Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Release Healing Truths

How strong, O Lord, are our desires,
how weak our knowledge of ourselves!
Release in us those healing truths
unconscious pride resists or shelves.

— Fred Pratt Green
"O Christ the Healer" (UMH No. 265)

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

An Environment Where It's OK to Fall

I love Jonathan Acuff. I blogged about his book Stuff Christians Like, based on his blog of the same name. I just came across an article he wrote for CNN, entitled "How to Scandal-Proof Your Church." He lists several wise suggestions, but perhaps my favorite is the first one: "Create an environment where it's OK to fall." So much of the trouble Christians get themselves into comes when sins are repressed, hidden, and generally misunderstood. The church needs to be a place where sins can be confessed in an atmosphere where accountability is real, but so are expectations. If Christianity is all about maintaining an image, we (myself included) will sooner lie to keep up the facade than confess failings...and that is not what the Gospel calls us to do to ourselves and to each other.

A Semicolon

During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." "Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God." – Matthew 14:25-32, NIV

I love this icon. I love the passage it depicts. I love it because I can so strongly identify with the fear and doubt that Peter is feeling. Even the disciples in the boat are exhibiting some of that same fear—some of them may be looking at Peter in concern, but for the most part they seem focused on and worried about their sails. Only Peter is really looking at Jesus, and we can see from the text that it was in his seeing the wind—looking away from Jesus—that he began to sink.

I'm reminded that I blogged about this passage once, in part as a response to controversy that erupted over the release of the film The Golden Compass. Parents feared their children would see the movie and doubt their faith, which would naturally lead to an endless spiral into the murky depths of sin and godlessness. But I read that book when I was a kid—I read everything of Philip Pullman's—and I'm in seminary. So there's that.

What reminded me of that old blog post was the quote I used to start it off. It's from Frederick Buechner, a hero of mine, and it's something that has remained with me and which I find comforting in times of doubt. Buechner says, "Without somehow destroying me in the process, how could God reveal himself in a way that would leave no room for doubt? If there were no room for doubt, there would be no room for me." God knows us better than we know ourselves, and that means he knows just how prone we are to falter and to lose focus—to look at the wind rather than at Jesus. God isn't so naïve as to think that once we come to faith we will be able to rid ourselves of all doubt and fear. He makes room for us.

This reminds me of yet another quote, this one from the author Wendell Berry. It's a longer one, but it gets at why God reveals himself in ways that can be ascertained only by faith, in ways that are by no means irrefutable in the eyes of reason:

"Christ did not descend from the cross except into the grave. And why not otherwise? Wouldn't it have put fine comical expressions on the faces of the scribes and the chief priests and the soldiers if at that moment He had come down in power and glory? Why didn't He do it? Why hasn't He done it at any one of a thousand good times between then and now?

I knew the answer. I knew it a long time before I could admit it, for all the suffering of the world is in it. He didn't, He hasn't, because from the moment He did, He would be the absolute tyrant of the world and we would be His slaves. Even those who hated Him and hated one another and hated their own souls would have to believe in Him then. From that moment the possibility that we might be bound to Him and He to us and us to one another by love forever would be ended.

And so, I thought, He must forbear to reveal His power and glory by presenting Himself as Himself, and must be present only in the ordinary miracle of the existence of His creatures. Those who wish to see Him must see Him in the poor, the hungry, the hurt, the wordless creatures, the groaning and travailing beautiful world."

Faith is necessary because if God is to be a God of love, the worship of him can never be forced. I'm apparently on a quote kick—here’s another one I recalled: "He who remains good simply because he must serves necessity, not God." That's from John M. Patrick. We are called to serve and love God, and God will not secure our loyalty through uncaringly enslaving us.

I love the passage about Peter walking on water because it shows that although our doubt is not exactly pleasing to God, he doesn't give us over to it, either. Jesus rebukes Peter, but he doesn't leave him to drown. The question Jesus asks—"Why did you doubt?"—sounds rhetorical, but I wonder if that wouldn't be a helpful question to ask ourselves in times where we are floundering in water on which we once walked. "Why did you doubt?" "Because I was afraid." "Why were you afraid?" "Because I saw the wind and it frightened me." "What did you have to stop looking at in order even to see the wind?" "You, my Lord."

Peter has the faith necessary. He had already taken a few steps across the sea before he sank. Having faith and having doubt are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps my favorite Bible verse is Mark 9:24—"I believe; help my unbelief!" The profession of faith is separated from the confession of doubt by nothing more than a semicolon.

Jesus treats our doubt with a gentle rebuke and an honest question. I do not treat my own doubts and fears so gently. I often find myself in situations where it is almost as if I were willing myself to drown as punishment for even looking at the wind in the first place. But the doubt is a part of my humanity, and it is not up to me to decide how long I must thrash about in the waves.

The band Caedmon's Call sings, "Waters rose as my doubts reigned / My sandcastle faith it slipped away / I found myself standing on your grace / It had been there all the time." Jesus' hand is outstretched. "On Christ the solid rock I stand / All other ground is sinking sand."

Repentance of an Anti-Gay Bigot (a quote from Mark Osler)

"Are gays and lesbians sinners? It doesn't seem that way to me (other than the way in which we are all sinners), but at some level I really don't care. If it is a sin, it is not my sin. The sin that I need to discern, root out and identify is my own. One of those sins has been bigotry and senseless cruelty. I atone for and seek forgiveness for that now and here." — Mark Osler (read more here)

Monday, October 25, 2010

Freedom and Responsibility

With freedom comes responsibility. With the freedom of speech comes the responsibility to listen. Are we willing to listen, or do we just want to hear ourselves talk?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Two Sculptures

The first image below was shown in my intro worship class this morning. It really struck me, and I think part of it was that it reminded me of the figure in the second image. I don't have much to say on these, but they are beautiful and invite contemplation, at least to me.

Frederick Hart, Ex Nihilo, now installed at Washington National Cathedral.

Michelangelo, Il Prigioni Ridestantesi.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

I am mildly obsessed with this version of this hymn.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

— George Matheson

Monday, October 18, 2010

Michael Franti & Spearhead // The Sound of Sunshine

Last spring, I saw Michael Franti & Spearhead open for John Mayer in Greensboro. Franti put on a killer show. His music and lyrics are uplifting, but he's not afraid to talk about real problems of poverty, gangs, etc. It is clear that the audience matters to him, not only when he opens the stage to any kids who want to come dance to his hit single "Say Hey" but also when he runs through the crowd with his guitar, singing and playing (which was cool in the Greensboro Coliseum, but cooler for my mom and sister when they saw him in the smaller Neighborhood Theatre in Charlotte--they actually got to high-five him).

Franti's music defies and crosses genre barriers. He is a vocal supporter of a number of social justice issues. He's a vegan and hasn't worn shoes in ten years. The son of an Irish-German-American mother and an African-American and Native American father, Franti was adopted by a Finnish-American couple and raised with their 3 biological children and another adopted, African-American brother. His music reflects his diverse background and embraces cultures beyond his heritage.

Franti also made a film, I Know I'm Not Alone: A Musician's Search for the Human Cost of War, in which Franti travels to Iraq, Israel and Palestine with a few cameras and a guitar. Franti was tired of seeing news reports on the conflict that paid no attention to the humanity behind it. So he basically went to play music in the streets and to hear people's stories.

So...Michael Franti is pretty freaking amazing. I started this post to recommend his latest CD, The Sound of Sunshine, and got a little distracted. Back on task.

The Sound of Sunshine is *exactly* what the album name suggests. It is freaking auditory sunshine. Franti believes in the power of music to transform mood and renew a sense of purpose, and this CD does just that. And uplifting sound coupled with honest lyrics results in an album about whose message you can really care. Here's the first verse and chorus of one of my favorite songs from it, "Hey Hey Hey":

It's been a long time coming that I had to say
When I wake up in the morning all I do is pray
For some guidance and protection on the streets today
And an answer to the questions I ask everyday
So tell me why do the birds that used to fly here
Tell me why do they come to die here
And all the kids that used to run here
Tell me why do they load their guns here
I remember, in the days when,
We were one heart no need to defend
I just wrap my arms around
Don't give up this song is for you

Hey, hey, hey, no matter how life is today
There's just one thing that I got to say
I won't let another moment slip away
I say hey, hey, hey no matter how life is today
There's just one thing that I got to say
I won't let another moment slip away

Just for good measure, here's a 5-second video clip I took at the concert last March--a little girl who joined Franti for "Say Hey" and was so into it that he gave her the mic. Adorable.


Sunday, October 17, 2010

Understanding God (a quote from Augustine)

"If you understand God, then you're not talking about God." — Augustine (via my good friend Jamie Michaels)

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Why I Still Dress Up for Church

As a child, I had Sunday clothes. The distinction was massive in my elementary school years, when I was a tomboy who kept her hair as short as her parents would allow and who hated wearing dresses. So putting on a dress to go to church was a big deal. The difference was less dramatic once I grew my hair back out and started wearing something besides sweatpants and t-shirts. But I still dressed up.

I remember the first time I wore jeans to church. It was mildly traumatic. I can count on one hand the number of times I've worn jeans to church. I'm sure a lot of my aversion to doing so comes from my family's deep Southern and Christian roots--my grandparents are always dressed to the T, my mother has indefatigable fashion sense, and my dad's a pastor (and not the kind that wears jeans and graphic T's), so he kinda has to dress nicely. I can just see my mother's or grandmother's face (and hear my grandfather's remarks) if they ever saw me at church in jeans.

I don't have a problem with people in general dressing down for church. I emphatically believe that the church should welcome people as they are. I just went clothes shopping; I know how much it costs to maintain a "nice" wardrobe, and I know that in many churches I've attended, plenty of people can't afford that. And I know the dangers of dress code expectations--I've been in churches that felt like highfalutin social clubs, and I spent a lot of time in high school worrying that my Sunday clothes weren't stylish enough compared to the girls in my youth group.

But my dad told me something about a community in Bayonnais, Haiti, that struck me. Haiti is the poorest country in the Americas, according to the Human Development Index. Bayonnais is the poorest part of Haiti. But at the church to which my dad's church is connected through missions and outreach, all the men come to worship in suits. My dad, who had prepared for the heat of early summer on a visit last year, felt under-dressed in his shirt and tie. There was nothing self-important about these people's church attire; they dressed this way because church was important to them, and they wanted to offer their best to God.

I still dress up for church partly because I am often in leadership positions (and will be more regularly as time goes on), partly because that's how I was raised, and partly because there's something in me, old-fashioned though it may be, that wants to show a modicum of respect and attention to the church and to God. Maybe the people in Bayonnais would be better off buying food than buying a suit; but maybe they are like the widow with two coins:

As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. "I tell you the truth," he said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." -- Luke 21:1-4

I don't have to make decisions like the people of Bayonnais. Anything I give, I give out of my wealth. It's easy for me to decide what part of me to give to God and what part to keep for myself. I don't want to romanticize poverty (see this post), and I'm not one to impose a dress code on others (though I will dress my boyfriend, and if your teenager is wearing something inappropriate--to church or anywhere, really--I might say something).

I guess I'm wondering what other people think. Does anyone really think about what they wear to church anymore? If we do, what are our considerations--respect, comfort, stylishness, attractiveness, or something else?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The King's Kitchen, Where You Feast to Feed Somebody

Today I had lunch at The King's Kitchen, a new restaurant in Charlotte. It's not only delicious, it's for a good cause--proceeds go to serving the poor of the city. Check out the info below from their website:

__________

The King's Kitchen is an outreach of Restoration Word Ministries managed by Jim Noble Restaurants that donates 100% of profits from sales to feed the poor in Charlotte, the region, and the world. Additionally, The King's Kitchen partners with area ministries to provide employment opportunities to Charlotteans in search of a new beginning.

And while every penny of profit at The King’s Kitchen has a higher calling, each bite of the food served to patrons, features Jim's signature "New Local Southern Cuisine." Specialties include premium local and organic produce paired with fine meats like Aunt Beaut's Pan Fried Chicken.

Twelve years before opening the doors of The King's Kitchen, Chef Jim and his wife Karen were awakened to a calling from God. Rather than open another restaurant to simply feed the body, the Noble's were called to start a ministry that would nourish the soul.

In 1998, Jim and Karen started Restoration Word Ministries (RWM) and their weekly radio broadcast ministry, The Voice of Healing Faith. An ordained minister, Jim uses this outreach as a way to share the teachings of Christ as well as remain open to the ways God calls him to serve. Over time, Jim recognized the relationship of his two passions – serving food and serving God – and was led to the ministry of feeding the poor.

Monday, October 11, 2010

A Voice, Small, a Whisper

1 Kings 19 has always been one of my favorite passages in Scripture. This is the one where Elijah has been told that God is about to pass over, so he goes and stands on the mountain. Here are verses 11 and 12:

"Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence."

In my Hebrew class, we're going through the Elijah and Elisha cycles, so we recently worked through this passage, and it was fascinating. Now, don't cry, but I'm going to reproduce the above excerpt in Hebrew here:

ורוח גדולה וחזק מפרק הרים ומשבר סלעים לפני יהוה לא ברוח יהוה ואחר הרוח רעש לא ברעש יהוהואחר הרעש אש לא באש יהוה ואחר האש קול דממה דקה

The word economy here is incredible. The Hebrew uses almost no verbs. It's a ton of nouns and prepositions, because Hebrew can do that.

I think my favorite part of this passage is the very last snippet. "קול דממה דקה" gets translated in a ton of different ways:
  • "a sound of sheer silence" (NRSV)
  • "a still small voice" (KJV)
  • "a sound of a gentle blowing" (NASB)
  • "a gentle whisper" (NIV)
  • "the sound of a low whisper" (ESV)
  • sibilus aurae tenuis/"a whistling of a gentle air" (Latin Vulgate/Douay-Rheims Bible)
All right, that was TMI, but my point is that there's no real consensus about how exactly to translate those 3 words. The Hebrew pretty much just says "A voice, small, a whisper." It's pretty ambiguous. And I really, really like that.

The whole point of this passage is that God doesn't come in the forms we might expect--wind, earthquake, fire. He comes in a still small voice (for once, I like the KJV best). So many musical artists have picked up on this and run with it. Nichole Nordeman sings, "Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now." Audrey Assad, similarly, sings, "Let me hear a still small voice." There's something about a soft, intimate whisper that is more powerful than wind, earthquake or fire, especially coming from the God that made and controls them all.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

I've Got the Methodist Blues



The other day, while listening to NPR, I heard this song on the radio. "Methodist Blues." I laughed my head off at lyrics like "Problems? We've got a whole long list / But we can't say cause we're Methodist" and "Church is a club, it's downright tribal" and "Our theology gets thinner and thinner / We don't talk about saving the sinner."

Then I recalled a conversation I had with a member at a Methodist church where I'm involved, where he said he and his wife came from different Christian backgrounds and decided on Methodist because it seems to be where anyone can come in. A part of me rejoiced at that, but I began to wonder what Methodism's identity was.

And then I got sad. I recalled Jon Stewart calling United Methodism "the University of Phoenix of religions" (see it in context here). And I remembered Dr. Stanley Hauerwas calling Methodism "flaccid." I thought about a classmate who is considering leaving the Methodist church because he is disappointed in our sacramental practices.

I love how diverse United Methodist congregations are. From high-church liturgical worship to old gospel black church to parishes that more closely resemble Baptist churches, we're all over the map. You aren't necessarily going to get what you expect at a Methodist church, even if you grew up in the denomination.

It's wonderful because it allows for the UMC to bring a myriad of people into communion with one another within the denomination. On the other hand, how much are we really doing that if our church is so fragmented in terms of liturgy, theology, practice and politics? Does a statement issued by the UMC mean anything really?

Yes, the Methodist church has problems. But it is my home, the place where I grew up, the place from which and to which I am called into ministry. Wherever God may take me in my vocation, I doubt you will ever find me far from the Methodist church, even with its tribalism and aversion to facing the reality of sin. My hope is that the Methodist church's true legacy is the evangelical revivalism that John Wesley originally intended.

Monday, October 4, 2010

For Women = About Men?


I don't have much to say about this, except...why are women defined by their relationships with men? Do men bear the same burden of proof of identity? What can the church do to combat these messages to young women and men? Why is it that the more sex is talked about in society, the more impoverished our understanding of and appreciation for it becomes?

Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Feast of St. Francis: October 4

"Francis dares to live the Gospel the way I would like to live it, and he loves Jesus the way anyone would like to be loved… It is easier to rationalize and dismiss Jesus than Francis, because Jesus, after all, is divine and so far above us. But Francis is only human like us. What he is, we can become… What is so unique about Francis is that he does what we would like to do, and he does it in such a simple, ingenuous way that we know we could do the same if only we would." -- Murray Bodo, The Way of St. Francis: The Challenge of Franciscan Spirituality for Everyone
__________

Click here to read a great blog post by my dad about Francis.

Witness or Warrior?

From yesterday through tomorrow, I have been/am/will be in a New Testament colloquium on intertextuality in the book of Revelation with German scholar Stefan Alkier. Academically, I'm in over my head, and I'm still not sure what possessed me to give my entire weekend over to a non-credit class, but I've learned some interesting things.

What I've most resonated with so far was part of a paper Dr. Alkier is working on called "Witness or Warrior? How the Book of Revelation can help Christians live their political lives." He seeks to take back Revelation from fundamentalism (which he distinguishes from biblicism by saying it is always political in some way), which has over the ages used Revelation to justify violence and vengeance. Alkier argues that although Revelation does not shy away from expressions of anger and desires for revenge, even legitimating them, but its focus on the risen Christ demands that we leave acting upon such desires to God.

This immediately got me excited because I thought of Walter Brueggemann's book Praying the Psalms, which we read in Old Testament last year and about which I blogged a while back. Revelation, like many of the Psalms of vengeance, has had its place in the Biblical canon questioned for its violent and graphic content; but Brueggemann argues, as does Alkier, that to eliminate such texts is to be in denial that these feelings exist in humankind, which is dangerous. Brueggemann writes, "The real theological problem...is not that vengeance is there in the Psalms, but that it is here in our midst." Revelation, the Psalms and many other disturbing Biblical texts force us to confront feelings and passions that make us uncomfortable but which are very real.

I wasn't going to go here, but the next time I hear someone rant about how there are 109 violent verses in the Quran, I'm going to tell them to go read Psalm 137:7-9, 2 Kings 2:23-24, and Revelation 18, for starters. If you want more, this website lists no fewer than 1,199 Bible verses with "cruelty or violence."

Saturday, October 2, 2010

The Not-Being-a-Jerk-About-It Part

The Church Is a Whore

"The Church is a whore, but she's my mother."

The first time I heard this quote (from St. Augustine), I was at first shocked, then extremely pleased.

All my life I've heard people accuse the church of hypocrisy. I would be the last person to argue with that. The church is full of hypocrites and sinners. The moment we stop believing that, we decide we can redeem ourselves, or worse, that we don't need redemption.

I just wrote a paper for my American Christianity class about how the church has always been embedded in its culture. I believe it is important for Christianity to be able to relate to its time and place, and as a lover of the arts, I am especially interested in how the Church interacts with and shapes culture and art. But the church must never be co-opted by its cultural setting.

Unfortunately, the Church regularly has been whored out (hey, I'm just quoting St. Augustine) to nationalistic, imperialistic, cruel and even idolatrous institutions and causes. Some theologians argue that the Church was ruined as far back as the 4th century, when Constantine made it the official religion of the Roman Empire. The easiest targets for accusing the Church of hypocrisy are the Crusades and Nazi Germany. These days, with all the anti-Islam sentiment, no one wants to talk about these things seriously; but even though these events are "in the past," they cannot be easily brushed aside. That's part of why I recently purchased an iron cross from 1939. An odd purchase, admittedly; but I never want to forget how easily we Christians can whore ourselves out to the peril of those around us and to our own souls.

We also cannot allow the church to be co-opted even today; I found this picture of the famous Last Supper painting Photoshopped with various trappings of Americanism while looking for a photo of a flag draped over a communion table, which I've heard about happening. The table is not America's table. It is the table of our Lord.

Back to the Crusades and Nazi Germany. We need to admit to these atrocities, to apologize, to make restitution. But we cannot put them behind us, and we cannot wash our hands even of things that happened before we are born. That Christianity has been used as a vehicle of genocide means that the Holocaust could happen again.

And yet. I love the second part of Augustine's quote. The Church is my mother. Regardless of what she may have done, or what we may have done because of her, she is all we have. All the anti-institutional talk floating around in Christianity these days forgets that the institution is all we've got. Yes, it's broken. Yes, it's hypocritical. And I'm not necessarily saying that's OK. We must mourn the brokenness of the church and seek to amend it, with God's help. But we cannot deny that brokenness, or else it will consume us.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Release Healing Truths

How strong, O Lord, are our desires,
how weak our knowledge of ourselves!
Release in us those healing truths
unconscious pride resists or shelves.

— Fred Pratt Green
"O Christ the Healer" (UMH No. 265)

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

An Environment Where It's OK to Fall

I love Jonathan Acuff. I blogged about his book Stuff Christians Like, based on his blog of the same name. I just came across an article he wrote for CNN, entitled "How to Scandal-Proof Your Church." He lists several wise suggestions, but perhaps my favorite is the first one: "Create an environment where it's OK to fall." So much of the trouble Christians get themselves into comes when sins are repressed, hidden, and generally misunderstood. The church needs to be a place where sins can be confessed in an atmosphere where accountability is real, but so are expectations. If Christianity is all about maintaining an image, we (myself included) will sooner lie to keep up the facade than confess failings...and that is not what the Gospel calls us to do to ourselves and to each other.

A Semicolon

During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." "Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God." – Matthew 14:25-32, NIV

I love this icon. I love the passage it depicts. I love it because I can so strongly identify with the fear and doubt that Peter is feeling. Even the disciples in the boat are exhibiting some of that same fear—some of them may be looking at Peter in concern, but for the most part they seem focused on and worried about their sails. Only Peter is really looking at Jesus, and we can see from the text that it was in his seeing the wind—looking away from Jesus—that he began to sink.

I'm reminded that I blogged about this passage once, in part as a response to controversy that erupted over the release of the film The Golden Compass. Parents feared their children would see the movie and doubt their faith, which would naturally lead to an endless spiral into the murky depths of sin and godlessness. But I read that book when I was a kid—I read everything of Philip Pullman's—and I'm in seminary. So there's that.

What reminded me of that old blog post was the quote I used to start it off. It's from Frederick Buechner, a hero of mine, and it's something that has remained with me and which I find comforting in times of doubt. Buechner says, "Without somehow destroying me in the process, how could God reveal himself in a way that would leave no room for doubt? If there were no room for doubt, there would be no room for me." God knows us better than we know ourselves, and that means he knows just how prone we are to falter and to lose focus—to look at the wind rather than at Jesus. God isn't so naïve as to think that once we come to faith we will be able to rid ourselves of all doubt and fear. He makes room for us.

This reminds me of yet another quote, this one from the author Wendell Berry. It's a longer one, but it gets at why God reveals himself in ways that can be ascertained only by faith, in ways that are by no means irrefutable in the eyes of reason:

"Christ did not descend from the cross except into the grave. And why not otherwise? Wouldn't it have put fine comical expressions on the faces of the scribes and the chief priests and the soldiers if at that moment He had come down in power and glory? Why didn't He do it? Why hasn't He done it at any one of a thousand good times between then and now?

I knew the answer. I knew it a long time before I could admit it, for all the suffering of the world is in it. He didn't, He hasn't, because from the moment He did, He would be the absolute tyrant of the world and we would be His slaves. Even those who hated Him and hated one another and hated their own souls would have to believe in Him then. From that moment the possibility that we might be bound to Him and He to us and us to one another by love forever would be ended.

And so, I thought, He must forbear to reveal His power and glory by presenting Himself as Himself, and must be present only in the ordinary miracle of the existence of His creatures. Those who wish to see Him must see Him in the poor, the hungry, the hurt, the wordless creatures, the groaning and travailing beautiful world."

Faith is necessary because if God is to be a God of love, the worship of him can never be forced. I'm apparently on a quote kick—here’s another one I recalled: "He who remains good simply because he must serves necessity, not God." That's from John M. Patrick. We are called to serve and love God, and God will not secure our loyalty through uncaringly enslaving us.

I love the passage about Peter walking on water because it shows that although our doubt is not exactly pleasing to God, he doesn't give us over to it, either. Jesus rebukes Peter, but he doesn't leave him to drown. The question Jesus asks—"Why did you doubt?"—sounds rhetorical, but I wonder if that wouldn't be a helpful question to ask ourselves in times where we are floundering in water on which we once walked. "Why did you doubt?" "Because I was afraid." "Why were you afraid?" "Because I saw the wind and it frightened me." "What did you have to stop looking at in order even to see the wind?" "You, my Lord."

Peter has the faith necessary. He had already taken a few steps across the sea before he sank. Having faith and having doubt are not mutually exclusive. Perhaps my favorite Bible verse is Mark 9:24—"I believe; help my unbelief!" The profession of faith is separated from the confession of doubt by nothing more than a semicolon.

Jesus treats our doubt with a gentle rebuke and an honest question. I do not treat my own doubts and fears so gently. I often find myself in situations where it is almost as if I were willing myself to drown as punishment for even looking at the wind in the first place. But the doubt is a part of my humanity, and it is not up to me to decide how long I must thrash about in the waves.

The band Caedmon's Call sings, "Waters rose as my doubts reigned / My sandcastle faith it slipped away / I found myself standing on your grace / It had been there all the time." Jesus' hand is outstretched. "On Christ the solid rock I stand / All other ground is sinking sand."

Repentance of an Anti-Gay Bigot (a quote from Mark Osler)

"Are gays and lesbians sinners? It doesn't seem that way to me (other than the way in which we are all sinners), but at some level I really don't care. If it is a sin, it is not my sin. The sin that I need to discern, root out and identify is my own. One of those sins has been bigotry and senseless cruelty. I atone for and seek forgiveness for that now and here." — Mark Osler (read more here)

Monday, October 25, 2010

Freedom and Responsibility

With freedom comes responsibility. With the freedom of speech comes the responsibility to listen. Are we willing to listen, or do we just want to hear ourselves talk?

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Two Sculptures

The first image below was shown in my intro worship class this morning. It really struck me, and I think part of it was that it reminded me of the figure in the second image. I don't have much to say on these, but they are beautiful and invite contemplation, at least to me.

Frederick Hart, Ex Nihilo, now installed at Washington National Cathedral.

Michelangelo, Il Prigioni Ridestantesi.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

I am mildly obsessed with this version of this hymn.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

— George Matheson

Monday, October 18, 2010

Michael Franti & Spearhead // The Sound of Sunshine

Last spring, I saw Michael Franti & Spearhead open for John Mayer in Greensboro. Franti put on a killer show. His music and lyrics are uplifting, but he's not afraid to talk about real problems of poverty, gangs, etc. It is clear that the audience matters to him, not only when he opens the stage to any kids who want to come dance to his hit single "Say Hey" but also when he runs through the crowd with his guitar, singing and playing (which was cool in the Greensboro Coliseum, but cooler for my mom and sister when they saw him in the smaller Neighborhood Theatre in Charlotte--they actually got to high-five him).

Franti's music defies and crosses genre barriers. He is a vocal supporter of a number of social justice issues. He's a vegan and hasn't worn shoes in ten years. The son of an Irish-German-American mother and an African-American and Native American father, Franti was adopted by a Finnish-American couple and raised with their 3 biological children and another adopted, African-American brother. His music reflects his diverse background and embraces cultures beyond his heritage.

Franti also made a film, I Know I'm Not Alone: A Musician's Search for the Human Cost of War, in which Franti travels to Iraq, Israel and Palestine with a few cameras and a guitar. Franti was tired of seeing news reports on the conflict that paid no attention to the humanity behind it. So he basically went to play music in the streets and to hear people's stories.

So...Michael Franti is pretty freaking amazing. I started this post to recommend his latest CD, The Sound of Sunshine, and got a little distracted. Back on task.

The Sound of Sunshine is *exactly* what the album name suggests. It is freaking auditory sunshine. Franti believes in the power of music to transform mood and renew a sense of purpose, and this CD does just that. And uplifting sound coupled with honest lyrics results in an album about whose message you can really care. Here's the first verse and chorus of one of my favorite songs from it, "Hey Hey Hey":

It's been a long time coming that I had to say
When I wake up in the morning all I do is pray
For some guidance and protection on the streets today
And an answer to the questions I ask everyday
So tell me why do the birds that used to fly here
Tell me why do they come to die here
And all the kids that used to run here
Tell me why do they load their guns here
I remember, in the days when,
We were one heart no need to defend
I just wrap my arms around
Don't give up this song is for you

Hey, hey, hey, no matter how life is today
There's just one thing that I got to say
I won't let another moment slip away
I say hey, hey, hey no matter how life is today
There's just one thing that I got to say
I won't let another moment slip away

Just for good measure, here's a 5-second video clip I took at the concert last March--a little girl who joined Franti for "Say Hey" and was so into it that he gave her the mic. Adorable.


Sunday, October 17, 2010

Understanding God (a quote from Augustine)

"If you understand God, then you're not talking about God." — Augustine (via my good friend Jamie Michaels)

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Why I Still Dress Up for Church

As a child, I had Sunday clothes. The distinction was massive in my elementary school years, when I was a tomboy who kept her hair as short as her parents would allow and who hated wearing dresses. So putting on a dress to go to church was a big deal. The difference was less dramatic once I grew my hair back out and started wearing something besides sweatpants and t-shirts. But I still dressed up.

I remember the first time I wore jeans to church. It was mildly traumatic. I can count on one hand the number of times I've worn jeans to church. I'm sure a lot of my aversion to doing so comes from my family's deep Southern and Christian roots--my grandparents are always dressed to the T, my mother has indefatigable fashion sense, and my dad's a pastor (and not the kind that wears jeans and graphic T's), so he kinda has to dress nicely. I can just see my mother's or grandmother's face (and hear my grandfather's remarks) if they ever saw me at church in jeans.

I don't have a problem with people in general dressing down for church. I emphatically believe that the church should welcome people as they are. I just went clothes shopping; I know how much it costs to maintain a "nice" wardrobe, and I know that in many churches I've attended, plenty of people can't afford that. And I know the dangers of dress code expectations--I've been in churches that felt like highfalutin social clubs, and I spent a lot of time in high school worrying that my Sunday clothes weren't stylish enough compared to the girls in my youth group.

But my dad told me something about a community in Bayonnais, Haiti, that struck me. Haiti is the poorest country in the Americas, according to the Human Development Index. Bayonnais is the poorest part of Haiti. But at the church to which my dad's church is connected through missions and outreach, all the men come to worship in suits. My dad, who had prepared for the heat of early summer on a visit last year, felt under-dressed in his shirt and tie. There was nothing self-important about these people's church attire; they dressed this way because church was important to them, and they wanted to offer their best to God.

I still dress up for church partly because I am often in leadership positions (and will be more regularly as time goes on), partly because that's how I was raised, and partly because there's something in me, old-fashioned though it may be, that wants to show a modicum of respect and attention to the church and to God. Maybe the people in Bayonnais would be better off buying food than buying a suit; but maybe they are like the widow with two coins:

As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. "I tell you the truth," he said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." -- Luke 21:1-4

I don't have to make decisions like the people of Bayonnais. Anything I give, I give out of my wealth. It's easy for me to decide what part of me to give to God and what part to keep for myself. I don't want to romanticize poverty (see this post), and I'm not one to impose a dress code on others (though I will dress my boyfriend, and if your teenager is wearing something inappropriate--to church or anywhere, really--I might say something).

I guess I'm wondering what other people think. Does anyone really think about what they wear to church anymore? If we do, what are our considerations--respect, comfort, stylishness, attractiveness, or something else?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The King's Kitchen, Where You Feast to Feed Somebody

Today I had lunch at The King's Kitchen, a new restaurant in Charlotte. It's not only delicious, it's for a good cause--proceeds go to serving the poor of the city. Check out the info below from their website:

__________

The King's Kitchen is an outreach of Restoration Word Ministries managed by Jim Noble Restaurants that donates 100% of profits from sales to feed the poor in Charlotte, the region, and the world. Additionally, The King's Kitchen partners with area ministries to provide employment opportunities to Charlotteans in search of a new beginning.

And while every penny of profit at The King’s Kitchen has a higher calling, each bite of the food served to patrons, features Jim's signature "New Local Southern Cuisine." Specialties include premium local and organic produce paired with fine meats like Aunt Beaut's Pan Fried Chicken.

Twelve years before opening the doors of The King's Kitchen, Chef Jim and his wife Karen were awakened to a calling from God. Rather than open another restaurant to simply feed the body, the Noble's were called to start a ministry that would nourish the soul.

In 1998, Jim and Karen started Restoration Word Ministries (RWM) and their weekly radio broadcast ministry, The Voice of Healing Faith. An ordained minister, Jim uses this outreach as a way to share the teachings of Christ as well as remain open to the ways God calls him to serve. Over time, Jim recognized the relationship of his two passions – serving food and serving God – and was led to the ministry of feeding the poor.

Monday, October 11, 2010

A Voice, Small, a Whisper

1 Kings 19 has always been one of my favorite passages in Scripture. This is the one where Elijah has been told that God is about to pass over, so he goes and stands on the mountain. Here are verses 11 and 12:

"Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence."

In my Hebrew class, we're going through the Elijah and Elisha cycles, so we recently worked through this passage, and it was fascinating. Now, don't cry, but I'm going to reproduce the above excerpt in Hebrew here:

ורוח גדולה וחזק מפרק הרים ומשבר סלעים לפני יהוה לא ברוח יהוה ואחר הרוח רעש לא ברעש יהוהואחר הרעש אש לא באש יהוה ואחר האש קול דממה דקה

The word economy here is incredible. The Hebrew uses almost no verbs. It's a ton of nouns and prepositions, because Hebrew can do that.

I think my favorite part of this passage is the very last snippet. "קול דממה דקה" gets translated in a ton of different ways:
  • "a sound of sheer silence" (NRSV)
  • "a still small voice" (KJV)
  • "a sound of a gentle blowing" (NASB)
  • "a gentle whisper" (NIV)
  • "the sound of a low whisper" (ESV)
  • sibilus aurae tenuis/"a whistling of a gentle air" (Latin Vulgate/Douay-Rheims Bible)
All right, that was TMI, but my point is that there's no real consensus about how exactly to translate those 3 words. The Hebrew pretty much just says "A voice, small, a whisper." It's pretty ambiguous. And I really, really like that.

The whole point of this passage is that God doesn't come in the forms we might expect--wind, earthquake, fire. He comes in a still small voice (for once, I like the KJV best). So many musical artists have picked up on this and run with it. Nichole Nordeman sings, "Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now." Audrey Assad, similarly, sings, "Let me hear a still small voice." There's something about a soft, intimate whisper that is more powerful than wind, earthquake or fire, especially coming from the God that made and controls them all.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

I've Got the Methodist Blues



The other day, while listening to NPR, I heard this song on the radio. "Methodist Blues." I laughed my head off at lyrics like "Problems? We've got a whole long list / But we can't say cause we're Methodist" and "Church is a club, it's downright tribal" and "Our theology gets thinner and thinner / We don't talk about saving the sinner."

Then I recalled a conversation I had with a member at a Methodist church where I'm involved, where he said he and his wife came from different Christian backgrounds and decided on Methodist because it seems to be where anyone can come in. A part of me rejoiced at that, but I began to wonder what Methodism's identity was.

And then I got sad. I recalled Jon Stewart calling United Methodism "the University of Phoenix of religions" (see it in context here). And I remembered Dr. Stanley Hauerwas calling Methodism "flaccid." I thought about a classmate who is considering leaving the Methodist church because he is disappointed in our sacramental practices.

I love how diverse United Methodist congregations are. From high-church liturgical worship to old gospel black church to parishes that more closely resemble Baptist churches, we're all over the map. You aren't necessarily going to get what you expect at a Methodist church, even if you grew up in the denomination.

It's wonderful because it allows for the UMC to bring a myriad of people into communion with one another within the denomination. On the other hand, how much are we really doing that if our church is so fragmented in terms of liturgy, theology, practice and politics? Does a statement issued by the UMC mean anything really?

Yes, the Methodist church has problems. But it is my home, the place where I grew up, the place from which and to which I am called into ministry. Wherever God may take me in my vocation, I doubt you will ever find me far from the Methodist church, even with its tribalism and aversion to facing the reality of sin. My hope is that the Methodist church's true legacy is the evangelical revivalism that John Wesley originally intended.

Monday, October 4, 2010

For Women = About Men?


I don't have much to say about this, except...why are women defined by their relationships with men? Do men bear the same burden of proof of identity? What can the church do to combat these messages to young women and men? Why is it that the more sex is talked about in society, the more impoverished our understanding of and appreciation for it becomes?

Sunday, October 3, 2010

The Feast of St. Francis: October 4

"Francis dares to live the Gospel the way I would like to live it, and he loves Jesus the way anyone would like to be loved… It is easier to rationalize and dismiss Jesus than Francis, because Jesus, after all, is divine and so far above us. But Francis is only human like us. What he is, we can become… What is so unique about Francis is that he does what we would like to do, and he does it in such a simple, ingenuous way that we know we could do the same if only we would." -- Murray Bodo, The Way of St. Francis: The Challenge of Franciscan Spirituality for Everyone
__________

Click here to read a great blog post by my dad about Francis.

Witness or Warrior?

From yesterday through tomorrow, I have been/am/will be in a New Testament colloquium on intertextuality in the book of Revelation with German scholar Stefan Alkier. Academically, I'm in over my head, and I'm still not sure what possessed me to give my entire weekend over to a non-credit class, but I've learned some interesting things.

What I've most resonated with so far was part of a paper Dr. Alkier is working on called "Witness or Warrior? How the Book of Revelation can help Christians live their political lives." He seeks to take back Revelation from fundamentalism (which he distinguishes from biblicism by saying it is always political in some way), which has over the ages used Revelation to justify violence and vengeance. Alkier argues that although Revelation does not shy away from expressions of anger and desires for revenge, even legitimating them, but its focus on the risen Christ demands that we leave acting upon such desires to God.

This immediately got me excited because I thought of Walter Brueggemann's book Praying the Psalms, which we read in Old Testament last year and about which I blogged a while back. Revelation, like many of the Psalms of vengeance, has had its place in the Biblical canon questioned for its violent and graphic content; but Brueggemann argues, as does Alkier, that to eliminate such texts is to be in denial that these feelings exist in humankind, which is dangerous. Brueggemann writes, "The real theological problem...is not that vengeance is there in the Psalms, but that it is here in our midst." Revelation, the Psalms and many other disturbing Biblical texts force us to confront feelings and passions that make us uncomfortable but which are very real.

I wasn't going to go here, but the next time I hear someone rant about how there are 109 violent verses in the Quran, I'm going to tell them to go read Psalm 137:7-9, 2 Kings 2:23-24, and Revelation 18, for starters. If you want more, this website lists no fewer than 1,199 Bible verses with "cruelty or violence."

Saturday, October 2, 2010

The Not-Being-a-Jerk-About-It Part

The Church Is a Whore

"The Church is a whore, but she's my mother."

The first time I heard this quote (from St. Augustine), I was at first shocked, then extremely pleased.

All my life I've heard people accuse the church of hypocrisy. I would be the last person to argue with that. The church is full of hypocrites and sinners. The moment we stop believing that, we decide we can redeem ourselves, or worse, that we don't need redemption.

I just wrote a paper for my American Christianity class about how the church has always been embedded in its culture. I believe it is important for Christianity to be able to relate to its time and place, and as a lover of the arts, I am especially interested in how the Church interacts with and shapes culture and art. But the church must never be co-opted by its cultural setting.

Unfortunately, the Church regularly has been whored out (hey, I'm just quoting St. Augustine) to nationalistic, imperialistic, cruel and even idolatrous institutions and causes. Some theologians argue that the Church was ruined as far back as the 4th century, when Constantine made it the official religion of the Roman Empire. The easiest targets for accusing the Church of hypocrisy are the Crusades and Nazi Germany. These days, with all the anti-Islam sentiment, no one wants to talk about these things seriously; but even though these events are "in the past," they cannot be easily brushed aside. That's part of why I recently purchased an iron cross from 1939. An odd purchase, admittedly; but I never want to forget how easily we Christians can whore ourselves out to the peril of those around us and to our own souls.

We also cannot allow the church to be co-opted even today; I found this picture of the famous Last Supper painting Photoshopped with various trappings of Americanism while looking for a photo of a flag draped over a communion table, which I've heard about happening. The table is not America's table. It is the table of our Lord.

Back to the Crusades and Nazi Germany. We need to admit to these atrocities, to apologize, to make restitution. But we cannot put them behind us, and we cannot wash our hands even of things that happened before we are born. That Christianity has been used as a vehicle of genocide means that the Holocaust could happen again.

And yet. I love the second part of Augustine's quote. The Church is my mother. Regardless of what she may have done, or what we may have done because of her, she is all we have. All the anti-institutional talk floating around in Christianity these days forgets that the institution is all we've got. Yes, it's broken. Yes, it's hypocritical. And I'm not necessarily saying that's OK. We must mourn the brokenness of the church and seek to amend it, with God's help. But we cannot deny that brokenness, or else it will consume us.

 

Designed by Simply Fabulous Blogger Templates, Modified by Sarah Howell