Wednesday, February 27, 2008

A Prayer from St. Augustine

O Lord,
the house of my soul is narrow;
enlarge it that you may enter in.
It is ruinous, O repair it!
It displeases your sight.
I confess it, I know.
But who shall cleanse it,
to whom shall I cry but you?
Cleanse me from my secret faults, O Lord,
and spare your servant from strange sins. — Augustine

Saturday, February 23, 2008

We're All Just People, Aren't We?

This morning, I went and helped out at the food ministry my church does the second and fourth Saturday of each month. I'd never been before, and it terrified me at first. I was the only white person, and it's hard even to pretend to blend in when you have long, blonde hair and the complexion of a Swede. I walked in, talked to a few people, and then bolted. I got back in my car, turned the engine on, and got ready to drive away. I'd come back another time, I thought. But then I took a deep breath and made myself go back inside.

Julius, another member of Asbury Temple, took me on, explaining to me how the food ministry works and taking me through the line to show what kinds of food people can pick up. He was adamant about their insistence on getting fresh produce from the food bank and not just canned goods and snacks.

I was then turned over to the ladies working the table, handing numbers to people as they walked in, calling them up and taking information from newcomers. One man waiting in line saw me smile and called out, "Hey, what's up dimples?" Later that same man was asking me a question, to which I didn't know the answer, and when I apologized for being unhelpful, he just smiled and said, "You'll fit in. You'll get it. I mean, we're all just people, aren't we?"

I watched a woman named Valencia as she handed out numbers and kept track of where we were on the list. From talking to her, I learned that she had started coming to the food ministry when she lost her job, and that she tries to help out sometimes. She's been coming to church at Asbury Temple lately. She just got a new job that starts Monday, so she won't be needing to come back for food. However, she promised she'd come out to volunteer.

When I told him all this, my boyfriend remarked that it's really neat that Asbury Temple can be functional for people like Valencia even though it has become something of a novelty for Duke Divinity students. I think ATUMC has something really good going on, which is why I love it so much. I can acknowledge the white guilt that sometimes compels me in those settings, but I'd be foolish to deny it, and I do feel called to that place, to that community. I'll keep going back to the food ministry and I'll learn even more if I work there over the summer. Maybe, if I'm around long enough, I'll start to learn the names of people who come through every other Saturday. That's a start, isn't it?

Monday, February 18, 2008

My Physic and My Sword (quote)

The bloody cross of my dear Lord
Is both my physic and my sword. — George Herbert

Monday, February 11, 2008

Making Peace Through the Blood of the Cross

"[Christ] himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of the cross." — Colossians 1:17-20

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Choose This Day Whom You Will Serve

This morning I heard a friend of mine talk about a recent mission trip he took to West Africa. He had had a great experience, and I'm thrilled for that, but there was something he said that I hear over and over that just irritates me. He talked about how these people live in huts made of straw and mud and sometimes cinderblocks, but despite their poverty their worship is filled with joy.

The observation doesn't bother me in the image itself, because it's a powerful one tinged with truth and beauty. What bothers me about it is that it is always such a surprise for middle-class, white Americans to find that poor people are often happier than they are.

It seems to me that we shouldn't be surprised that the hymns sung in Cameroon sound more genuine than those lifted in some American churches. I'm definitely not going to try and romanticize poverty, but it seems to have escaped our attention that we live in a society that is often toxic. We live in a culture driven by fear, in an economy built on perceived lack, in a country where happiness often requires drugs—and I'm not even talking about the illegal kind.

I am frequently troubled by the prevalence of eating disorders, depression and other forms of mental illness in those around me. I am bothered not only because the darkness in people's lives is often so complete I don't know how to penetrate it, but also because I believe that those kinds of things are encouraged by our culture. In the face of world poverty, anorexia and bulimia disturb me; a starving girl in Tanzania can't worry about her body image because she doesn't even have a choice as to whether or not she'll eat today, while an economically comfortable, intelligent Duke undergraduate has the luxury of choosing to starve themselves. Antidepressants are not for people living in war-torn regions where death and illness and trauma and hunger are plainly recognizable in the face of daily life; Zoloft is for those with the leisure time to realize how empty their lives have become.

I'm not trying to downplay the seriousness of illnesses like anorexia, depression, ADD and so on—I've seen these things take hold of the lives of those very close to me; I know their power. Nor am I trying to suggest that someone should feel guilty for dieting when there are people literally dying for the food that others can choose to consume or to throw out. The guilty party is not any individual, but a consumer culture that dictates a gospel of success, inane happiness and hedonism, which should be completely foreign to the Gospel of Christ—but which, unfortunately, is not always read as such.

The thing is, I'm not in the least bit surprised that the Christians in Cameroon seem more joyful in God than the Christians in America. We are tempted daily to put our trust in wealth, good looks, success and human approval; none of these temptations are held before those who live in mud shacks. Without the distractions of an idolatrous culture, West Africans have no trouble discerning to whom they should turn in times of trouble and in times of rejoicing: it's always God. The challenges of their lives seem obvious to those of us who never want for food or shelter, but the struggles in our lives are subtle and insidious, products of a culture that tells us we can't be happy unless we have an iPhone, that we won't be able to meet people unless we drink Budweiser, that our lives are not meaningful without a Lexus to match that executive position. We need to learn to recognize cultural icons as potential idols, as alternative gods, and "choose this day whom you will serve" (Joshua 24:15).

Thursday, February 7, 2008

A Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

L.E.N.T.

I remember being in about 6th grade when a guest speaker at youth group told us to think of this handy acronym for the word "Lent": Let's Eliminate Negative Thinking. At the time, I thought that was a great idea. At the time, I was maybe 11 years old.

Maybe this guy was trying to encourage us to give up destructive mindsets and attitudes instead of just avoiding chocolate for 40 days. I somehow doubt that. The thing is, if Lent is a time of repentance (and by "if" I mean clearly it is), it makes no sense to eliminate negative thinking, because acknowledging sin tends to have some negative connotations for us, the sinners. Psalm 51, one of the great biblical pleas for forgiveness, is full of negative thinking. "For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me" (v. 3). "Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me" (v. 5). Lighten up, Dave!

I'll admit, I'm a bit of a weirdo when it comes to this sort of thing. I love Lent. Fat Tuesday's fun, but I can't wait for Ash Wednesday. My favorite holiday is Good Friday; the service where I feel most spiritually aware is the Tenebrae. I know this is not normal. Liturgically speaking, I love Christmas and Easter's even better, but the external trappings of those holidays (in-laws, last-minute shopping trips, lilies in the sanctuary that make me sneeze) often succeed in distracting me from the true celebration at hand. The literal stripping of the sanctuary on Maundy Thursday mirrors the way in which the days between the commemoration of the Last Supper and the festival of Christ's resurrection are figuratively stripped of decorative and secular white noise.

I haven't quite hammered out what my Lenten discipline will entail this year. I'll commit to attending morning prayer at the Divinity School 3 times a week (if not more) and I'd love to give up caffeine...but the point is, that goofy little acronym I've heard so many times completely misses the point of Lent. If we are seriously to confess and repent of our sins, that means we must acknowledge them. Confronting the sin in our lives is never a pleasant experience. It's not all gloom and doom, of course; we know that Easter's coming, that Jesus saved, saves and is saving us from the fear of sin and death. There is freedom in confession, joy in repentance. But we have to be willing to face the fact that we're a mess before we can ask Jesus to clean it up.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Grace Sufficient

"Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three time I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, ad calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong." — 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

A Prayer from St. Augustine

O Lord,
the house of my soul is narrow;
enlarge it that you may enter in.
It is ruinous, O repair it!
It displeases your sight.
I confess it, I know.
But who shall cleanse it,
to whom shall I cry but you?
Cleanse me from my secret faults, O Lord,
and spare your servant from strange sins. — Augustine

Saturday, February 23, 2008

We're All Just People, Aren't We?

This morning, I went and helped out at the food ministry my church does the second and fourth Saturday of each month. I'd never been before, and it terrified me at first. I was the only white person, and it's hard even to pretend to blend in when you have long, blonde hair and the complexion of a Swede. I walked in, talked to a few people, and then bolted. I got back in my car, turned the engine on, and got ready to drive away. I'd come back another time, I thought. But then I took a deep breath and made myself go back inside.

Julius, another member of Asbury Temple, took me on, explaining to me how the food ministry works and taking me through the line to show what kinds of food people can pick up. He was adamant about their insistence on getting fresh produce from the food bank and not just canned goods and snacks.

I was then turned over to the ladies working the table, handing numbers to people as they walked in, calling them up and taking information from newcomers. One man waiting in line saw me smile and called out, "Hey, what's up dimples?" Later that same man was asking me a question, to which I didn't know the answer, and when I apologized for being unhelpful, he just smiled and said, "You'll fit in. You'll get it. I mean, we're all just people, aren't we?"

I watched a woman named Valencia as she handed out numbers and kept track of where we were on the list. From talking to her, I learned that she had started coming to the food ministry when she lost her job, and that she tries to help out sometimes. She's been coming to church at Asbury Temple lately. She just got a new job that starts Monday, so she won't be needing to come back for food. However, she promised she'd come out to volunteer.

When I told him all this, my boyfriend remarked that it's really neat that Asbury Temple can be functional for people like Valencia even though it has become something of a novelty for Duke Divinity students. I think ATUMC has something really good going on, which is why I love it so much. I can acknowledge the white guilt that sometimes compels me in those settings, but I'd be foolish to deny it, and I do feel called to that place, to that community. I'll keep going back to the food ministry and I'll learn even more if I work there over the summer. Maybe, if I'm around long enough, I'll start to learn the names of people who come through every other Saturday. That's a start, isn't it?

Monday, February 18, 2008

My Physic and My Sword (quote)

The bloody cross of my dear Lord
Is both my physic and my sword. — George Herbert

Monday, February 11, 2008

Making Peace Through the Blood of the Cross

"[Christ] himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of the cross." — Colossians 1:17-20

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Choose This Day Whom You Will Serve

This morning I heard a friend of mine talk about a recent mission trip he took to West Africa. He had had a great experience, and I'm thrilled for that, but there was something he said that I hear over and over that just irritates me. He talked about how these people live in huts made of straw and mud and sometimes cinderblocks, but despite their poverty their worship is filled with joy.

The observation doesn't bother me in the image itself, because it's a powerful one tinged with truth and beauty. What bothers me about it is that it is always such a surprise for middle-class, white Americans to find that poor people are often happier than they are.

It seems to me that we shouldn't be surprised that the hymns sung in Cameroon sound more genuine than those lifted in some American churches. I'm definitely not going to try and romanticize poverty, but it seems to have escaped our attention that we live in a society that is often toxic. We live in a culture driven by fear, in an economy built on perceived lack, in a country where happiness often requires drugs—and I'm not even talking about the illegal kind.

I am frequently troubled by the prevalence of eating disorders, depression and other forms of mental illness in those around me. I am bothered not only because the darkness in people's lives is often so complete I don't know how to penetrate it, but also because I believe that those kinds of things are encouraged by our culture. In the face of world poverty, anorexia and bulimia disturb me; a starving girl in Tanzania can't worry about her body image because she doesn't even have a choice as to whether or not she'll eat today, while an economically comfortable, intelligent Duke undergraduate has the luxury of choosing to starve themselves. Antidepressants are not for people living in war-torn regions where death and illness and trauma and hunger are plainly recognizable in the face of daily life; Zoloft is for those with the leisure time to realize how empty their lives have become.

I'm not trying to downplay the seriousness of illnesses like anorexia, depression, ADD and so on—I've seen these things take hold of the lives of those very close to me; I know their power. Nor am I trying to suggest that someone should feel guilty for dieting when there are people literally dying for the food that others can choose to consume or to throw out. The guilty party is not any individual, but a consumer culture that dictates a gospel of success, inane happiness and hedonism, which should be completely foreign to the Gospel of Christ—but which, unfortunately, is not always read as such.

The thing is, I'm not in the least bit surprised that the Christians in Cameroon seem more joyful in God than the Christians in America. We are tempted daily to put our trust in wealth, good looks, success and human approval; none of these temptations are held before those who live in mud shacks. Without the distractions of an idolatrous culture, West Africans have no trouble discerning to whom they should turn in times of trouble and in times of rejoicing: it's always God. The challenges of their lives seem obvious to those of us who never want for food or shelter, but the struggles in our lives are subtle and insidious, products of a culture that tells us we can't be happy unless we have an iPhone, that we won't be able to meet people unless we drink Budweiser, that our lives are not meaningful without a Lexus to match that executive position. We need to learn to recognize cultural icons as potential idols, as alternative gods, and "choose this day whom you will serve" (Joshua 24:15).

Thursday, February 7, 2008

A Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

L.E.N.T.

I remember being in about 6th grade when a guest speaker at youth group told us to think of this handy acronym for the word "Lent": Let's Eliminate Negative Thinking. At the time, I thought that was a great idea. At the time, I was maybe 11 years old.

Maybe this guy was trying to encourage us to give up destructive mindsets and attitudes instead of just avoiding chocolate for 40 days. I somehow doubt that. The thing is, if Lent is a time of repentance (and by "if" I mean clearly it is), it makes no sense to eliminate negative thinking, because acknowledging sin tends to have some negative connotations for us, the sinners. Psalm 51, one of the great biblical pleas for forgiveness, is full of negative thinking. "For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me" (v. 3). "Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me" (v. 5). Lighten up, Dave!

I'll admit, I'm a bit of a weirdo when it comes to this sort of thing. I love Lent. Fat Tuesday's fun, but I can't wait for Ash Wednesday. My favorite holiday is Good Friday; the service where I feel most spiritually aware is the Tenebrae. I know this is not normal. Liturgically speaking, I love Christmas and Easter's even better, but the external trappings of those holidays (in-laws, last-minute shopping trips, lilies in the sanctuary that make me sneeze) often succeed in distracting me from the true celebration at hand. The literal stripping of the sanctuary on Maundy Thursday mirrors the way in which the days between the commemoration of the Last Supper and the festival of Christ's resurrection are figuratively stripped of decorative and secular white noise.

I haven't quite hammered out what my Lenten discipline will entail this year. I'll commit to attending morning prayer at the Divinity School 3 times a week (if not more) and I'd love to give up caffeine...but the point is, that goofy little acronym I've heard so many times completely misses the point of Lent. If we are seriously to confess and repent of our sins, that means we must acknowledge them. Confronting the sin in our lives is never a pleasant experience. It's not all gloom and doom, of course; we know that Easter's coming, that Jesus saved, saves and is saving us from the fear of sin and death. There is freedom in confession, joy in repentance. But we have to be willing to face the fact that we're a mess before we can ask Jesus to clean it up.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Grace Sufficient

"Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three time I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.' So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, ad calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong." — 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10

 

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