You're having a son...

Today, this blog named for me what I could not or refused to name for myself.

When the nurse told me that the child in my womb is a boy, I was genuinely excited.  But there was dread too.  It's hard growing up a boy in this world, even if it's also hard growing up as a girl.  A girl I know what to do with, though.  I can teach her the strength my parents taught me.  But a boy?  How do I teach a boy to be strong?  How do I teach him how to empower the people around him, including women?

"What happened in Steubenville makes me sick, but we are kidding ourselves if we think that it is not representative of what is happening in basement parties after the homecoming game all across America. Our kids want to talk about it. They need to talk about it. We need to have conversations about consent that are not centered around what should have been done, but are instead centered on what will be done in the future. Our teens can handle it, I promise they can."

I'm not so afraid to talk to my one-day teenage son.  But it won't start just then, either.

Communication Online

First a bit of background: I am not a specialist in this area.  I have a Master of Divinity degree and I am employed by a Presbyterian congregation to communicate church worship, activities, and missions to the congregation.  While my skills in graphic design are a couple steps above a 3rd grader's refrigerator art, I am a theologian and a preacher.  I have pastored a church and I care deeply about how a congregation's theology is communicated through presence, through written communication, and through online communication.  I have not been groomed and prepared for the role I am in- I was thrown in by God a year and a half ago and I can't claim to be any sort of authority on the subject.  I mean only to ask questions.  Your input would be appreciated.  Please don't confuse my questions for any sense of smug authority.  I really have no idea what I am doing.

The question arises over and over in different parts of the church: "How do we communicate the life and activities of this institutional body in a timely and efficient manner that doesn't offend donors and safely gets information to the right people?"  I've sat in meetings or talked with folks about this at undergraduate institutions (of religious and non-religious affiliation), seminary-level, and congregational-level.  The scenarios which prompt these questions:

-"I didn't get those 12 emails over the last month reminding me that the mandatory meeting was today!"

-"What do you mean we've been donating thousands of dollars to this very worthy mission?  It was only published a bazillion times in every platform known to this congregation?  Well, I didn't see it."

-"Wait, this school has a club for [enter controversial topic here]?  Why was it never communicated over email or posted to the online announcement board?"

-Or on the flip side: "Our club might ruffle feathers on the board, so we were told by [enter central authority figure here] that we can't let anyone know about our presence or when we have meetings, making recruitment difficult.  Why are we being discriminated against because we are [enter controversy here]?"

-"When the scholarship deadline was moved up to tomorrow, I called everyone on campus who deals with online communication to try and get an email alert that the deadline has been moved.  They are all on vacation.  The weekly email went out Monday- and they said I should have sent them notice before then, but I didn't know before then!!  Now, anyone trying to apply to this very essential scholarship will be turned down because of our inability to communicate simple things to the entire campus."

-"Who is the secret moderator behind the emails?  Why doesn't she forward my partisan propaganda?"

-"Someone created a facebook account with the school's name on it and no indication of who is behind it.  S/he has started posting very controversial postings that I do not want associated with my school.  We must stop this now, even if it means alienating a class, staff member, faculty member, board of trustees member, etc."

-"Why does the pastor have to spend hours every week just moderating online content?  He already works 60 hours a week."

The situations are common, especially since so many people spend so much time online now.  For an institution or a church, there have to be these moderating decisions made, and in my opinion, there is often not a reasonable infrastructure or theology for deciding WHO makes those decisions, WHAT sort of responsibility that person or group of people have, and WHY decisions are made the way they are.  Often the pastor/president/board must either make all the decisions (which is problematic in many situations) or moderate arguments that rise constantly over what someone else has said online somewhere that offended someone with clout.

I am aware that the very basic nature of the internet makes every person a potential authority to speak on behalf of the institution.  On some level, these institutions absolutely MUST let go of their tightly controlled image.  You cannot commit huge funds to the moderation of google searches or threaten lawsuits over every negative comment made about you online.  There's also a basic maturity aspect about this too- yes, students/congregants have probably taken out their frustrations about your professors/pastor/staff online somewhere.  At the end of the day, you can't make everyone say only nice things about you.  It cannot by done.  If you have a huge PR problem- it probably goes deeper than "that group of students who always wanted to cause a little trouble."

But what about official communications coming from an institution?  Church email?  Facebook group administration?  Twitter postings?  Content availability or hierarchy on an official website?

My question today, arising out of all these questions and issues previously mentioned: Why doesn't the church (in particular) see this sort of role as a spiritual gift?  We see the role of coffee preparation or snow removal as modern gifts of the church, fitting within the larger role of the Body of Christ (1 Cor. 12).  We are quick to point out that while some are called to preach and others to teach and others to serve as Elder or Deacon, others are called to maintaining the classrooms or cooking meals for the hungry.

So why don't we talk more about those who are called to moderate internet communication?

What sort of signs would we see in a person called to this sort of work?  Does this person have patience, temperance, availability?  Does this person need to work on staff or receive a salary?  Who does this person answer to?  Is this better fitted to a committee format?  Should a group moderate together and thus disperse some of the responsibility and antipathy that is generated when moderation requires difficult decisions?  How can the whole community support and empower this person or these people?  What sort of preparation or theological education is necessary for an online designer/communicator in a church setting?

Not only is this a relatively new question for relatively old institutions- and thus has created a number of hiccups so far.  There aren't a lot of models for dealing with these questions.  Such radically equal access and dispersion of authority has never happened like this before.  It could mean that the institutions themselves, if too rigid, could become antiquated quickly.  But if flexible enough, they can survive this just fine.  It may not be enough to use the old lines of authority though.  It might mean a new calling is forming, and a new sort of gift of the Spirit is emerging.

What does your institution do to address these issues?  Do you have someone or a group who you feel is called to this ministry?  Knowing that not all will be pleased, how does moderation of content occur?  Who responds quickly when new information must be communicated (even when it's something as simple as cancelling a scheduled event due to snow)?  Does the responsibility and blame always get pushed onto the pastor?  Or the secretary?  Or the expendable staff member?  Through whatever system is currently in place where you are, is discrimination perpetuated through social communication?  Do the voiceless have further barriers placed in front of them, even with such open communication as is available now?  How do you create an environment in which communication is effectively reaching those people it needs to reach?

Ashes to Easter- Reflection 1

In two days, we in the church will be marked with ashes and remember our deaths.  We do this every year.  It begins our Lenten time of fasting and prayer, penitence and study.  It's about discipline, but it's also about perspective.  I find over and over that the time of Lent becomes a re-setting of life, a re-establishment of this covenant we have with God.  Thinking about your own death does that to you.  It makes you really want to trust that you'll be okay, that your loved ones will be okay.  I find that I really need God to be God in this time, and for me to be dust, because I'm in control over life and death about as much as you could expect from dust.

But now I am carrying life inside me- a life that is one with me but also differentiated.  I am acutely aware of the dangers of eating food that makes me sick, coming down with the flu (which can become pneumonia), getting into a car accident, sliding off the road in all these ice storms, pre-term labor and other pregnancy complications- and that these dangers no longer just pose a threat to me and my health, but that of my child.  The protective instinct has already kicked in.  Whether I can accept it or not, the death of my child terrifies me.  I don't want my child marked with ashes and told that he is dust.  He is not dust- he is my child, my young one- with so much life left to be lived.  The imposition of ashes this year marks me for death, but also marks my child for death.

But isn't this the point of the marking of ashes?  I'm not God.  I am dust.  I am from the adamah.  I cannot control life and death for myself or anyone else more than we might expect from dust.  My child is dust too.  My husband is dust.  My whole family and friends and community- dust.  "You are dust, and to dust you shall return."  And yet as children of God, how much does God delight in telling us we are dust?  Does God have the protective instinct of a mother?

We are mortal- we will die.  My child one day, whether I like it or not, will die.  We will rejoin the adamah.  We will wait for our resurrecting God.

The words of the Heidelberg Catechism take on new meaning this year:

Q.1 What is your only comfort, in life and in death?

A. That I belong- body and soul, in life and in death- not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ...

Battle of the Generations

Apparently, we're locked in a generational battle again in this country.  I didn't know this, but I'm usually the last to find out about these things.

The question of who suffered greatest in the recession, and who's getting the most help from the government, communities, families, and others, is being debated with two major positions materializing: Baby-boomers vs. Millennials.

This is ironic to me because I am a Millennial in my late-20s, and my parents are Baby-boomers who are getting awfully close to retirement age.  We've never really felt any sort of tension in our family, I think in part because we are unusually dedicated to taking care of each other and willing to make significant sacrifices to do so.

I went through 8 years of college and grad school, mostly on the assistance of merit-based scholarships and need-based loans (though my family was a constant support in many ways during that time), and I have a Master of Divinity degree that doesn't turn over a lot of income.  I wait for a first call because I am in a perfect storm of "this isn't quite working out like we hoped it would," between living in a rural area- bound geographically by my husband's job and my commitment to my family, and seeking a call in a denomination that is not dominant in my area.  Many congregations here cannot pay the minimum salary to have a pastor at all.  I work a small job, and I am paid now.  I am blessed that I work in a field where I can work an unpaid internship for a year and a half until the church has a chance to put a small salary together for me.  How many companies would start paying you if you had worked that long for them for free, with no expectation of compensation in the future?

Regardless, that final step of ordination hangs in front of me, so easily falling into the laps of my colleagues but not for me.  It took so much time, money, energy, emotion, spiritual development, education, patience, ambition, a counseling for me to get here.  And yet it's also not yet here.  Like the eschaton.  It feels like the story of my life sometimes.

On the other hand, my parents have their own issues, among them serious health problems and a real estate market, local economy, etc. that threatens to take away financial stability, retirement, etc.  I may not own a house, and I may never be able to own a house, but theirs might do serious damage to their quality and quantity of years ahead of them.  They have far more assets than I do, but they could easily take a hard fall off their modest precipice.

We are each other's softer landing.  It might take us all under financial duress, but we're pretty committed to each other's well being.

So it surprises me to see the conflicting stories arising over "who has it worst."  The Boomers say it's them.  The Millenials say it's them.  If you've been following the controversy with the PCUSA's Board of Pensions, you'll hear similar statements, from young pastors with families saying that there will be fewer churches able to afford to call them (especially pastors who are just getting started in smaller, poorer, rural and inner city congregations) to older pastors who feel this is ageism and pressure to make them retire early.

These are not small issues.  They worry me.  My family is growing, and if we need to be dependent on my salary and health insurance one day, I may not have the job I need to take care of my family (my generation, my children's generation, OR my parents' generation).  I know so many people who are in vulnerable situations.

But despite the hostility and fear and finger-pointing, I wonder if the best way to uphold the communitarian nature of our systems will involve mutual self-sacrifice and mutual giving, beginning with mutual forbearance in our dialogues and decisions in these matters.

Like many recent national discussions (47% of this country being "takers"?), I think the same thing is being said over and over: "I cannot sustain my current financial situation the way it is, and a combination of responsible planning and mutual accountability/assistance is needed."  Just what is that balance though?  We will have to figure that out as we go.

Love Regardless

I'm starting to realize that my love for other people cannot be contingent on my hope that they will one day "convert" to my way of thinking, my lifestyle, or my religion.  That doesn't mean that I can't encourage people to become the healthiest they can possibly be.  In truth, I want people to thrive.  I just wish my friends would stop hating on each other.  I wish the church would always be a place where my LGBT friends are welcome.    I wish the college would always be a place where my conservative friends aren't made to feel inferior.

Regardless, I love them all.  Even the ones that exclude me.  I'll just love them from over here.

Eugene Patterson

As we remember the life of Eugene Patterson today, I feel obliged to recall his column from 1963, after the bombing of a Birmingham church and the death of four little children:

"A Flower for the Graves"

A Negro mother wept in the street Sunday morning in front of a Baptist Church in Birmingham. In her hand she held a shoe, one shoe, from the foot of her dead child. We hold that shoe with her.

Every one of us in the white South holds that small shoe in his hand.

It is too late to blame the sick criminals who handled the dynamite. The FBI and the police can deal with that kind. The charge against them is simple. They killed four children.

Only we can trace the truth, Southerner — you and I. We broke those children’s bodies.

We watched the stage set without staying it. We listened to the prologue unbestirred. We saw the curtain opening with disinterest. We have heard the play.

We — who go on electing politicians who heat the kettles of hate.

We — who raise no hand to silence the mean and little men who have their nigger jokes.

We — who stand aside in imagined rectitude and let the mad dogs that run in every society slide their leashes from our hand, and spring.

We — the heirs of a proud South, who protest its worth and demand it recognition — we are the ones who have ducked the difficult, skirted the uncomfortable, caviled at the challenge, resented the necessary, rationalized the unacceptable, and created the day surely when these children would die.

This is no time to load our anguish onto the murderous scapegoat who set the cap in dynamite of our own manufacture.

He didn’t know any better.

Somewhere in the dim and fevered recess of an evil mind he feels right now that he has been a hero. He is only guilty of murder. He thinks he has pleased us.

We of the white South who know better are the ones who must take a harsher judgment.

We, who know better, created a climate for child-killing by those who don’t.

We hold that shoe in our hand, Southerner. Let us see it straight, and look at the blood on it. Let us compare it with the unworthy speeches of Southern public men who have traduced the Negro; match it with the spectacle of shrilling children whose parents and teachers turned them free to spit epithets at small huddles of Negro school children for a week before this Sunday in Birmingham; hold up the shoe and look beyond it to the state house in Montgomery where the official attitudes of Alabama have been spoken in heat and anger.

Let us not lay the blame on some brutal fool who didn’t know any better.

We know better. We created the day. We bear the judgment. May God have mercy on the poor South that has so been led. May what has happened hasten the day when the good South, which does live and has great being, will rise to this challenge of racial understanding and common humanity, and in the full power of its unasserted courage, assert itself.

The Sunday school play at Birmingham is ended. With a weeping Negro mother, we stand in the bitter smoke and hold a shoe. If our South is ever to be what we wish it to be, we will plant a flower of nobler resolve for the South now upon these four small graves that we dug.

Eugene Patterson’s most famous column was written on Sept. 15, 1963, the day he learned that four young girls had been murdered in Birmingham, Ala., in a church bombing. When he told the story, Patterson would describe how he wrote from his home with tears streaming down his face and his own young daughter nearby. The column bore the title: “A Flower for the Graves.”

More guns?

This captures nicely the "gun debate" going on in many churches right now:

(CNN) – One of the most intense battlefields in today's gun control debate is happening inside Christianity.

Christians of every stripe; conservative, moderate and liberal tend to agree with the Gospel's message of love and peace. However, they don’t agree on what that Gospel message means.

[:43] “Christian Ethics begins with love of neighbor; love and care of neighbor...We live in a country in which we have 10 or 20 times more gun murders than other comparable countries. It seems guns are a huge factor.”  – David Heim, executive editor of Christian Century Magazine.

[1:28] “When the next monster walks into a theater, mall, restaurant, college campus or grade school and begins to shoot and kill innocent men, women and children…who’s going to shoot back?” – Mark Rogers, founder of Christiangunowner.com.

(http://cnnradio.cnn.com/2013/01/08/christians-dont-agree-on-gun-control/?hpt=us_t3)


This is one of the many reasons I do not own or carry a gun, even though I have done so before and have experience with guns.  When someone starts shooting into the crowd, and you pull out your gun to take down the shooter, I will have a gun in my hand too, but I will have no idea if you are the shooter, or a collaborative shooter who means to keep firing on the crowd.  I will shoot you, because I won't have time to think, and I could very well kill you.  Then, I will have to explain to the police and your mother why I murdered you, the person who was trying to protect the crowd from the real shooter.

I don't want to have that conversation with your mother.  Or any mother.  Period.  It would kill me.

Stoking the Passion

Here, read this.

There is so much good here: gathering young people to take part in exciting worship (the liturgy-loving part of me is fascinated), raising awareness of a serious issue, donating items to local homeless shelters, and raising money.  Whether you like the evangelical overtones of the Passion Conference or not, it gets young people excited to be actively part of the kingdom of God in a way that is tangible and life re-orienting.  As someone who was raised evangelical before going mainline, I see the same kind of passion and fire out of people who go to these events as I see in Presbyterian youth and college students who spend time on the "mountaintop" at camp.

What I wonder, though, is if these super-large gatherings are not examples of fresh ideas thrown into old models.  What I see in this sort of event is an updated version of a revival for young people.  I can just hear the old Southern Baptists I grew up with, saying they know exactly what this country needs, and that's a "good ol' hellfire revival."  (I cannot attest to the presence or absence of hellfire at Passion, though I might guess there's not too much of that going on with people who are discussing human trafficking).

The thing I specifically wonder about is how best to empower and implement such a huge crowd of young people and how to inspire a passion for the kingdom of God here in this place.  It's an honest question: what all could be done with so many passionate young people?

Is the main drive of this conference to raise money, and should young people really be targeted and fed the very powerful worship experience of a modern-day revival in order to convince them to give money?  Fundraising and young people put together concerns me.  They're not exactly sitting on huge inheritances, and I wonder how many of those young people are about to finish college and not have work for many years.  I understand the importance of cultivating financial stewardship among young people, and I know very well where that money is going (having spent 3 years involved in homeless/hunger ministry in Atlanta with exposure to the system that upholds human trafficking in that city).  But if raising money is the goal, or one of several specific goasl, for such a conference, is there a line of exploitation and is that line being crossed?  Again, it's an honest question and not rhetorical.  I really want to know.

Secondly, I wonder if these young people are being prepared and equipped with what they need for successful ministry after they learn about/become aware of the issues.  Education is a great first step.  Empowerment is equally important though.  The first without the second leads to cynicism and hopelessness, a sense of knowing what's wrong with the world and not really knowing what on earth we can do about it.

I have a great (glowing, ecstatic) appreciation for the culture shift this conference represents.  I cannot imagine any of my childhood preachers talking about human trafficking in those terms.  They would talk about the evils of prostitution, but they would never dare to ask why she/he is being prostituted in the first place.  The cultural shift is monumental, and it might be the very thing that will change entrenched laws for the better.  As a pastor, I can't help but imagine the theological shift this also represents.  It's enough to make me cry with joy.

But if you had that many young people educated and fired up about such an important issue, what would you call them to do?  I feel like we in the church must have more structured ways to get young people into hands-on work.  Mission years have long filled that need for structure, but the mission field is changing drastically right now.  It's becoming more local with less overhead and more long-term commitment.  Many young missionaries I've spoken with tell me they loved every minute of their mission experience, but they often come away with a feeling of having done a disservice- they came, had a life-changing experience, and then left.  The children they were teaching to speak English fell in love with the missionary, worked out all the kinks in the relationship, and then a new missionary came in.  That one will leave soon too.  Many missionaries have inadequate training for what they are doing.  There is little stability for those who were receiving services.  Many missionaries say they wouldn't do a year-long mission trip again.  If they go again, they go for life.  No more transient relationships, no more half-commitments, more investment in long-term goals.

So, how do we help empower these young people to meaningful mission when they are in a transient period of life?  Are we preparing them for later, when they have steady jobs and can take on long-term relationships with non-profits, agencies, churches, missions, work programs, etc?  Does the Passion Conference necessarily need to be a mountaintop experience that fuels these young people before they return to their everyday studies?  Does the passion outsize the capability of commitment in the immediacy?

Overall, I feel the tangible good outweighs my concerns, no matter how my questions are answered.  I'm still wondering how this fits into a larger view of economics and law, and the work of the church.  I watched the college students across the street return to campus today, with moms and dads helping carry loads of (clean) laundry in baskets and new gadgets from Christmas.  It brought me back a little, to a time when I could fit everything I owned in the back of my Ford Taurus Station Wagon, back when life was centered around this one goal of "getting a good education."  What a bewildering time of life!  I've since gained huge respect for the students who tell me they have no idea what they will do in life, that they are still figuring everything out.  Maybe these are the folks who need some Passion and empowerment.

I'd love to hear about the Passion Conference from someone who attended.  What were your impressions?  Do you think it was big on hype and low on commitment?  Do you think it really inspired those present to the work of the kingdom of God?

Shifting Perspectives

I haven't written much here lately, and it's because my life has become very secretive.  I've never liked secrets- they create pockets of control and manipulation.  Transparency and honesty are two of my favorite things.  I feel that my role as pastor-preacher is "to tell the truth."  My favorite genre of reading is non-fiction.  I spend a lot of my day reading the news.  You get the picture.

Willfully hiding information from people is not part of my persona, but it has become that way.  I don't know how I could be honest and tell the truth, even though I wanted to tell the truth with all my being.

The truth is: I am pregnant.  At this moment, I'm 20 weeks pregnant.  There is nothing controversial or terribly unexpected about my pregnancy.  My husband and I were trying.  We are both overwhelmed with excitement.  This baby is already very loved- by us, by his family, by my family, by our friends, by perfect strangers.

Why the secret then?  Why was I so unwilling to share the news before?

1) I was terrified I would miscarry and it'd be everyone's business (or worse, some 30 weeks after a miscarriage getting asked by a distant friend how the pregnancy is going); over and over, telling everyone that I miscarried, like beating my head against a wall.  Supplementing my own sense of guilt over something I did or didn't do with the whispering of others that I push myself too hard, implying that I'm unfit to be a mother.

2) Every friend who has miscarried silently and out of public view would get to watch my beautiful, healthy pregnancy go perfectly well, with daily facebook updates about how great I feel and how perfect my child will be.  And then I'd post all these darling photos of a healthy little baby, a contrast to their keepsake footprints made shortly after their baby was stillborn.

The secret is over.  If something happens now, it'll be everyone's business.  No, it's not fair that I have a healthy little baby swimming around and other women never got to have their own.  I grieve with you, even when I don't know your name.  I do not mean to rub your tragedy in your face.  I may still know your grief in the months or years to come.  I am acutely aware of that.  I know it feels like everyone in the world is pregnant right now.

***

Apparently our baby is a boy.  He'll be born the 4th living generation of men- to his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather (who is now 97).  His great-grandfather was an engineer, a Soviet officer who served in WWII, a rugged outdoorsman and gentle reciter of poetry.  His grandfather is an acclaimed cellist who tours and performs in great halls around the world, who was friends with Mstislav Rostropovich, and who will cross all manner of cultural boundaries to have a conversation with another human being.  His father is a professor and a fantastic violinist and conductor, a gentle caretaker whose first language is empowerment and love.  What stories our son will create and share with his grandchildren!  How beautiful and blessed and broken are the stories of all his foremothers and forefathers.  How beautiful and blessed and broken will be my son's life.

Here is this child of my womb, a stranger to whom I am closer than anyone.  Tied together as one, we are not yet separated into our distinct beings yet.  He cannot be passed off to his father yet (though I sometimes wish D. could take a turn being pregnant for a while); he cannot sit in his grandmother's arms for hours yet, staring into her eyes and learning who she is and how much she loves him, this baby a part of her too.

He may not know what it means to be distinct and autonomous yet.  He will one day learn.  But I know what it is to be distinct and autonomous, and now here is this baby that is part of me, connected, dependent, in need of nurture and care.  I have known interdependence before- it is one of my favorite parts of life.  But this is distinctly new.  I don't know if I've ever known birth or rebirth as much as I know it now, here in this new perspective.  In a way, I always have.  I have always loved people in a sense that was deeply connected; I've always been a mother in that way.

But to suddenly find myself carrying a beautiful mystery in my womb with a future and a past, who is shockingly present right here and now in that face on the ultrasound and that dancing movement I feel at night...I suddenly understand this transcendent love that I knew only in part before.  And I do know only in part still.

How do you describe this great mystery of love?  Such a thing is so great, we save it for poets and musicians and preachers to describe.  I am a couple of those things, yet I am struck silent in approaching so great a mystery.  Like the priest Zechariah, I am mute in the face of a miracle.

This son of mine is a life out of the midst of death.  Truth be told, had my husband's plane not returned on the day it did, had my mother-in-law not died the day she did, had one of a number of things changed, my son would not be kicking around in my womb now.  Even while I have grieved my mother-in-law's death, I have been the bearer of new life.

One day recently, while walking an outdoor labyrinth in prayer, longing to be with my mother-in-law again, praying for resurrection, aching for the kingdom of God to come, I reached the center of the circular path.  I looked at the winding journey that brought me there.  I realized I was in the womb of the labyrinth, carrying the seed of new life in my own womb.  The resurrection of the dead is somehow inside me, growing, sleeping, moving, preparing, waiting to burst forth into this world.  What better way to think of the coming kingdom of God?

This is my secret.  I am the bearer of new life.  But the more I sit in my mute silence, the more I realize you are all the bearers of new life.  My husband and I may have implemented the standard functioning of human reproduction, as has been done billions of times over the history of the world, but it seems we have been bearing life all along.  You all- you have been bearing life all along.  May the life that God bears in you show you the way of the kingdom of God.  I leave you with this quote from Jurgen Moltmann, from his book, Spirit of Life:

"So the essential thing is to affirm life- the life of other creatures- the life of other people- our own lives. If we do not, there will be no rebirth and no restoration of the life that is threatened. But anyone who really says 'yes' to life says 'no' to war. Anyone who really loves life says 'no' to poverty. So the people who truly affirm and love life take up the struggle against violence and injustice. They refuse to get used to it. They do not conform. They resist."

Creative Destruction (with dialogue)

I feel there is a lesson for the church in this story: http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2012/08/elderly-woman-ruins-19th-century-fresco-in-restoration-attempt/

Maybe, when we feel motivated toward "creative destruction," we should all talk about it together before one person makes a decision to "go and do something about it."

Food that nourishes the body, nourishes the soul

For when life is difficult and unpredictable:

Salmon with rice and cabbage (for 1)
-1 small fillet of wild-caught salmon
-1/2 cup uncooked rice
-a bunch of cabbage leaves
-1 tsp. white wine
-2 tsps. (divided) lemon juice
-1 tsp. olive oil
-1 tsp. (divided) "Mediterranean" style seasonings
-olives are garnish (opt.)
-water

Using a rice cooker, cook rice in water and splash of olive oil.  Add whole cabbage leaves to steamer, sprinkle with 1 tsp. lemon juice, and steam for last 5 minutes of rice cooking cycle.  Place small salmon fillet on microwavable plate, pour white wine and 1 tsp. lemon juice on top, and season with half of seasonings.  Cook on high for 2 minutes or until it flakes easily with fork.  Add rice and cabbage to plate, season with remaining seasonings, add olives.

Living in the moment

When I was in music school, one of my biggest challenges was inconsistency.  I could play exactly how I wanted in the practice room most of the time, in my teacher's studio some of the time, in studio class rarely, and in recital never.  My emotions would often determine not just my overall musical plan, but also my fingerings and bowings (this should have been easy to fix, had I been a little more mature).  Not only that, but I'd fit a lifetime of emotions into one movement.  It was enough to make everyone seasick.  


By the time I was finishing music school, I had far too many emotions to contain within just a movement, and all I could do instead was cry.  Not all the emotions were sorrow, but they were all too much for me to handle.


Seminary, and aging, slowed down many of those emotions, helped me find their roots (which ironically were mostly theological anyway), and gave me enough case studies and opportunities to talk about them when they are happening to other people.  


The rush to get to the end of the piece with as many emotions as possible is no longer a problem, I think.  I've been working on the Wieniawski Romance for a recital (that may not happen now), and it has allowed me to live in those long, held out moments with only one thing in mind.


A beloved family member of mine is facing a serious, undiagnosed illness, and another family member is facing ongoing health issues with question marks around them.  My husband is far away (another continent) and won't be with me for what seems like eternity now.  Yesterday, I was the pastor for a funeral and committal, the first such events where I've taken this role.  The woman who had died loved the violin very much, and the family asked that I play.  I played old hymns, some of my favorites ("How Great Thou Art," "In the Garden," "Amazing Grace"), and a Dvorak tune from the 9th Symphony ("Going Home").


In a place of complete dependence upon God for any amount of strength, I did not cry; I did not fit all of my emotions into these songs.  I just sat in the drawn-out phrases, in the place of waiting, in the place of hope in the resurrection.  No worries about consistency or timing.  It was beautiful.  It would have startled me if I had any proactive need to play well.  The whole event, funeral and committal, was beautiful.  


This is where my good music comes from- the quiet, drawn-out place of waiting for the resurrection.  

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

   and in his word I hope; 

my soul waits for the Lord

   more than those who watch for the morning,

   more than those who watch for the morning. 

O Israel, hope in the Lord!

   For with the Lord there is steadfast love,

   and with him is great power to redeem. 

-Psalm 130:5-7

Say what?!

Okay, folks.  I think it's time for a review of some of the verbs we use when we are talking about our faith in God.  I'd like to offer some examples from conversations I've had recently, with some alternatives.  They come from my particular context, and I don't expect you to adopt my "recipe," but I do want you to know what others hear when you talk about these very close, very vulnerable topics of discussion.

___________________________________________

"I know..."

Contexts: "I know that God is unchanging."  "I know that God is love."  "I know that God hates fags."

Here's the issue: one tends to sound less like a spiritually mature adult and more like a bitter teenager when we say, "I know..."  Example: "Honey, it's time to go to your violin lesson."  "I KNOW Mom, I know!  You don't have to tell me.  I KNOW!"  Example 2: "What, you think you can wear that tank top outside?  It's cold out there!"  "Mom, I KNOW it's cold.  I don't care!"  It's always a joke to say that if you want "to know" something, you ask a teenager, but if you want to find someone who realizes that they know very little, talk to a grad student.

So when we apply some of this context to theological discussion, you start to hear a bit of the "don't tell me, because I know this and I know everything" syndrome.  It is possible that you and others will say something like: "I know that God is love" because you believe it with all your might.  Trust me, I do too.  However, I usually say that I believe that God is love, or that God is the God of love.*  

Thus, when you say, "I know that God hates fags," you act like you have a special secret knowledge that God has revealed only to you and those of your own culture who magically believe all the same things you do.  I admit, when I am committed to the opposite, that the God of love does not "hate fags" as one might claim, that I have not cornered special knowledge and that the truth might have escaped me here.  That's a difficult thing for me to say, because then it sounds to an outsider like I don't really have my heart in it.  However, my alternative does offer something better (in my opinion):

"I think..."

Contexts: "I think God is unchanging."  "I think that God is love."  "I think that God hates fags."

Yes (I KNOW) there is a sense of weakness about our statements when we say, "I think..."  Yes, there's a sense of head-knowledge, of intellectualism that lacks heart.  I'm sorry you get that impression.  Yes, I recognize that weakness in this verb-alternative, but it also has unbounded strength in that it acknowledges the mystery of God.  In a world of black-and-white, I'm-right-and-you're-wrong, it's-either-the-truth-or-hell kind of world, I'm okay with the gray area.  My whole theology is based on a lot of paradox, which is completely heart-bound, passionate, and sincere.  I believe in and love God with my whole heart, and I know God is "there" and "here."  But the minute I start dictating to others that "I know" God is this one way (especially when the majority of Biblical witness doesn't really support what is being stated), then I've gone too far.  It's not that God is all things to all people.  In fact, quite the contrary.  We should stand boldly for truth.  However, I don't have a corner on all truth, and neither do you.  Sorry, I know your pastors have been feeding you "the Truth" since you were a kid, and you really think God is exactly what those pastors claimed He was.  Maybe we can start asking questions about your beliefs together.  I'm really a nice person, and I already let you say all those terrible things about my Jewish, Atheist, Muslim, and gay friends without screaming at you.  Let's just ask a few questions together, and see how your beliefs hold.  I have no expectation that you'll change all your beliefs right then and there, if ever.  Take these questions home and wrestle for a few days, weeks, or years.  If they hold, then please, keep believin'.  If they can't hold under the weight, it's not that everything you learned was a lie; it just means you didn't have "the Truth" in a box (with the only key being in your possession).  I meant that sometimes we are all guilty of starting with ourselves and our own contexts and then writing them into God's identity.  In short, we are all guilty of creating God in our image.  While we all might be guilty of eisegesis (reading into the Biblical texts our own images, desires, and prejudices) at times, it doesn't mean we shouldn't try to avoid it.

______________________________________________

"I believe..."

Contexts: "I believe the house you are looking for is down the road and on the left."  "I believe in grace."  "I believe in America."

Obviously, this first example of verb usage is something synonymous with "I'm pretty sure..." or "I think..." without all that pesky head-without-heart-knowledge implication.  It means that you are confident that the house really is down the road.  You've seen that house before, and you've even stopped in a time or two.  You're more sure than not that the house really is there, but if the person receiving your directions goes down the road and doesn't find it there, at least you didn't say, "I know..." and then turn out to be totally wrong.

To say: "I believe in grace," implies that it's a core aspect to your belief system, firmly rooted in your heart of hearts.  To say that you "believe in America" is to say that you have confidence in it's structural soundness, and that you also have skin in that game.  I think it's a rather compelling campaign statement too- it implies one's religious sensibilities, applied at a political and governmental level.  It might as well say: "I'm a God-fearing man, and I believe that God has a special investment in America."  Of course, we can assume the candidate is referring mostly to North America, and specifically to the United States of America, and not necessarily using it in a more universal term that might include, say, Colombia or Venezuela or Brazil, or any of those other countries that rightly declare they are part of a larger "America."

These statements: "I believe in grace" or "I believe the house is down yonder on the left", or even "I believe in America," are really fraught with weaknesses.  A strong discernment of language and implication would lead one to say, perhaps, "I think the house is down yonder..." and "I believe in the God of grace..."

"I believe..." (alternative)

Contexts: "I'm confident the house you are looking for is down the road and on the left, but I'm not totally sure."  "I believe in the God of grace."*  "I'm totally cool with America." (I know, this last one isn't nearly as catchy.)

As a candidate for ministry and seminary graduate and general theological thinker, I avoid saying something like: "I believe in grace," and offer the alternative, "I believe in the God of grace."*  I believe in God.  Grace is an abstract concept until it has an agent and an object (Ex: "God saves me through grace.")  As another example, I don't believe in the Bible, but I believe in the God of the Bible.*  The Bible is a collection of writings by faithful witnesses to the workings and doings and movings and sayings of God in this world.  It's a "unique and authoritative witness" to "the Word", who is Jesus Christ.  The Bible can't save me, but God can.  I can't even read the Bible and be illumined by the truth it contains without the help of the Spirit.  So, I'm okay saying that I believe in the Triune God, but I stop short of saying that I believe in grace or the Bible or faith or anything other than the God to whom all these things point.  I also won't say I believe in you (sorry), but I might offer instead that I know you are strong and that God is faithful (and if you push me, I might stretch to say that God believes in you, because why not?  God loves you passionately, and if it gets you through that moment of doubt about your own strength or God faithfulness, maybe it's enough to restore your confidence.  I'm not a legalist...I'm a pastor.)**

The first statement is the most common statement in discussion.  You want to say that you know something strongly, but it's not the Source of your faith and life and grace and new life.  It's not God, but you are so confident that this thing is just like this.  Say, "I think..."  As with the alternative to "I know...", you really hold strongly to it, but in reality, it has nothing to do with faith or belief.  Save your belief for God.  Having spent my time on different sides of such discussions, I think it's more important to leave these special words, "I believe" for a higher purpose. Don't use the same verb to describe your directions to someone's house.  You have alternatives: "I'm confident that..."  "I'm sure that..."  "It clear in my mind, but not totally certain, that..."  Even those who totally disagree on the whole God-thing with you will respect that you've thought about your language and that you aren't careless about it.

___________________________________________

Jesus said: "Are you also still without understanding?  Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?  But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles." -Matthew: 15:16-18  (Yes, it's a relevant text, but you could rightfully argue that I just committed the grave sin of eisegesis!)

___________________________________________

*Note: It's not that I believe in multiple gods, and that I'm pointing out that one particular god I believe in is the "God of Love."  I'm am not a polytheist.  On the contrary, this is a standard turn of phrase for many mainline Protestants, in part because people say silly things like: "I believe in love," or "I believe in America."  Sorry, Mitt.  I don't believe in love, or in America.  I believe in the God over all things (including love), and over all creation (including America).  To imply that America could be our god and that we believe in her is more polytheistic than saying, "I believe in the God who is over all creation, including America."

**Note: On a personal note, if you tell me that you believe in me, or that God believes in me, when I am in the midst of suffering, I might yell at you.  Don't give me that crap.  Give me the honest truth, and the God-given fire inside will burn enough to get me through.  If I tell you that God believes in you, and you also have the fire I have inside, please yell at me.  I'll deserve it.

Newer News

If you couldn't tell, my writing energies have been funneled into sermons and liturgy lately.  This occasion for writing has been a stretch and challenge for me- as now I have a very specific context for writing liturgy and sermons- and I'm not sure others would follow what I am writing.  Therefore, I am not brave enough to post anything here.  One day, when I am in a different place, I'll read over my material again with fresh eyes and see if there's anything useful about it for any of you, dear readers.

With summer has come eating out of the garden again.  Fresh fruit, organic veggies from the CSA, fresh-baked breads on Sabbath- I love eating this time of year.  This year, I am helping maintain a communal garden.  This year also happens to be rather dry.  There's lots of rain dancing and hardly much success.  The rare rainy nights seem like small miracles.

Again, I hear a call from God to dwell with the outcasts and strangers.  I still don't know what this looks like or where to begin.  I see glimpses, but when I chase after them they disappear.  Part of me wonders if I will look back at this time of my life and think that I was quite blind to all the signs.  Blindness is hardly a condition one can overcome alone.  Rural life is very isolating, but then again so is living in the middle of a big city.  I will just wait and see what happens.  I'm not sure what this time is supposed to be about.  Patience?

Tension (and release?)

I must admit that I'm still a bit of a newcomer to the whole "diversity of opinions" sort of thing in the church.  The Southern Baptist Church is pretty good at avoiding that whole problem within its denomination.  Presbyterians, however, seem to live with tension all the time.  The two sides (in reality there are way more than 2 opinions, but we tend to be a 2-sided sort of country right now) use their own vocabulary to describe the world, and I've just recently found a nice way to line them up:

1. If we err, we should err on the side of righteousness.
2. If we err, we should err on the side of grace.

It's not that either camp sides completely with one or the other, but it seems that a camp tends to favor one over the other.  Of course what's being described here is the dialectical tension between God's grace and God's justice- we can neither fully reject one nor fully embrace the other, and they do not fit into neat categories side-by-side, but they wrestle with each other.  If we wish to engage the tension, we will be forced to wrestle with both.  However, we're likely pre-disposed to let one side win over the other, and it may not rely fully on our fully-rational, objective choice.

Here's an interesting write-up in Time about a recent study that shows a difference in brain structure between self-proclaimed political "conservatives" and "liberals."  Note in the article that the study's author was not clear on whether the brain influenced preference or if the preference re-mapped the brain.

So when we have "open dialogue" about issues that come up in the politics of the church, how willing are we to compromise?  Yes, an open mind is necessary in a debate if some sort of compromise is desired.  However, we don't live in a context where debates are necessarily solved in the minds of all witnesses by the power of reasoning of the "winner" of the debate.  I cannot think of a single Republican Presidential Debate during the primaries/caucuses where the majority of viewers could declare an uncontested winner.  This fact might be more telling about those particular candidates more than the state of arguments in general though.  Truly, the practice we've put into political debates, regardless of which side we took, might have taught us well how to be more entrenched in our own pre-conceived notions.  Our lack of practice in effective communication tends to leave us 20 minutes or 10 hours after a debate coming up with new arguments for the side to which we've already committed.  I'm sure you, dear Reader, remember times when you came out of a difficult debate thinking, "I should have said this instead of that.  Why couldn't I think of that in the heat of the moment!?"

Is there really such a thing a "open dialogue" then?  Can we really put ourselves into the argument of our opponent and truly question our own arguments?  Obviously we don't want to imagine our "enemy" as correct or insightful, but it might be a good practice in general.

An alternative might be simply to pursue a third way.  Third ways, while they tend to open us to the wrestling with both sides of the dialectical tension, also tend to be wildly unpopular.  Still, the simple pursuit of the third way might add value to the conversation, as it can open the imagination of those on opposite sides of the table.

So, should we err on the side of righteousness or the side of grace?  I've tended to side with grace, mostly because I'm so deeply in touch with my own depravity (thank you, SBC).  If I can be forgiven by God and neighbor, I most certainly can offer grace to those who sin against me.  But I wrestle quite often with righteousness (which I tend to pair with the notion of "justice" from the Hebrew Scriptures).  I might lean toward theological liberalism, but I also engage in some questionable practices, writing letters to my elected officials in order to "lobby" for the poor, engaging in political dialogue with my neighbors, preaching about God's justice from the pulpit- things that upset greatly the voice for the "separation of church and state" that exists in others and in myself.

Still, when I wrestle with righteousness and grace, I remember that God is not as fragile as we presume God might be.  When we read all the scripture texts where God seems to be sinfully angry and jealous, we rely on our fear (and who wouldn't be afraid of an all-powerful, all-seeing, angry God?!) to push us in the direction of protecting God.  If our sin makes God angry, why wouldn't we try and hide it from God, or protect God from the sinfulness of ourselves and others?

But if Jesus came in love and sacrifice for sinners, then maybe God isn't as angry as we thought.  If God took on flesh and didn't shoot up the place, maybe God's more gentle and understanding than we thought.  So if we decide that there's no need for fear in the Christian understanding of God, then how else might be approach God- in trust?  In love?  In compassion?  In peace?  In understanding?  In hope?

Jesus asked Peter: "Do you love me?"  Peter replied, "Yes, of course Jesus.  Of course I love you."  "Feed my sheep," replied Jesus.  Jesus, wanting to fully establish his point, does this dance 3 times in a row.  Few things in the Bible get repeated with such intensity.  Jesus really means it, y'all.

If loving God does not require protecting God from the awfulness of our sin and the sin of our neighbors, maybe we can see how closely related our love of God connects to our love of neighbor.  Does that mean we should be righteous (act justly)?  Yes.  Does it mean we should offer grace?  Yes.

My honest question out of this goes as such: Why does the church so often pick sides between an excessive protection of God's righteousness (thus leading to our excessive judgement and condemnation of each other) and an excessive grace toward neighbor (that does not hold the people we love accountable when they work very hard for the destruction of the other people we love)?  Can we hold people accountable in love and still offer grace?  What does that look like in the context of current "debates" about our common life?

First Day

So, I was asked (called?  more like contracted) to become the Interim Pastor for a congregation recently.  Today is my first day, officially.  I came to the church/pastor's study around noon, in case the previous pastor was moving anything out- I wanted to make sure she had space to say goodbye.  Now I've been here all afternoon.  Here are some impressions:

-Where is everyone?  I've been here alone all day, except for the lovely couple coming to drop off some plates for a community dinner coming up.  Still, I somehow imagined this would be a completely relational sort of vocation, but apparently pastors spend quite a bit of time alone.  Today, I mostly prayed and planned and read and wrote.  If the Spirit is going to be my only companion during the day, I think I'll get a radio so we can rock it out all day together.

-Meal planning will be interesting.  I brought 1.5 meals with me, consumed everything for lunch, so I'm now eating a grocery-store made salad with mayonnaise and bacon on top (really, Midwest?  mayo and bacon need to be on everything?!).  I live approximately 40 miles away from the church.

-There's also no coffee shop here.  I'm hoping someone will clue me in to where there is "community" happening around here.  I'm guessing it might involve taco pizza at the local gas station (and I'm not even kidding).

-The Deacons meeting is in an hour, and I am more excited about just being around people than what it is we'll discuss at the meeting.  And I'm an introvert.

-How'd it get so cold again?  And what is this I hear about snow storms possible in April?  I'm not sure I'm okay with this.

-Despite not getting to meet with people so far today, nor talking with more than the local phone directory lady calling to update the church information, I'm still super excited about this Interim Pastor thing and have unbounded energy at the moment.  Seriously, can I just dance around the office in praise to God right now?  I've been filled with dreams for years about this, and here I am in the Pastor's study, writing liturgy and reading and dancing around the office with the Spirit.

Praise be to God!

Incarnational Theology

Jesus came in the flesh- incarnating this world fully God and fully human.

We are embodied souls, souls with bodies.

Spirited bodies.

Yes, many of us have some fleshiness issues that stem largely from Plato and plenty of others who followed.  I find myself unwilling to live in this body of mine- not because it's unfavorable most of the time- but because I'd rather find value in my mind.  I guess I feel my mind can contribute something more eternal- scholarship, compassion, education- than my body can offer.  But my body cannot be separated from these things.  My rejection of a hyper-sexualized culture or the fleeting vitality of youth does not mean I must reject my body.

So, I embraced my body yesterday.  We (my body and I) went to the park, to sit and watch the geese and take in the beautiful weather.  We took a long walk in the breezy-ness, in a breezy skirt and a long scarf.  We felt the sun on our face.  We pondered Jesus' parable of the big dinner (Luke 14) and remembered what it's like to sit with people around the table enjoying good food.  We remembered being welcomed in to the group.  We practiced our orchestral parts for next week, and we felt the vibrations of the resonate violin through our neck and face.  We could feel fourth position nicely against our wrist, and the really out-of-tune notes were like a daggers to the gut.  We talked to people and offered compassion and got a little pushy and hugged and kissed.  We did many things we normally do, but together.

When it was time to sleep, I had the same feeling that I have every night as I'm falling asleep- the almost-dream of flying through the air, looking down at all the street lights on at night, spinning and soaring.  The difference was that instead of looking at myself flying through the air, I could feel it.  It was a 1st-person dream, rather than a 3rd-person encounter.

Today, I shall live in my body again.

A new argument for being physically present

I was reminded yesterday that "90% of caring is just showing up", and for ministers (read: the priesthood of all believers), this is especially true.  Being a witness to the love of God most certainly involves the very rare occurrence of leaving the laptop at home, the iphone in the purse (maybe even on silent...God forbid), and giving our whole attention to someone who just needs to talk, cry, rejoice, or die.

Our digital addiction is a distraction not only from our time spent with God's people, but from awareness of the problems of the world.  How quickly we can forget that our neighbors (read: family down the street, or refugee family in Syria) make their beds in a shelter or an alley tonight when we enjoy our evening distractions and then sleep peacefully in our warm beds.  Yes, this technology can connect us with others around the world, arouse our inner fire of justice, but it can equally distract us and keep firmly the wool over our eyes.  Indeed, we often don't even need technology to distract us from the pain of others.

Yet here's a new article that might not only defend our (sometimes pathological) focus on our technology and concern for our neighbors, but get us out of the house too.  Apple's new "eyeglasses."  Yes, it's a new layer of technology, with its new realm of freedom and choices, and a new round of fear about driver safety and protection of personal information.

But what I see is that technology, as it moves toward more convenience, is actually doing the opposite of what it used to do.  Before, it kept children at home with their games, rather than pushing them outside to play ball.  It once kept parents tethered to a machine in an empty room, with distractions enough to fight off the inevitable existential battles of middle-age.  It forced families into separate realms of existence that were only broken by family dinners and electrical outages, a separation only before successfully seen through the Victorian architecture philosophy of a separate room for each person or each task.

Now, technology wants you to go outside and play.  It wants you to stay connected with your friends online so that you can visit with them in the real world.  It wants you to have the freedom to enjoy its convenience while still functioning in a basic physical capacity.  As I write this in my pajamas (it's a snow day- I see no reason to change) in the late afternoon, after spending all day working on a website, an email service, an e-newsletter, etc., I think about this battle between mental activity and physical presence often.  Of course, pastors, professors, and many others battle the realm of the overactive mind and the underactive body in many other ways that have little to do with technology.  Still, I see that as technology progresses, I'll have little excuse for sitting here in my pajamas like this in 10 years from now.  I'll be out playing in the snow, or visiting the coffee shop (wait, why am I not there now?), while I inform the church that the Wednesday night activities are cancelled due to snow.  Or maybe, we'll be having some of those activities online.  But I hope we'd never move all our activities online- I like hugging people when I share the peace of Christ with them, and breaking bread physically together.

I'll still turn it off my Apple eyeglasses/implant/brain-reader when talking to people though.  I hope that in 10 years, you can meet with a pastor and have her/his full attention, as we as a society build a respectful etiquette in relation to our devices and our fellow human beings.  I hope that if I am one day dying in my bed while my family is sitting with me, they'd have the courtesy to turn off their football game while I cross over to the other side.

What would you do?

So here is a hypothetical situation for you: you show up to the indoor track at the local gym, and you notice the sign about “track etiquette” posted on the wall.  On odd-numbered days, runners are to run counter-clockwise around the track.  On even-numbered days, runners are to run clockwise around the track.  There is only one other person running at the moment- counter-clockwise.  You quickly remember that today is an even-numbered day, so today is “clockwise” day.  You decide that you will:

A. Kindly but boldly proclaim to the man that he’s running the wrong way, thus setting him straight and keeping you from having to make the same horrid mistake to avoid a head-on collision.

B. Don’t say anything, but do the right thing by running clockwise like the sign says.  Head-on collision and strange looks might occur, but you’d rather do the right thing yourself, even if other people don’t care.

C. Run counter-clockwise also, only because it’s not a big deal.  It’s just running around a track.  Chill out already.  Poor etiquette ≠ a warrant for your arrest.

D. Run counter-clockwise because you also don’t care for anyone’s rules; did I mention that you consider yourself a rebel, and would revel in the chance to get arrested by the “track” police?  What a great story!

E. Avoid having to make a decision and go find a treadmill.

How you answer this question may or may not reveal the nature of your character and/or your reasoning skills.

Lenten discipline

I don't usually talk about my Lenten disciplines, in part because they are often too abstract for my life and they get abandoned due to lack of forethought.  However, I will share this time:

I shall challenge the notion of "progress" in my day-to-day life.

Yes, I know, this is again very abstract, but I've thought it through.  When I think of all the things that have stopped me, all the abandoned disciplines I initially took on when I moved to Waverly (practice regularly, exercise regularly, read extensively to feed the numerous translations and exegesis papers I would get to because I have the time and skills now), I realize that part of why I quit was because I wasn't sure what I was aiming for. I wanted an end-goal: a recital, a target fitness goal, and a call from a parish.  Then none of those things really happened.  While I'm sure I could find a way to schedule a recital, and just choose what I want out of my running, I really can't push the call thing.  I'm boxed in with several boundaries on the call (geographic location being one of the bigger issues), so that's a little bit harder to "accomplish."  Still, I think I am beginning to uncover one of my golden calves...the notion of progress.

After "progressing" though a music degree, my final year was spent in the purgatory of no real study, an early morning job stocking my local target, and no real direction.  Ugh.  No real thought to the present then...just what I could do to get out of that purgatory.  Then seminary was lovely enough to help me feel like I was "progressing" into a pastorate by leaps and bounds.  Life did improve greatly with a theological education.  It helped make sense of music school and the purgatory year.  I still helps me see and discern in ways I never would have otherwise.  It also gave me direction.

Yes, direction.  The trailhead.  It carries such anticipation, such purpose.  Oh, the Places You'll Go!  (I'm sure other people got that Seuss book when they graduated from high school).

Suddenly, I'm not at the trailhead anymore.  I'm not even on a trail.  I don't even know where I am.  I mean, I'm in an internship.  It seems like a trail of some sort.  But sometimes it's not.  It's not purgatory either.

I see no reason to think that I'm on some sort of road of progress right now.  I'm just being who I am, where I am for the moment.  The part of me that earns credit for hitting milestones, who is rewarded by looking back and seeing how far I've come, isn't getting fed right now.  So either I go hungry pining for the perfect meal of the future progress or I enjoy the food that is on the table at this moment- the feast of the present.

I will practice violin, not with a recital in mind, but because I love playing violin.  What will I play?  Scales, etudes, old sonatas.  Will I compare myself to how I once played them?  I might, but I won't end the conversation there, longing for the overly-glorified past or the ever-hopeful future.

I will exercise, not with the goal of a marathon or all-time record, but because it keeps me healthy, and it helps me sleep better.  I will neither compare myself to others or to my previous self.  I will just enjoy my time spent running, and, God-forbid, enjoy the fact that I am young and healthy and can still do these things.

I will wait for a call, despite feeling like a bum and a freeloader, because I know God is doing something in my life with this time.  I might translate some Hebrew, or I might not.  I'm not going to beat myself up over it anymore.

Last year for Lent, I gave up self-abuse.  It was largely successful, but now I have much more time to let the negativity gain traction.  Still, it's all embedded in these ideas of progress and hierarchy and control.  Maybe I'm just trying to say no to these things, but really, I'm saying yes to being present in this wonderful place with these wonderful people.  Besides, I didn't earn this time off (a nice way to say "underemployed"), but it is a gift from God.  I didn't bust myself in seminary and therefore become deserving of this time to rest- it's a gift freely given by God for my recovery of creativity and recentering.  I'm ready to embrace that.

What are you taking on for Lent?