Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Please Don't Forgive Me

Over the summer, I got into the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (Yes, I know I'm a little behind.) I'm now on season 6. The other day, I watched an episode where Buffy confesses to a friend for the first time that she has been sleeping with Spike, a vampire whom she hates with every fiber of her being. Tara is reasonably concerned and doesn't condone Buffy's actions, but she does comfort her--we all make mistakes, she says; it's OK; you've been going through a lot lately. At that, Buffy breaks down and makes this pitiful plea: "Please don't forgive me." She wants to be told that something is wrong with her, that she's bad and deserves to be punished; instead, she is receiving grace, and it is more than she can take.

The scene moved me, because I know exactly how that feels. Sometimes, forgiveness can be an even heavier burden to bear than sin--or maybe that's just my prideful, fallen nature talking. But forgiveness requires confession, vulnerability, being known in your most humiliating and painful moments. No one wants to be known that well, and even when we are, we want enablers, people who will help us punish ourselves. Hurt can become familiar, comfortable even, and healing threatens to introduce unfamiliarity.

This morning, I read Luke 5:1-11, where Jesus has the fisherman cast their nets until the boats are sinking with so much fish, and then calls them to become fishers of people. In verse 8, Peter reacts a bit surprisingly to Jesus' show of power: "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"

Does Peter not know that sending Jesus away is the surest way to remain in his sin?

I bet he does. Sin is easy. Forgiveness--especially receiving it--is hard.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Composer Robert Kyr Finds Inspiration at Christ in the Desert // From NPR Music

One of my favorite places on the planet!!!!!

Children's Sabbath

Yesterday at Orange UMC, we observed Children's Sabbath, an annual observance started by the United Methodist Women (UMW) in order to draw attention to the needs of children in our churches and communities. We had the elementary-aged kids sing a song and talked a lot about how to let the little children come to Jesus

Orange broadened the scope of Children's Sabbath to include children around the world, highlighting two organizations: ZOE Ministry and Compassion International.

ZOE stands for Zimbabwe Orphan Endeavor, started in the Methodist Church and has expanded to encompass missions not only in Zimbabwe but also in Rwanda, Zambia and Kenya. OUMC has sent a number of medical mission teams to Zimbabwe over the years, most recently at the beginning of 2010. I recently learned that you don't have to be medically trained to go on a trip. Hmmmm. :)

Compassion International is a group about which Gary Mitchell, my boyfriend and the Pathways worship leader at OUMC, is very passionate. Compassion works with and through local churches around the globe to connect children with sponsors, provide them with food, clothing, education, Bible study, training and more. Gary and I each sponsor 2 children through Compassion, and this past June Gary traveled to El Salvador to meet Karen, his sponsored child there (learn more about his visit here).

Children's Sabbath came on the heels on OUMC's annual Harvest Festival, a big missions fundraising event that includes food and games, crafts and vendors, a yard sale, an auction and more. The proceeds from that event go to support missions at OUMC, including ZOE.

As part and parcel of his presentation of Compassion, Gary set up a table where people could give a one-time donation or sponsor a child. Yesterday was also Compassion Sunday, where churches could highlight the work on Compassion and make a push for sponsors. 11 new sponsors picked up packets for children from all around the world yesterday. Awesome.

We ended up showing several videos throughout worship to show the congregation more about what ZOE and Compassion do--here's a short one I put together to show a few facts about child poverty:

Friday, September 24, 2010

Communion and Protestant Perplexity

Today in worship class, we're talking about the Eucharist (AKA the Lord's Supper, AKA Holy Communion). My interest was piqued when the professor pointed out a paragraph on page 51 of The United Methodist Book of Worship:

"The pastor, or laypersons at the direction of the pastor, may distribute the consecrated bread and cup to sick or homebound persons as soon as feasible following a service of Word and Table as an extension of that service. When this service is used as a distribution of the consecrated bread and cup, the Great Thanksgiving is omitted, but thanks should be given after the bread and cup are received."

Now, I had to ask a question, because I happen to know that this was a topic of debate at the 2008 General Conference of the United Methodist Church. I realize that makes me a huge nerd, but here's why I know that: my dad was a part of that discussion and was texting me as the conversation was unfolding. I was his sort of "phone-a-friend" resource, and he had me look up Article 16 in the Articles of Religion (which are a pretty standard marker of how Protestant theology differs from Catholic theology, and which John Wesley adapted and adopted for Methodists). Here's the relevant section:

"The Sacraments were not ordained of Christ to be gazed upon, or to be carried about; but that we should duly use them."

When I brought this up, the professor pointed out that this article was written as a response to the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation (which basically means the bread and wine literally become the body and blood of Christ). Catholic practices of adoration (worshipping/praying before the consecrated host), processing the Host in a monstrance (a really pretty display case for the Jesus cookie), Corpus Christi processions, etc., were unsavory to the early Protestants and remain so (except to some Anglicans...which is another story). Article 16 was meant to avoid magical associations made with the Eucharist ("This is my body" in Latin--hoc est corpus meum--became "hocus pocus"), not to keep Aunt Betty from participating in Holy Communion.

Fair point. However, I took issue with the professor's comment that the people at General Conference who debated this issue had forgotten CH13 (our intro church history course here at Duke). I didn't bother mentioning my dad's participation in the discussion with his M.Div. and Ph.D.--but this is my blog, so I can mention it here. :)

OK, so what, I may not agree with my professor entirely. But it did bring up an interesting consideration for me. Is the act of taking blessed bread and wine (er, grape juice) intended to incorporate the sick and homebound into the communal nature of the sacrament? I assume the alternative to bringing the elements to a person is to do the Great Thanksgiving with unconsecrated bread and juice. But should private communion services like that be avoided?

Maybe no one else cares about this, but I used to read liturgical theology for fun, so I do. :)

From Remant to Superpower

I'm just gonna say it. American Christianity bores me to tears. It's not the professor's fault. I'm just utterly disinterested in American history. I don't know why. I love European history, and just about anything that happened before 1600 fascinates me. But American history? Call me back when the World Wars start.

So I was pleasantly surprised to find a fascinating snippet in my reading for the class this week. Our primary textbook for the class is the Fortress Introduction to the History of Christianity in the United States by Nancy Koester. In chapter one, I came across a paragraph that tied Puritanism's view of themselves as God's chosen people (an Old Testament concept originally applied to Israel) to the essence of Americanism even today. The Israelites' story of a promised land and a divine mission resonated with the Puritans, and many would argue that the basic idea lives on in modern foreign policy.

Here's the most interesting part: "The remnant in the wilderness has become a superpower, and the old Puritan sense of accountability to divine judgment has all but vanished. Yet the chosen nation idea lives on."

With divine blessing comes divine accountability. The Puritans knew this. Are Americans today as aware of what Luke 12:48 says--"From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required"? It can be hard to keep in tension the call of 1 Peter 2:9:

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light."

Let's not chip off or skim over the phrase "in order that." Let's not forget the darkness from which we were brought out by a power not our own.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Gospel or Baloney?

I'm usually pretty laid-back. I like to diffuse tense situations with humor. But I can definitely get irritated if the things that are really important to me are dissed or misrepresented.

So, here's what happened to me this past week. I was listening to a sermon where the preacher was talking about the prosperity gospel. Don't worry, he was talking about how much he hates it. He showed this video from John Piper, which is a little intense but still pretty on-point about the whole issue. He warned the congregation against being taken in by the prosperity gospel.

Then he went to make a point which, in essence, I agree with (and which I'll talk more about in a minute), but I was actually almost hurt by how he set it up. What he said was that there's a "gospel" on the other end of the spectrum that reacts to the prosperity gospel and insists that all material possessions are bad. This, he said, is especially big among young Christians today, who live in community and voluntary poverty, which seems nice but, and I quote, is "baloney."

For those of you who don't know, I have been profoundly influenced by Shane Claiborne's book The Irresistible Revolution and the ministry of Rutba House/Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, Isaiah House, the Pathways program, New Monasticism and more, all of which focus on intentional Christian community; St. Francis, the champion of voluntary poverty, is a personal hero of mine; I have made 3 trips to Christ in the Desert Monastery, where one of the monks' vows is conversion of life, or poverty; and I currently live in a house with 5 other people where we commit to daily prayer, weekly meals, retreats and more (and our house mentors are the folks at Isaiah House).

So I didn't react well to having all of that called "baloney."

Pause. The point this pastor was trying to make was legitimate. Poverty cannot and should not be glorified or romanticized. Those who choose to live simply defeat their purpose if they are self-righteous about it. Not everyone is called to live in a poor neighborhood and make their own clothes. My housemates and I by no means live in poverty--each of us has our own computer, though the fact that we don't have a TV is sometimes a source of pride for me, which is ridiculous, and I need reminders like this to stay humble. I mean, come on, I didn't even wake up for prayer this morning. I have no moral high ground on which to stand.

But in Matthew 19:21, Jesus says to the young ruler, "sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor." I hate doing exegesis on this passage. I feel like I either have to compromise the integrity of Jesus' own words or out myself as a complete hypocrite. Mamby-pamby interpretations like "Well, Jesus really just meant that we need to be willing to give up our possessions" just don't do it for me (though I can't unilaterally deny them).

A major reason St. Francis was such a revolutionary character is that he read those words in Matthew and thought he was actually supposed to do what Jesus said. Any good Christian these days knows that's taking things too far. "Baloney," even.

Of course, the church needs rich people. My dad's church in Charlotte is able to do phenomenal missions work thanks to the generosity of a number of wealthy members. But the point of things like the Simple Way (ideally) is that if everyone lived a little more simply, maybe we could distribute wealth more justly. It's like that bumper sticker I see sometimes: "Live simply so that others may simply live."

I genuinely struggle with the question of whether it is sinful to be wealthy. Of course, I'm sitting here on my Macbook wearing a new outfit and zoning out of a graduate course at Duke. I don't have the answers.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

India Arie in Church?

We did this song in church today. :)

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Bunny Baptisms and Homosexuality

Worship class on Friday was hilarious. We were talking about baptism, so a good chunk of our time was devoted to practicing the Methodist baptismal rite on Amy May Wabbit, a stuffed bunny our professor brought in. It was funny but also practical--my dad commented that no one ever showed him how to do a baptism, and I hadn't realized how much the idea intimidated me until I found myself steadfastly refusing to volunteer to act out Amy May's baptism.

There was one part of the class discussion that bothered me. One of my classmates asked a question (which in and of itself was not bad) about whether the United Methodist Church had any official stance on baptizing, say, a gay couple's adopted child. Fair enough, since the UMC doesn't allow the ordination of homosexuals; but there's nothing barring membership. "Baptize the dang kid" was my response.

What bothered me was how long and in what direction this conversation went. Another classmate wanted to talk about how to be sensitive to congregation members who might be offended at seeing a gay couple at the front of the church, and how to avoid putting a gay couple in a potentially harmful situation. My thoughts are, if the couple doesn't want to be outed, they won't stand up in front of the church together (which, especially if it becomes a deterrent to having your child baptized, is a damn shame). And I understand the desire not to give the homophobes in the congregation (because every church has them, their voices need to be heard, and there are varying degrees of homophobia) a reason to come out and say hurtful things. But my response is still "Baptize the dang kid."

The next thing I knew, we were talking about how baptismal vows, especially in the case of infant baptism, put the responsibility on the parents and should be taken very seriously. When having a child baptized, the parents promise to raise their child in the faith, to be an example, etc. Someone brought up the point that if the parents are clearly not living in a way that is congruous with those vows, that's problematic. I absolutely agree with that statement, and we talked some about how to do education and preparation for baptism within a church. My problem was the assumption that a gay couple isn't living in a way that aligns with the baptismal vows.

I've said before that I don't know how to tease out the theological arguments for and against homosexuality, and I honestly don't care at this point. All I know is that there are people I love and respect who are gay, and I can't fathom excluding them from the church in any way. And if we're talking about setting an example, there are plenty of gay couples I know who are far better paradigms of love and commitment than many heterosexual couples. The institution of marriage has been cheapened in this country, but not by same-sex unions. And if baptism isn't being taken seriously in the church, we all bear the responsibility for that, especially pastors who have before them the challenging but crucial task of educating their parishioners.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Christopher Hitchens and Martin Luther


That's all I have to say about that.

Hebrew and Discipleship

I am now in my second year of Biblical Hebrew. It is hard. But so very cool.

When it makes sense--when I successfully translate (whatever that means) a passage and see the nuances in the Hebrew that don't come across in English--it's incredible. Seeing the semantic and theological implications of Hebrew word choice and grammar is exhilarating for me. Yes, I'm a dork, but this stuff is amazing notwithstanding.

Of course, Hebrew can also send you on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what the heck it's saying. Hebrew words are based on 3-letter roots, which sounds nice but becomes problematic when you're trying to look up some strange form of a verb that has dropped both its first and last root letter. Then there are the forms that look exactly alike but have completely different meanings. That's how Moses (a la Michelangelo) wound up with horns on his head instead of a "radiant" face (thank you, Vulgate, 4th-century Latin translation of the Bible) via Exodus 34:29-30.

The other day, my Hebrew teacher gave her "Hebrew and psychology" spiel. She told us that Ellen Davis (a Bible and Practical Theology prof at Duke Divinity, to whom my teacher refers as "Hebrew Yoda") can still spend days stuck on a single word in the Hebrew Bible. Sometimes you just don't know what is going on in the Hebrew, and often you're not alone. In fact, there are plenty of places in the Hebrew Bible where scholars admit they're not really sure what's happening and have essentially made an educated guess. Hebrew requires work and will reward you, but it can also frustrate the daylights out of you.

I'm finding my Hebrew studies to be informative to my attempts at following Christ. If you want to be a disciple, you really have to dig deep into the Scriptures and into yourself. The rewards are unimaginable, but the pain and cost are real.

I quote Dietrich Bonhoeffer compulsively (the gender-exclusive version, because it sounds so much cooler)--"When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." Anyone who offers you Christ in a way that is easily digestible and fits neatly into your life as it stands is not giving you the Gospel. Following Christ means putting yourself at the mercy of an unpredictable yet steadfast God, being willing to confuse a radiant face for horns and taking correction from the (ideally) honest yet loving body of Christ.

When I really throw myself into a Hebrew translation and emerge with even a feeble grasp of the intricacies of the passage, I am giddy and hungry for more. The excitement of that moment would be so much less--perhaps even nonexistent--if I didn't have to pour sweat and tears into it. How much more so should I rejoice every time God grants me a new sliver of his vision as encouragement for me to continue to walk through the valley, to climb the mountain, to see the unseen?

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Thad Cockrell // To Be Loved

I recently picked up Thad Cockrell's latest album, To Be Loved. Consider me hooked. Folk/Americana/pop. Lyrics that communicate meaningful values, faith and truth in relationships.

The album opens with the track "Pride (Won't Get Us Where We're Going)," a song whose title is its message. I obviously like the song "Look Up Sarah," not only because I can claim it as "my" Thad Cockrell song, but because it has a happy, easy groove that is fun and celebratory in a laid-back, understated way.

Hit "Rosalyn" is radio-ready but sticks with me because of this uplifting line: "No matter how small the flame against the darkness, don't you know the light will win." And the shuffling, country-esque tune "He Set Me Free" is a straightforward declaration of redemption.

Apparently Jars of Clay (a band whose debut album is quite possibly my favorite CD of all time) is putting out a new album next month, and Thad is featured on 2 songs--one with Audrey Assad, another recent music discovery for me.

Check it out.


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Prayers of the People: 15th Sunday After Pentecost

This is just a prayer I wrote for use as the prayers of the people in Goodson Chapel tomorrow. It's based on Jeremiah 18:1-11 and Philemon 1-21, the lectionary texts on which Dr. Amy Laura Hall will be preaching.
__________

O God of all the nations,
you lead us to the potter’s house
to remind us that we have not made ourselves.
We can take no credit for anything we have
or anything we are,
for all good things come from you and you alone.

Lord, by your son’s death and resurrection,
you freed us from slavery to sin and death.
Open our eyes to the forms of slavery
that are still very much alive today.
Slavery persists explicitly
in the form of sex trafficking and child labor,
and subtly
in the form of our bondage to this world
and to delusions of autonomy.

O God, break these chains,
for the slave is our brother,
and in your name, all oppression shall cease.
Give us your eyes to see the places
where we fail to welcome the other
as a brother or sister.

Lord, we are useless to you
unless you enable us to serve you.
We are worthless as a vessel of your grace
unless you remake us.

Melt us, mold us,
fill us, use us.

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Chatham County Line // Wildwood

I've taken to listening to NPR in the car, and a week or two ago I found myself driving while 91.5 FM was broadcasting WUNC's Back Porch Music program. I heard a song that I really liked, and I learned from the DJ that it was "Alone in New York" by Chatham County Line. I downloaded their new album Wildwood and was pleased by the band's sound, which ranges from full-out stomping, clapping bluegrass to gentle ballads suspended by a mandolin or banjo. Critics have praised CCL for straddling the past and present of bluegrass, and I agree with them.

Of course, this made me realize that I like bluegrass music, but I own very little. I saw Chris Thile and the Punch Brothers in concert on campus last year, which was incredible, but I have very little in my iTunes from that genre. So I went to my housemate Samuel, who has a mind-blowing 110GB of music on his laptop, and swiped a few random albums. Be looking for more of those featured here.

Patty Griffin // Downtown Church

This article from PBS NewsHour's Art Beat piqued my interest in Patty Griffin's latest album, the rich and soulful Downtown Church. In the article, Griffin confesses she's "a lapsed Catholic at best," someone who left the church partly over frustrations with its male-centric language. But now she's made a gospel album, and apparently it was her idea to record it in a church--the Downtown Presbyterian Church in Nashville, TN.

I purchased Griffin's CD and finally listened to it all the way through. It's gritty. It's raw. It's soulful. Griffin's own textured alto voice is joined by other artists in such a way that it encourages the listener to join in, too. I love the shuffling "Wade in the Water" and the stripped version of "All Creatures of Our God and King."

I don't know if recording Downtown Church changed anything in Griffin's heart, but I'm grateful to have it anyway.

Why Not a Sabbath?

When I went grocery shopping with my housemate Christian this morning, only the self-checkout was open at Kroger. On my bike ride afterward, I had very little traffic to contend with on my way to the American Tobacco Trail (10ish miles of paved-over railroad tracks that wind through Durham). As I rode down a hill overlooking part of downtown, I marveled at how still and quiet the city was.

Later, when I went to campus, I saw quite a different picture. It was like any other day. Things were a little more subdued in the Divinity School, but then again we don't have any classes on Monday mornings anyway.

Labor Day is a holiday that has meant nothing to me for 6 years running. I've spent 6 consecutive Septembers at Duke, where Labor Day does not exist. Classes go on as usual. Buses run as scheduled. On-campus eateries keep right on feeding co-eds.

I recently discovered Justin Roberts, a "kiddie rocker" whose album Why Not Sea Monsters? tells stories from the Hebrew Bible in fun, catchy pop songs. The first track, "Why Not a Spark?" is a whimsical retelling of the Genesis account, lightheartedly imagining God's creative process. In it, God dreams up light, sky, vegetables, lobsters and more, all the while comically correcting himself when he tries to create sharks on the first day, pizza on the second day, etc. with the interjection "Wait--that's later!" My favorite moment is the last verse:

On the seventh day,
God said, "Why not a nap?"

And the songs just ends. I love it.

On my bike ride today, I got to thinking about the Sabbath. Labor Day is sort of a nationwide, secular sabbath in some ways. One of my housemates is out playing tennis with his fiance right now. My boyfriend is headed to a cookout in a bit. I'm coming down with a cold, and it's occurred to me that I may not be able to procure sudaphed from the pharmacy...

Anyway. I like how Justin Roberts framed all of God's questions to himself in a "why not?" formula. I think that sort of question is the only way Duke can justify having classes on Labor Day. If you asked "why?" to the question of whether to take Labor Day off, the answer is clear: to let employees have a day to rest and rejuvenate; to allow for time to catch up on the kinds of things that slip through the cracks during a daily routine; to encourage family time and community building.

But if you asked "why not?", the answer is equally clear: there is no tangible proof of the benefit of a day off from work and classes, because the only visible result of a random vacation day is the lack of work getting done.

Of course, the idea of a sabbath isn't about us at all. Abraham Joshua Heschel put it succinctly in his book The Sabbath: "the world had already been created and will survive without the help of
man." Sabbath done right should take our focus off all the things that "need" to get done. It should be a reminder that the fate of the world is not, in fact, in our hands.

And with that, I'm going to get back to my Hebrew homework. Hmmm.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

You Are a Very Big God

I wrote this reflection while on a house retreat this past weekend.
__________

I am sitting by the pond on a bed of moss. It is a beautiful day out. It's cooler than it has been, I've found a patch of shade, and there's a slight breeze rustling through the trees. This side of the pond has something of a path along the edge. At the far corner of the pond, there's a statue of a woman--maybe Mary, though there aren't any features that would necessarily distinguish her as such.

You don't play in the woods as much as I did growing up without forming an attachment with trees, rocks, earth. I'm not really into natural theology, especially in the super-sentimental form in which see I see it a lot these days. But there's something freeing about walking barefoot through grass, something steadying about lying on stone.

You can't totally romanticize it--the last time I went shoeless in grass for an extended period of time, I got chiggers, and an unidentified bug just bit my foot. But I like that fact. Nature provides nourishment of all kinds, but it isn't safe. Sounds familiar. And I think we become less able to connect to the natural world the more we hide from it in glass and concrete, the more we distract ourselves from it with technology. The less we think we need trees and earth and sky, the less we are able to see, to understand, to learn from them.

The song "Indescribable," made famous by Chris Tomlin, was actually written by Laura Storey. Where he sings, "You are amazing, God," she originally wrote, "You are a very big God." I used to make fun of that, but now I think we use the word "amazing" so much that it has lost some of its import. We need to be able, with childlike wonder, to see and be wowed by God's bigness.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

A Rant About Worship

Don't worry, I'm not actually going to go on a rant about worship. Not right now, anyway. I just wanted to call attention to this post over at Evangel, the blog of First Things magazine. Make sure to click on the links within the post.

A Prayer for Study (from Doctor Johnson's Prayers)

"Almighty God, in whose hands are all the powers of man; who givest understanding, and takest it away; who, as it seemeth good unto Thee, enlightenest the thoughts of the simple, and darkenest the meditations of the wise, be present with me in my studies and enquiries.

Grant, O Lord, that I may not lavish away the life which Thou hast given me on useless trifles, nor waste it in vain searches after things which Thou hast hidden from me.

Enable me, by thy Holy Spirit, so to shun sloth and negligence, that every day may discharge part of the task which Thou hast allotted me; and so further with thy help that labour which, without thy help, must be ineffectual, that I may obtain, in all my undertakings, such success as will most promote thy glory, and the salvation of my own soul, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen."

—From Doctor Johnson’s Prayers edited by Elton Trueblood

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Please Don't Forgive Me

Over the summer, I got into the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (Yes, I know I'm a little behind.) I'm now on season 6. The other day, I watched an episode where Buffy confesses to a friend for the first time that she has been sleeping with Spike, a vampire whom she hates with every fiber of her being. Tara is reasonably concerned and doesn't condone Buffy's actions, but she does comfort her--we all make mistakes, she says; it's OK; you've been going through a lot lately. At that, Buffy breaks down and makes this pitiful plea: "Please don't forgive me." She wants to be told that something is wrong with her, that she's bad and deserves to be punished; instead, she is receiving grace, and it is more than she can take.

The scene moved me, because I know exactly how that feels. Sometimes, forgiveness can be an even heavier burden to bear than sin--or maybe that's just my prideful, fallen nature talking. But forgiveness requires confession, vulnerability, being known in your most humiliating and painful moments. No one wants to be known that well, and even when we are, we want enablers, people who will help us punish ourselves. Hurt can become familiar, comfortable even, and healing threatens to introduce unfamiliarity.

This morning, I read Luke 5:1-11, where Jesus has the fisherman cast their nets until the boats are sinking with so much fish, and then calls them to become fishers of people. In verse 8, Peter reacts a bit surprisingly to Jesus' show of power: "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"

Does Peter not know that sending Jesus away is the surest way to remain in his sin?

I bet he does. Sin is easy. Forgiveness--especially receiving it--is hard.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Composer Robert Kyr Finds Inspiration at Christ in the Desert // From NPR Music

One of my favorite places on the planet!!!!!

Children's Sabbath

Yesterday at Orange UMC, we observed Children's Sabbath, an annual observance started by the United Methodist Women (UMW) in order to draw attention to the needs of children in our churches and communities. We had the elementary-aged kids sing a song and talked a lot about how to let the little children come to Jesus

Orange broadened the scope of Children's Sabbath to include children around the world, highlighting two organizations: ZOE Ministry and Compassion International.

ZOE stands for Zimbabwe Orphan Endeavor, started in the Methodist Church and has expanded to encompass missions not only in Zimbabwe but also in Rwanda, Zambia and Kenya. OUMC has sent a number of medical mission teams to Zimbabwe over the years, most recently at the beginning of 2010. I recently learned that you don't have to be medically trained to go on a trip. Hmmmm. :)

Compassion International is a group about which Gary Mitchell, my boyfriend and the Pathways worship leader at OUMC, is very passionate. Compassion works with and through local churches around the globe to connect children with sponsors, provide them with food, clothing, education, Bible study, training and more. Gary and I each sponsor 2 children through Compassion, and this past June Gary traveled to El Salvador to meet Karen, his sponsored child there (learn more about his visit here).

Children's Sabbath came on the heels on OUMC's annual Harvest Festival, a big missions fundraising event that includes food and games, crafts and vendors, a yard sale, an auction and more. The proceeds from that event go to support missions at OUMC, including ZOE.

As part and parcel of his presentation of Compassion, Gary set up a table where people could give a one-time donation or sponsor a child. Yesterday was also Compassion Sunday, where churches could highlight the work on Compassion and make a push for sponsors. 11 new sponsors picked up packets for children from all around the world yesterday. Awesome.

We ended up showing several videos throughout worship to show the congregation more about what ZOE and Compassion do--here's a short one I put together to show a few facts about child poverty:

Friday, September 24, 2010

Communion and Protestant Perplexity

Today in worship class, we're talking about the Eucharist (AKA the Lord's Supper, AKA Holy Communion). My interest was piqued when the professor pointed out a paragraph on page 51 of The United Methodist Book of Worship:

"The pastor, or laypersons at the direction of the pastor, may distribute the consecrated bread and cup to sick or homebound persons as soon as feasible following a service of Word and Table as an extension of that service. When this service is used as a distribution of the consecrated bread and cup, the Great Thanksgiving is omitted, but thanks should be given after the bread and cup are received."

Now, I had to ask a question, because I happen to know that this was a topic of debate at the 2008 General Conference of the United Methodist Church. I realize that makes me a huge nerd, but here's why I know that: my dad was a part of that discussion and was texting me as the conversation was unfolding. I was his sort of "phone-a-friend" resource, and he had me look up Article 16 in the Articles of Religion (which are a pretty standard marker of how Protestant theology differs from Catholic theology, and which John Wesley adapted and adopted for Methodists). Here's the relevant section:

"The Sacraments were not ordained of Christ to be gazed upon, or to be carried about; but that we should duly use them."

When I brought this up, the professor pointed out that this article was written as a response to the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation (which basically means the bread and wine literally become the body and blood of Christ). Catholic practices of adoration (worshipping/praying before the consecrated host), processing the Host in a monstrance (a really pretty display case for the Jesus cookie), Corpus Christi processions, etc., were unsavory to the early Protestants and remain so (except to some Anglicans...which is another story). Article 16 was meant to avoid magical associations made with the Eucharist ("This is my body" in Latin--hoc est corpus meum--became "hocus pocus"), not to keep Aunt Betty from participating in Holy Communion.

Fair point. However, I took issue with the professor's comment that the people at General Conference who debated this issue had forgotten CH13 (our intro church history course here at Duke). I didn't bother mentioning my dad's participation in the discussion with his M.Div. and Ph.D.--but this is my blog, so I can mention it here. :)

OK, so what, I may not agree with my professor entirely. But it did bring up an interesting consideration for me. Is the act of taking blessed bread and wine (er, grape juice) intended to incorporate the sick and homebound into the communal nature of the sacrament? I assume the alternative to bringing the elements to a person is to do the Great Thanksgiving with unconsecrated bread and juice. But should private communion services like that be avoided?

Maybe no one else cares about this, but I used to read liturgical theology for fun, so I do. :)

From Remant to Superpower

I'm just gonna say it. American Christianity bores me to tears. It's not the professor's fault. I'm just utterly disinterested in American history. I don't know why. I love European history, and just about anything that happened before 1600 fascinates me. But American history? Call me back when the World Wars start.

So I was pleasantly surprised to find a fascinating snippet in my reading for the class this week. Our primary textbook for the class is the Fortress Introduction to the History of Christianity in the United States by Nancy Koester. In chapter one, I came across a paragraph that tied Puritanism's view of themselves as God's chosen people (an Old Testament concept originally applied to Israel) to the essence of Americanism even today. The Israelites' story of a promised land and a divine mission resonated with the Puritans, and many would argue that the basic idea lives on in modern foreign policy.

Here's the most interesting part: "The remnant in the wilderness has become a superpower, and the old Puritan sense of accountability to divine judgment has all but vanished. Yet the chosen nation idea lives on."

With divine blessing comes divine accountability. The Puritans knew this. Are Americans today as aware of what Luke 12:48 says--"From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required"? It can be hard to keep in tension the call of 1 Peter 2:9:

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light."

Let's not chip off or skim over the phrase "in order that." Let's not forget the darkness from which we were brought out by a power not our own.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Gospel or Baloney?

I'm usually pretty laid-back. I like to diffuse tense situations with humor. But I can definitely get irritated if the things that are really important to me are dissed or misrepresented.

So, here's what happened to me this past week. I was listening to a sermon where the preacher was talking about the prosperity gospel. Don't worry, he was talking about how much he hates it. He showed this video from John Piper, which is a little intense but still pretty on-point about the whole issue. He warned the congregation against being taken in by the prosperity gospel.

Then he went to make a point which, in essence, I agree with (and which I'll talk more about in a minute), but I was actually almost hurt by how he set it up. What he said was that there's a "gospel" on the other end of the spectrum that reacts to the prosperity gospel and insists that all material possessions are bad. This, he said, is especially big among young Christians today, who live in community and voluntary poverty, which seems nice but, and I quote, is "baloney."

For those of you who don't know, I have been profoundly influenced by Shane Claiborne's book The Irresistible Revolution and the ministry of Rutba House/Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, Isaiah House, the Pathways program, New Monasticism and more, all of which focus on intentional Christian community; St. Francis, the champion of voluntary poverty, is a personal hero of mine; I have made 3 trips to Christ in the Desert Monastery, where one of the monks' vows is conversion of life, or poverty; and I currently live in a house with 5 other people where we commit to daily prayer, weekly meals, retreats and more (and our house mentors are the folks at Isaiah House).

So I didn't react well to having all of that called "baloney."

Pause. The point this pastor was trying to make was legitimate. Poverty cannot and should not be glorified or romanticized. Those who choose to live simply defeat their purpose if they are self-righteous about it. Not everyone is called to live in a poor neighborhood and make their own clothes. My housemates and I by no means live in poverty--each of us has our own computer, though the fact that we don't have a TV is sometimes a source of pride for me, which is ridiculous, and I need reminders like this to stay humble. I mean, come on, I didn't even wake up for prayer this morning. I have no moral high ground on which to stand.

But in Matthew 19:21, Jesus says to the young ruler, "sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor." I hate doing exegesis on this passage. I feel like I either have to compromise the integrity of Jesus' own words or out myself as a complete hypocrite. Mamby-pamby interpretations like "Well, Jesus really just meant that we need to be willing to give up our possessions" just don't do it for me (though I can't unilaterally deny them).

A major reason St. Francis was such a revolutionary character is that he read those words in Matthew and thought he was actually supposed to do what Jesus said. Any good Christian these days knows that's taking things too far. "Baloney," even.

Of course, the church needs rich people. My dad's church in Charlotte is able to do phenomenal missions work thanks to the generosity of a number of wealthy members. But the point of things like the Simple Way (ideally) is that if everyone lived a little more simply, maybe we could distribute wealth more justly. It's like that bumper sticker I see sometimes: "Live simply so that others may simply live."

I genuinely struggle with the question of whether it is sinful to be wealthy. Of course, I'm sitting here on my Macbook wearing a new outfit and zoning out of a graduate course at Duke. I don't have the answers.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

India Arie in Church?

We did this song in church today. :)

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Bunny Baptisms and Homosexuality

Worship class on Friday was hilarious. We were talking about baptism, so a good chunk of our time was devoted to practicing the Methodist baptismal rite on Amy May Wabbit, a stuffed bunny our professor brought in. It was funny but also practical--my dad commented that no one ever showed him how to do a baptism, and I hadn't realized how much the idea intimidated me until I found myself steadfastly refusing to volunteer to act out Amy May's baptism.

There was one part of the class discussion that bothered me. One of my classmates asked a question (which in and of itself was not bad) about whether the United Methodist Church had any official stance on baptizing, say, a gay couple's adopted child. Fair enough, since the UMC doesn't allow the ordination of homosexuals; but there's nothing barring membership. "Baptize the dang kid" was my response.

What bothered me was how long and in what direction this conversation went. Another classmate wanted to talk about how to be sensitive to congregation members who might be offended at seeing a gay couple at the front of the church, and how to avoid putting a gay couple in a potentially harmful situation. My thoughts are, if the couple doesn't want to be outed, they won't stand up in front of the church together (which, especially if it becomes a deterrent to having your child baptized, is a damn shame). And I understand the desire not to give the homophobes in the congregation (because every church has them, their voices need to be heard, and there are varying degrees of homophobia) a reason to come out and say hurtful things. But my response is still "Baptize the dang kid."

The next thing I knew, we were talking about how baptismal vows, especially in the case of infant baptism, put the responsibility on the parents and should be taken very seriously. When having a child baptized, the parents promise to raise their child in the faith, to be an example, etc. Someone brought up the point that if the parents are clearly not living in a way that is congruous with those vows, that's problematic. I absolutely agree with that statement, and we talked some about how to do education and preparation for baptism within a church. My problem was the assumption that a gay couple isn't living in a way that aligns with the baptismal vows.

I've said before that I don't know how to tease out the theological arguments for and against homosexuality, and I honestly don't care at this point. All I know is that there are people I love and respect who are gay, and I can't fathom excluding them from the church in any way. And if we're talking about setting an example, there are plenty of gay couples I know who are far better paradigms of love and commitment than many heterosexual couples. The institution of marriage has been cheapened in this country, but not by same-sex unions. And if baptism isn't being taken seriously in the church, we all bear the responsibility for that, especially pastors who have before them the challenging but crucial task of educating their parishioners.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Christopher Hitchens and Martin Luther


That's all I have to say about that.

Hebrew and Discipleship

I am now in my second year of Biblical Hebrew. It is hard. But so very cool.

When it makes sense--when I successfully translate (whatever that means) a passage and see the nuances in the Hebrew that don't come across in English--it's incredible. Seeing the semantic and theological implications of Hebrew word choice and grammar is exhilarating for me. Yes, I'm a dork, but this stuff is amazing notwithstanding.

Of course, Hebrew can also send you on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what the heck it's saying. Hebrew words are based on 3-letter roots, which sounds nice but becomes problematic when you're trying to look up some strange form of a verb that has dropped both its first and last root letter. Then there are the forms that look exactly alike but have completely different meanings. That's how Moses (a la Michelangelo) wound up with horns on his head instead of a "radiant" face (thank you, Vulgate, 4th-century Latin translation of the Bible) via Exodus 34:29-30.

The other day, my Hebrew teacher gave her "Hebrew and psychology" spiel. She told us that Ellen Davis (a Bible and Practical Theology prof at Duke Divinity, to whom my teacher refers as "Hebrew Yoda") can still spend days stuck on a single word in the Hebrew Bible. Sometimes you just don't know what is going on in the Hebrew, and often you're not alone. In fact, there are plenty of places in the Hebrew Bible where scholars admit they're not really sure what's happening and have essentially made an educated guess. Hebrew requires work and will reward you, but it can also frustrate the daylights out of you.

I'm finding my Hebrew studies to be informative to my attempts at following Christ. If you want to be a disciple, you really have to dig deep into the Scriptures and into yourself. The rewards are unimaginable, but the pain and cost are real.

I quote Dietrich Bonhoeffer compulsively (the gender-exclusive version, because it sounds so much cooler)--"When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die." Anyone who offers you Christ in a way that is easily digestible and fits neatly into your life as it stands is not giving you the Gospel. Following Christ means putting yourself at the mercy of an unpredictable yet steadfast God, being willing to confuse a radiant face for horns and taking correction from the (ideally) honest yet loving body of Christ.

When I really throw myself into a Hebrew translation and emerge with even a feeble grasp of the intricacies of the passage, I am giddy and hungry for more. The excitement of that moment would be so much less--perhaps even nonexistent--if I didn't have to pour sweat and tears into it. How much more so should I rejoice every time God grants me a new sliver of his vision as encouragement for me to continue to walk through the valley, to climb the mountain, to see the unseen?

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Thad Cockrell // To Be Loved

I recently picked up Thad Cockrell's latest album, To Be Loved. Consider me hooked. Folk/Americana/pop. Lyrics that communicate meaningful values, faith and truth in relationships.

The album opens with the track "Pride (Won't Get Us Where We're Going)," a song whose title is its message. I obviously like the song "Look Up Sarah," not only because I can claim it as "my" Thad Cockrell song, but because it has a happy, easy groove that is fun and celebratory in a laid-back, understated way.

Hit "Rosalyn" is radio-ready but sticks with me because of this uplifting line: "No matter how small the flame against the darkness, don't you know the light will win." And the shuffling, country-esque tune "He Set Me Free" is a straightforward declaration of redemption.

Apparently Jars of Clay (a band whose debut album is quite possibly my favorite CD of all time) is putting out a new album next month, and Thad is featured on 2 songs--one with Audrey Assad, another recent music discovery for me.

Check it out.



Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Prayers of the People: 15th Sunday After Pentecost

This is just a prayer I wrote for use as the prayers of the people in Goodson Chapel tomorrow. It's based on Jeremiah 18:1-11 and Philemon 1-21, the lectionary texts on which Dr. Amy Laura Hall will be preaching.
__________

O God of all the nations,
you lead us to the potter’s house
to remind us that we have not made ourselves.
We can take no credit for anything we have
or anything we are,
for all good things come from you and you alone.

Lord, by your son’s death and resurrection,
you freed us from slavery to sin and death.
Open our eyes to the forms of slavery
that are still very much alive today.
Slavery persists explicitly
in the form of sex trafficking and child labor,
and subtly
in the form of our bondage to this world
and to delusions of autonomy.

O God, break these chains,
for the slave is our brother,
and in your name, all oppression shall cease.
Give us your eyes to see the places
where we fail to welcome the other
as a brother or sister.

Lord, we are useless to you
unless you enable us to serve you.
We are worthless as a vessel of your grace
unless you remake us.

Melt us, mold us,
fill us, use us.

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Chatham County Line // Wildwood

I've taken to listening to NPR in the car, and a week or two ago I found myself driving while 91.5 FM was broadcasting WUNC's Back Porch Music program. I heard a song that I really liked, and I learned from the DJ that it was "Alone in New York" by Chatham County Line. I downloaded their new album Wildwood and was pleased by the band's sound, which ranges from full-out stomping, clapping bluegrass to gentle ballads suspended by a mandolin or banjo. Critics have praised CCL for straddling the past and present of bluegrass, and I agree with them.

Of course, this made me realize that I like bluegrass music, but I own very little. I saw Chris Thile and the Punch Brothers in concert on campus last year, which was incredible, but I have very little in my iTunes from that genre. So I went to my housemate Samuel, who has a mind-blowing 110GB of music on his laptop, and swiped a few random albums. Be looking for more of those featured here.

Patty Griffin // Downtown Church

This article from PBS NewsHour's Art Beat piqued my interest in Patty Griffin's latest album, the rich and soulful Downtown Church. In the article, Griffin confesses she's "a lapsed Catholic at best," someone who left the church partly over frustrations with its male-centric language. But now she's made a gospel album, and apparently it was her idea to record it in a church--the Downtown Presbyterian Church in Nashville, TN.

I purchased Griffin's CD and finally listened to it all the way through. It's gritty. It's raw. It's soulful. Griffin's own textured alto voice is joined by other artists in such a way that it encourages the listener to join in, too. I love the shuffling "Wade in the Water" and the stripped version of "All Creatures of Our God and King."

I don't know if recording Downtown Church changed anything in Griffin's heart, but I'm grateful to have it anyway.

Why Not a Sabbath?

When I went grocery shopping with my housemate Christian this morning, only the self-checkout was open at Kroger. On my bike ride afterward, I had very little traffic to contend with on my way to the American Tobacco Trail (10ish miles of paved-over railroad tracks that wind through Durham). As I rode down a hill overlooking part of downtown, I marveled at how still and quiet the city was.

Later, when I went to campus, I saw quite a different picture. It was like any other day. Things were a little more subdued in the Divinity School, but then again we don't have any classes on Monday mornings anyway.

Labor Day is a holiday that has meant nothing to me for 6 years running. I've spent 6 consecutive Septembers at Duke, where Labor Day does not exist. Classes go on as usual. Buses run as scheduled. On-campus eateries keep right on feeding co-eds.

I recently discovered Justin Roberts, a "kiddie rocker" whose album Why Not Sea Monsters? tells stories from the Hebrew Bible in fun, catchy pop songs. The first track, "Why Not a Spark?" is a whimsical retelling of the Genesis account, lightheartedly imagining God's creative process. In it, God dreams up light, sky, vegetables, lobsters and more, all the while comically correcting himself when he tries to create sharks on the first day, pizza on the second day, etc. with the interjection "Wait--that's later!" My favorite moment is the last verse:

On the seventh day,
God said, "Why not a nap?"

And the songs just ends. I love it.

On my bike ride today, I got to thinking about the Sabbath. Labor Day is sort of a nationwide, secular sabbath in some ways. One of my housemates is out playing tennis with his fiance right now. My boyfriend is headed to a cookout in a bit. I'm coming down with a cold, and it's occurred to me that I may not be able to procure sudaphed from the pharmacy...

Anyway. I like how Justin Roberts framed all of God's questions to himself in a "why not?" formula. I think that sort of question is the only way Duke can justify having classes on Labor Day. If you asked "why?" to the question of whether to take Labor Day off, the answer is clear: to let employees have a day to rest and rejuvenate; to allow for time to catch up on the kinds of things that slip through the cracks during a daily routine; to encourage family time and community building.

But if you asked "why not?", the answer is equally clear: there is no tangible proof of the benefit of a day off from work and classes, because the only visible result of a random vacation day is the lack of work getting done.

Of course, the idea of a sabbath isn't about us at all. Abraham Joshua Heschel put it succinctly in his book The Sabbath: "the world had already been created and will survive without the help of
man." Sabbath done right should take our focus off all the things that "need" to get done. It should be a reminder that the fate of the world is not, in fact, in our hands.

And with that, I'm going to get back to my Hebrew homework. Hmmm.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

You Are a Very Big God

I wrote this reflection while on a house retreat this past weekend.
__________

I am sitting by the pond on a bed of moss. It is a beautiful day out. It's cooler than it has been, I've found a patch of shade, and there's a slight breeze rustling through the trees. This side of the pond has something of a path along the edge. At the far corner of the pond, there's a statue of a woman--maybe Mary, though there aren't any features that would necessarily distinguish her as such.

You don't play in the woods as much as I did growing up without forming an attachment with trees, rocks, earth. I'm not really into natural theology, especially in the super-sentimental form in which see I see it a lot these days. But there's something freeing about walking barefoot through grass, something steadying about lying on stone.

You can't totally romanticize it--the last time I went shoeless in grass for an extended period of time, I got chiggers, and an unidentified bug just bit my foot. But I like that fact. Nature provides nourishment of all kinds, but it isn't safe. Sounds familiar. And I think we become less able to connect to the natural world the more we hide from it in glass and concrete, the more we distract ourselves from it with technology. The less we think we need trees and earth and sky, the less we are able to see, to understand, to learn from them.

The song "Indescribable," made famous by Chris Tomlin, was actually written by Laura Storey. Where he sings, "You are amazing, God," she originally wrote, "You are a very big God." I used to make fun of that, but now I think we use the word "amazing" so much that it has lost some of its import. We need to be able, with childlike wonder, to see and be wowed by God's bigness.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

A Rant About Worship

Don't worry, I'm not actually going to go on a rant about worship. Not right now, anyway. I just wanted to call attention to this post over at Evangel, the blog of First Things magazine. Make sure to click on the links within the post.

A Prayer for Study (from Doctor Johnson's Prayers)

"Almighty God, in whose hands are all the powers of man; who givest understanding, and takest it away; who, as it seemeth good unto Thee, enlightenest the thoughts of the simple, and darkenest the meditations of the wise, be present with me in my studies and enquiries.

Grant, O Lord, that I may not lavish away the life which Thou hast given me on useless trifles, nor waste it in vain searches after things which Thou hast hidden from me.

Enable me, by thy Holy Spirit, so to shun sloth and negligence, that every day may discharge part of the task which Thou hast allotted me; and so further with thy help that labour which, without thy help, must be ineffectual, that I may obtain, in all my undertakings, such success as will most promote thy glory, and the salvation of my own soul, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen."

—From Doctor Johnson’s Prayers edited by Elton Trueblood

 

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