships. But when we give another space to move and share our gifts, true intimacy becomes possible.

Lean Forward

2010-11-03T11:18:00.001-04:00

My incredible seester-in-love, Mary Whitehouse (whose blog you should definitely follow), posted the following thoughts late last night but I just saw it on Facebook...which is a pretty nasty place this morning, in my opinion. Ugh. In any event, read on & let me know what you think (since she encapsulated my thoughts beautifully). She really is both an amazing writer and person...and I get to claim her as FAMILY! :)

On one of the morning shows this morning, they touted today as the day for "Control of Power."
If that's what an election is about--power--then I think we've seriously lost sight of what our government was designed to do. And why we elect people to begin with.

I don't want to hand out power. I don't want people to vie for power. I don't want this partisan competition in Congress to see who can get the most seats or look across the aisle and shout, "Nanny nanny boo boo." Because if that's what we're doing on election day, we might as well send all the candidates to an adult daycare facility and let them duke it out on the playground.

What elections are really about is selecting individuals to represent us, the people. Not the interests of lobbyists or a political party that doesn't really exist--or parties that do. And the people can all agree that the economy is taking longer to recover than any of us would like. The people can all agree that jobs are scarce. The people can all agree that healthcare still needs work. The people can all agree that immigration is an issue to be addressed. The people can all agree that we need clean energy.

OK...maybe not so much those last two.

The point is that we don't need to spend all our time and effort leaning right or left but leaning, as MSNBC suggests, forward. We need to have people who are interested enough in moving our country forward representing us in our respective state capitals and in DC. Not people who are interested in power and special interest groups. Not people who are going to perpetuate policies of the past that moved is backwards and sideways.

I did go out and lend my voice to a forward leaning and...well...sane ballot. I did my part, self-defeating though it feels like it was.

Autumn, in a word*

2010-10-08T14:04:00.001-04:00

Restless

Your turn...what's your word?

*Thanks to my buddy, Rachel Held Evans, for prompting this fun little exercise. :)

The Energy is in the Transition(s)

2010-09-15T21:57:00.002-04:00

Right after Big Tent Christianity, I made the mistake of going to yoga two days in a row at two entirely different studios where the teachers focused on exactly the same thing: transitions.

As a side note, what is all that about? Is there some sort of master yoga curriculum they're following? A "Sunday school quarterly" of sorts? (My Baptist family members should get that)

"We're going to work on living in the transitions between poses. So often, we want to move quickly from one pose to the next with no thought of how we got there but the transitions are where the real energy lies. As we breathe in the transitions, this allows us to rest, regain & refocus energy, refine our alignment, and frees us to move into a deeper understanding of the next pose."

I've been working on my thoughts about Big Tent Christianity for a week now (this post is in its 10th iteration) and I am losing my mind trying to craft the right words or turn of phrase. So, here are my thoughts in the transition(s) time:

Tony, it didn't suck. But we ended up doing exactly what you hoped we wouldn't.
I stand by my statement that there is bad theology (and I would add misinformation) in our churches that can only be changed if clergy (including me) will grow a spine.
I am tired of all the talking.

The way I see it, all the talking heads (of which I was one) were in some “pose” or another, vigorously working out their understanding of “Big Tent Christianity” in all the different configurations possible. Some were in basic poses, others in the more advanced stage, some novices and others masters. Regardless, the configuration of the event didn’t allow for much interaction between practitioners. All of us were focused inward – on our individual experiences, thoughts, and alignment.

The real energy, however, was in the transitions. In the hallways, lunch conversations, over beer & cigars at the after-party, and in the ministry of Love Wins made possible by the spare change of party-goers. I felt more at home in those times, more at ease and connected to the “Big Tent” than in the official meeting times/poses. I was given space to rest, regain & refocus energy, refine my alignment and, with God’s help, freed to move into a deeper understanding of the next pose of Big Tent Christianity.

I can only pray that others felt the same. Thanks be to God.

Confession

2010-08-04T13:46:00.000-04:00

Hi. My name is Christina and I'm bi-vocational.

When I did a random search for the term "bi-vocational", almost every hit referred to ministry. Seems like other folks just talk about having multiple jobs. Interesting. Not sure what to make of that but there 'tis.

I didn't think of myself as bi-vocational until recently when I realized that I was using all my vacation time from my full-time job (ministry) to go interpret conferences and work with novice interpreters. Which means, of course, that I don't actually go on vacation anymore. Hint: this is NOT a good thing.

I've also been finding it extremely difficult to transition from one job to the other with ease. I know that I compartmentalize certain parts of my life simply because there is no easy overlap between the two...but it seems to be harder lately. Might simply be that I'm TIRED (and getting older...but let's not go there, hmmm?).

I don't really know what I'm getting at here other than realizing that I'm gifted in both areas but bouncing back and forth between the two is mentally and emotionally exhausting. I don't want to choose between one or the other. Maybe part of the problem is that I feel like I have to do both with excellence (of course, that's kinda my personality) and neither can be a truly part-time gig.

Anyone else have experience in this area? I welcome your thoughts/comments/feedback!

Grace Is Hard Work (Or...I Don't Wanna!)

2010-06-08T22:48:00.001-04:00

The hubs and I have been playing volleyball at a local church on Tuesday nights. Obviously, this is not even an amateur league but there are a few good players and we've been (mostly) enjoying ourselves. There is ONE guy though, that makes me more than a little crazy. He plays all over the court, jumping in front of people, stealing balls, and gets really nasty when he's not playing well and/or the team he's on is losing.

He was on my team tonight and we were losing.

He jumped in front of me so many times, I lost count. While I'm not the best player, I'm certainly a solid one. But after awhile, I just stopped trying. I gave up on calling the ball & communicating with my teammates, got out of his way and let him play to his heart's content (and we still lost).

It's kinda the same story in churches today. There's an incident or an aggravating person or maybe a bunch of aggravating people and you just...give up. You either throw a fit or stop communicating, you get out of their way and let them run things, and eventually you leave - frustrated and fed up and convinced that churches suck.

I certainly felt that way after volleyball tonight. I honestly don't want to go back next week. Or, at the very least, I don't ever want him on my team again. But that's not how grace works, is it?

The hardest work is make the choice to stay in community with "those" people. Of course, WE are never "those" people, are we? No, we are good and reasonable and rational - and somewhere there MUST be people just like us, right? *sigh*

So, I'm going to go back next week. And I'm going to do the hard work of loving that guy...even when he steps in front of me, ignores me and steals my ball (and I won't trip him, either).

Grace is hard work. But I truly believe it's worth it.

Bruised Knees, Hands & Heart

2010-06-03T19:05:00.006-04:00

I have spent the last two days on my hands and knees, pulling rusty nails out of a few rooms in the house we're working on this week. Despite my knee pads, my knees are pretty sore & bruised and there are blisters on my thumbs from where I've held the cat's claw and hammer. But the bruises that hurt the most are the ones on my heart.

The tragic stories of unscrupulous contractors, of 70,000 damaged or abandoned homes, of the massive delay for demolition of blighted homes, the rampant criticism and cynicism about the residents of New Orleans have battered my heart in ways I can't fully explain. So, it's a good thing God has kept me on my knees these past two days.

Being in a humbling position with my eyes turned downward led me to pray for every square inch of the house, for every person that would live there and every person who came through the door. After I'd prayed every blessing and protection I could think of, I moved onto the street and the neighborhood, the city's residents and those displaced around the country. To be completely honest, I doubt I would've done that otherwise.

Strangely enough, it turns out I'm glad my heart's still tender enough to be bruised.

Why Are They Here?

2010-06-02T18:27:00.005-04:00

I sometimes hear older folks complain that young people are too self-centered today. That they don't care about community or organizations or about doing for others. And if they're talking about MY generation (Gen X), I have a hard time arguing with them.

The generation AFTER me (Millenials/Gen Y) however, are a different story. I have met numerous young adults serving through AmeriCorps and PC(USA) Young Adult Volunteers during this trip who are passionate about serving others and making a difference in the world. They have committed to serving for at least a year, living simply, and learning what it means to serve others.

These young adults are funny, compassionate, hard-working, gracious, self-sacrificing individuals and I'm thankful that they have chosen to spend a year of their lives in this way. I know it will change their lives forever. Whether they do it because they want to serve other people or to pad their resume or because God called them to serve...does it really matter? They're here, they're working, they're giving their time & energy to help people come home.

That's a pretty good thing, in my opinion.

Out of Chaos, Hope

2010-06-01T22:36:00.000-04:00

Her story is like many others you might have heard. She had one payment left on her home the month Katrina hit. The home she'd known for 35 years was flooded and ruined in one day. She lived in a hotel room until she was told she had to leave and then she got on a bus to Houston. When she was told she could return, she came back and hired a contractor who started work and then disappeared when the money ran out (and left behind such poor work that most of it had to be redone). She also had a heart attack two years ago and the medical bills are piling up. And now, despite the help from Project Homecoming, her house still needs over $9,000 worth of materials to be completed...money she doesn't have (but you can send a donation today).

Yet Velma Lewis walked through her home today, smiling, shaking hands, and thanking everyone by name. Her great-granddaughter giggled as she walked into her room, showing us where her sticker collection would go. Her son beamed as he pointed to the place where he plans to put an aquarium filled with freshwater fish (because salt water aquariums are just too much work).

I can't help but wonder if I would have the same quiet hope and thankful spirit if I were in their place. If I had experienced the loss of everything I held dear...would I have their strength? Could I praise God through it all?

I'm also struggling with what it means that almost all the Christian denominations and organizations have already pulled out of New Orleans and Katrina/Rita related work. The funds have dried up, people and churches have stopped giving and coming to volunteer...what message does this send? My seester-in-love wrote these words in her excellent post today:

We should never forget to follow through and see the work to completion. If we fail to do so, what kind of God are we really representing? The kind of God who grows tired of the view in one place? The kind of God who is incapable of spreading resources around to make God’s presence known and bring about redemption?

I pray that God will use me in these coming days to make a difference for Mrs. Lewis and her family. But more than that, I pray that when I leave here, I can build support that will sustain recovery work until the last displaced person is home.

Back in the Big Easy

2010-05-31T22:40:00.000-04:00

Hello again, New Orleans. It's good to be back...did you miss me?
The last time I was here, you sang me a sweet siren song that convinced me everything was just as it was before hurricanes Katrina and Rita. You fed me beignets and chicory coffee from Cafe Du Monde and adorned me with beads from early Mardi Gras parades. You cheered about the Saints and their ticket to the Superbowl and before long, had me yelling "Who Dat?" You wooed me so well that I fell in love with you all over again.

But you lied to me.

Things ARE different. You didn't tell me that you still have over 70,000 homes in need of repair or demolition. You didn't tell me that there are thousands of people who are still living in hotels or are completely displaced. You put on your Mardi Gras makeup and sashayed around the truth.

But now I know and I want you to know it's okay. I understand why you lied but from here on, let's be honest with one another. I'll come and spend my money to help restore your economy but my focus is going to be on telling your story to churches and convincing them to come and help you. That's why I'm here this week, staying at Olive Tree Village and working with Presbyterian Disaster Assistance and Project Homecoming (one of the last volunteer organizations working with disaster assistance in New Orleans). It's a gift to have such wonderful ecumenical partners!

It's going to be alright. We'll get through this together, old friend. I'm looking forward to seeing the real you this week - in all your pain, disgrace, strength & beauty in adversity. And making some new memories along the way.

The Death of Cool

2010-04-19T14:02:00.006-04:00

I thought I had a few more years. At least until Kara got into her tweens and began rolling her eyes and sighing melodramatically at everything I said (oh wait, that was just last week...or maybe I'm just channeling my teen years). Alas, it wasn't to be.

Any notion of my being "cool" died this past Saturday night at a Holiday Inn in Myrtle Beach.

Matt, Kara & I had spent a lovely day on the beach, playing in the sand, eating fresh seafood, etc. and we were all ready for a good night's sleep (as I was the guest preacher the next morning at a local church). Upon arriving back at our hotel around 9:30pm, however, all hopes were quickly dashed as we realized there was a fraternity/sorority dance being held that night. Even better? We were staying on the SAME FLOOR with them.

Thankfully, Kara was exhausted and fell asleep quickly despite the slamming doors and yelling in the hallway. Matt turned the a/c fan on high in hopes of drowning out the noise...to no avail. By 10:30pm, I had HAD it. I threw on some clothes and stormed to the door, ready to tear into the idiot screaming in the hall about a shot party in his room.

As I threw open the door, a guy came out of the room right next door and I shot him THE look. If you know me, you know what look I'm talking about. Heck, even if you haven't met me, you can imagine, right? He backs up a bit and I step into the hall and watch him walk 3 doors down to where "shot party" dude is cussing up a storm from inside his room with his door open to the hall. The guy looks back at me, smiles nervously, and says, "Dude! You've got to shut up NOW. They're gonna kick us out." Shot party dude yells, "F@*k 'em! We've got the whole f@*kin' hall! Who cares?" Kid with a brain says, "DUDE! No we don't! There's a family next door and the mom is standing in the hall!" Shot party dude yells, "F@*k her! I'll kick her ass!" Other guy says, "Close your door and shut the f@*k up, dude. You're drunk." He closes the door, turns back to me with an apologetic look, I nod & close my door...and proceed to call the front desk to complain.

AAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH!

I have become "the mom" and not the MILF kind (not that I want to be, mind you).

I know I was that obnoxious college kid not long ago, focused only on having a good time...even at the expense of others. Can I get a witness from my Cottey sisters? And there was part of me that wanted to be that "cool" person who just ignored the drunken louts stumbling down my hall. At one time, I might have even invited myself right into the shot party, demanding a few as compensation for my suffering through their festivities.

But no longer.

The girl who used to sing along at the top of her lungs to the Beastie Boys, "You gotta FIGHT for your RIGHT to PAAAARRRRRTTTTTYYYYYY" is gone. A disapproving mom has taken her place and almost called the police to break up the party on Saturday because she wasn't sure the hotel would take care of it properly.

Yes, it had been a long day and I was TIRED. Yes, I've become more intolerant of other people not observing common courtesy anymore. Yes, I get terribly cranky if I don't get enough sleep (and I do LOVE my sleep). Yes, I'm incredibly protective of my family. I mean, look at them. Wouldn't you do anything for them??

But more than all these things, I think I've gotten older and smidge wiser. And I'm (mostly) okay with that.

So, rest in peace, "cool." I'll take a good night's sleep surrounded by my loved ones over you any day.*

*Though if you want to check in with me again in say, 20 years...we can re-visit our relationship. Just sayin'.

Cruelty by Lucille Clifton

2010-04-18T21:31:00.001-04:00

cruelty. don't talk to me about cruelty

or what i am capable of.

when i wanted the roaches dead i wanted them dead
and i killed them. i took a broom to their country

and smashed and sliced without warning
without stopping and i smiled all the time i was doing it.

it was a holocaust of roaches, bodies,
parts of bodies, red all over the ground.

i didn't ask their names.
they had no names worth knowing.

now i watch myself whenever i enter a room.
i never know what i might do.

Listen to Clifton's reading of the poem here

Why I need the Resurrection

2010-04-03T09:09:00.006-04:00

On the website Patheos, nine bloggers (who include Doug Pagitt, Shane Mullin and Alyce McKenzie) shared why they need the resurrection, in 100 words or less. Kara Root, pastor of Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota wrote:

I need the Resurrection
because my sister is sick
and can't afford insurance,
because I've told a weeping Haitian mom,
"No, I can't take your son home with me."
because I've been rushed off a Jerusalem street
so a robot could blow up a bag that could've blown up us.
because I've exploded
in rage
and watched their tiny faces cloud with hurt.
because evil is pervasive
and I participate.
I need the Resurrection
because it promises
that in the end
all wrongs are made right.
Death loses.
Hope triumphs.
And Life and Love
Prevail.

Her words resonated with me...especially "because I've exploded in rage and watched their tiny faces cloud with hurt." I think many parents could relate. I've tried to come up with my own 100 words or less on why I need the Resurrection but nothing comes other than this:

I need the Resurrection
because I am the problem;
I hold within my heart
all the rage, guilt, blame & hate
in the world.
I need the Resurrection
because I need to hear my name
spoken with pure love
at my darkest hour.
To know that in the end,
Love Wins.

In 100 words or less, why do YOU need the Resurrection? Or, if you do not follow the Christ, why DON'T you need the Resurrection?

Suggestion for Parents

2010-04-01T10:44:00.003-04:00

A good friend of mine, Lynn Lingafelt, who serves on the staff at the First Baptist Church of Raleigh, NC sent an email to the parents of her church with some suggestions about how to prepare their young children for a Christian understanding of Easter. I think they are excellent and thought others might benefit from her thoughts. Enjoy and feel free to add your own thoughts and suggestions.

Easter is the greatest of Christian observances! As we think about preparing young children for Easter, let me encourage you to focus on the aspects of Easter that the children, in their concrete and literal understanding, can understand best – that Easter is a time of celebrating new life – a time of unrestrained JOY! Finding evidence of new life in nature (i.e. buds blooming, baby birds, butterflies, etc.) and remembering the events of Jesus’ life and the good things about our life are tangible ways to build a foundation for later and more abstract understandings of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. This Easter, as you celebrate with your young family, let me encourage you to:
Emphasize the joy at resurrection rather than Jesus’ sacrificial death. Young children can sometimes fixate on the gruesome and violent acts of the crucifixion and totally miss the joy of Jesus coming back to life.
Let the good news of love, forgiveness, and new life been SEEN in you. Modeling is worth a thousand words, and these concepts are much better understood when modeled!
Teach that God’s love never goes away.
Relay that part of the wonder and mystery of Easter is that we never quite understand it – not even grown-ups. Wonder, imagine, and think along with your children. Admit that you have questions, too.
Help the children associate the cross with a reminder of how very much God loves us and that Jesus is in heaven with God now.

untitled poem for an old lady

2010-03-31T11:53:00.001-04:00

by: alejandro morales

when i saw you
i felt surprise
at how white you have become.

i have spent
too much time and money
on too many white leaves

like ice shavings
or erasures of wings
like the decay of violin pizzicati

to understand
the circles of white:
beginning and end.

and i longed
to paint your lips
with the ripeness of august berries,

a bordeaux
of proper vintage
kept to their promise

of a metamorphosis
from an acidic infancy
to the perfect gestures

of the veins of one’s hands
carved out with age,
an oak’s worth of grace.

I went to church with Ben Folds

2010-03-22T10:51:00.008-04:00

Well...not exactly.

But at his concert in Charlotte at the Fillmore (amazing venue, by the way - go if you ever have the chance) this past Friday, I experienced church.

Maybe I should unpack that a bit seeing as how Ben cusses quite a bit, people in the crowd were drinking A LOT, and we played Chat Roulette as part of the concert (and saw a few parts of...ahem...human anatomy that would certainly not be seen in any church I know).

I went to the concert with my best friend, Delaine, who I've known for 14 years and with whom I have experienced life's highs and lows. So I'm already there with someone I love, trust and respect. While waiting in line to get into the show (general admission - everyone stands), we meet Robert and Susan, a father and his daughter from Winston-Salem, NC. We start talking about Ben Folds and our longtime love of his music...and I'm struck by the bond that music has created between a father and his teen-aged daughter. He shares that this was a tradition as he had taken his eldest daughter to a Ben Folds concert when she was in high school, too. I realize that this family is bonded through and able to communicate by Ben Folds tinted language.

Once inside, we're still standing with Robert and Susan in a generally amicable crowd of people - just hanging out, waiting for the show to begin. Delaine and Robert disappear to get beers and Susan and I continue to chat and save their spots (as best one can in a crowd of people without chairs). Once they return, we toast the show and continue to talk. As we all throw out our bets for what song Ben will open with, others around us get into the conversation. We all have our own opinions and theories about which song it will be and why he will open with that particular one, but no one tries to convince anyone why they're wrong and that they should change their opinion. We are respectful of each other's thoughts, opinions, theories and beliefs despite being complete strangers. We are gathered for a common purpose - to listen to Ben Folds' music, hear his stories, and be connected in some unexplainable way, if only for 3 short hours (as an aside, when was the last time you spent 3 hours in church? By choice? And you PAID to do it?).

Zach Williams opens the show - none of us have heard of him but we listen quietly at first then with growing admiration for his passion and raw talent. This man's powerful voice and soulful lyrics commands the attention of everyone in the room (it probably also helped that he TOTALLY channeled Johnny Cash's stage presence but that might have just been my take). He's vulnerable when sharing the song he wrote for his 14 month old daughter, honest, quirky and funny in-between amazing us with his gift of music. He holds nothing back and when he leaves the stage, we know he's given us everything he had that night. And we (the unsuspecting and pleasantly surprised crowd) are all better for it.

As one or the other of the people around us have to leave for the restroom or a beer run, we protect the space they left, jokingly referring to our space as a "circle of trust". We continue this throughout the show, especially as the crowd surges forward when Ben takes the stage and other hilarious moments throughout the show (like when he impersonates the Ben Folds Chat Roulette impersonator, "Merton"). We high-five each other at crazy moments and smile knowingly during the reflective times. We are a community of strangers, gathered together by chance (or perhaps Providence?) at this time and place, united by our love of one man's music. We sing together at the top of our lungs, extemporaneously harmonizing with one another at certain points, nodding our heads in approval at the loveliness of the moment.

At the close of the show, after Ben sings The Luckiest as his final encore and the lights come up, we who are part of this little band in the "circle of trust" stand around and chat for a while longer (despite the crowd pushing past us for the doors). We share our favorite moments and how it connected to our lives or experiences. We hug one another (yes, 8-10 complete strangers at a concert), wish one another well and safe travels, and finally part ways in the parking lot. Delaine and I collapse into the car, giddily grin at one another and proclaim it the "best concert ever!"

At this point, some of my friends might point out that worship of the living God did not occur. None of the songs pointed to or glorified God in any way. The people who gathered at the Fillmore that night were there to be entertained by a very talented musician and nothing more. That I am reading something into the experience that simply wasn't there. That one cannot experience "church" at a "secular" concert.

And they might be right. But I would disagree. ;-)

Because the community, love and respect that I experienced that night reminded me of the best spiritual experiences I have had throughout my life (and I have spent many MANY hours of my life in church). And I know the creative Spirit of the living God was there with us in Charlotte, singing and dancing and moving in us that night.

Thanks be to God.

Inclusive Language

2010-02-24T09:53:00.009-05:00

I've been attending a church conference and we started with worship yesterday morning with one of my favorite hymns, Be Thou My Vision. I memorized that hymn long ago but when I started wrestling with inclusive language in scripture & hymnody, I started struggling with this hymn because of the words in the traditional version of verse two, "Thou my great Father and I thy true son."

Now, before you jump down my throat with historical language and the fact that when ye writers of olde meant EVERYONE when they wrote about man/son - I know that. I was an English major for awhile before switching to American Sign Language (another story for another time). We also know that for a language to be alive, it will continue to grow and evolve and develop. Think about the fact that just 40 years ago, we didn't have "compact discs" or "cellular/mobile phones" or "electronic mail". Think about the fact that while we still use English (albeit our Americanized/bastardized version), it certainly isn't the same English that good ole' William Shakespeare used. I'm not writing this post in the King/Queen's English.

I also want to point out that I'm not some raging feminist who's advocating a linguistic shift to some ridiculous political correctness or to swing the pendulum to a female-dominant language. But in church tradition, masculine-dominant language has been used to oppress and subjugate women for centuries and I, for one, am tired of it. This is probably an overstatement but I believe that women have sustained the (institutional) church for the entirety of its existence and yet we continue to be among its least valued members.

If we hold to the belief that if God is neither male nor female and if we also believe scripture when it says that God created us in God's image, then we need to change the way we refer TO God and talk ABOUT God (just my humble opinion). And for those of us who have accepted this and have become more inclusive in our language about the Divine, it's a bit of a learning curve but we seem to manage it. But we always seem to struggle and bump into problems with our hymnody - partially because of meter & rhyme but also because we've memorized it and it seems more difficult to address somehow.

So, back to the conference - we stand up to sing Be Thou My Vision and I'm wondering if they'll just use the traditional lyrics or how they'll change them...and this is what they posted:

Be Thou my vision O Lord of my heart.

Not be all else to me save that Thou art.

Thou my best thought by day or by night

Waking or sleeping my treasure Thou art.

Be Thou my wisdom and Thou my true word

I ever with Thee and Thou with me Lord

Thou my redeemer my love Thou hast won

Thou in my dwelling and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not nor vain empty praise

Thou mine inheritance now and always

Thou and Thou only first in my heart

Great God of heaven my treasure Thou art

Great God of heaven my victory won

Now I reach heaven’s joys O bright heaven’s sun

Heart of my own heart whatever be fall

Still be my vision O ruler of all.

Now, to be honest, I stumbled over the lyrics but I was so happy to see them - not only the more gender neutral/inclusive part but also the less imperialistic stuff (Great God instead of High King). I asked where they found these lyrics and was told these are from the Chalice Hymnal, hymn 595, words by Eleanor Hull. So thankful for writers like her who are willing to wrestle with the traditional text and stay true to the spirit of the hymn but include everyone today. *happy sigh*

Prayer for Haiti*

2010-01-15T11:02:00.004-05:00

Eternal and Gracious God,
Whose thoughts are higher than our thoughts
and ways are higher than our ways:

We come to you today to pray for those who have been affected by the earthquake in Haiti —
those who are trapped in the rubble or who have been left homeless,
those who are hungry or injured or traumatized,
those who have already experienced the aftermath of death, and
those who will feel its sting in the days to come.

We come to you today to pray for those who are or will be involved in the relief effort—
those who will dedicate their time, energy, efforts, and money
to rebuilding lives and structures and roads and
offering clean food and water and medicine to
those who need healing hands.

We come to you today to pray for those who are trying to organize persons and resources
to assist with long-term relief efforts--
to assist with redeeming a country and a people
who have too long been overlooked and forgotten.

Oh Lord, we pray for Strength to deal with conditions too awful to describe,
for Love that penetrates and transforms desperation,
for Hope that grants light in darkness,
and for Peace that transcends all understanding.

May we, as your people, God,
be your hands and feet in this broken, hurting world.

Amen.

*written by my good friend, Deanna

The organization I work with, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF) is involved with disaster response in Haiti. If you're interested, here's how you can help:

• First you can pray: Prayer requests will be updated regularly.
• Second you can give: Your gift will go to earthquake relief. Give online
• Third, you can get involved: If you want to help directly with response efforts, please let us know your skills and experience.
• Fourth, you can stay connected: Read the latest news release, updates on the CBF blog, and connect through CBF's Haiti ministry network's Ning site.

Flashes of Faith

2009-12-22T11:22:00.004-05:00

This is the sermon I preached this past Sunday...thanks for the prayers, suggestions, etc. I think it turned out well. If I can get a hold of the audio, I'll try to post it, too.
===========

I’m so tired. Mama told me that I might have strange dreams because of the baby but so soon? I'm not even showing yet. And these dreams are strange…and scary. Sometimes I dream Joseph has left me and wants nothing more to do with me. Sometimes it’s just my parents’ faces after I told them I’m pregnant – their looks of disappointment and fear. And sometimes, its flashes of things that make no sense to me. An old couple blessing a baby in the temple, King Herod’s angry face, strangers bearing gifts, a rabbi teaching thousands on a hillside, a Roman soldier kneeling at a cross…I’ve woken up crying out – which embarrasses me, since I’m staying with my cousin Elizabeth and she comes in to check on me. She says she can’t sleep well herself… being so close to birthing her own child. [gentle smile & soft shake of head in disbelief]

Talk about a miracle. No one ever thought she and Zechariah would have children. And now? Well, some are likening it to Father Abraham and Mother Sarah – guess you’re never too old for Adonai to bless you! [face drops, hands over belly with knitted brow with hushed voice] Or too young. [long pause]

I keep thinking about that night. The light...it was so beautiful. So captivating...you’ve never seen anything so beautiful or terrifying as a messenger of the Most High. “Favored one,” he called me. “Favored one…do not be afraid.” Like that was going to stop my heart from pounding out of my chest or my knees from giving out. And what he told me…I could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, somehow, I did. “Let it be to me according to your word.” [long pause]

What was I thinking?? Adonai could use me? Some poor country girl from Nazareth? I’m barely old enough to be married, let alone pregnant…and with the Son of the Most High? What can these things mean?

I wish I could say that I have no doubts; that I’ve spent every moment in prayer and adoration. The Most High has shown me time and time again that this is the way it is to happen. Joseph’s dream? Knowing that we’re to name the baby Jesus? And how could I know that Elizabeth was 6 months pregnant before anyone else in my family? And when I first arrived here, the things Elizabeth said to me…ME! Blessed among women? The mother of the Lord? SHE’S the elder, SHE’S the one to be honored and respected, SHE’S the one married to a priest…it should be Elizabeth who’s carrying this child. That’s the way it SHOULD be.

And yet…Adonai chose me. When I saw the love in Elizabeth’s eyes and heard the joy in her voice, I couldn’t keep from singing praises, right there in the open, with anyone to hear. I sang to Elizabeth and the animals, to the servants and the trees…but most of all, I sang to my baby. I sang of the Lord’s favor on me – a nobody. I sang of the great work and power of the Most High. I sang of the promise to our ancestors and the deliverance to come. [sing chorus of Andrew Peterson’s, “Deliver Us”: Deliver us, deliver us, oh Yahweh hear our cry. And gather us beneath your wings tonight - repeat] And when I was singing, I meant every word. I believed.

It’s just at times like this, after those confusing and terrifying dreams that wake me up, heart racing and drenched in sweat…that’s when the doubts come. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Adonai has proved his faithfulness…my faith falters and I wonder if it’s all really true. Or, as I’ve heard some people whispering, if I’ve made it all up…if I’m crazy. After all, who ever heard of a virgin conceiving? Why would the Most High do this? Why this way? Why now? [long pause then quietly] Why me?

I’m so scared. I try to be strong and have a fearless faith…like Deborah, the great priestess of old. But too often, I find myself doubting and laughing like Mother Sarah. I admit that I keep waiting to be struck dumb like Zechariah. No one knows what happened to him in the sanctuary…he was fine going in to offer sacrifices but when he came out - he couldn't speak. Elizabeth thinks it's because he didn't believe that she would conceive...so I guess they ARE kind of like Father Abraham and Mother Sarah...only Zechariah is the one who doubted this time! Ha!

I believed what the angel told me but sometimes…I worry. And I question why the Most High chose me. Is this an unforgiveable sin? To confess that I don’t believe as I should? As any good daughter of Israel should? I wish I could be so holy – to trust unquestioningly that I’ve been chosen to bear the Son of God. But…well…who am I?

[throw hands up, exasperated] Yes, yes…I remember the angel’s words – “Favored one.” Sure…some favor. Appear to a nobody from nowhere, about the wed a good man, and turn her life upside down. [gazing off into the distance…quietly] I could have been stoned. If Joseph hadn’t believed the angel…if my parents hadn’t accepted his word to marry me regardless…if the chief priests had known…I could have been stoned. [move hands to belly & look down thoughtfully] But I wasn’t.

[softly begin to sing Michael Card's “El Shaddai” - El Shaddai, El Shaddai, El-Elyon na Adonai, Age to age You're still the same, By the power of the name. El Shaddai, El Shaddai, Erkamka na Adonai, I will praise and lift You high, El Shaddai. Through the years You've made it clear, That the time of Christ was near, though the people couldn't see what Messiah ought to be. Though Your Word contained the plan, they just could not understand. Your most awesome work was done [hands to belly, look up & smile] through the frailty of Your Son. El Shaddai, El Shaddai, El-Elyon na Adonai, Age to age You're still the same, By the power of the name. El Shaddai, El Shaddai, Erkamka na Adonai, I will praise and lift You high, El Shaddai.]

In this moment, I choose to trust you, Most High. I believe what you said through the angel. And I pray that you will forgive my moments of doubt and fear. I want to be a good mother – a strong mother. Help me, Adonai. Remind me that you are ever-present…always at work in me…co-creating this new life inside. Help me to walk in your light…your beautiful light. [exit slowly as choir begins singing “Walk in the Light”]

Advent Blog Series

2009-12-21T13:48:00.002-05:00

You may remember the spiritual practice blog series that I contributed to earlier in the year that was started by my friend, Christine Sine, of Mustard Seed Associates. Well, she's got another great series running for Advent - wonderful thoughts/meditations/prayers/resources, etc. You can find most of the posts HERE. There are a few more to come so keep checking back. GREAT stuff (and I'm not just saying that because I contributed, either)! ;-)

Snarling Bears & Performance Anxiety

2009-12-17T12:57:00.006-05:00

I had the most vivid dream last night about being chased by a snarling bear in the woods (I can still see the foamy muzzle and hear the roaring behind me). As I rounded a bend, there was a sign strung across the face of a rock outcropping that said, "Bear After You? Call us!" and it had a phone number to text for help. As I tried to text & run at the same time, I couldn't text the number correctly & my message for help kept getting scrambled...and I could feel the bear getting closer and closer. And then, of course, I woke up.

It must be time to write another Advent sermon.

For all of my dear friends who are experienced pastors who write a new sermon EVERY WEEK, I now have a fresh appreciation for the very hard work you do. Oy vey.

I shared my dream with a good friend and she pointed out that the messed up texting part of the dream probably refers to not being able to perform under pressure/performance anxiety.

Great. Thanks.

The thing is, I've been looking forward to writing this sermon since I read through the lectionary and started planning all my sermons for Advent. I had decided to do a first-person narrative sermon from Mary's perspective - in costume and everything! This is the kind of stuff I was known for in divinity school chapel each semester (and no snide "drama queen" remarks, thank you very much) and I loved it! But now?? The well seems a tad dry.

After ~~procrastinating by~~ calling a mentor/teacher/peer/friend and mentioning my dilemma, he laughed and suggested that since I have been known to ~~wing it~~ improvise on occasion, this might just be some karma coming back to bite me in the sub-conscious butt.

Sigh. "Better are the wounds of a trusted friend..." and all that.

I'll get there. The sermon will happen on Sunday. It might not be the best one I've ever written but it will be finished and the bear laid to rest.

Until next Sunday anyway...

Advent

2009-12-16T15:02:00.003-05:00

I do not like to wait.

Call me impatient (I am). Call me a product of the consumer generation (I am). Call me what you will...I do not like to wait.

Which is why the season of Advent is so good for me.

I didn't grow up celebrating Advent. I'd never even heard of it until after graduating college...yes, think mid-20's. What a revelation! Spending almost an entire month preparing myself for the coming of Christ...instead of rushing into the season, thoughtless and mindless of the implications of the season for me as someone who professes to follow Christ (but rarely stops to think about what that really means).

And so, here I am, 10 years later, celebrating Advent yet again.

While many texts and sermons focus on the idea of "we are a people who are waiting in the darkness...waiting for the light of Christ," I have a different perspective. I believe this season of waiting is ripe with possibilities and full of hope and promise.

Five years ago, I was 7 months pregnant with Kara, my first (and only, thus far) pregnancy. There was fear and hope and mystery and a great sense of the unknown wrapped up in the experience. I couldn't peer into my womb to see her develop - I could only greet each new day with a sense of wonder and expectation. There were flutters of life (though with Kara, she kept her feet planted into my ribs most of the time...so it was more than "flutters" that I felt). The only indicators we had of her life were my swollen belly (and ankles and face and rear end and...) and the occasional hiccup I could feel as she grew and inched her way towards her due date.

Yes, it was more tangible than our waiting for the coming of the Christ-child. Yes, it was a one-time event for me...not something I experience every year (thank God!).

But there is something to be learned in the waiting time. There is something inside all of us that is longing to be born - hope or joy or peace or love - every year! But it isn't something that can be rushed. We must nurture it, give it time and energy...and sometimes we must simply...wait.

Adventus Domini. Come, Lord Jesus. Come. We are your people and we are waiting.

Too Distracted...

2009-11-19T08:00:00.002-05:00

I've got so many things I want to write about but can't seem to find the time. I've got 3 partially written posts sitting on my desktop and I just can't finish them. I'm probably overthinking what I want to say...after all, it's just my thoughts. No groundbreaking new ideas or theology.

Anyway, just wanted to say that I'm still alive, still very busy, and plan to post some new stuff soon. Honest.

That is all.

The Boundary-Breaking God

2009-10-22T15:09:00.004-04:00

I devoured Danielle Shroyer's book, The Boundary-Breaking God: An Unfolding Story of Hope & Promise, on my flight home from the Christianity21 conference in Minneapolis and felt like I'd re-discovered a long-lost friend. The passion, love, and devotion she has for the covenant stories of God leapt off the pages at me. The beautiful arc of the "family stories" as told through such a hopeful lens re-invigorated me in a fresh and original way. One thought came to me as I read Danielle's description of Simeon & Anna in the temple:

Simeon and Anna were children of Abraham and Sarah, descendants of God's great covenant. The scriptures declaring the coming Messiah were familiar words and phrases that they carried in their hearts, that when spun together brought to life the portrait of God's promised king like a flipbook. Even though the promise of God was changing to expand previously excluded people, Simeon and Anna could see the future of God unfolding before their eyes. (emphasis mine)

One of the final feedback comments on the Christianity21 event came from a 79 year old man who said, "I believe God has kept me alive this long to attend this conference..." He was able to see this new reality come into being.

Those of us who identify with this new, hopeful, emergent/emerging movement of the church...those of us who follow God and proclaim a risen and redemptive Christ...we NEED the Simeons and Annas to proclaim in the temple that they believe in us. We need the steadfast love and devotion of those praying in the temple long after others have left.

There have always been and will always be those in power (Herods and Pharisees) who will be threatened by a boundary-breaking God, but for those of us who are called out by God, for those of us trying to to live a new/ancient/different way of following Christ in the 21st century, it is a song we cannot escape. God's spirit continues to push us onward, past the boundaries, past what has been, past our brokenness and fragility.

Let us love extravagantly, just like the boundary-breaking God who created us!

Playing in the kitchen

2009-10-21T18:44:00.004-04:00

I recently stayed with a good friend who made potato soup for dinner and it was wonderful...which made me realize that I had never attempted this simple recipe before. So, even though I didn't feel very good today, I figured it might take my mind off my throbbing sinuses (which it did).

It was such a rousing success in our household, I thought I'd share the recipe...just in case you've never made baked potato soup. Of course, feel free to tweak it as you see fit.

Baked Potato Soup
1/4 cup butter
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
5 cups skim milk
6 large baking potatoes, scrubbed
1 clove garlic
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1 cup cooked bacon, crumbled (optional)

Microwave (or bake) potatoes until done.
While potatoes are cooking, make a roux over low to medium heat. Mix melted butter & flour. DO NOT BURN THE ROUX! When roux has thickened a bit, gradually blend in milk & garlic. Continue cooking over low to medium heat while preparing potatoes.
Peel & cut up three of the potatoes. Mash the other three. Add potatoes to milk mixture & stir thoroughly.
Add cheese to soup and stir till melted.
Add onions & bacon.
Soup is on!

Another option is to leave the cheese, onions & bacon out of the basic soup and serve them on the side for people to add as they wish. Sour cream is another good topping. :)

Superabundant Grace

2009-10-20T09:13:00.004-04:00

I love Henri Nouwen's reflections on the Christian life. I get a daily devotional thought each morning in my inbox. Truth be told, I often get sucked into work and delete these emails without ever reading them (anyone else relate?) but I stay on the list because when I do stop & read, I am reminded again why I follow Jesus. This morning's devotional thought gives just such an example:

Over the centuries the Church has done enough to make any critical person want to leave it. Its history of violent crusades, pogroms, power struggles, oppression, excommunications, executions, manipulation of people and ideas, and constantly recurring divisions is there for everyone to see and be appalled by.

Can we believe that this is the same Church that carries in its center the Word of God and the sacraments of God's healing love? Can we trust that in the midst of all its human brokenness the Church presents the broken body of Christ to the world as food for eternal life? Can we acknowledge that where sin is abundant grace is superabundant, and that where promises are broken over and again God's promise stands unshaken? To believe is to answer yes to these questions.

Drunk on the Wine of New Love

2009-10-14T15:28:00.005-04:00

Or perhaps, a re-discovered love? Turns out I'm in love with Jesus. Turns out I have been all along...I just needed to be reminded and the community that gathered at Christianity21 helped me remember the incarnational God who came and took on flesh (and called it GOOD!). The God who knows intimately every longing of my strong yet feeble human heart.

You have to understand, I'm a feeler. I've learned not to let EVERY emotion show but my heart is still very tender. After seminary, I lost a lot of that feeling when it came to church, Jesus, worship, etc. I moved all of my feelings about faith into my head - you know, deconstructing all of your ingrained/embedded theology? The problem was, I never figured out how to reconstruct my faith and love for Jesus in a way that felt authentic to me. So I'd simply resigned myself to the new reality of this "heady" faith and hoped my heart would recover.

As recounted in previous posts, I was anxious going into this gathering. Like I'd said, I'm not a hipster (though if I'm completely honest, I WANT to be!) and I figured I'd really be out of my depth. But in the first day, I met another rogue Baptist (though he defines himself as a "redemptive Baptist" in the sense that he's trying to redeem what it means to be Baptist) and we realized that we're not as alone as we thought we were. As I began tweeting on the conference, I found more people who seemed to resonate with the observations I was making.

An aside here, how funny that we were all in the same room, and I'd already been following lots of these folks on Twitter beforehand, and NONE OF US KNEW WHO THE OTHER WAS?! Oy. I'm thankful that most of us managed to find one another through the course of the weekend. And, lest you think I'm busting on the Twitterverse, I'm not. I wouldn't have connected with nearly as many people as I did without Twitter. But it also took a little extra effort to connect in real life. :)

Wouldn't you know that one of the first people I connected with was Phil Shepherd? Yeah, that's him in the pic. Looks a little intimidating, no? In fact, one of the speakers referenced not wanting to meet him in a dark alley. LOL!

What you don't know about Phil is that he has a tender heart like me. That he's passionate about being authentic in every aspect of his life. And, oh by the way, did I mention that he grew up in the Baptist church? And that he served as a ministry intern at my home church? And knows the man who shaped my understanding about AIDS and the GLBTQ community? And...and...he saw me?

He saw me, sitting there, longing to FEEL again. To be authentic in my faith journey. And he looked past my "mommy shoes" as he called them and my invisible Baptist tattoos and called me out. To feel again. To be part of a messy, beautiful, imperfect, holy, struggling, incarnational community. He might not realize that's what he did, but that's what happened.

And through the course of the weekend, through Debbie Blue's scandalous and scintillating sermon, "Jesus' Body is Hot Again", through conversations with random people from all over the world, through Nadia Bolz-Weber's declaration that we must be deeply rooted in tradition in order to innovate with integrity, through a 30-minute chair massage that moved me to tears because of the woman's healing touch, through Shauna Niequist's demand that "Your story MUST be told", through heatherlyn's deeply moving music, through Paul Soupiset's amazing line drawings that focused me in ways nothing else could...

I can feel again.

I have been embraced by a community that I've been toeing the fringes of for years...they have seen me, called me out, loved me, and named me as one of their own.

I have found my tribe.

Thanks be to God.

Defending Against the Bible

2009-10-06T10:49:00.004-04:00

My boss forwarded this pithy little paragraph to me this morning and I am still smarting from its accusations. And, at the same time, find myself enthusiastically nodding my head to what Søren Kierkegaard says:

The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world? Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church's prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you?

Source: Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard, ed. Charles Mooreouch

Makes me also think about my discomfort with the writings of Shane Claiborne and the incredible life-testimony of my friends & peers who are urban ministers in North Charleston, South Carolina - working with Metanoia. What if I really DID take the words of Jesus as seriously as they do?

Ouch.

Christianity21 (part deux)

2009-10-05T14:36:00.003-04:00

I'm getting more and more excited about the upcoming Christianity 21 Conference in Minneapolis October 9-11. The tagline for the event? "21 Thinkers, 21 ideas, 21 minutes each. All women." This isn't the usual women's conference bulls#*t that we Baptists are famous for (can anyone say Beth Moore?). This is a conference where all the presenters happen to be female. And all the presenters are hanging out with everyone the whole time for conversations and to share meals. They don't just do their presentation and disappear. How awesome is that?!

And, recognizing that faith & theology should be integrated into one's WHOLE life, check out some of the cool extras for this conference: on-site, free-of-charge personal coaches in the areas of Spiritual Direction, Natural Health, Sexual Health, Professional Development and Job Pursuit. Also available are group sessions of yoga and a publishing seminar. In addition, the facility will serve as a living Art Gallery.

If you're in the Minneapolis area, come and check it out. Heck, even if you're not in the area, make the trip! And if you're gonna be there, find me so we can hang out!

Sunday School lesson FAIL

2009-09-19T15:43:00.004-04:00

I'm all in favor of teaching kids/youth the WHOLE Bible and not sanitizing it or changing the more difficult stories. Of course, I'm not advocating for teaching toddlers about Lot's daughters committing incest (Genesis 19:30-38) or Jephthah's sacrifice of his virgin daughter (Judges 11:30-40) - let's use a little common sense, eh? But teaching the hard parts of the Biblical narrative when it's appropriate is a good thing (in my opinion). It teaches us to wrestle with the WHOLE Bible and not just the parts we like or agree with.

So when my daughter came home from church a few weeks ago with a nifty little sheet that outlined what she had learned in Sunday school that morning, I was looking forward to seeing what she was being taught. According to the lesson, they were learning about Moses; his childhood, life, call from God, etc. This particular morning, they were focusing on the ten plagues that God sent to Egypt (Exodus 7:8-12:30). Naturally, they condensed those verses into the following handy-dandy summary:

Bible Story (Exodus 7:7-12:30): Moses and Aaron begged Pharaoh to let the Israelites go but he said No! So God sent plagues to Egypt. He sent flies, locusts, and darkness, just to name a few. But Pharaoh still wouldn't let the Israelites go. Finally God sent the 10th plague, the angel of death. But God told Moses to tell the Israelites to paint their doorways with the blood of a perfect lamb so the angel would pass over their houses. People today still celebrate Passover to remember how God used his power to help his people.

Key Verse: "So do not fear, for I am with you." (Isaiah 41:10a)

Bible Point: God uses his power to help us.

Ummm, what?

Why is the key verse from Isaiah? How is that related to the lesson about Moses? Why is the "Bible Point" that God uses his power to help us? Can anyone say, PROOF-TEXTING?! Cherry picking verses that teach the lesson the writer wants to get across instead of letting the Word stand on it's own?!

Ick, ick, ick!

Okay, now that my rant and icky dance are complete, I recognize that writing lessons for children must be one of the most difficult things to do EVER. You have to take into account how children perceive the world, their development, their level of comprehension, etc. And for massive publishing houses, there is a tight schedule and things must be cranked out ad nauseam.

But why can't we just tell the story? Why can't we read it and let them act it out or draw pictures about which plague would have been the scariest or what they would have done with frogs falling from the sky or....you get my point.

Worst part of the lesson? (Yes, it gets worse)

The "Home Connect/Family Fun" part of the lesson:

Matching Game: Make a matching game with your family. Take 10 index cards and on each card write one of the 10 plagues. Do this twice so that you have a total of 20 cards. To play, shuffle the cards. Lay them in rows. One person turns over two cards. If they match, he keeps the cards and tries again. If they don't match, he turns them over in the same spot and it's the next person's turn.

SERIOUSLY?! What idiot thought this was a good idea?

"Oooo! I matched the angel of death/death of firstborn son! I win!"

Not to mention the gender-exclusive language in the description of the game and the uselessness for toddlers who are just learning to read. Guess they didn't want us to draw pictures of the plague to match, eh? Locusts, boils, dead livestock and dead children just too much to handle, hmm? It would certainly help me remember all ten plagues - how about you?

Of course, the larger question here is - what do you want the children to walk away with? Is the goal to teach them about the plagues or God's faithfulness? Is the point that God uses power to punish Pharaoh or that God delivers the oppressed? How can you make that into a lesson children will understand and remember without scaring the crap out of them? I'm not sure but there has to be something better than what my daughter brought home.

Of course, part of my role in all of this is to teach my daughter the things about this story that I want her to know. The spiritual formation of children is the responsibility of their parents, NOT the Sunday school teacher, children's minister, etc. The problem that arises is, what if parents don't know the Bible? How can they teach their kids?

Ah, ye old chicken/egg argument.

The thing is, everyone has a theology, regardless of formal training. You don't have to go to seminary in order to teach your child about God, faith, the Bible, etc. If you hope that your child will think and believe like you do but leave their spiritual development to others, that's taking a pretty big risk. You might trust those teachers wholeheartedly but are they you? Shouldn't your child know what you believe and start from there?

Maybe God is...

2009-08-29T21:52:00.005-04:00

Just finished watching "Then She Found Me" with Helen Hunt, Bette Midler & Colin Firth. There's a significant moment where Helen Hunt's character refuses to pray though she's portrayed to have great faith until this point. Bette Midler confronts her about it and she breaks down, saying:

I thought God was loving and good...
I had faith.

And Bette Midler responds:

What if God is difficult? Awful? Complicated?

Helen Hunt stops for a moment and whispers:

Like me.

And then she commences to pray.

Listen, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Listen, O Israel, the God of love and the God of fear are one.

What if God IS difficult, awful & complicated? Like us? And at the same time, good and loving? Is it that far-fetched to think that God is far more complex than we can ever comprehend? That if we humans are people whose very nature is paradoxical; perhaps the God who created us is infinitely more so? Even in our darkest hours when we have experienced loss that shakes us to our core, can we find the faith to pray to such a God?

May it be so. Amen.

Rites of Passage

2009-08-24T09:49:00.006-04:00

Yesterday was Promotion Sunday* for the children/youth Sunday schools. This is a ritual I've experienced throughout my life as a born-and-bred Baptist and I've got to admit, I kind of miss it as an adult. The excitement of a new teacher & classroom, the special treats before class begins, the new status one is afforded as a "youth" instead of a "child" - such good memories!

I realize now that it was a rite of passage, though we never would have thought to call it that or formalize it in that way. Which brings me back to my first thought, why don't adults have something like this to celebrate the passing of another year? Why don't we have rites of passage (in the church or otherwise) anymore?

We have wedding ceremonies & baby dedications (or baptisms/christenings) but what if you never get married (or are denied the right) or have children? There is no formalized celebration for buying your first house or your first new car or paying off your college loans (probably because that won't happen until I'm dead and then everyone will be focused on the funeral arrangements).

There's nothing to celebrate becoming a responsible, contributing member of society. There's nothing to celebrate the successful negotiation from adolescence to adulthood (and all the subsequent stages that entails). Why??

Now, I realize that this could get out of hand and move from the sublime to the ridiculous. But isn't there a certain power in intentionally acknowledging and celebrating as a community? I know of one church that has a blessing of the bicycle s. Is that ridiculous? No. It is an appropriate and beautiful rite for that community and could be for any community that has members whose bikes are a significant part of their lives. Other churches have a blessing of the animals Sunday. A youth minister I know has a blessing of the keys for her youth that are starting to drive. The divinity school I attended has a commissioning service to mark the beginning of one's theological journey & to re-affirm our call to ministry and then has a hooding service right before graduating where family/friends present the graduate with their masters hood & reflections are offered about the gradute by the div school faculty. Good things all.

But I still see a significant lack in the "adult rites of passage" column. No promotion Sunday for me. No "new job, new house" celebration (2 years ago in Dec - can it have been that long already?!). No "adjusting to being the parent of a preschooler" rite. Again, celebrating every last thing we do as adults could become absurd...but I have to believe that SOME celebrations or rites should be considered.

I read The Seasons of a Woman's Life by Daniel Levinson a few years back (his ground-breaking work was The Seasons of a Man's Life) and while it has dated information, some of his observations made me realize that we have nothing to help us negotiate the different stages of adulthood. We recognize the stages of development for children and have graphs & charts that tell us if our children are developing "appropriately for their age" and use all kinds of things to measure this (i.e. height, weight, verbal development, gross & fine motor skills, social skills, etc.). We know the signs of children moving into and through puberty and eventually into "adulthood". But once we reach adulthood - nothing. And in our highly mobile and youth-obsessed society, we no longer have the gift of older adults who can mentor us and help us through these stages/seasons of our lives.

Whoa.

How in the world did I get there from my musings about promotion Sunday??

Oh right. I'm an ENFP. Oooo! Shiny!

*Do other denominations have this? I would assume that any church that has an educational component (called Sunday school in my tradition), would do this but that's operating out of my limited Baptist experience.

The Drum

2009-08-19T09:49:00.004-04:00

daddy says the world is
a drum tight and hard
and i told him
i’m gonna beat
out my own rhythm
-nikki giovanni

(picture credit: Ron Patterson, "Red Drum & Tambourine")

Hypocrisy

2009-08-18T09:33:00.006-04:00

In Shakespeare's glorious tragedy, Hamlet (Act I, Scene III) Ophelia rebuffs her brother Laertes' insistence that she resist Hamlet's advances and accuses Laertes of hypocrisy by saying:

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.

Now, for those who despise Shakespeare, allow me to interpret:

Don't act like some pious preacher,
Telling me about the "narrow way" to heaven
While, like all the other "sinners",
S/he overindulges on every kind of sin,
And doesn't practice what s/he preaches.

I don't want to be that preacher that Ophelia scorns. I don't want to be a hypocrite.

The strange thing is that those who accuse me of being a hypocrite are fellow "Christians." My friends who don't follow any given religion are amused by this. I am not.

I would rather live my life honestly & authentically than pretend to be something I'm not. I know unequivocally that I am called to serve God. How, where, and to whom that service takes place might not be in the usual or expected ways...which makes some people uncomfortable (thankfully, not my boss).

And while I'm not amused by their reactions/comments, I refuse to throw stones at my Christian brothers and sisters who find my path less than righteous because wouldn't that be hypocritical? ;)

Bones

2009-08-12T15:36:00.003-04:00

by Roger Pfingston

Today, dear one, I attempt the impossible:
I’m going to love your bones,
I mean love your bones so they will know
that they’ve been loved, so your flesh
will simmer with jealousy, melt and merge
with your bones, be one with your bones
and know how cold your bones have been
without love. Are you ready? Can we do this?

It may not be easy, it may be that bones
remain without love for their own good,
it may be they can’t withstand
the pressures of love, the infectious heat
of love, it may be that bones can only make it
with the hard mouth of Death. Nevertheless
today I’m going to love your bones,
beginning, of course, with your flesh….

Christianity21

2009-08-05T16:24:00.005-04:00

Well, I did it. I registered for Christianity21, reserved my hotel room & bought my plane tickets.

And I'm terrified.

I'm sure you're thinking, "You?! Rev. ENFP? The screaming extrovert is terrified? OF WHAT?!"

Well, thanks for the vote of confidence but, believe it or not, I'm not always as brave as I appear. And in this situation, I'm flying blind. I won't know a soul at this event.

Oh sure, I follow their blogs and on Twitter but do I really KNOW anyone that's slated to present? Nope. You'd think I'd be giddy at the prospect of meeting the people whose voices I've come to admire and respect. And I am. But I'm still nervous.

Yep, it's those adolescent fears popping up again - I'm not one of the "cool kids". I don't belong. I don't wear the right clothes. I know all about them but they know nothing about me. My theological insights aren't nearly as pithy. I can't quote Moltmann and sound awesome doing it. My tattoos are not nearly as cool as theirs. I didn't go to Princeton/Harvard/Yale/Duke/[insert theologically progressive & academically rigorous seminary/divinity school name here]. I don't have my PhD. I wish I hadn't gotten rid of my nose ring in college.

ARGH! Will that horrible little voice EVER shut up?!

The funny thing is that I'm considered to be one of the more "emergent" thinkers in my organization (whatever that means). And I'm usually not this freaked out about a new experience. I'm just putting this out there, not for sympathy, but to be honest about my fears as I go into this uncharted territory. And to remind myself that many people feel the same way when they step across the threshold of a church or come to one of our conferences for the first time.

Honestly, I'm excited about meeting new people (and terrified). I'm thrilled to hear these 21 ideas. I can't wait to be in Minneapolis again, even if for a short time. I'm curious to see what a progressive, technologically-savvy "conference" looks like and how I can bring some of that to our state and national conferences. I'm energized to see a conference led entirely by women that isn't a "woman-only" event.

But most of all, I'm ready to be a part of something larger than the Baptist circles I'm accustomed to running in.

Here's to jumping out of my comfort zone!

And if you're going to be there, can we hang out?

What is a Spiritual Practice?

2009-07-29T10:25:00.004-04:00

Christine Sine’s blog series on What is a Spiritual Practice has been fascinating - so many wonderful viewpoints and ideas about spiritual practice (which, in my mind, is the "nuts & bolts" of living out one's faith). I highly recommend that you check it out. Here are the posts so far:

Johnathan Brink - The Spiritual Practice of Getting Honest With Myself

Jason Clark - Smoking to the Glory of God?

Mark Scandrette - Love-Making as a Spiritual Practice

T Freeman - The Spiritual Practice of Apologizing

Brigid Walsh – Gleaning as Spiritual Practice

Bowie Snodgrass – Grief as Spiritual Practice

Thomas Turner – Engagement as Spiritual Practice

Stan Thornburg – Making Space for the Rabbi

Gary Heard – Encountering the Stranger as Spiritual Practice and GPS Navigation as Spiritual Practice

Jason Fowler – Listening for God’s Voice in Music

Sheila Hight – Birdkeeping as Spiritual Practice

Steve Taylor – Composting as Spiritual Practice

John O’Hara – Anyone Can Cook – Spirituality in the Kitchen

Bethany Stedman – crying as a spiritual practice

Christopher Heuertz – Feeling close to God in the graveyard

Gerard Kelly – twittering as a spiritual practice

Tim Mathis – blogging as as a spiritual practice

Mary Naegeli – Writing a sermon as spiritual practice

Hannah Haui – Cultural Protocol as spiritual practice

Jamie Arpin Ricci – Pet Ownership as spiritual practice

Matt Stone – Listening to Enemies as Spiritual Practice

Dan Cooper – Washing Dishes as Spiritual Discipline

Maryellen Young – The spiritual practice of taking a shower

Christine Sine - Virtual Eucharist: Is this a spiritual practice

Christine Sine - Is Breathing a Spiritual Practice

Carter: Women and girls have been discriminated against for too long in a twisted interpretation of the word of God

2009-07-28T09:04:00.007-04:00

This story came out while I was on vacation (and away from my computer - weird & wonderful all at the same time). Makes me proud to claim him as a fellow Baptist Christian.
________________________

THE AGE

Losing my religion for equality

Jimmy Carter
July 15, 2009

Women and girls have been discriminated against for too long in a twisted interpretation of the word of God.

I have been a practicing Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world. So my decision to sever my ties with the Southern Baptist Convention, after six decades, was painful and difficult. It was, however, an unavoidable decision when the convention's leaders, quoting a few carefully selected Bible verses and claiming that Eve was created second to Adam and was responsible for original sin, ordained that women must be "subservient" to their husbands and prohibited from serving as deacons, pastors or chaplains in the military service.

This view that women are somehow inferior to men is not restricted to one religion or belief. Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths. Nor, tragically, does its influence stop at the walls of the church, mosque, synagogue or temple. This discrimination, unjustifiably attributed to a Higher Authority, has provided a reason or excuse for the deprivation of women's equal rights across the world for centuries.

At its most repugnant, the belief that women must be subjugated to the wishes of men excuses slavery, violence, forced prostitution, genital mutilation and national laws that omit rape as a crime. But it also costs many millions of girls and women control over their own bodies and lives, and continues to deny them fair access to education, health, employment and influence within their own communities.

The impact of these religious beliefs touches every aspect of our lives. They help explain why in many countries boys are educated before girls; why girls are told when and whom they must marry; and why many face enormous and unacceptable risks in pregnancy and childbirth because their basic health needs are not met.

In some Islamic nations, women are restricted in their movements, punished for permitting the exposure of an arm or ankle, deprived of education, prohibited from driving a car or competing with men for a job. If a woman is raped, she is often most severely punished as the guilty party in the crime.

The same discriminatory thinking lies behind the continuing gender gap in pay and why there are still so few women in office in the West. The root of this prejudice lies deep in our histories, but its impact is felt every day. It is not women and girls alone who suffer. It damages all of us. The evidence shows that investing in women and girls delivers major benefits for society. An educated woman has healthier children. She is more likely to send them to school. She earns more and invests what she earns in her family.

It is simply self-defeating for any community to discriminate against half its population. We need to challenge these self-serving and outdated attitudes and practices - as we are seeing in Iran where women are at the forefront of the battle for democracy and freedom.

I understand, however, why many political leaders can be reluctant about stepping into this minefield. Religion, and tradition, are powerful and sensitive areas to challenge. But my fellow Elders and I, who come from many faiths and backgrounds, no longer need to worry about winning votes or avoiding controversy - and we are deeply committed to challenging injustice wherever we see it.

The Elders are an independent group of eminent global leaders, brought together by former South African president Nelson Mandela, who offer their influence and experience to support peace building, help address major causes of human suffering and promote the shared interests of humanity. We have decided to draw particular attention to the responsibility of religious and traditional leaders in ensuring equality and human rights and have recently published a statement that declares: "The justification of discrimination against women and girls on grounds of religion or tradition, as if it were prescribed by a Higher Authority, is unacceptable."

We are calling on all leaders to challenge and change the harmful teachings and practices, no matter how ingrained, which justify discrimination against women. We ask, in particular, that leaders of all religions have the courage to acknowledge and emphasize the positive messages of dignity and equality that all the world's major faiths share.

The carefully selected verses found in the Holy Scriptures to justify the superiority of men owe more to time and place - and the determination of male leaders to hold onto their influence - than eternal truths. Similar biblical excerpts could be found to support the approval of slavery and the timid acquiescence to oppressive rulers.

I am also familiar with vivid descriptions in the same Scriptures in which women are revered as pre-eminent leaders. During the years of the early Christian church women served as deacons, priests, bishops, apostles, teachers and prophets. It wasn't until the fourth century that dominant Christian leaders, all men, twisted and distorted Holy Scriptures to perpetuate their ascendant positions within the religious hierarchy.

The truth is that male religious leaders have had - and still have - an option to interpret holy teachings either to exalt or subjugate women. They have, for their own selfish ends, overwhelmingly chosen the latter. Their continuing choice provides the foundation or justification for much of the pervasive persecution and abuse of women throughout the world. This is in clear violation not just of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights but also the teachings of Jesus Christ, the Apostle Paul, Moses and the prophets, Muhammad, and founders of other great religions - all of whom have called for proper and equitable treatment of all the children of God. It is time we had the courage to challenge these views.

You Have The Answer

2009-07-16T21:34:00.003-04:00

"At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want."~Lao Tzu

Well said, Lao Tzu.

It reminds me of a wonderful picture that one of my favorite seminary professors painted for us in our Family Systems class (Rabbi Edwin Friedman's approach to Bowen's Systems Theory). He said, "Before we're born, I imagine God taking us aside and whispering in our ear, telling us who we are and then we spend the rest of our lives trying to remember and become that person."

That's what the journey is all about...at least that's the way I see it.

But we get sidetracked, don't we? We get so busy trying on different ideas and ways of being, other people's opinions and ill-fitting masks, that we forget that the answer is inside of us - given to us by God - and it's been inside of us all along. You know who you are and what you want.

But discovering (or perhaps re-discovering) that truth takes some time, some perseverance, maybe some tears and laughter...and sometimes, it calls for a complete life change. Because you've gotten so sidetracked that you've become someone completely different than who you were created to be.

I don't want to be that person. I don't want to wear the old masks of fear and complacency. I don't want to be anyone other than myself.

Am I there yet?

*snort of derisive laughter*

No.

But I will keep digging and working and traveling to the center of my being until "I" emerge.

Perfect Dress by Marisa de los Santos

2009-07-15T12:11:00.005-04:00

It’s here in a student’s journal, a blue confession in smudged, erasable ink: “I can’t stop hoping I’ll wake up, suddenly beautiful,” and isn’t it strange how we want it, despite all we know? To be at last the girl in the photography, cobalt-eyed, hair puddling like cognac, or the one stretched at the ocean’s edge, curved and light-drenched, more like a beach than the beach.

I confess I have longed to stalk runways, leggy, otherworldly as a mantis, to balance a head like a Fabergé egg on the longest, most elegant neck. Today in the checkout line, I saw a magazine claiming to know “How to Find the Perfect Dress for that Perfect Evening,” and I felt the old pull, flare of the pilgrim’s twin flames, desire and faith.

At fifteen, I spent weeks at the search. Going from store to store, hands thirsty for shine, I reached for polyester satin, machine-made lace, petunia- and Easter egg-colored, brilliant and flammable. Nothing haute about this couture but my hopes for it, as I tugged it on and waited for my one, true body to emerge. (Picture the angel inside uncut marble, articulation of wings and robes poised in expectation of release.)

What I wanted was ordinary miracle, the falling away of everything wrong. Silly maybe or maybe I was right, that there’s no limit to the ways eternity suggests itself, that one day I’ll slip into it, say floor-length plum charmeuse. Someone will murmur, “She is sublime,” will be precisely right, and I will step, with incandescent shoulders, into my perfect evening.

How Time Heals

2009-07-07T09:58:00.000-04:00

As I continue to process these old wounds of mine and how they heal, I can always trust my journey companion, Henri Nouwen, to have just the right words at the right time.

"Time heals," people often say. This is not true when it means that we will eventually forget the wounds inflicted on us and be able to live on as if nothing happened. That is not really healing; it is simply ignoring reality. But when the expression "time heals" means that faithfulness in a difficult relationship can lead us to a deeper understanding of the ways we have hurt each other, then there is much truth in it. "Time heals" implies not passively waiting but actively working with our pain and trusting in the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation.

How do I actively work with my pain? How do I trust in the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation...especially in a church where there are people who are "out to get me?"

(Thankfully, that's not the case for me but it's heartbreaking to know SEVERAL ministers who are in that very situation)

If, as followers of the Christ, we truly believe what we say...that there is grace and forgiveness and a God whose very nature is reconciliation...then I have to dig deep. I have to find that same grace that was offered to me and extend it to those who have wounded me and left me for dead.

When we are told the parable of the Good Samaritan, we are often told to use him as our model for living and serving "the other." We understand "the other" as someone very different from us; someone who makes us uncomfortable in some way. But maybe the part of the story that we (as wounded healers) need to embrace is the part that Jesus didn't tell. Maybe we need to identify with the wounded traveler who, upon his recovery, set out on that same dangerous road in search of those bandits who left him for dead...not for revenge but to do the hard work of understanding & reconciliation.

The Fruitful Woman

2009-07-05T23:31:00.001-04:00

Natalie at the Lake, by leitmotif

by Diane Lockward

Today I dress for you
in scarlet. I am
a tomato, plump
and luscious. I pulsate
with seeds.

Today I clothe myself
in yellow. I am
a peach, succulent
and ripe.

For you, I swathe myself
in gold. I am
all melons, oranges,
tangerines, nectarines.

I am a garden of earthly delights.

I am the red apple
you would fall for
a thousand times.

I am the apricot you would die for.

I am all strawberries,
blueberries, raspberries,
and cherries, all these and more.

Today I am royal for you.
I dress in a gown
of purple plum.

Come, lift me out of my skin.

*Thanks to Becky Knight for introducing me to such WONDERFUL poetry!

Traveling While Sick

2009-07-01T17:14:00.000-04:00

I'm in Houston for the annual assembly of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF). It is so freakin' HOT here! And don't tell me it's not humid in Texas...good Lord! Blech! And despite my best efforts, I have come down with a nasty cold. I'm doing what I can but my voice is pretty squeaky and my throat is very scratchy. It never fails...whenever I travel, I get sick.

What's that all about? (Other than planes being airborne carriers of disease...)

Though I'm not feeling 100%, I'm looking forward to seeing all the people I only get to see at these things. And I might even get to see some of my Cottey buddies! Yippeee!

All of that being said, I've got nothing else to share at the moment. If you're interested in hearing more about the CBF General Assembly, follow #cbfassembly on Twitter. If you're in Houston, come on down to the George R. Brown Convention Center & check it out for yourself!

Top 10 Reasons Why Men Shouldn't Be Ordained

2009-06-29T15:23:00.000-04:00

Found this at http://christianfeminism.wordpress.com and laughed so hard, I think I might have sprained something. Absolutely had to share it!

10. A man’s place is in the army.

9. For men who have children, their duties might distract them from the responsibilities of being a parent.

8. Their physical build indicates that men are more suited to tasks such as chopping down trees and wrestling mountain lions. It would be “unnatural” for them to do other forms of work.

7. Man was created before woman. It is therefore obvious that man was a prototype. Thus, they represent an experiment, rather than the crowning achievement of creation.

6. Men are too emotional to be priests or pastors. This is easily demonstrated by their conduct at football games and watching basketball tournaments.

5. Some men are handsome; they will distract women worshipers.

4. To be ordained pastor is to nurture the congregation. But this is not a traditional male role. Rather, throughout history, women have been considered to be not only more skilled than men at nurturing, but also more frequently attracted to it. This makes them the obvious choice for ordination.

3. Men are overly prone to violence. No really manly man wants to settle disputes by any means other than by fighting about it. Thus, they would be poor role models, as well as being dangerously unstable in positions of leadership.

2. Men can still be involved in church activities, even without being ordained. They can sweep paths, repair the church roof, change the oil in the church vans, and maybe even lead the singing on Father’s Day. By confining themselves to such traditional male roles, they can still be vitally important in the life of the Church.

1. In the New Testament account, the person who betrayed Jesus was a man. Thus, his lack of faith and ensuing punishment stands as a symbol of the subordinated position that all men should take.

Baking Memories

2009-06-28T22:50:00.000-04:00

When I am stressed out and trying to make sense of the world, nothing helps like baking. Carefully measuring things out, adding ingredients at just the right time, mixing everything just so...it is wordless prayer, offered up in silence.

This zucchini bread, cooling on the rack on my counter was made according to my grandmother's recipe. I am never closer to her than when I am following her recipes, remembering each moment in her kitchen.

Yoga & Jesus

2009-06-28T17:22:00.000-04:00

As I've recounted before, yoga has become a significant spiritual discipline for me. My easily distracted ENFP brain (Oooo! Shiny!) is quiet & focused as I attempt to master poses that have been around for centuries. But more and more, what draws me to my yoga practice is the short lesson at the beginning of each class that focuses our practice that day...I am hungry for the spiritual truths that God reveals to me through my teacher.

Recently we discussed the differences between jnana marga, bhakti marga, and karma marga. I'm GROSSLY oversimplifying each of these margas (journey/path/way) but bear with me, okay? Jnana is the head or book knowledge of yoga. Followers of this path might never step onto a sticky mat but they read & study the philosophies of yoga. Bhakti is the heart knowledge of yoga. Followers of this path are engaged in love & worship of the divine as they practice, more concerned about devotion than ritual. Karma is the active knowledge of yoga. Followers of this path focus on doing what is good and right for the world in service to the divine.

As I reflected on each of these paths, I recognized the parallel between all three and the greatest commandments of Jesus. In the book of Matthew, he says, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

If I, as a follower of the Christ, am to take these words seriously, I need to be practicing all three yoga margas. I must learn all I can about God. I must love God devotedly as I worship. And then I must put my knowledge and love into action and serve the world unselfishly, with no expectation or reservation.

Love God with all my heart/soul (bhakti) & mind (jnana). Love my neighbor as myself (karma).

Amen. Namaste. May it be so.

Alicante

2009-06-27T22:19:00.000-04:00

Discovered this poem on Becky Knight's blog and fell in love with it. Such a beautiful picture of intimacy and sensuality. Yum.

An orange on the table

Your dress on the rug

And you in my bed

Sweet present of the present

Cool of night

Warmth of my life.

~jacques prevert

–transalted from the French by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The old "two-hat' conundrum

2009-06-26T10:47:00.000-04:00

Conundrum is a funny word, isn't it? Say it aloud. "CONUNDRUM." Reminds me of one of my favorite Dr. Seuss books, Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb - "One thumb, one thumb, drumming on a drum, dum ditty dum ditty dum dum dum." If you know the book, it's TOTALLY going to be in your head the rest of the day.

Oh no, you don't have to thank me...just doing my part to spread the Dr. Seuss gospel.

I'm so easily distracted. Oooo! Shiny!

Back to the subject at hand...the old "two-hat" conundrum. In reality, we all wear multiple "hats" that represent the roles we play in life. For me, some of those hats are minister, wife, daughter, mother, denominational representative, performer, interpreter, church member...the list could go on and on.

Most of the time, I can negotiate switching these hats easily. I'm even able to wear some of them simultaneously. But lately I've been wondering more and more about the minister hat and what folks seem to think wearing that hat entails. It's one of the reasons I fought kicking and screaming against my call to ministry.

Seriously, there are still claw marks on the floor.

If you haven't been able to tell yet, I'm a pretty transparent person. What you see is what you get - flaws and all. Some might see my preference for full disclosure as evidence of my immaturity. Some might say that it's improper for a minister to say or do the things I say and do...where is my propriety??

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't much care what folks think or say about me. Well, maybe that's not the right way to say that. It implies I'm thumbing my nose (or biting my thumb for you Shakespeare aficionados) at those people. I don't mean it in that way.

I simply believe that its far healthier for me (and all people) to be the most authentic "me" possible than worry about behaving as others think I should. Good ole' St. Irenaeus once said, "The glory of God is a person who is fully alive." A good friend of mine once said, "Don't let anyone 'should' on you" and I agree completely. Only *I* get to decide what I should or should not do or say. That doesn't mean I won't take your opinion into account...but it won't necessarily be the deciding factor, thank you very much.

I'd be lying if I said my current job didn't create some conflict for me in this area. I'm not used to second-guessing what I do and don't say based on where I work. But the reality is that people assume that things I say are representative of the larger body of folks who are connected to my organization. And so, I have been censoring myself more and more often.

I don't like it.

Perhaps this is part of growing up. Shedding my adolescent skin (please dear God, yes!) and really thinking before I speak (or write); being strategic in my words and actions. Accepting the representative responsibility placed on my shoulders by virtue of the position I hold. (Ah, if only Gov. Sanford had these thoughts a week or two ago...or maybe seven years ago??)

See, there I go again. Oooo! Shiny!

Speaking as someone whose filter between thoughts and words is often broken, I doubt I will ever be cured of my "foot-in-mouth" disease. Truth be told, I don't know if I want to be cured. I'm not scared to be the one to say what others are afraid to say, to name the elephant in the room, to ask THE question...even if it means being the lightning rod for negative attention at times. I don't like having my hands tied when it comes to speaking something I'm passionate about but as a minister and a denominational representative, I feel that way sometimes.

Obviously, none of these ramblings have resolved my conundrum (dum ditty dum ditty dum dum dum)...but at least I'm writing about it. ;)

Old wounds

2009-06-25T08:38:00.001-04:00

I'm trying to figure out how to write this post without saying too much. I suffer from "foot-in-mouth" disease and my hand has been slapped one time too many...so I actually TRY to think through the things I want to write/say before they just slip out. So, all of that being said, if you feel like I'm being intentionally obfuscatory...well, you're right. Just bear with me, mmmkay?

Growing up in church as a preacher's kid, I heard plenty of mumbling and grumbling from the pews. While my dad wasn't the pastor, he had his fair share of crap to deal with. One incident I clearly remember happened when I was in high school. The pastor had researched the possibility of moving the church out of its downtown location to the suburbs (where most, if not all, of the members lived) and was bringing his suggestion to proceed before the congregation.

You would have thought he suggested we hold orgies in the sanctuary.

Remember that in the free church/congregational tradition, the congregation makes all final decisions, not the deacons, elders, synod, etc. So, naturally, we had a business meeting one Wednesday night after our weekly supper, fellowship & prayer...which no one was really interested in. People were there that I had never seen before - in fact, the place was packed (which was amazing considering our church had been in a slow death spiral for years).

The things people said that night...the venom in their voices...I can still hear it. I can still feel the pain and shock as they said hurtful, untrue things about my father. No, the wounds inflicted were not directed at me...but I caught emotional shrapnel regardless. Suffice it to say, the pastor didn't stay long after that and the church didn't move.

Did I mention that church no longer exists? Oh, the building is still there. The precious building they were all so concerned about losing. But the church went broke and had to sell it before disbanding forever.

But I digress...

While in divinity school/seminary (click here for why they're different), my husband and I were called to serve as a part-time ministers at a large church. We were, in some sense, junior ministers or interns but without that official (and protective) title. We were told we would be mentored and helped along in applying what we were learning in our classes to the real-life situations we were encountering in the church but that didn't happen. Looking back, we should've asked more questions, learned a bit more, been a bit more cautious in how we proceeded...well, I should have anyway. The hubs has never suffered from foot-in-mouth - certainly not like I do.

While there was no big incident like the aforementioned one, we sustained some significant injury while on staff. This time, it wasn't the laypeople who did the wounding (though there were a few). I will be the first to admit that my strong-willed (read "stubborn, hard-headed, etc.") attitude did me no favors. But being told that "my personality was acceptable in a man but not in a woman" certainly didn't help matters.

We chose to leave the church for a variety of reasons - our school schedule was beginning to conflict with work responsibilities, we were figuring out how to deal with a very surprising/unplanned pregnancy & new parenthood, hubs wanted to take CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education, click here for a more in-depth definition) but the local hospital didn't offer it...but the bigger issue is that we left wounded.

By now, I'm sure you're shaking your head and saying, "Girl, you need therapy."

Well, duh. Been there, done that, still doing it. I've learned quite a bit about myself and have grown as a person and a minister because of it. Sometimes pain is the best teacher. I have told my current boss that I don't think I'd be as good at my job without those wounds and he agrees.

But I honestly thought those wounds were healed. Or, at least, healing. Apparently I was sorely mistaken (mistook? whatever). All it takes is a mean-spirited church business meeting to rip the thin excuse for scabs right off those wounds and start the blood (and tears) flowing again.

The hubs & I stayed up well into the night unpacking our emotions, verbalizing our thoughts and feelings, analyzing what was said and done...wondering why our reactions were so visceral ("They weren't talking about us! We aren't even on staff!"), wondering how we could possibly show grace to people who had been so grace-less, wondering what our next steps would be.

I could point out that things like this are exactly why people are leaving the Church (universal) in droves and why denominations are in steep decline. I could whine and say I'm hanging up my collar (even though Baptist ministers don't wear collars). I could remind you of these staggering statistics:

1,500 pastors leave the ministry permanently each month in America
80% of seminary graduates who enter ministry will leave the ministry within the first five years
70% of pastors continually battle depression
70% of pastors do not have a close friend, confidant, or mentor
80% of pastors feel discouraged in their roles
50% of pastors are so discouraged they would leave the ministry if they could, but have no other way to make a living
90% of pastors said the hardest thing about ministry is uncooperative people
70% of pastors are grossly underpaid

But what good does any of that do? Where do I go from here?

I wish I could say that I'll show the love and grace and mercy of Jesus Christ that I truly believe in to the people who were out for blood last night. I wish I could say that we'll stay present and active - working for change and understanding. I wish I could say that I'll extend a hand of reconciliation, even though they might (probably would?) reject or question it.

I want to be the minister I've been called to be. I want to be the "wounded healer" that Henri Nouwen writes about (It is his contention that ministers are called to recognize the sufferings of their time in their own hearts and make that recognition the starting point of their service. For Nouwen, ministers must be willing to go beyond their professional role and leave themselves open as fellow human beings with the same wounds and suffering -- in the image of Christ. In other words, we heal from our own wounds.).

I wish I could end this post with some beautiful reflection on ministry and faith. Add some scripture that ties this all together perfectly. Make a sermon illustration out it or something. Honestly, right now the pain is too raw, the hurt too great. I don't know where to go from here.

But maybe...just maybe...that's the first step to healing.

New Beginnings

2009-06-24T11:41:00.001-04:00

I am notorious for starting things but leaving them unfinished. I am terrible about following through...especially with blogging. Everything I read about writing a "successful" blog (whatever that means) says you must post something everyday.

EVERY...DAY?!

Oh hell.

I'm just not that disciplined...nor do I think I have enough pithy things to discuss. Lord knows I have plenty to say but is it all worth reading? Hmmm...

EVERY...DAY?!

Well, this will be my attempt at turning over a new blogging leaf. My last blog/journal began as a grad school project and while I still post things on it occasionally, I think it's time for a fresh start. Blank slate, tabula rasa and all that...

So, if you found me through my old blog/journal, welcome. I look forward to continuing our journey together. If you stumbled upon me through a random search, welcome. I look forward to new insights, comments, and traveling mercies.

All of that being said, my blog is still primarily about my reflections on faith, the intersection of popular culture and religion, and really whatever captures my attention. For those who are Myers-Briggs aficionados, I'm an ENFP - which means I must have been a fish in a past life (Oooo! Shiny!)

I'm sorry...what was I saying again?

Oh, right. Consistent blogging.

EVERY...DAY?!

That's my goal, anyway.

Join me on the journey to see if it's too lofty for a screaming extrovert like me.