Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I Have Decided to Follow Jesus

The following is a slightly tweaked version of a reflection I wrote in my spiritual formation class today. The prompt was to write about a decision.

Yesterday, on the way home, I found a Romans Road pamphlet in the bathroom at a gas station in Thomasville. It's one of those things that takes you through a few passages of Scripture, laying out the basics--"all have sinned"; "the wages of sin is death"; "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us"; "whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved"--all from Romans (hence "Romans Road"--this one even had a road map design in the background). The final panel of the pamphlet has what I've heard called "the sinner's prayer," and it asks if you're ready to make a decision. Are you ready to accept Jesus Christ into your heart? I chuckled to myself and stuck it in my purse.

Last night, I had a conversation about the pamphlet--more so about evangelism in general--with my boyfriend, who comes from an evangelical background. He's a professional musician, and he sings and talks about Jesus at his shows--in coffee houses, shopping malls, bars, you name it. He has been called first and foremost to the un-churched and the de-churched. He tells me stories about "leading people to Christ." He asked me last night how many people I had led to Christ--not in a "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" kind of way, just out of curiosity.

My answer? None. We Methodists don't talk like that. We like to be respectful of other people's beliefs. It reminded me of when one of my best friends started coming to youth group in high school. I was not responsible for her presence there--in fact, she later asked me why I had never invited her to church. Because she had been Unitarian up until then! As it turns out, she was later baptized in that church and is now in seminary. And it never occurred to me to invite her to youth group. Apparently I was worried she might find pizza and name games offensive.

I know that every Christian is called to witness. For Christ's sake (heh), I just wrote a paper on Matthew 28, where Jesus commands his disciples to "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit." Heck, in my supremely geeky act of reading in my copy of the United Methodist Book of Discipline last night, I saw it right there in a list of the responsibilities of an ordained elder: "leading people to faith in Jesus Christ."

See, I never made a decision to let Jesus into my heart. I've had my moments of renewal over the years, sure, but I've never not been a Christian. That decision was made for me long before I was born. Going to church was never a choice. Being a Christian was never a choice. It was and is an identity. I never really had to decide to be a Christian. No wonder I'm uncomfortable facilitating that decision for others.

A few months ago, a friend and I were talking about family and significant others. His parents were Southern Baptist missionaries when he was growing up. His girlfriend is Catholic. "My parents love her," he said. "My dad's only concern is that she might not be 'a born-again Christian'." I paused, then replied, "I think my dad's concern with my boyfriend is that he is."

That decision. It is of the utmost importance to some Christians and a foreign, even frightening concept to others. The body of Christ is so much more broken than we realize, and it some times and places it has been over precisely this. We can't figure out how to talk about actively claiming a given identity, or how to form an identity from a decision. But we'll all sing the same hymn: "I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back."

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Our God Is With Us (Video)

I made this. Yay.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Postlib or Emerging? (Video Link)

This is hilarious...and I feel like most of you will think I'm crazy if you watch this.

The Weepies // Be My Thrill

A good friend introduced me to The Weepies several years back, and I was instantly taken in by this husband and wife folk/pop duo. Having heard too late that they were in Raleigh this month, I downloaded their newest album, Be My Thrill. I've only had one listen through, but I can already tell that this music has the same addictive, utterly charming qualities of The Weepies' older releases. (By the way--favorite tunes of mine include World Spins Madly On, Gotta Have You and Take It From Me.)

"Charming" is my favorite adjective for The Weepies. Deb Talan and Steve Tannen, both musicians in their own right, trade lead vocals (Deb's voice is beautiful in its uniqueness--take a listen) and back each other up with close harmonies threaded over pop-tinged folk, cozying up to full but spacious band arrangements. And their lyrics are unassuming and genuine. Here's a verse from track 4, "I Was Made for Sunny Days":

Found a book you gave me
When we were first in bloom
When I thought that you might save
me
from the dark side of the moon
Instead we both went walking

through the shadows and the gloom
And we never did stop talking

And you still light up the room


I like that for the truth of it--the expectations we have about relationships saving us, when maybe really they give us companions with whom to walk through the valley.

Deb and Steve have two kids now, and their Be My Thrill tour was their first time on the road since 2006. According to their Twitter feed, among the four of them they had 13 loads of post-tour laundry to do. Part of the appeal of The Weepies for me is that Deb and Steve seem so down-to-earth, even with an album hitting #34 on the Billboard chart in its first week out.

Friday, November 26, 2010

What I'm Reading #12: For the Beauty of the Church (W. David O. Taylor, ed.)

For the Beauty of the Church: Casting a Vision for the Arts, edited by W. David O. Taylor

Last April, I was invited to perform at an artists' reception for New Creation Arts Group, the student arts group at Duke Divinity School that I didn't even know existed at the time (I was not very plugged in at all last year). By mid-May, I was one of two co-leaders for the group. I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing, but I had caught wind of something that fascinated me: the power of theology through the arts to educate, transform, worship and more. Despite having been embedded in the arts all my life, I had thought little about theology and the arts formally except in a historical context--I took an art history course on Gothic Cathedrals, an icon theology class, a few literature and writing courses that had to do with religion or spirituality, etc. Suddenly I was very interested in how the arts can and should be a part of the local church here and now.

Having been thrown into leadership in an area that was still new to me, I looked around for something to read. For the Beauty of the Church immediately jumped out at me. The editor, David Taylor, is a Th.D. student at Duke; Jeremy Begbie, one of the contributors, is the faculty adviser for New Creation and is at the forefront of theology and the arts; and there were a few other familiar names among the authors of this collection of essays. The book emerged from a symposium called "Transforming Culture" and includes essays that provide insights on the arts in the church from various viewpoints: the artist, the pastor, arts in worship, the art patron, etc.

In this book, art is explored as a gift, a calling, a vehicle of worship and relationship-building, a pedagogical tool, and even a danger--the writers do not hesitate to warn the reader of the ways in which the art or artist can be abused or even elevated above the Gospel. Then, too, one writer warns against incorporating only the liturgical arts into the life of the church--this, Joshua Banner writes, creates a false dualism between what happens Sunday morning and what goes on the rest of the week. This was important for me to hear, because I am obsessed with worship and am more than ready to use music, dance, painting and more in that setting, but I need to be reminded of the myriad of ways in which the arts intersect with our lives outside that setting.

This post would get far too long-winded if I tried to summarize each of the essays, so I'll leave you with some favorite quotations and a strong recommendation to pick up this book if the idea of arts in the church inspires you--or, perhaps even more so, if it perplexes you.


Favorite Quotations

"What we do in our churches, when we do what we should be doing, is unuseful! It is better than useful. Does prayer work? Should prayer work? No. Prayer does not work. It does something better than work. Prayer brings us into the life of the one by whom all things were made and are being remade." -- Andy Crouch

"...the most fruitful liturgical artworks are never ends in themselves but rather function as means to deepen the covenantal relationship between God and the gathered congregation." -- John D. Witvliet

"Worship has to do with a God whom no one has ever seen... But worship has to do simultaneously with all the stuff we see wherever we look." -- Eugene Peterson

"Genius is always remarkable for freaking most people out." -- Barbara Nicolosi

"There are two kinds of people in the world: people who are artists and people who are supposed to support them. Figure out which you are and do it with vigor." -- Barbara Nicolosi

"...the arts are made by people for people--each as intricate and organic as the corn my grandfather raised. In this very human endeavor, I have to continually remind myself that the arts are not buttons we push to enhance a sermon. They're not levers we switch to intensify an evangelistic tactic. Art has to do with people we love, and this love bears witness to Christ." -- Joshua Banner

"A full, gospel vision for arts ministry is one that attempts to nourish a wide spectrum of the arts, both inside and outside the church building, both within and beyond a Sunday service. If we engage only the so-called liturgical arts, we are modeling an unfortunate dualism that separates Sundays from the rest of the week." -- Joshua Banner

"Excellence does glorify God, but our pursuit of excellence should never reduce our artists to being means to an end. We glorify God not just with our final art presentation; we glorify him in the gracious and patient way we engage in the process of artmaking." -- Joshua Banner

"...our goal as Christians is not to be polished and impressive, but to be true." -- David Taylor

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

What I'm Reading #11: Rise Up and Sing (Lex Buckley)

Rise Up and Sing: Equipping the Female Worship Leader, by Lex Buckley

I ordered this book when I stumbled across it on Amazon. I recently started leading worship monthly at the contemporary service at Orange United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill, and I was beginning to run into quirks and snags that come with being a female worship leader--for example, for the next time I lead worship at Orange, I had to completely redo one of the charts because it's simply not available in a key that's good for the female voice. I realize I'm fortunate to be able to do that--not every worship leader has the skills or the software to make something like that happen. Anyway, I by no means feel called to occupy the role of worship leader long-term, but I was interested to hear from other female worship leaders.

Lex Buckley is currently leading worship with her husband at River City Church in Jacksonville, FL. Being me, I scoped out their website. I liked the "wear a crash helmet, not a tie" tagline (do they know that's Annie Dillard?). But, being me, I wasn't fond of the "religion-free" banner that popped up the second time I loaded the home page. Anyway. That's another issue. RCC is a plant of St. Mary's in London. I'm not clear on whether St. Mary's is Church of England or what--they received some help from the Bishop of London at some point...anyway.

Rise Up and Sing
is essentially a primer for the new or inexperienced worship leader. Buckley and the other contributors (including Beth Redman, Christy Nockels, and Kathryn Scott) give practical tips for how to determine whether you ought to pursue being a lead worshipper, how to lead a band, how to work with your pastor, how to deal with gender issues, etc. They highlight important qualities like humility, communication and relationships, and I appreciated that they were intentional about including sections intended to be read by a female worship leader and her male pastor, if different genders are a part of the leadership dynamic in a church setting. They discuss the ins and outs, pros and cons of leading from guitar or keys or without any instrument, what sort of preparation is necessary to lead worship, how to know the congregation and to be creative in worship without leaving them behind. The book went really quickly for me partly because this isn't dense or profound writing and partly because a lot of what the book had to say was helpful, but they were things I had picked up along the way already.

I was a little dissatisfied with how they took gender roles at face value. I absolutely believe that there are fundamental differences between men and women, in a generalized sort of way. But chapter 2 starts with Buckley gushing about how fun it is to be a girl--to dress up, wear makeup, and go shopping. OK, fine. Even I need a chick flick every now and then, and I like to be pretty. For what it is, this book is practical and useful, and it's good to see at least someone acknowledging the gender divide among worship leaders, but I wanted something a little...meatier. I get that this isn't an academic work, and maybe that's what I need. Maybe I'll just have to write it myself. :)


Favorite Quotations

"It seems that God often sets limitations around our gifts so that we lean on each other and let another person shine where we don't."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should!"

"Our musicianship must not get in the way of our leading worship, but rather facilitate it and give us a form foundation from which to lead."

"Diversity is one of our strengths as a church, but it makes leading worship tricky sometimes. We want to make people feel safe when they have stepped out... We don't want to 'go for it' if that means leaving people behind; yet, we also don't want to hold back from following where the Holy Spirit is leading just because we are trying to make sure everyone feels comfortable."

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Rise Up and Sing...Ladies?

Once a month, I lead worship at the Pathways contemporary service at Orange United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill. This is pretty outside my comfort zone on a lot of levels, but I enjoy it, and I'm getting a little more comfortable with it. I led this morning, and although it went well, I was still feeling pretty nervous, still feeling like I come up short in that role--which in some ways is fine, because I have no intention of being, you know, "a worship leader" full-time in the sense of leading a praise band.

But after worship, a friend came up to me and told me that I did well, which was nice, but then she said something that struck me. She said it's meaningful for her to hear a female leading worship, because it seems to her that every time she turns on K-LOVE (Christian contemporary radio), it's a guy singing. I, too, have noticed a dearth of female worship leaders, and it shows even in the song arrangements that are available. It was cool for me to hear from her, though--it reminded me that even if I'm not totally comfortable in that position, simply being a woman in leadership in the church means something.

A little while back, I bought a book called Rise Up and Sing: Equipping the Female Worship Leader. I read about the first chapter and then got derailed with schoolwork. I may revisit that book over Thanksgiving, and I'll let you know what I think. In the meantime, do any of you worship in a contemporary service that's led musically by a woman? Or, for that matter, if you're in a traditional setting, is there a female preacher? If you're from a tradition that limits female leadership, how do you feel about that, or is it even something that crosses your mind?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

What Matters Now?

This is a mildly edited version of a reflection I write in my writing spiritual formation group the other day. The prompt was a simple question: "What matters now?" Clearly, my reflection devolved into a quasi-rant, and although I edited out a few things, including strong language (*sigh*), I chose to leave it largely intact. Take it or leave it.

I feel like my life has been lived in the awkward space between what matters and what should matter—that is, what matters to me and what matters to family, friends, society, etc. And, just to make things more complicated, I think there is a third category: what matters to God.

Of course, that one tends to be harder to figure out, so I'm constantly trying to decide whether God reveals what matters to him [sic—we need a new pronoun for God] through the desires and passions I think he has placed on my heart, or whether God does so through the words and actions of others, trying to decide when either of those is the case, and trying to decide whether sometimes it might actually be both.

I wish all my experiences and hopes came with divinely ordained labels: "This doesn't matter to God. Let it go." "This is really important to God. Take good care of it."

OK, so—so does matter? I'm constantly engaged in arguments over what matters in the church. Just the other day, I was turning my nose up at a pastor who did something in worship that I found distasteful. I felt a little ashamed of my judgments after the sermon that senior M.Div. student Carlos Smith preached this past Tuesday in Goodson Chapel, where he chastized Christians for spending too much time and energy trying to decide who's right or wrong, in or out. I can be kind of a jerk about things I think matter to me and to God. I know I shouldn't do that.

But you know what? I still think that thing the pastor did was stupid. Maybe there was a good reason for it, though. That reason probably wouldn't be enough for me to start using that approach, but maybe it's there.

Maybe what I need to figure out isn't just what matters but how I allow it to matter. Can't I have things that are important to me without needing to dis other approaches? If something seems to matter, can't I just be excited about it without thumbing my nose at people who see things differently?

If the church would be more passionate about loving God and his people than about condemning gays and Muslims to hell, maybe we wouldn't look like such jerks. And when we look like jerks, we make God look like one too.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Lamentation as Honesty Before God

For my worship class this week, we were assigned an exercise in Lawrence Hull Stookey's Let the Whole Church Say Amen!, to write prayers of lament. Here are a few important points Stookey made in his introduction, followed by my own prayer of lament:

"Probably most Christians do much more lamenting over the back fence than in the house of the Lord... People who complain are looked upon as lacking in faith. One is supposed to trust God in every circumstance without complaint. The silver lining of every cloud is to be identified at once, no matter how tragic the circumstances... Those who suffer the greatest pain thereby feel excluded... Good lamentation is honesty before the God who already knows how we feel... To put a smiley face before the All-Knowing One is to engage in deceit. Furthermore, God is both willing and able to accept whatever venom we spew out. Not only to accept it, but to redeem it, to transform it."

An individual prayer of lament based on Psalm 55:

Show yourself to me, God!
I need to know that you are here.
I need to know that you will not turn away,
That you will not betray me.
Listen to me, and come!

I am shaken to my core,
I am broken and terrified.
I wish I could break free from myself,
To leave this body that writhes in agony,
Or to crawl deep inside and shut myself out,
To silence the screaming inside
And rest, if only for a moment.

How can this happen?
How can it be that the ones I trusted,
My friends, my family,
Hand me over as if I were nothing to them?
I can handle the taunts of the enemy,
But this I cannot bear:
Happy memories turned to searing brands in my mind,
People and places I loved showing the darkness within,
Poisoning what I thought was a deep well
Of nourishment and cleansing.

Make them stop!
I am crying out to you, God;
No more running to them,
For their hearts are hard.
But your heart, O God, is neither false nor fickle,
And I will beat upon the door of your heart
Until it opens and lets me in,
And I will come into the presence of your mercy.

Human promises are breakable;
They are shattered by a word.
But your Word, O Lord, stands forever,
And if your Word is my foundation,
My feet will never slip
And I will stand on your grace.
This is too heavy for me,
So I give it over to you.
I trust you will know what to do with it
Better than I ever could,
So I empty myself of this anger and grief,
And I wait for your healing touch. AMEN.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Veteran's Day: Dona Nobis Pacem

I posted last night about Williams Byrd's Mass for Four Voices, and we're singing the final movement, the Agnus Dei, in Vespers today as a prayer for peace on Veteran's Day. To me, that means peace in the world but also peace in the hearts, minds and bodies of soldiers who have suffered in ways about which people only recently are starting to care. I'll be singing for my great-grandfather, one of the first flying chaplains in WWI; my grandfather, an Air Force vet; and Tony and Anthony Mitchell--I haven't met Anthony (my boyfriend Gary's oldest brother) yet, but he's deployed to Korea right now. Prayers for his and every other soldier's safe return. I'll also be singing for people like my godfather, who left Westpoint after he decided he could not be in the military and be a Christian. I pray that people like him might be prophets of that great day when "they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more" (Isaiah 2:4). Dona nobis pacem.


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Et Ascendit In Caelum

This year, I am honored (and more than a little intimidated) to be a member of the Duke Chapel Vespers Ensemble. I spent two years in the choir and then took a two-year hiatus, so coming back has been an adjustment. It's one of several things in my life right now that are difficult and challenging but for good reason.

We had a concert this past Sunday, which went fine, but the music was very much Baroque (Bach, and Schutz's German Requiem), and this is a Renaissance choir at heart (or maybe just at my heart, but hey). So I was thrilled when tonight at rehearsal we delved into William Byrd's Mass for Four Voices, a work I actually sang with Vespers three years ago. I distinctly remember spending my spring break listening to the Tallis Scholars' recording of the work repeatedly on my iPod in preparation for the concert. Even better, my spring break was spent at a Benedictine monastery in New Mexico (which, if you've ever read my blog at all, you've probably heard of), Christ in the Desert.

The Credo movement was always my favorite. I'm not sure why; maybe it's just how I love the way Byrd does text painting in the movement of the music--for example, at the line et ascendit in caelum ("and he ascended into heaven"), the sopranos soar into their upper range. This is by far the longest movement, as it is a setting of the Nicene Creed. It's quite lovely. Check out the rest of the Mass, all on YouTube or iTunes.


Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Downstairs Bedroom at 421 Pine Road

In my 'Writing As a Spiritual Practice' spiritual formation group today, our prompt was to draw the floor plan of our childhood home and then write about one room. My drawing was awful and isn't worth reproducing, except maybe for the Christmas tree I drew in the living room. But here's what I wrote about the downstairs bedroom at 421 Pine Road.

I have a hard time recalling the exact layout of the house at 421 Pine Road. Some of the problem is that I am spatially challenged. Some of it is that the layout is similar to that of my parents' current house. There are a few differences. 421 Pine Road has three bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs while 2335 Richardson Drive has all four on the second floor. And 421 Pine Road has a spacious laundry room that was great for giving the dog a bath, stashing muddy boots, and being in time out. 2335 Richardson Drive just has a laundry closet by the garage, so all the laundry has to be corralled more efficiently.

I had the best room at 421 Pine Road. Well, I started upstairs, but by the time we got to three Howell children, I moved downstairs and took over the guest bedroom. It never stopped being the guest bedroom. I got used to relocating to the extra bed in Grace's room when company came.

My room was probably bigger than my parents', and I had my own bathroom, where one hermit crab after another lived for several years. The huge mirror that all but covered one wall always frightened me after an encounter with the "Bloody Mary" legend, where you say "Bloody Mary" 3 times and turn around. You're supposed to see Queen Mary's severed head in the mirror, and I swore I did. The layout of the bathroom allowed for even more terror in the form of my dad slipping a hand through the door to turn off the light while I was in the shower. He did this the day after we watched the movie Psycho, and I screamed bloody murder.

Back to my room. There were glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, painstakingly placed in the patterns of constellations among meticulously spaced out planets by my dad and me, who subscribed to an astronomy magazine for much of my childhood. The stars were more concentrated in the corner originally occupied by my single bed, and they felt far away when a double bed replaced it and switched sides of the room.

My walls were a hideous sea foam green, a color that I picked out and which my mother allowed me to use for some reason. But it was mostly covered by posters, anyway. Star Wars, sports heroes, later on musicians and actors. I seem to recall a calendar or two being dismantled so that pictures of horses and dolphins could serve as decorations. The furniture was solid wood, a whole bedroom set that now resides at 913 Burch Avenue here in Durham, but not in my upstairs bedroom because it is too dang heavy.

Even though I had my own room, I still longed for a secret space. I remember one night when my mom found me in my closet with the light on, reading far past my bedtime as I so often did. My first-floor bedroom was never wholly private. I was right next to the den, so on more than one occasion I emerged bleary-eyed to make my parents and their friends feel guilty for vocalizing their excitement over a late-night basketball game. As I got older, though, I began to join in, cheering on Duke and appeasing my father, whose superstitions about luck in sports often dictated where everyone had to sit and even whether certain people could stay in the room for the final minutes of a close game. I grew to adolescence on the threshold between my bedroom and the den.

When we moved, the new inhabitants let me keep the key. I wonder if they've changed the locks.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I Have Decided to Follow Jesus

The following is a slightly tweaked version of a reflection I wrote in my spiritual formation class today. The prompt was to write about a decision.

Yesterday, on the way home, I found a Romans Road pamphlet in the bathroom at a gas station in Thomasville. It's one of those things that takes you through a few passages of Scripture, laying out the basics--"all have sinned"; "the wages of sin is death"; "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us"; "whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved"--all from Romans (hence "Romans Road"--this one even had a road map design in the background). The final panel of the pamphlet has what I've heard called "the sinner's prayer," and it asks if you're ready to make a decision. Are you ready to accept Jesus Christ into your heart? I chuckled to myself and stuck it in my purse.

Last night, I had a conversation about the pamphlet--more so about evangelism in general--with my boyfriend, who comes from an evangelical background. He's a professional musician, and he sings and talks about Jesus at his shows--in coffee houses, shopping malls, bars, you name it. He has been called first and foremost to the un-churched and the de-churched. He tells me stories about "leading people to Christ." He asked me last night how many people I had led to Christ--not in a "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" kind of way, just out of curiosity.

My answer? None. We Methodists don't talk like that. We like to be respectful of other people's beliefs. It reminded me of when one of my best friends started coming to youth group in high school. I was not responsible for her presence there--in fact, she later asked me why I had never invited her to church. Because she had been Unitarian up until then! As it turns out, she was later baptized in that church and is now in seminary. And it never occurred to me to invite her to youth group. Apparently I was worried she might find pizza and name games offensive.

I know that every Christian is called to witness. For Christ's sake (heh), I just wrote a paper on Matthew 28, where Jesus commands his disciples to "Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit." Heck, in my supremely geeky act of reading in my copy of the United Methodist Book of Discipline last night, I saw it right there in a list of the responsibilities of an ordained elder: "leading people to faith in Jesus Christ."

See, I never made a decision to let Jesus into my heart. I've had my moments of renewal over the years, sure, but I've never not been a Christian. That decision was made for me long before I was born. Going to church was never a choice. Being a Christian was never a choice. It was and is an identity. I never really had to decide to be a Christian. No wonder I'm uncomfortable facilitating that decision for others.

A few months ago, a friend and I were talking about family and significant others. His parents were Southern Baptist missionaries when he was growing up. His girlfriend is Catholic. "My parents love her," he said. "My dad's only concern is that she might not be 'a born-again Christian'." I paused, then replied, "I think my dad's concern with my boyfriend is that he is."

That decision. It is of the utmost importance to some Christians and a foreign, even frightening concept to others. The body of Christ is so much more broken than we realize, and it some times and places it has been over precisely this. We can't figure out how to talk about actively claiming a given identity, or how to form an identity from a decision. But we'll all sing the same hymn: "I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back."

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Our God Is With Us (Video)

I made this. Yay.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Postlib or Emerging? (Video Link)

This is hilarious...and I feel like most of you will think I'm crazy if you watch this.

The Weepies // Be My Thrill

A good friend introduced me to The Weepies several years back, and I was instantly taken in by this husband and wife folk/pop duo. Having heard too late that they were in Raleigh this month, I downloaded their newest album, Be My Thrill. I've only had one listen through, but I can already tell that this music has the same addictive, utterly charming qualities of The Weepies' older releases. (By the way--favorite tunes of mine include World Spins Madly On, Gotta Have You and Take It From Me.)

"Charming" is my favorite adjective for The Weepies. Deb Talan and Steve Tannen, both musicians in their own right, trade lead vocals (Deb's voice is beautiful in its uniqueness--take a listen) and back each other up with close harmonies threaded over pop-tinged folk, cozying up to full but spacious band arrangements. And their lyrics are unassuming and genuine. Here's a verse from track 4, "I Was Made for Sunny Days":

Found a book you gave me
When we were first in bloom
When I thought that you might save
me
from the dark side of the moon
Instead we both went walking

through the shadows and the gloom
And we never did stop talking

And you still light up the room


I like that for the truth of it--the expectations we have about relationships saving us, when maybe really they give us companions with whom to walk through the valley.

Deb and Steve have two kids now, and their Be My Thrill tour was their first time on the road since 2006. According to their Twitter feed, among the four of them they had 13 loads of post-tour laundry to do. Part of the appeal of The Weepies for me is that Deb and Steve seem so down-to-earth, even with an album hitting #34 on the Billboard chart in its first week out.

Friday, November 26, 2010

What I'm Reading #12: For the Beauty of the Church (W. David O. Taylor, ed.)

For the Beauty of the Church: Casting a Vision for the Arts, edited by W. David O. Taylor

Last April, I was invited to perform at an artists' reception for New Creation Arts Group, the student arts group at Duke Divinity School that I didn't even know existed at the time (I was not very plugged in at all last year). By mid-May, I was one of two co-leaders for the group. I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing, but I had caught wind of something that fascinated me: the power of theology through the arts to educate, transform, worship and more. Despite having been embedded in the arts all my life, I had thought little about theology and the arts formally except in a historical context--I took an art history course on Gothic Cathedrals, an icon theology class, a few literature and writing courses that had to do with religion or spirituality, etc. Suddenly I was very interested in how the arts can and should be a part of the local church here and now.

Having been thrown into leadership in an area that was still new to me, I looked around for something to read. For the Beauty of the Church immediately jumped out at me. The editor, David Taylor, is a Th.D. student at Duke; Jeremy Begbie, one of the contributors, is the faculty adviser for New Creation and is at the forefront of theology and the arts; and there were a few other familiar names among the authors of this collection of essays. The book emerged from a symposium called "Transforming Culture" and includes essays that provide insights on the arts in the church from various viewpoints: the artist, the pastor, arts in worship, the art patron, etc.

In this book, art is explored as a gift, a calling, a vehicle of worship and relationship-building, a pedagogical tool, and even a danger--the writers do not hesitate to warn the reader of the ways in which the art or artist can be abused or even elevated above the Gospel. Then, too, one writer warns against incorporating only the liturgical arts into the life of the church--this, Joshua Banner writes, creates a false dualism between what happens Sunday morning and what goes on the rest of the week. This was important for me to hear, because I am obsessed with worship and am more than ready to use music, dance, painting and more in that setting, but I need to be reminded of the myriad of ways in which the arts intersect with our lives outside that setting.

This post would get far too long-winded if I tried to summarize each of the essays, so I'll leave you with some favorite quotations and a strong recommendation to pick up this book if the idea of arts in the church inspires you--or, perhaps even more so, if it perplexes you.


Favorite Quotations

"What we do in our churches, when we do what we should be doing, is unuseful! It is better than useful. Does prayer work? Should prayer work? No. Prayer does not work. It does something better than work. Prayer brings us into the life of the one by whom all things were made and are being remade." -- Andy Crouch

"...the most fruitful liturgical artworks are never ends in themselves but rather function as means to deepen the covenantal relationship between God and the gathered congregation." -- John D. Witvliet

"Worship has to do with a God whom no one has ever seen... But worship has to do simultaneously with all the stuff we see wherever we look." -- Eugene Peterson

"Genius is always remarkable for freaking most people out." -- Barbara Nicolosi

"There are two kinds of people in the world: people who are artists and people who are supposed to support them. Figure out which you are and do it with vigor." -- Barbara Nicolosi

"...the arts are made by people for people--each as intricate and organic as the corn my grandfather raised. In this very human endeavor, I have to continually remind myself that the arts are not buttons we push to enhance a sermon. They're not levers we switch to intensify an evangelistic tactic. Art has to do with people we love, and this love bears witness to Christ." -- Joshua Banner

"A full, gospel vision for arts ministry is one that attempts to nourish a wide spectrum of the arts, both inside and outside the church building, both within and beyond a Sunday service. If we engage only the so-called liturgical arts, we are modeling an unfortunate dualism that separates Sundays from the rest of the week." -- Joshua Banner

"Excellence does glorify God, but our pursuit of excellence should never reduce our artists to being means to an end. We glorify God not just with our final art presentation; we glorify him in the gracious and patient way we engage in the process of artmaking." -- Joshua Banner

"...our goal as Christians is not to be polished and impressive, but to be true." -- David Taylor

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

What I'm Reading #11: Rise Up and Sing (Lex Buckley)

Rise Up and Sing: Equipping the Female Worship Leader, by Lex Buckley

I ordered this book when I stumbled across it on Amazon. I recently started leading worship monthly at the contemporary service at Orange United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill, and I was beginning to run into quirks and snags that come with being a female worship leader--for example, for the next time I lead worship at Orange, I had to completely redo one of the charts because it's simply not available in a key that's good for the female voice. I realize I'm fortunate to be able to do that--not every worship leader has the skills or the software to make something like that happen. Anyway, I by no means feel called to occupy the role of worship leader long-term, but I was interested to hear from other female worship leaders.

Lex Buckley is currently leading worship with her husband at River City Church in Jacksonville, FL. Being me, I scoped out their website. I liked the "wear a crash helmet, not a tie" tagline (do they know that's Annie Dillard?). But, being me, I wasn't fond of the "religion-free" banner that popped up the second time I loaded the home page. Anyway. That's another issue. RCC is a plant of St. Mary's in London. I'm not clear on whether St. Mary's is Church of England or what--they received some help from the Bishop of London at some point...anyway.

Rise Up and Sing
is essentially a primer for the new or inexperienced worship leader. Buckley and the other contributors (including Beth Redman, Christy Nockels, and Kathryn Scott) give practical tips for how to determine whether you ought to pursue being a lead worshipper, how to lead a band, how to work with your pastor, how to deal with gender issues, etc. They highlight important qualities like humility, communication and relationships, and I appreciated that they were intentional about including sections intended to be read by a female worship leader and her male pastor, if different genders are a part of the leadership dynamic in a church setting. They discuss the ins and outs, pros and cons of leading from guitar or keys or without any instrument, what sort of preparation is necessary to lead worship, how to know the congregation and to be creative in worship without leaving them behind. The book went really quickly for me partly because this isn't dense or profound writing and partly because a lot of what the book had to say was helpful, but they were things I had picked up along the way already.

I was a little dissatisfied with how they took gender roles at face value. I absolutely believe that there are fundamental differences between men and women, in a generalized sort of way. But chapter 2 starts with Buckley gushing about how fun it is to be a girl--to dress up, wear makeup, and go shopping. OK, fine. Even I need a chick flick every now and then, and I like to be pretty. For what it is, this book is practical and useful, and it's good to see at least someone acknowledging the gender divide among worship leaders, but I wanted something a little...meatier. I get that this isn't an academic work, and maybe that's what I need. Maybe I'll just have to write it myself. :)


Favorite Quotations

"It seems that God often sets limitations around our gifts so that we lean on each other and let another person shine where we don't."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should!"

"Our musicianship must not get in the way of our leading worship, but rather facilitate it and give us a form foundation from which to lead."

"Diversity is one of our strengths as a church, but it makes leading worship tricky sometimes. We want to make people feel safe when they have stepped out... We don't want to 'go for it' if that means leaving people behind; yet, we also don't want to hold back from following where the Holy Spirit is leading just because we are trying to make sure everyone feels comfortable."

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Rise Up and Sing...Ladies?

Once a month, I lead worship at the Pathways contemporary service at Orange United Methodist Church in Chapel Hill. This is pretty outside my comfort zone on a lot of levels, but I enjoy it, and I'm getting a little more comfortable with it. I led this morning, and although it went well, I was still feeling pretty nervous, still feeling like I come up short in that role--which in some ways is fine, because I have no intention of being, you know, "a worship leader" full-time in the sense of leading a praise band.

But after worship, a friend came up to me and told me that I did well, which was nice, but then she said something that struck me. She said it's meaningful for her to hear a female leading worship, because it seems to her that every time she turns on K-LOVE (Christian contemporary radio), it's a guy singing. I, too, have noticed a dearth of female worship leaders, and it shows even in the song arrangements that are available. It was cool for me to hear from her, though--it reminded me that even if I'm not totally comfortable in that position, simply being a woman in leadership in the church means something.

A little while back, I bought a book called Rise Up and Sing: Equipping the Female Worship Leader. I read about the first chapter and then got derailed with schoolwork. I may revisit that book over Thanksgiving, and I'll let you know what I think. In the meantime, do any of you worship in a contemporary service that's led musically by a woman? Or, for that matter, if you're in a traditional setting, is there a female preacher? If you're from a tradition that limits female leadership, how do you feel about that, or is it even something that crosses your mind?

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

What Matters Now?

This is a mildly edited version of a reflection I write in my writing spiritual formation group the other day. The prompt was a simple question: "What matters now?" Clearly, my reflection devolved into a quasi-rant, and although I edited out a few things, including strong language (*sigh*), I chose to leave it largely intact. Take it or leave it.

I feel like my life has been lived in the awkward space between what matters and what should matter—that is, what matters to me and what matters to family, friends, society, etc. And, just to make things more complicated, I think there is a third category: what matters to God.

Of course, that one tends to be harder to figure out, so I'm constantly trying to decide whether God reveals what matters to him [sic—we need a new pronoun for God] through the desires and passions I think he has placed on my heart, or whether God does so through the words and actions of others, trying to decide when either of those is the case, and trying to decide whether sometimes it might actually be both.

I wish all my experiences and hopes came with divinely ordained labels: "This doesn't matter to God. Let it go." "This is really important to God. Take good care of it."

OK, so—so does matter? I'm constantly engaged in arguments over what matters in the church. Just the other day, I was turning my nose up at a pastor who did something in worship that I found distasteful. I felt a little ashamed of my judgments after the sermon that senior M.Div. student Carlos Smith preached this past Tuesday in Goodson Chapel, where he chastized Christians for spending too much time and energy trying to decide who's right or wrong, in or out. I can be kind of a jerk about things I think matter to me and to God. I know I shouldn't do that.

But you know what? I still think that thing the pastor did was stupid. Maybe there was a good reason for it, though. That reason probably wouldn't be enough for me to start using that approach, but maybe it's there.

Maybe what I need to figure out isn't just what matters but how I allow it to matter. Can't I have things that are important to me without needing to dis other approaches? If something seems to matter, can't I just be excited about it without thumbing my nose at people who see things differently?

If the church would be more passionate about loving God and his people than about condemning gays and Muslims to hell, maybe we wouldn't look like such jerks. And when we look like jerks, we make God look like one too.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Lamentation as Honesty Before God

For my worship class this week, we were assigned an exercise in Lawrence Hull Stookey's Let the Whole Church Say Amen!, to write prayers of lament. Here are a few important points Stookey made in his introduction, followed by my own prayer of lament:

"Probably most Christians do much more lamenting over the back fence than in the house of the Lord... People who complain are looked upon as lacking in faith. One is supposed to trust God in every circumstance without complaint. The silver lining of every cloud is to be identified at once, no matter how tragic the circumstances... Those who suffer the greatest pain thereby feel excluded... Good lamentation is honesty before the God who already knows how we feel... To put a smiley face before the All-Knowing One is to engage in deceit. Furthermore, God is both willing and able to accept whatever venom we spew out. Not only to accept it, but to redeem it, to transform it."

An individual prayer of lament based on Psalm 55:

Show yourself to me, God!
I need to know that you are here.
I need to know that you will not turn away,
That you will not betray me.
Listen to me, and come!

I am shaken to my core,
I am broken and terrified.
I wish I could break free from myself,
To leave this body that writhes in agony,
Or to crawl deep inside and shut myself out,
To silence the screaming inside
And rest, if only for a moment.

How can this happen?
How can it be that the ones I trusted,
My friends, my family,
Hand me over as if I were nothing to them?
I can handle the taunts of the enemy,
But this I cannot bear:
Happy memories turned to searing brands in my mind,
People and places I loved showing the darkness within,
Poisoning what I thought was a deep well
Of nourishment and cleansing.

Make them stop!
I am crying out to you, God;
No more running to them,
For their hearts are hard.
But your heart, O God, is neither false nor fickle,
And I will beat upon the door of your heart
Until it opens and lets me in,
And I will come into the presence of your mercy.

Human promises are breakable;
They are shattered by a word.
But your Word, O Lord, stands forever,
And if your Word is my foundation,
My feet will never slip
And I will stand on your grace.
This is too heavy for me,
So I give it over to you.
I trust you will know what to do with it
Better than I ever could,
So I empty myself of this anger and grief,
And I wait for your healing touch. AMEN.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Veteran's Day: Dona Nobis Pacem

I posted last night about Williams Byrd's Mass for Four Voices, and we're singing the final movement, the Agnus Dei, in Vespers today as a prayer for peace on Veteran's Day. To me, that means peace in the world but also peace in the hearts, minds and bodies of soldiers who have suffered in ways about which people only recently are starting to care. I'll be singing for my great-grandfather, one of the first flying chaplains in WWI; my grandfather, an Air Force vet; and Tony and Anthony Mitchell--I haven't met Anthony (my boyfriend Gary's oldest brother) yet, but he's deployed to Korea right now. Prayers for his and every other soldier's safe return. I'll also be singing for people like my godfather, who left Westpoint after he decided he could not be in the military and be a Christian. I pray that people like him might be prophets of that great day when "they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more" (Isaiah 2:4). Dona nobis pacem.


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Et Ascendit In Caelum

This year, I am honored (and more than a little intimidated) to be a member of the Duke Chapel Vespers Ensemble. I spent two years in the choir and then took a two-year hiatus, so coming back has been an adjustment. It's one of several things in my life right now that are difficult and challenging but for good reason.

We had a concert this past Sunday, which went fine, but the music was very much Baroque (Bach, and Schutz's German Requiem), and this is a Renaissance choir at heart (or maybe just at my heart, but hey). So I was thrilled when tonight at rehearsal we delved into William Byrd's Mass for Four Voices, a work I actually sang with Vespers three years ago. I distinctly remember spending my spring break listening to the Tallis Scholars' recording of the work repeatedly on my iPod in preparation for the concert. Even better, my spring break was spent at a Benedictine monastery in New Mexico (which, if you've ever read my blog at all, you've probably heard of), Christ in the Desert.

The Credo movement was always my favorite. I'm not sure why; maybe it's just how I love the way Byrd does text painting in the movement of the music--for example, at the line et ascendit in caelum ("and he ascended into heaven"), the sopranos soar into their upper range. This is by far the longest movement, as it is a setting of the Nicene Creed. It's quite lovely. Check out the rest of the Mass, all on YouTube or iTunes.


Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Downstairs Bedroom at 421 Pine Road

In my 'Writing As a Spiritual Practice' spiritual formation group today, our prompt was to draw the floor plan of our childhood home and then write about one room. My drawing was awful and isn't worth reproducing, except maybe for the Christmas tree I drew in the living room. But here's what I wrote about the downstairs bedroom at 421 Pine Road.

I have a hard time recalling the exact layout of the house at 421 Pine Road. Some of the problem is that I am spatially challenged. Some of it is that the layout is similar to that of my parents' current house. There are a few differences. 421 Pine Road has three bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs while 2335 Richardson Drive has all four on the second floor. And 421 Pine Road has a spacious laundry room that was great for giving the dog a bath, stashing muddy boots, and being in time out. 2335 Richardson Drive just has a laundry closet by the garage, so all the laundry has to be corralled more efficiently.

I had the best room at 421 Pine Road. Well, I started upstairs, but by the time we got to three Howell children, I moved downstairs and took over the guest bedroom. It never stopped being the guest bedroom. I got used to relocating to the extra bed in Grace's room when company came.

My room was probably bigger than my parents', and I had my own bathroom, where one hermit crab after another lived for several years. The huge mirror that all but covered one wall always frightened me after an encounter with the "Bloody Mary" legend, where you say "Bloody Mary" 3 times and turn around. You're supposed to see Queen Mary's severed head in the mirror, and I swore I did. The layout of the bathroom allowed for even more terror in the form of my dad slipping a hand through the door to turn off the light while I was in the shower. He did this the day after we watched the movie Psycho, and I screamed bloody murder.

Back to my room. There were glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, painstakingly placed in the patterns of constellations among meticulously spaced out planets by my dad and me, who subscribed to an astronomy magazine for much of my childhood. The stars were more concentrated in the corner originally occupied by my single bed, and they felt far away when a double bed replaced it and switched sides of the room.

My walls were a hideous sea foam green, a color that I picked out and which my mother allowed me to use for some reason. But it was mostly covered by posters, anyway. Star Wars, sports heroes, later on musicians and actors. I seem to recall a calendar or two being dismantled so that pictures of horses and dolphins could serve as decorations. The furniture was solid wood, a whole bedroom set that now resides at 913 Burch Avenue here in Durham, but not in my upstairs bedroom because it is too dang heavy.

Even though I had my own room, I still longed for a secret space. I remember one night when my mom found me in my closet with the light on, reading far past my bedtime as I so often did. My first-floor bedroom was never wholly private. I was right next to the den, so on more than one occasion I emerged bleary-eyed to make my parents and their friends feel guilty for vocalizing their excitement over a late-night basketball game. As I got older, though, I began to join in, cheering on Duke and appeasing my father, whose superstitions about luck in sports often dictated where everyone had to sit and even whether certain people could stay in the room for the final minutes of a close game. I grew to adolescence on the threshold between my bedroom and the den.

When we moved, the new inhabitants let me keep the key. I wonder if they've changed the locks.

 

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