The Fast I Choose

Relocating.

2011-11-23T13:15:00.000-08:00

I'm moving over to Wordpress! Check out http://sarahshowell.wordpress.com for future posting. I'll maintain this site as an archive of old blog posts.

What I'm Reading #34: Unbroken (Laura Hillenbrand)

2011-11-08T17:33:00.001-08:00

Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption, by Laura Hillenbrand

I have to start with a confession: I do not know how to blog about Unbroken. It's an intense book, and I've had an emotionally intense month. What's more, I'm on the planning team for an upcoming Veterans' Day event, so questions of combat, trauma, etc. are already in my brain.

But here I go. If you choose to read on, please give me grace.

Unbroken tells the story of Louis Zamperini, an Olympic runner who became a bombadier in WWII and ended up as a POW in Japan. What he went through in captivity could not be more accurately described than "hell." A better title for this book would have been Broken. It is absolutely an inspiring survival story, but the depth of physical and emotional scars that Zamperini brings back from the war cannot be glossed over. Of course, the story of the war hero turned struggling veteran turned Christian finding redemption is an incredible narrative of pain, restoration and forgiveness. Zamperini's story is one that needs to be told. But there were some things about the book that concerned me.

Parts of this book felt like war pornography. (That's something I would not recommend Googling.) I blogged about disaster pornography in the wake of the earthquake in Haiti and tsunami in Japan this past spring after a devastating but vital lecture in my ethics class on poverty pornography left me cautious and sensitive to such things. The details of Zamperini's torture in POW camps is exhaustive and grisly. At some point, I realized that listening to this book was taking an emotional toll on me. I'm not saying that such stories shouldn't be told—far from it. But I wondered what the purpose of some of Hillenbrand's writing in those sections was, because there were parts that felt sadistic, not just in the content but in the telling.

This New York Times review of the book pointed out something I couldn't articulate until I read the article, something that helped me understand why I was feeling that way: we don't get very far into Zamperini's head. Our hero remains largely a stranger to the reader emotionally. And so, the jarring descriptions of abuse in POW camps begin to feel like the reader is being dragged through a horrific but depersonalized gauntlet of dehumanizing abuse. Moreover, Zamperini himself is the depersonalized hero who can do no wrong, and even when he comes home and begins to suffer from PTSD and flashbacks, it's like watching a stranger. Hillenbrand, and therefore the reader, remains a spectator, and that vantage point begins to feel problematic at a certain point. Some of the story becomes like a horrible train wreck from which you cannot look away and of which no sense or meaning is ever made.

Secondly—and I am deeply hesitant to go here and would urge any WWII vets to either stop reading or please forgive me—I was troubled by how one particular Japanese captor, Watanabi, nicknamed "the bird," was portrayed. This man committed atrocities beyond imagining that damaged his prisoners both physically and emotionally, many of them permanently. I would not have asked Zamperini to tell his story any differently, but even when toward the end of the book he writes a letter to the bird expressing forgiveness, Hillenbrand (again, as with Zamperini) does little to personalize Watanabi. The part that grated on my nerves the most was when the narrator described how decades after the war, Watanabi spoke of the horrors of war and how he himself was a victim of it. This was an experience I got from the audiobook, but the tone of voice that the narrator used in the sections where Watanabi was explaining himself was one of profound patronization. It was clear that the narrator thought Watanabi was full of it.

And maybe he was; Watanabi was undeniably cruel and certainly insane. Maybe he deserved to be mocked in his admittedly feeble and self-defensive attempts at confession. But the thing is that although it sounds to me like Watanabi was dangerous, he was right about war being an engine of horror in which people of any background can get caught up far more easily than we'd like to admit. I am thinking about all of this with Lawrence Brewer in the back of my mind. I don't blame anyone for being more willing to identify with Zamperini than with Watanabi, but does that act of distancing ourselves from human evil amount to us denying our own capacity for darkness?

I realize that part of my struggle is that in preparing for After the Yellow Ribbon (the conference going on this weekend), we're talking a lot about moral injury, particularly with combatants. Just tonight, I was with some of the other organizers, including a student veteran, watching an interview with this veteran that aired on the local news tonight. In his interview, he said that too often veterans are portrayed as either heroes or monsters, but neither is fair or right; heroes can do no wrong and therefore are misunderstood when they try to grapple with the moral implications of war, and monsters are incapable of redemption. What Unbroken did was to make Zamperini a hero and Watanabi a monster, thereby preventing either from being fully human for the readers.

And with that, I'll awkwardly back away from this book and hope that I haven't offended anyone too badly. (Not that I'm opposed to offending people. Because I'm not. But I'm more sensitive to veterans' issues now than I have been in the past, and I hope people will read this as a criticism of the book and of how we narrate war in this country, not as a slam on POWs or veterans or anyone, really.)

Who Are These, Robed in White?

2011-11-02T06:15:00.000-07:00

This was revised from a sermon I preached in class on October 31, 2011 (All Hallows' Eve). My text was Revelation 7:9-17.
__________

"You take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."

This quote comes at a decisive moment in the movie The Matrix. The main character, Neo, has just been told that his whole life is a lie. Machines have taken over the world and enslaved humanity, farming their bodies for energy and projecting false images and experiences into their brains. Neo has been ripped out of the Matrix and given a choice: he can take the blue pill and go back into the comfortable but false world of the Matrix; or he can take the red pill, permanently exit the delusion and suffer the consequences of knowing the truth.
Spoiler alert: he takes the red pill.

"Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?" "These are they who have come out of the great ordeal." These are the martyrs. They have suffered for the faith. They have taken the red pill. They have gone down the rabbit-hole—and they have come out of it.

"Who are these, robed in white?" "These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."

I wonder what their robes looked like before they washed them in the blood that cleanses and does not stain. What kind of stories would their robes have told? Imagine a child explaining the origin of stains on her favorite pair of jeans: this grass stain is from when I caught a fly ball to win the game; that grease spot is from the pizza we had at my last birthday party; that patch covers up the hole I tore climbing a tree. Now imagine the martyrs examining their dirty robes: this blood stain is from when I turned the other cheek; these two spots where dirt is ground into the fabric—those are from kneeling in prayer; the front of my robe is damp from tears shed for my brothers and sisters who suffered with me.

"Who are these, robed in white?" These are they who have washed their robes, but not before telling their story through the stains.

Today, suffering and death is shut away in hospitals and hidden from view. So it's no wonder the church doesn't always know how to deal with it. Too often we actually see religion as an escape from suffering. My father went to see the film The Passion of the Christ when it first came out, and as he left the theater, he saw a woman sobbing. She had just seen the movie as well. Curious, he asked her what had moved her so deeply. Through tears, she said, "Jesus suffered so I don't have to."

Jesus suffered so I don't have to. Friends, this is not the gospel. Jesus did not come to give us the blue pill. Yes, Jesus has released us from slavery to sin and death, and yes, there is comfort in the presence of the Holy Spirit. But that comfort comes in the midst of suffering, not instead of it; in Revelation, the elder declares that "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes," but not that God will prevent those tears from coming.

"Who are these, robed in white?" These are they who weep even as they stand around the throne. Revelation says, "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes," in the future tense. They weep because this image of the people around the throne is not yet reality. And in many places, comfort does not come. Sometimes, suffering goes on senselessly.

Let me be clear: suffering itself is not redemptive. The only human suffering that was ever redemptive was that of Christ on the cross. Although in the crucifixion and resurrection Christ defeated sin and death, we are still waiting for the final consummation of that victory. "Who are these, robed in white?" These are the martyrs who weep.

Throughout the Bible, it is clear that proclamation and persecution are intertwined. We see this in the Old Testament prophets, in John the Baptist, in Jesus himself and in the disciples' and the early church's participation in his ministry. In fact, Christians' willingness to suffer for the gospel has often been a catalyst for evangelism. Martin Mittelstadt says, "The greatest defense of the gospel...is that it is worth dying for."

"Who are these, robed in white?" These are they who have shown in their lives that the gospel is worth dying for. Of course, how many of us are ever going to be in a situation where we are asked to die for our beliefs? Certainly Christians around the world die every day for the faith, but few of us will ever have to make such a choice. But even if none of us in this room are bound for martyrdom or physical suffering, we can still choose to take the red pill. The blue pill offers us false comfort by allowing us to deny the reality of suffering. The red pill calls us down the rabbit-hole.

And what will we find there? Perhaps we will be forced to face our sin. Perhaps we will encounter the depths of injustice and oppression. Perhaps we will see in that darkness our deepest fears and wounds.

"Who are these, robed in white?" "These are they who have come out of the great ordeal." They have taken the red pill. They have gone down the rabbit-hole, and Jesus has met them there. He has been their light in the darkness.

Tonight, Duke Chapel will host perhaps the coolest worship service they have all year. At 10:30 p.m., people will gather on the steps of the chapel and light candles around a fire. They'll join in a greeting and an opening prayer, then process into the chapel. As they come down the aisle, they will be enveloped by the sounds of chanting. The choir will be up in the triforium, the narrow passage below the tall stained-glass windows. More candles will eerily light their robed figures as they chant, Requiem aeternam—"rest in peace." The service will include prayer, hymns, Scripture readings, stories of the saints and martyrs, and the celebration of the Eucharist. The church will feel fuller than it looks as the readers invoke the memories of the saints. The candles will send light and shadow dancing across faces and hymnals, only just holding back the darkness.

Hope doesn't always look like the blazing sunlight of a cloudless day. Often, it looks more like a candle flickering defiantly in the darkness. South African pastor Peter Storey says this: "A candle is a protest at midnight. It says to the darkness, 'I beg to differ.'" "Who are these, robed in white?" These are they whom Jesus has met in the rabbit-hole, to whose darkness Jesus has said, "I beg to differ." They have gone into the great ordeal, and they have come out of it because Christ has lit their way.

A little over a month ago, my sister's boyfriend had a bad reaction to some pain medication. This caused him to black out and lose oxygen for a period of time. As a result, he suffered extensive heart, kidney and brain damage. At first, it looked like he wouldn't survive the weekend. Then it appeared he might live for a long time in a coma.

Today, Shane is walking, talking, making jokes and remembering people. He is in rehab and his brain is still healing, but his progress is beyond what any of the doctors thought possible. Shane is a walking, talking miracle.

As I've gone through the emotional rollercoaster of Shane's hospitalization at a distance, I've been asking myself what hope means in the midst of suffering. Interestingly enough, it was Shane himself who gave me an answer.

Shane still gets a little confused about where he is sometimes. One evening recently—and I did get permission to tell this story—my sister Grace was visiting, and Shane got up and announced that they were going golfing. Grace patiently reminded him that it was dark outside. He retorted, "I know, I'm waiting for it to clear up." Puzzled, Grace said, "Shane, it's not like clouds; darkness doesn't just clear up." Shane looked at her and said, matter-of-factly:

"Don't you know about morning?"

One Is a Whole Number

2011-10-30T20:27:00.000-07:00

My friends and I have been picking on Mark Driscoll a lot lately; he's been a favorite straw man for group attacks on muscular Christianity. It probably isn't fair. But I can't not pick up some of the things he drops on the internet.

I'll leave the "Baptism shirts for those who want to get dunked today" tweet that was being discussed among my classmates today and skip to this gem:

"@PastorMark: Single people need to stop making a list of what they want in a spouse & start making a list of what they want to be for a spouse."

Part of why I picked this one to blog about is that it's not inherently evil. You should be asking, not what your spouse can do for you, but what you can do for your spouse (end Kennedy accent). Of course, a part of me is already worried at this stage because of what I've seen of Driscoll's gender theology, which would most likely require that my list include things like "bring the boys snacks while they watch the World Series."

But the subtler issue is one that I'm seeing more and more of in the church. Note that Driscoll's comment is not aimed at people who already have spouses and could stand to think of their partner more; this is geared toward single people, the assumption being that everyone who does not yet have a spouse ought to be working toward finding one.

Singleness is a valid relationship status, and not just temporarily. What so many people in the church forget is that Jesus was single. You could probably argue that singleness has a better case for being instituted by Christ than marriage. And, as one of my middle school youth leaders used to tell me, "One is a whole number!"

The church needs to work on its theology of singleness. Really, we need to work on our theology of sexuality in general, because I think a big part of what makes the church uncomfortable with singleness is that we aren't sure how to talk about sexuality around that. The church is threatened by young single people's sexuality and tries to rush them into the box of marriage where anything goes (I have a lot more to say about that, particularly the "anything goes" bit).

Here's the thing: I shouldn't be asking about what I want in a spouse or what I want to be for a spouse. I should be asking how I can love God better.

Trump card.

Remember Life Is Still Beautiful Outside This Soul Crushing Place

2011-10-27T05:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a new photography exhibit sponsored by New Creation Arts went up in the halls of Duke Divinity School. It features beautiful photography by my friend and classmate Tyler Mahoney, and the show bears an odd and somewhat controversial title: "Remember Life Is Still Beautiful Outside This Soul Crushing Place." It is trumpeted from a deep green banner that hangs alongside the photos.

Why the joyful images alongside a potentially aggressive title? Here's Tyler's explanation, which I lifted from his Facebook profile:

The exhibit is "trying to bring awareness to the continuing problem of low student morale, lack of community, and graduate student isolation. It centers around the themes of creation, friendship, and romance as a continued reminder that until we the students, stand up, and make this seminary look like the Kingdom of Heaven—life is still beautiful outside the halls of Duke."

Yes—even an institution dedicated to learning and growth in the beliefs and practices of the church can be an oppressive, "soul crushing" environment.

How can this be? Well, if you line up the syllabi of any student's courses in a given semester, that ought to give you a clue. Duke has a reputation for strong academics for a reason; the work here is challenging, as it should be. We are preparing students for a variety of forms of ministry in a world that is less and less centered on the church.

However, 3rd year C. J. Stachurski preached a sermon yesterday that captured the struggle many students face: in the midst of studying God and talking about God, we sometimes forget how much we love God. We allow stress and busy-ness to swallow us up and blind us to the beauty of the world around us. Tyler's show is an attempt to remind us that joy, beauty and life are real and don't have to wait until after graduation.

So, as you're rushing to class in the next few weeks, take a moment to enjoy the photos on the walls and allow the colors, the landscapes, the faces and the brightness to strengthen you to go to a lecture, not anxious about grades but seeking to love God and your neighbor better.

Hoodies and Cargo Shorts, or, Performing Gender Incorrectly

2011-10-26T19:22:00.000-07:00

I was watching TV online earlier and just happened to look up during this Tide commercial, which immediately set me fuming. It's only about half a minute long, give it a viewing:

Since I haven't actually done much in the way of gender studies, this is all going to be personal/anecdotal in nature. Please observe tiny Sarah playing with a dinosaur (never a Barbie)...

...and then, 10-year-old Sarah, who closely resembled Simon from 7th Heaven. (And yes, this preacher's kid totally watched that show.)

There was about a decade of my life where I refused to wear dresses. I kept my hair as short as my parents allowed, wore boys' clothes, played sports and spent a lot of time in the woods. I didn't know that I wasn't performing my gender "correctly"; I just knew I was having more fun than the girls who were worried about getting their dresses dirty.

Although my parents (thankfully) drew the line when I begged to get a buzz cut, I don't have memories of them trying to correct my gender performance at all. Dad played basketball and softball with me, and Mom allowed me to stick with sports bras at first when that awkward life phase came around. They bought me dress pants instead of skirts to wear to church and let me go to all-boys' birthday parties. Come to think of it, I've never asked if my tomboyishness ever concerned them, but it was just a part of who I was until about middle school (AKA the worst three years of just about everyone's life). Thanks, Mom and Dad, for loving tomboy Sarah!

Now, I realize that the folks who made this commercial probably weren't trying to make some major statement about gender, and one friend pointed out that they were probably making fun of the mom. Besides, I realize that at least some of that kind of anxiety on the part of parents has to do with concern for their kid's well being. Was I teased for dressing and acting like a boy (whatever that means)? Absolutely. I've never thought about it much, but I still have residual insecurities from high school and even before that might have been lessened had I socialized myself more femininely from an earlier age—but then again, maybe not. Maybe it simply would have introduced those insecurities sooner.

I've never been a parent, and anyway this isn't a parenting advice column. But I find traditional gender roles problematic in many ways, and we as a society and as a church need to recognize how deeply entrenched these assumptions are and how they can be destructive. If the church only had women like the mom in that commercial, I would scream. (I want women like that mom in the church. I just also want women like the little girl in the church.) I've seen churches and youth groups especially that sometimes reinforce these expectations in such a way as to become exclusive; some of my more difficult memories from high school have to do with feeling like I wasn't pretty enough by the standards of the girls with whom I went to school and church. Having been a youth pastor briefly, I've talked with other youth leaders about how even compliments on one teenager's hair or clothes can create an unsafe space for others if we aren't careful.

If your daughter prefers Legos over Barbies, buy her Legos! We need more women in math/science/engineering anyway. (Not me.) And if your son insists on wearing a tutu everywhere he goes, let him. Heck, Jesus wore a dress.

For the record, although I perform my gender more "correctly" now, I am currently wearing a pair of men's sweatpants that I bought myself, and they are SO comfortable.

Red Pill Christians

2011-10-26T07:08:00.001-07:00

"You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."

This quote from Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) comes at a decisive moment in the movie The Matrix. Neo (Keanu Reeves) has just been told that he has been living in a fantasy, a digital world created by machines who have taken over and enslaved humanity, farming their bodies for energy while filling their brains with made-up images and experiences. Now, Neo has a choice: go back into the comfortable but false world of the Matrix or permanently exit the delusion and suffer the consequences of knowing the truth.

Spoiler alert: he takes the red pill.

My ethics professor and sister in Christ, Amy Laura Hall, has used this image to talk about a kind of Christianity that refuses to use religion as an opiate. My friend and classmate Lindsey refers to herself as a "red pill Christian." Red pill Christians know just how bad things can get both in the world and in the church. They've taken off the rose-colored glasses.

Here's the thing: although the first instinct after taking the red pill, so to speak, may be to reject the institutional church, my calling seems to be to a difficult tension. I consider myself a red pill Christian, but I still feel called to serve within and through the church. If you're anti-institutional, I sympathize and probably agree with you on a lot of your concerns about organized religion, but I am still committed to the institution because, frankly, it's all we've got.

The church has done a lot of awful things over the centuries and continues to fail to represent Christ to the world, and admitting this is part of being a red pill Christian; but there are still times and places in the life of the church in which God's love shines through in a way that it simply cannot elsewhere. I do not believe that the church is the hope of the world, because only Christ is that; but as broken as the church is, she is still the body of Christ.

What might it look like to be a red pill church? It does not mean to abandon hope; if you think about it, the kinds of people and groups who most faithfully embody Christian hope are those who truly understand just how bad things can get. It means to see how deep the rabbit-hole goes and emerge on the other side determined to be faithful even in the face of what we've seen, because God is there even in the darkness of the rabbit-hole.

What I'm Reading #33: Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott)

2011-10-24T12:40:00.000-07:00

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, by Anne Lamott

We read Bird by Bird (Anchor Books 1994) for my introductory preaching class this fall, and I loved it. Not only was it enormously helpful for preaching and writing in general (which I'm wanting to pursue more of), it holds a lot of important lessons for life. Plus Anne Lamott is brilliant and slightly unstable, which I love.

Lamott handily dispels the myth that writing is easy for writers. Throughout my life, I've periodically felt the urge to write more (like right now), but when I sit down and am unable to produce beautiful prose immediately, I assume I'm just not cut out to be a writer. Turns out, writing is hard even and especially for writers. This I find encouraging.

Another thing Lamott said that I appreciated is that perfectionism is a tyrant. We need to be willing to write (in her words) "shitty first drafts," work on them, and then let them go even when we aren't totally satisfied with them. This sounds an awful lot like life to me. Are any of us ever really going to get it together? If not, can that be OK?

Finally, she has a lot in there about what my counselor called (while diagnosing me with it) a "reassurance addition." I posted a poem by Philip Lopate that Lamott reprinted in Bird by Bird that illustrates this insane need for love and attention that she often feels (and with which I strongly identify). Whether in writing, any other line of work or life in general, we need to be able to trust from within that we are enough. Yes, others can encourage and support us, but ultimately, if we do not see ourselves as lovable or good or sufficient, nothing anyone else can say will help at all. A major part of being a good writer (and, I would argue, a good preacher) is being comfortable in one's own skin and non-anxiously assured of one's own gifting and calling.

I'm not doing this book justice, but I would definitely recommend it. I liked it even more than Lamott's more popular Traveling Mercies.

Favorite Quotations

"Good writing is about telling the truth."

"We all know we're going to die; what's important is the kind of men and women we are in the face of this."

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor."

"If you don't believe in what you are saying, there is no point in your saying it."

"Don't look at your feet to see if you are doing it right. Just dance."

"If you want to know how God feels about money, look at whom she gives it to."

"Being enough was going to have to be an inside job."

"Truth is always subversive."

Today Is a Day for "No"

2011-10-24T11:52:00.000-07:00

Today is a day for "no."

I met with the District Committee on Ordained Ministry this morning, assuming that it would end with me being recommended to the Western North Carolina Conference for commissioning in 2012. That did not happen. The meeting wasn't what I was expecting, and it quickly became clear that I was not prepared and am not ready to be commissioned this year. This wasn't a huge surprise, but it was certainly humbling, because I am rarely told "no." In the end, though, I agree that I am not ready, and now I don't have to meet a January deadline for commissioning papers. It was freeing.

I followed up that humbling experience by giving a "no" of my own. I had been invited to lead worship for a church work camp over Christmas break; it sounded like a great opportunity, but after this semester, I am going to need a break, and I don't spend enough time at home (and even less time actually being present at home). I often feel like I have to take any cool opportunity, either out of pride or a desire to prove myself or simply because I say "yes" to everything, but today I emailed the camp organizer and told her it would be better for me if I did not commit to doing it. It was freeing.

In general, I think a posture of "yes" is a good one to have. However, in order to own and commit to every "yes" I give, I must be able to say "no" when necessary; and if I am ever to appreciate a "yes" given to me, I need to be told "no" from time to time.

(In case anyone is concerned about my future, not to worry. I'm continuing as a certified candidate and have been affirmed in my call to ministry and encouraged to do commissioning next year, so this isn't a forever "no.")

A Poem by Phillip Lopate

2011-10-10T08:44:00.000-07:00

We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither loving you
as much as you want
nor cutting you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In announcing our
association
we realized we have
placed in your hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with you as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.

— Phillip Lopate, via Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird

What I'm Reading #32: The Help (Kathryn Stockett)

2011-10-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett

Thanks again to Audible.com for allowing me to "read" a book I probably wouldn't have taken the time to sit down and read on my own. Heck, thanks to them for getting me to consume a novel during the semester! I've heard a lot about The Help—who hasn't?—and after letting a friend's copy sit on my shelf all summer only to be returned unread, I decided that audio was the best way to go.

This book tells the story of African-American maids and the white women for which they work in a community in Jackson, Mississippi in the 1960s. The book has three alternating narrators: two maids, Abilene and Minny, and a young white woman named Skeeter.

If you know me at all, you know that racial angst is coming in this post, but for now I'll set that aside and say that when I bracketed that and simply inhabited the world this book creates for the reader (or listener), this is a good read. The characters are fascinating and likable; the context is ripe with dramatic irony, teetering on the edge of a cultural shift as hints of a changing outside world occasionally creep into the pristine southern gentility; there is humor; and there is suspense, but not so much that you feel like you're being jerked around.

One thing that I liked about this book is that it shows that sometimes people are brave by accident...or, should I say, by habit. The main plot thread involves Skeeter, an aspiring journalist, interviewing maids for an anonymous book aimed at revealing what it is really like to work for a southern white woman. Skeeter dives into the project in hopes of impressing publishers at Harper and Row, not realizing until very late in the game (if at all) just how dangerous it is for her and for the maids. At least at first, there is nothing particularly heroic or justice-oriented about Skeeter, and I like the image of bravery not as something grandiose, something decided and sought after, but something for which a person is somehow formed whether they realize it or not.

On to the racial angst (or whatever).

The first thing I did after finishing the book was to do a Google image search for the author, Kathryn Stockett. She is, like me, petite and blonde. She clearly has a love-hate relationship with the south (as I do), and it seems pretty clear to me that Skeeter in many ways represents her—a young white woman giving African-Americans a voice in the south. In the story, Skeeter is celebrated and even called "family" by the blacks in the community after the book is published. Did Stockett create Skeeter's character to try and reverse engineer something redeeming into the culture from which she came?

In retrospect, I found it interesting that Stockett chose to tell the story from the viewpoint of two maids and Skeeter. This makes sense because she was telling a specific story, but I wonder if she thought about what it would be like to tell another side of the story; for example, that of Miss Hilly, a friend of Skeeter's whose racism is at times appalling, at others humorous for its ignorance. The closest Stockett comes to identifying positively with any of the white women's racist tendencies is when Skeeter discovers an uncomfortable truth about something her mother did to their former maid and meets only her mother's defense of her actions where she had hoped to find redemption.

This tendency to distance ourselves from the darkness of the human soul (or simply the gross biases of cultural malformation) is one I've thought about a lot lately, beginning most sharply in the wake of Troy Davis' execution, when I found myself wondering why no one had taken up the cause of Lawrence Brewer, another man executed on the same night (more on that here). Obviously, this is because Davis' case presented huge amounts of doubt while Brewer was an unrepentant white supremacist who committed an unfathomable hate crime. Despite how charming The Help was as a novel, I had to wonder if Stockett was distancing herself from the most virulent racism she observed, choosing instead to adopt the voices of two black maids and an only mildly racist but gradually reforming white woman. It is understandable that she would not have wanted to give credence to the thought processes of a character like Miss Hilly, but to simply make her into a villain meant that both Stockett and the reader were able to remain a safe distance from the worst of it all.

If I've ruined your favorite summer read, I'm sorry! I just can't leave anything alone that tries to make white people feel better about the 60s...or even race relations today...

Let's Get Naked!

2011-10-06T15:25:00.000-07:00

This was originally posted on the blog of New Creation Arts, the student arts group at Duke Divinity School.

During the last week of September, these odd fliers peppered the walls of Duke Divinity School. By the end of the week, people were talking about naked Quakers and asking if there would be streaking. As the event coordinator, I made no promises.

We welcomed musician Jon Watts to campus with a call he makes in one of his own songs: "Let's Get Naked!" But this wasn't just for shock value. Jon's latest musical release, Clothe Yourself in Righteousness, is a unique project that was born out of a collaboration with Maggie Harrison. Maggie had written an academic paper on the 17th-century Quaker practice of going naked as a sign.

For the September 30 performance, co-sponsored by New Creation Arts Group and the Duke Divinity Women's Center, we were excited to have Maggie with us in addition to Jon. Maggie shared the highlights of her paper with us, hitting on the several layers of significance of going naked: recalling that Adam and Eve were created good—and naked—only putting on clothes after the fall; pointing out that Isaiah preached naked in Isaiah 20; and insisting that the call to put on the new self, to put on Christ, to clothe yourself in righteousness, requires that we first take off the false clothing we have put on to hide our shame and our vulnerability. At the end of the concert, the group had a discussion with Jon and Maggie around all this and more, rounding out the event as unique not only in content but in the way it encouraged conversation and vulnerability among those present.

I haven't even mentioned Jon's music yet. As a spoken word artist (performing here with a guitar and violin), the sound is an experience all its own. Jon is a gifted songwriter, his lyrics simple but profound at the same time, unafraid of hard truths while still inviting the listener into his questions and challenges. Lyrical gems include, "Forgiveness is the difference between heaven and hell. That's not some afterlife shit; I'm talking now"; and this one that resonated with many of us present: "You don't need a degree from seminary to know God loves you." Jon's music encourages the listeners to be honest with themselves and with each other, even in their brokenness. That vulnerability is what getting naked is all about for Jon.

Pick up Jon's album, but prepared to be surprised and challenged by it. The ideas that Jon and Maggie are pushing have the potential to call the church (and not just Quakers!) back to its identity as a loving, genuine, transformative community that can effect real change in relationships and in the world.

"On Marriage" by Khalil Gibran

2011-10-02T16:55:00.000-07:00

I attended a wedding yesterday at which this was read, and I liked it, so I'm posting it.

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

I Am Lawrence Brewer

2011-09-22T05:37:00.000-07:00

Last night, the state of Georgia executed Troy Davis, a man widely believed to be innocent. A last-minute delay went to the Supreme Court, where a stay of execution was denied.

Meanwhile in Texas, another man was executed. There was no widespread outcry for the life of Lawrence Brewer. His horrific crime was one of which he boasted, one in which there was no doubt of his guilt. He "deserved" to die.

I blogged last night that I was troubled by the preoccupation with the "too much doubt" that characterized the Troy Davis case. Not because I disagree with the emphasis; the fact that our government would sentence an innocent man to death—and, by the way, "since 1973, 138 people in 26 states have been released from death row with evidence of their innocence" (DPIC)—and then follow through on that sentence amid mounting doubt is appalling. I'm not even addressing the racial inequity inherent in the system, which is a huge part of this case. A crime was committed in Georgia last night. One friend commented that the only physical evidence or weapon connected to the Troy Davis case was that used in the execution. That should make you shudder.

However, I found myself forced to wonder why we were comfortable executing Lawrence Brewer on the same night. The answer is obvious: Brewer committed and reveled in an unimaginably cruel hate crime, the dragging death of James Byrd, Jr. I didn't want to know about his crime, but last night when the phrase "I am Troy Davis" was splashed across various social media outlets, I felt like I had to add "I am Lawrence Brewer," and I needed to know what I was really saying. Reading more about Brewer, I found a part of myself glad that he is no longer on this earth. According to a Huffington Post article comparing the two death penalty cases, in court proceedings, Brewer wrote a letter with these chilling words: "Well, I did it... And no longer am I a virgin. It was a rush, and I'm still licking my lips for more."

No one in their right mind wants this man on the streets. But it seems to me that part of the desire to shut away and then kill someone like Brewer is not only that we want to maintain public safety—it's that we are afraid to acknowledge what we have in common with him. We do not want someone like Brewer to be human because we do not want to see ourselves in him. I do not want to identify myself with a white supremacist whose racism led him to torture and murder a black man. It is easy for me to say that I would never commit such a crime, but what really separates me from Brewer?

Mother Teresa once said, "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." This quote gets used a lot of the time to highlight the nice things about human community and relationships, the ways in which we can and should build one another up and take care of one another. That is absolutely right, but it seems to me that in this broken world, if there is ever going to be healing and reconciliation, we must admit that we belong to each other not only in our goodness but also in our darkness. The reason that history continues to go through cycles of violence, even genocide, is that we continuously (and with good reason!) distance ourselves from the perpetrators of horror, so much so that we fail to recognize those same impulses in our own hearts. We condemn German citizens who did nothing while Jews were rounded up and murdered in their midst, and yet we allow men to be killed by the state, systemic injustice to deny basic healthcare to the poor, suspected terrorists to be held and tortured with no evidence but their ethnicity or nationality in the name of homeland security, and unjust wars to be waged abroad by soldiers with no resources to deal with the repercussions of taking a human life.

Sister Helen Prejean, a Catholic nun and anti-death penalty activist (and the character portrayed by Susan Sarandon in the movie Dead Man Walking) said, "The profound moral question is not, 'Do they deserve to die?' but 'Do we deserve to kill them?'" I am reminded of John 8:7, where Jesus challenges the men accusing a woman of adultery: "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." I am not advocating lawlessness and disorder. Like I said, no one in their right mind wants Lawrence Brewer on the streets. But my point is that, innocent or guilty, no human being should have their life taken by the state. We need to acknowledge the inhumanity of the death penalty as being the very thing we are trying not to see in ourselves when we wash our hands of the humanity of someone like Lawrence Brewer.

I have to point out the reactions of each victim's family to these two executions. The family of James Byrd, Jr., whose body was mercilessly mutilated by Lawrence Brewer, who was unrepentant to the last, begged the courts not to kill him. But the family of Mark MacPhail, whom Troy Davis is accused of killing, welcomed his death, feeling that justice had been served. I am sensitive to and troubled by the racial dynamics not only of the crimes and trials, but of the family's reactions.

I was 14 years old on 9/11. I watched our country's sense of security crumble with those towers. I still cry almost anytime someone talks about 9/11. And yet, I have never feared terrorists. I do not worry about my safety when I travel. I have caught myself looking at middle eastern people with curiosity that borders on suspicion, but I have never really been concerned that he or she is a terrorist or would harm me in any way. What I do fear is that darkness that lies in the human soul, in my own soul, that darkness that leads people like the MacPhails to see death as a victory, that causes crowd members at a GOP rally to cheer when Rick Perry is asked about the record number of executions that have taken place in Texas during his term as governor. (By the way, read this: "An Open Letter of Pastoral Admonition to Governor Rick Perry," by Amy Laura Hall.) I do not fear people like Brewer. I fear the part of me that wants to cheer at Brewer's death.

There is only one death in all of history that constituted a victory. If we celebrate any other human death—even the death of Osama bin Laden—we have, indeed, forgotten that we belong to each other, and until our memory is restored, we will have no peace.

I am Troy Davis. I am Lawrence Brewer. May God have mercy on my soul.

Too Much Doubt

2011-09-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

I am writing this blog post as reports of a delay (or perhaps a stay?) in Troy Davis' execution are circulating. Either way, he's been sedated for over an hour and has no idea what is going on. That image breaks my heart.

Leading up to the scheduled execution, I saw a lot of activity on Twitter and Facebook around the controversy, including this Twitter hashtag: #toomuchdoubt. In a case with no physical evidence and eyewitnesses recanting left and right, there absolutely is too much doubt. Troy Davis never should have been on death row.

However, my opposition to the death penalty extends beyond cases in which there is too much doubt. I don't think it is possible for there to be little enough doubt to justify capital punishment. I wrote an article in 2007 for the inaugural issue of the magazine Religio outlining my stance on the death penalty, and it still basically says all I want to say on the subject.

I could probably produce a more theologically complicated and flowery account today, but I don't much feel like it. I serve a God who was a victim of the death penalty and whose death and resurrection freed us from slavery to sin and death. Wherever we perpetuate a culture of death, we enslave each other and ourselves all over again.

So I wait to hear more about the Troy Davis case with tears in my eyes, knowing that I would oppose his execution even if he had been convicted beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Offensive or Prophetic?

2011-09-21T06:10:00.000-07:00

"Not all offensive actions are prophetic, but some prophetic actions are offensive." — Sam Wells, in a sermon preached in Duke Chapel on 9/4/11 (via Faith & Leadership)

What I'm Reading #31: The Year of Living Biblically (A. J. Jacobs)

2011-09-19T18:50:00.001-07:00

The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible, by A. J. Jacobs

I saw The Year of Living Biblically (Simon & Schuster 2008) in a bookstore a few weeks ago and nearly bought it. Last week, I subscribed to audible.com, because I'm commuting 1.5 hours twice a week to teach this semester, and I need listening material. I didn't realize the version of Jacobs' book that I bought was abridged until I finished it, so I feel like I'm cheating a little by saying I read it, but I'm gonna choose to let that go.

My interest in the book was originally kindled because it looked like a pretty hilarious satire. There also seemed to be great potential for getting offended, which doesn't happen often to me and which I generally find more amusing than anything else. I was a little surprised by how non-aggressive Jacobs' approach to this strange project was. You would expect that anyone who commits to following the Bible literally for a year is being facetious and has an agenda that is at least cynical if not malicious, but Jacobs came at this with a healthy dose of humility (though not without preconceived notions).

Jacobs started out a secular Jew with little to no experience with religion. He described his family's Judaism using an image I thought was particularly salient: they put a star of David on top of their Christmas tree. So, Jacobs took 5 hours a day for 4 weeks to read through the entire Bible and write down every single command he found. Needless to say, the list was exhaustive, and he quickly found that obeying all the commands at the same time was impossible, not only because of the sheer number but also because some of them contradict. One of Jacobs' main conclusions after completing the project was that everyone, conservatives, liberals and moderates alike, picks and chooses what they want to adhere to from the Bible.

There were definitely scenes that aligned with my expectation for satire, especially those involving Jacobs' skeptical wife and his 2-year-old son. One was when Jacobs tried to obey a prescription for corporal punishment for children (which he hadn't done before), seeking out a "rod" that would not actually harm his son: a Nerf bat. When Jasper misbehaved, Jacobs whacked him gently with the bat. The toddler's response was to laugh hysterically, grab a whiffle bat, and return the favor. Discipline fail.

But there were also moments of surprising solemnity. Jacobs got into a daily routine of prayers, though he rarely felt like he was actually talking to anyone. He did, however, experience a few moments of connection, or joy, or something, and I felt like he did a marvelous job of receiving and reflecting on those moments without overly dramatizing them. In the final part of the book, Jacobs admits he still doesn't believe in God in the way that a practicing Jew or Christian does; though he did experience a change, he describes his transition as one from being an agnostic to being a reverent agnostic, someone with an appreciation for the sacred and for ritual.

Besides simply following the commands on his own, Jacobs also did a lot of research, assembling a group of spiritual leaders to act as guides, reading up on Biblical interpretation and Jewish and Christian practices, traveling to Israel, etc. One research trip I found interesting was two-part: to visit Liberty University, founded by the infamous Jerry Falwell, and to check out the Red Letter Christians, of which Tony Campolo is a part. I was confused at first as he described these groups, because he used the term "Christian literalist" for both. I've always associated literalism with conservative fundamentalism, and the RLCs are more on the moderate to liberal side. However, the RLCs are committed to interpreting the words of Jesus literally (hence the "red letter" reference), calling Christians to hear Jesus' admonitions around social and economic justice. I don't think the term "literalist" actually applies in truth to much of anyone who reads or follows the Bible, but it was interesting to see it applied in two radically different exegetical camps.

I would definitely recommend this book for an easy and interesting read, complete with plenty of laughs and some healthy doses of humility for any reader.

Church Hopping #4: World Overcomers Christian Church

2011-09-18T11:40:00.000-07:00

This post is a little different because it does not represent a first impression of a church I visited, but that's OK. In the summer of 2008, one of my housemates worked at World Overcomers Christian Church, and I attended a few of their worship services, including one at which he was baptized. That housemate is now a housemate again (just around the corner!) and still attends WOCC. We had our house retreat this past weekend, and we went to WOCC's Saturday evening service last night, so I re-experienced World Overcomers for the first time in a few years.

If I could use one word (or phrase?) to describe WOCC's worship, it would be "high-energy." I remember the second time I went there back in undergrad, a very kind woman welcomed me and said with sweet caution, "Now just so you know, the music here is pretty loud!"

I need to back up. WOCC is a predominantly African-American, contemporary evangelical church that might qualify as a megachurch, though I'm not sure of the membership. I had my own (amusing) thoughts about why that woman felt the need to warn me about the volume, and race was definitely a component. WOCC is not an exclusively black church, and I have always found the people there more than hospitable, but its atmosphere does seem to cater to the younger black population.

Back to the high energy. The service started with several back-to-back praise songs led by a sizeable group of vocalists (including my housemate) and a stacked band that was rocking out. I didn't know any of the songs they sang, which was a little distressing in that I once was up on contemporary gospel music...but that's OK. Every song had the theme of (and often the exact words) "God is mighty." Having spent the past few weeks talking to my biblical lit class about how the Bible holds God's majesty and God's intimacy in tension, I naturally got to thinking about why certain songwriters or worship leaders or whomever might choose to emphasize God's might (as, say, the Genesis 1 creation account does, whereas the Genesis 2 creation story describes a much closer, more anthropomorphic God). Just a runaway train of thought.

Pastor Nate, whom I remember as having been my housemate's supervisor the summer he worked there, offered a greeting and announcements after the worship set, then the musicians came back on to lead another song before giving the stage to Pastor Andy, the tall, charismatic senior pastor of WOCC. As part of their current "Ready Set Grow" series, Pastor Andy preached from Romans 15 and Philippians 1, encouraging the congregation not to be self-satisfied in any blessing or strength they may experience but to use those gifts for others. "We who are strong ought to put up with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Each of us must please our neighbor for the good purpose of building up the neighbor. For Christ did not please himself; but, as it is written, 'The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me'" (Rom. 15:1-3). My housemate had mentioned that a major emphasis at WOCC lately has been encouraging people to mature in faith, as increasingly its membership includes many new believers, and this message seemed to fit that agenda.

If you want to get pumped up for Jesus and feel effusively welcome in a space that does not look like a church, go check out World Overcomers.

I'm headed back to Durham Resurrection Community tonight (we're meeting in a house again), but I figure by the third visit it's no longer "church hopping." :)

Soldiers of Conscience: To Kill or Not to Kill?

2011-09-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

One of the (too many) things I'm doing this semester is helping to plan an event called After the Yellow Ribbon. (Registration is open. Join us November 11-12 at Duke.) The event, like the hosting student group (Milites Christi), is focused on cultivation conversation around pastoral responses to war and peace and to the church's care of veterans. Of particular interest is the concept of moral injury and the internal wounds of war sustained by those who wage it.

I went into this knowing little to nothing about the backdrop to the conversation, so this has been a learning experience for me. Last night, we held a screening of the documentary film Soldiers of Conscience, which was difficult but, I think, important for me to see. Check out the trailer at the bottom of this post. The film features the stories of several conscientious objectors who became such after entering the service, as well as representatives of the U.S. military, including Lt. Col. Pete Kilner, an ethicist at Westpoint who will be presenting at After the Yellow Ribbon. There are questions raised about just war, but the main concern is the conscience of the individual soldier, the infantryman who is trained to kill but has little recourse for processing the moral implications.

The part of the film that struck me as most chilling was the discussion of reflexive fire. Research shows that in World War II, only about 25% of servicemen actually fired their weapons with intent to kill the enemy. At the moment of decision, whether consciously or not, they became conscientious objectors. The military took notice and changed the way they approached training, working to cultivate a reflex to kill so that soldiers skip the moral decision making process in order to be quicker and more deadly. Lethality in battle has been steadily on the rise since then. The thing is, no healthy person wants to kill another human being. Killing does not come naturally; soldiers have to be trained, methodically and sometimes with what I see as pretty frightening and dehumanizing techniques, not to think about it.

The truth is that the church fails veterans regularly, and I am personally grateful for this opportunity to be challenged in how I approach questions of war and peace before I go into parish ministry. I grew up with a strongly anti-military mindset that, unfortunately, was often aimed as much at servicemen as at the military industrial complex. I have family members who are veterans but have never engaged them in conversation about their service; maybe this is an opportunity to do that. Talking about war and peace in abstract terms is tricky because it can so quickly become polarizing, but what I think we're trying to do here with Milites Christi and After the Yellow Ribbon is to engage in real conversation about the concrete implications of war for human beings with will and conscience. With veteran suicide rates at an all-time high, this is an issue on which the church cannot remain silent.

Church Hopping #3: And Now for Something Completely Different, Part 1: Buddhist Meditation

2011-09-13T17:41:00.000-07:00

OK, so this blog isn't about a church visit at all. Inspired by Abdullah Antepli's part in our Goodson Chapel service last Thursday and by watching the video of a recent interfaith panel on 9-11 at Duke Divinity, I decided that my exploration of various worship settings needed to expand beyond Christianity. So I looked up the website of the Buddhist Community at Duke and decided to attend one of their weekly meetings, which includes meditation and a talk from a Dharma teacher. I've decided to keep this and any other non-Christian explorations in my "Church Hopping" series, but with the dubious subtitle "And Now for Something Completely Different." Hope that's OK.

Just so we're clear, I know next to nothing about Buddhism. I raised my hand as someone who had never meditated before, because although I have done short mindfulness meditations in a Christian context, I had never done it like this before.

My first-time status was obvious, but I wasn't the only one. The Buddhist group at Duke shares a meditation room on campus with the Hindus, and the floor was populated with cushions and a few chairs along the walls. We left our shoes outside. I was greeted warmly by Rev. Sumi Loundon Kim, the Buddhist chaplain, who was part of the interfaith panel I mentioned, and by a statue of the Buddha (not the laughing Buddha). As we gathered, I met a graduate student in the Environmental Management program who was surprised that, as a divinity student, I had never been there before. I was reminded that although Duke Divinity is an all-Christian institution, places like Harvard and Yale are not. I chose Duke in part for the sense of community and formation that comes with sharing a common faith and call, but there are definitely educational and formational aspects I've missed out on by limiting my theological education to within Christianity (and, in very limited ways in undergrad, Judaism and Islam).

We started with a 12-minute sitting. I have back issues, so I'll admit that a fair chunk of this time was consumed by a preoccupation with an intense pain and tightness in the center of my back. I am also very easily distracted, which is why I pray most often in the car, so my mind kept wandering away from my breath (we were led in a form of mindfulness meditation). However, as the leader gave gentle instruction for the newcomers, he anticipated such wanderings and encouraged us to acknowledge distractions without chastising ourselves, to take note of sounds and thoughts and images without letting them take control. It reminded me of similar teachings on prayer and self-compassion I heard from the monks at Christ in the Desert Monastery in New Mexico, where I spent my spring breaks in undergrad.

The guest teacher tonight was John Orr, who teaches here at Duke and is an ordained Buddhist monk. (Side note: as he talked about his experiences in India and Thailand, I was struck by how much crossover there is in language from Buddhist and Catholic monastic systems, though I suspect the terms don't always mean the same thing; but I heard "monastery," "monk," "nun" and even "prior.") He spoke about developing and/or deepening a practice of meditation. He used language of "doing" versus "being," in that meditation is not something you can necessarily control or accomplish; it requires a degree of passivity and release. Orr spoke of his own struggles with letting go and learning a meditation practice that worked for him, of having to realize that anytime he was seeking after a specific experience or feeling in meditation, he was grasping for control. He identified this with the solar plexus chakra (one of seven) and said that the way to free oneself from that grasping was to move to the heart chakra, the place of wisdom and compassion. Since I can't help but put what I was hearing in terms of my own experience, I was reminded of what Henri Nouwen called "the inner voice of love," a deep place of self-compassion and knowledge of God's love. Only by knowing one's own belovedness can one rightly love others.

I feel like this post is fantastically choppy and ill-educated, but this is just my raw take on my first experience of Buddhist meditation. I'm hoping to learn a little more about Buddhism; years ago, I bought the installments of Oxford University Press' Very Short Introduction series on Buddhism and Hinduism when I realized that my undergraduate religion degree had introduced me almost solely to the Abrahamic faiths (though I have read the Bhagavad Gita). As minimal of an exposure as tonight was, I can say that I needed to hear a lot of what Orr had to say about love, wisdom and compassion, and I'm glad that I went.

Church Hopping #2: Duke Chapel (ish), Emmaus Way, and Durham Resurrection Community (again)

2011-09-11T18:25:00.000-07:00

I have now gone two Sundays in a row without setting foot in an actual church building, yet between those two Sundays, I have participated in 4.5 worship services (I'll explain the fraction in a moment). Actually, make that three Sundays and 5.5 services, because New Creation UMC meets in Healthy Start Academy (I'm counting buildings that look like churches but are no longer owned by churches as non-churches).

I have decided that Sunday evening worship services are the best thing ever. I spent all summer getting up at 7:00 a.m. on Sundays, and last school year it was 6:00. Today, I woke up a little before 9:00 and spent the morning getting work done. I felt a little transgressive, so, partly due to that feeling and partly because I was curious to see what they were doing for 9-11, I turned on Duke Chapel's live video stream on their website.

That's where I got the half a worship service in my total. Now, I'm sure I could devote an entire blog post to whether online worship is possible, and anyone who knows me at all could probably guess what my answer would be, but I'm going to save that, because one of my classes is actually going to spend some time looking at religion and technology this semester, so I'll have something more intelligent to say in a few months. Even if you think you can worship online, I definitely wasn't engaged enough for it to count. If you want to give it a shot, the video of today's service can be found here.

However, it was moving to see and hear what they had going on this morning. Mad props to worship director Meghan Feldmeyer, who is the woman and now owes me hangout time since 9-11 has passed. :) They incorporated a memorial act into the service where people brought white roses to lay before the altar as the choir sang "Lacrymosa" from Mozart's Requiem (which they performed entire this afternoon). The opening hymn, "The King of Love My Shepherd Is," an adaptation of Psalm 23 that I thought was fitting. The choir, as usual, was glorious, and one anthem choice in particular was striking: the Agnus Dei from Benjamin Britten's War Requiem, which includes these words penned by Wilfred Owen:

One ever hangs where shelled roads part.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.

Near Golgotha strolls many a priest,
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ’s denied.

The scribes on all the people shove
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.

They also used a litany for September 11 that incorporated lines from "O God Our Help in Ages Past." And also as usual, Dean Sam Wells' sermon was wonderful. He focused on the idea of Ground Zero and the images of ashes, recalling not only the dust that choked the air of Manhattan on 9-11 but also the dust from which we are made and to which we will return. Just go check out the sermon, I could listen to that man talk all day.

I did actually go to and participate in two other worship services today. The first was at Emmaus Way, which describes itself as an "emergent activist" church. Having spent a lot of time this summer getting to know and love the way Lockerbie Central UMC in Indy does church, this sounded really appealing. Plus, I've known the pastor there for a while, as one of his kids participated in the youth group I used to lead.

Emmaus Way meets at The Reality Center, another one of those former church buildings that now houses what I will happily call an incredible ministry even though it's not, strictly speaking, a church. I knew I would love this church from the moment I walked in. They meet in what used to be the sanctuary and is now more of a gym, but they set it up in a round. In the center were the musicians and a chair for the pastor, which conveniently swiveled. Flanking all sides were rows of chairs and a few couches. Art was set up all around the room, candles on end tables and in window sills, a gorgeous painting by Carole Baker representing the liturgical calendar gracing one corner. A low table holding communion elements was at one end of the oval made by the seats. The space was inviting and comfortable, with an air of anticipation.

If I had had any doubts from my first visual impression, a glance at the bulletin drove those away. The first song they did was by the Indigo Girls ("Hammer and a Nail"). The Emmaus Way website states that they are committed to supporting local, professional musicians, and they even have an Arts Pastor. The music was folksy but fresh, and the songs seemed to be from random sources, including one traditional hymn, two songs by the basics and one by Over the Rhine, but each song had a specific liturgical function, including a song of confession and a song of absolution.

The sermon was really more of a conversation, which reminded me of the Lyceum series Lockerbie Central did this summer (and apparently is a characteristic of much emergent worship out there). Emmaus Way is doing a series on Ordinary Time, and today the subject was vocation. The pastor, Tim Conder, offered some reflection and then opened the floor to let people share how they see their vocation tying into what they do for a living. He then went into an exploration of the book of Jonah as it relates to vocation, which I really enjoyed because for some reason Jonah has been coming up a lot lately in my readings for different things. Jonah's problem, Tim said, was not that he was afraid; it was that he knew that if he went to Ninevah and delivered God's message, God would show forgiveness to his enemies—and Jonah didn't want that.

I loved Emmaus Way's blend of ancient church tradition (which today included a reading from the Book of Common Prayer, a rite for the dead as a nod to 9-11) and contemporary/"secular" elements. Having spent the summer around people talking a lot about the emergent church movement and figuring out how to participate in it in context, here I was seeing it actually happening. I will definitely be back.

I left straight from Emmaus Way to go worship with Durham Resurrection Community for a second time. I had already met with two of their musicians earlier in the day because, being me, it took less than a week for me to get on the worship team. Last week, we met at a rock quarry; this week, we met in a member's home. We gathered in the living room, read Scripture, shared joys and concerns, broke bread and sang praises. I even played the cajon on one song. I've enjoyed the laid back, familial feel of that group, and it's nice that it is an odd conglomeration of friends of mine and people I don't know (or am now getting to know).

I'm really enjoying this church hopping thing. I want to maintain some sort of stability as I visit around (hence getting plugged in with Resurrection already and hopefully going back to Emmaus Way as much as I can), but visiting around is already proving pretty educational and I've only been at it for two weeks. I've already had a Quaker I know invite me to a Friends meeting, and another friend of mine attends an African American Catholic parish I'd love to visit.

But I'm also hoping to expand beyond the walls of Christianity. Especially after last week's service in Goodson Chapel that included reflections from Imam Abdullah Antepli, and after watching the video of an interfaith panel held this past week at Duke Divinity, I'm planning to check out Friday Jummah prayers with Muslim Life at Duke and weeknight meditation and discussion with the campus Buddhist group. I've also been meaning to actually attend a service at Judea Reform, the Jewish Reform congregation in Durham (where I've sung in a concert before and whose sanctuary I adore). Worship adventure is out there!

What I'm Reading #30: Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)

2011-09-11T06:20:00.000-07:00

Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides

Since I'm driving to Fayetteville and back (and hour and a half each way) twice a week this semester, I've turned to audiobooks. Middlesex is a novel I've been meaning to read for a while, and this seemed like as good a time as any. And so, after 3 weeks of driving for class, plus listening to it in the car pretty much every time I drove in between, I finished the book.

Middlesex is the story of Cal, a male hermaphrodite who was raised as Callie, a girl, until adolescence. But it is much more than that. Eugenides, drawing on his own Greek heritage, traces the history of the gene that caused Cal's 5-alpha-reductase deficiency back to a mountain village in early 20th-century Greece. Eugenides tells of how the recessive gene traveled through the generations, coming closer to the service when cousins or siblings intermarried, manifesting itself occasionally in the small village until eventually it crossed the Atlantic with Cal's grandparents (who were really brother and sister) to Detroit in 1922.

With the morbidity typical of an American today, I just wanted details about Cal's "disorder." But Eugenides refused to objectify or commodify his "condition." And so, at first I grew a little impatient with the long back story about the two generations prior to Cal—but Eugenides quickly drew me in with his language and storytelling, making me care about people and things I hadn't originally come to see.

This book is really a family saga, the section devoted to Cal a coming-of-age story fraught with all the usual struggles of adolescence, but with a slightly different tone in Cal's case. Part of why I wanted to read this book is that I'm finding myself a little more interested in gender constructs and lacking language to deal with them, particularly in a church setting. As much as the church struggles with homosexuality, it blanches even more obviously on questions of transsexuality; but a hermaphrodite is someone whose gender ambiguity is very literally something with which they are born, and we can't draw the same lines as easily. I don't know that I was necessarily enlightened about gender theory at all, because that wasn't really the purpose of this book; but reading (or listening to) Middlesex did allow me to enter into the heart and mind of a young person for whom gender and sexuality were, at best, ambiguous and confusing.

Cal struggles in the book with being labelled a "freak" or even a "monster." Society doesn't deal well with things it doesn't understand. But it seems to me that the solution is at once simple and extremely difficult: when faced with a person whose circumstance or "condition" we do not understand, we must prioritize his or her personhood over whatever baffles us. We must be willing to hear his or her story as a fellow human being, not so that we might diagnose or explain, but so that we might make relationship more important that categorization. This requires the hard work of getting to know someone, but there is no substitute if we would seek an alternative to fear and alienation.

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem // Insha'Allah

2011-09-08T15:32:00.000-07:00

Today, worship in Goodson Chapel at Duke Divinity School was a time for us to commemorate 9/11. We didn't do anything flashy; it was a sober but hopeful reflection. Helping to design the service was an honor, and we ended up with not only English and Latin but also Hebrew and Arabic being spoken and/or sung in the service.

We invited Imam Abdullah Antepli, the Muslim Chaplain to Duke University, as well as Divinity School professor Ellen Davis, to offer reflections on 9/11. Antepli and Davis taught a class together last semester about Muslims and Christians in dialogue, and both our lector and our liturgist for the service had taken the course.

With an imam present and other Muslim students invited to the service, we wanted to be sensitive to that in how we crafted the service. We opened with a call to worship from Psalm 133 ("How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!") and the hymn "The God of Abraham Praise." The Divinity School chaplain, Sally Bates, thought that confession would be important to this service, so we incorporated this prayer adapted from the General Board of Discipleship's website:

God our hope and refuge, we confess that anger and hatred have held on to us. Healing has begun, but loss is still real. We are not in control. We do not like being vulnerable. We still want security or the illusion of it. We still want our enemies to be annihilated and for our lives to return to safety and shalom. Forgive us and heal us. Raise us to new life. Strengthen us in the way of compassion and justice. Fix our faith on you so we know that nothing can separate us from you. Amen.

For the words of assurance, we used Psalm 103: "as far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us." The Scripture passages, on which Joy Moore preached, were Romans 13:8-14 and Matthew 18:21-35. Between the Bible readings, the choir sang Allan Friedman's setting of Psalm 133, which included Hebrew, Latin and Arabic language. Dr. Moore preached about forgiveness, citing the 2006 Amish school shooting and the Amish community's instant, astonishing forgiveness. She reminded us that these people did not respond so readily with grace because they were convinced of it at that moment, but because they had over lifetimes and generations formed habits of forgiveness.

For Chaplain Bates' reflection on 9/11, she looked back to that day, when she was the associate pastor of a church in Raleigh. When asked by a reporter what they were going to do, she replied that they were going to do what the church always does: gather for prayer and worship. The reporter was disappointed she didn't have anything more newsworthy to say, but she insisted that in times of crisis, the church does what it has always done, and in this way we hold each other up.

Dr. Davis reflected on Psalm 122:6, "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem." She pointed out that this is the only time in the Psalms that there is direction to pray for something specific, so it must be important. She spoke of the sometimes shared, sometimes contested space that is the city of Jerusalem, of the one God worshipped by Jews, Christians and Muslims for centuries in that city. One quote I took away was this: she said that peace, or shalom, is not something that descends from on high; "Shalom is more like grass than like rain. ...It grows where we cultivate it." Peace is possible only when we work to make conditions on the ground conducive to its flourishing.

Imam Antepli referred to the story of Joseph, asking whether we too might be able one day to reconcile with brothers who had wronged us. He asked if we were better today than before 9/11, if we were stronger, more loving, more forgiving, and so on. His answer? Not yet; but he had hope. Over and over throughout his reflection, he repeated the Arabic invocation Insha'Allah, God willing, cementing his hope and belief that one day we would overcome the brokenness our nation has experienced since 9/11.

We closed by singing "For the Healing of the Nations." I don't know that today's service would qualify as interfaith worship, but it was still a unique and stirring testimony to hope within the walls of the Divinity School at least. I was honored to be a part of it.

Church Hopping #1: The Gathering Church and Durham Resurrection Community

2011-09-05T08:23:00.001-07:00

This past summer, my friend and classmate Tom Lewis went on a whirlwind tour of the U.S., visiting churches along the way to experience their worship services and learn about how they are connecting with the local community. He documented the entire experience (exhaustively) at 8000milestoordination.blogspot.com. Tom came back enthusiastic about encouraging other seminarians to do the same—as he said, besides what he learned about church, he learned even more about himself that he thinks will be vital to his self-awareness in his future ministry.

I have decided to do something similar my last year of seminary. I am generally opposed to church-hopping, but this is my last chance to experience first-hand how a variety of churches worship and engage the community. Plus, as I looked toward hopefully doing more with worship design and faith community development, I want to know what others are doing. Ministry is all about stealing (er, borrowing) good ideas for the sake of the kingdom.

I started yesterday. I went to church twice and did not set foot in a church building. In the morning, I went to the Gathering Church, where one of my classmates is an associate pastor. They meet at Creekside Elementary School, which leaves much to be desired in terms of acoustics, but they managed well. I had heard a lot about the Gathering Church (and actually helped with music there one Sunday a few years ago on a fluke) and had been intending to visit for a while. They have a great community of musicians within the church and put out a Christmas album last year; they are also working on a hymns record now.

The music did not disappoint. I knew I'd like it from the moment I walked in: the band, which consisted of 3 guitars, bass and drums, including one female guitarist/vocalist, was warming up as people found their seats. The congregational songs included two hymns, two more contemporary selections, and a song by Thad Cockrell, an artist who came out of that church (and whose music I love). The service opened with a Psalm reading and closed with a rousing rendition of the Doxology. The music was punctuated by prayers and Scripture readings, and pastor Mark Acuff offered a sermon on Mark 7:31-37. I liked it.

My second church visit of the day was in an even less traditional setting: outside. Then again, this could be considered more traditional, depending on how far back you go...anyway, a few of my friends are part of a new church called Durham Resurrection Community. It's a Nazarene congregation, and the pastor is a 2011 Duke Divinity graduate and friend. Yesterday, they went to the Eno River State Park for swimming in the rock quarry (a favorite, if somewhat dangerous, destination of Duke students and Durhamites alike) followed by a picnic and outdoor worship, complete with a water cooler standing in as a communion table. It was a beautiful day, and I really enjoyed seeing the people I knew and meeting those I didn't. It's a small community, and they've been meeting in various places since they began worshipping together. Next week, we're meeting at a member's home. I've already been recruited to help with music. It's a laid-back but intentional community, and I liked it too.

What I think I'm going to do is to continue going to Durham Resurrection Community in the evenings while I church-hop in the mornings. I realize (and Tom warned me) that hitting lots of different churches might make me feel without a center, so having a consistent community might help me with that. Who knows, maybe one of the churches I visit will turn out to be a good place for me to make my church home for the duration of my time in Durham; but until I get a better idea of what I'm doing, I'm going to try to give myself a little grounding.

Those Who Can't Do, Teach

2011-09-02T05:15:00.000-07:00

That's such a dumb saying, even though it appeared to be sadly true in some of my experiences growing up in the long-suffering Charlotte-Mecklenburg school system. Teaching well is challenging; I'm experiencing that this semester because I am teaching Biblical Literature at Methodist University in Fayetteville.

Everyone asks, "How did you get that job?!", and it's a fair question, though I won't go into the details now. Suffice to say, a lot of life is made up of coincidence and meeting the right people.

I wasn't (and still am not entirely) sure that I was qualified to teach; not only am I still completing my master's program, I also have imposter syndrome and therefore struggle to accept that people are not completely crazy when they entrust me with important tasks. But aside from the technicality that I have not actually been awarded my master's degree yet, I do, in fact, have more than enough coursework under my belt to meet Methodist's accreditation standards. Weird.

Anyway, the class has been in session for 2 weeks now and therefore has met 4 times, so I decided it was time for a preliminary reflection on how things are going so far. The whole week leading up to the start of classes, I was deeply, deeply anxious. Seriously, the last time I was that anxious, I was medicated for it. I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, I was worried that the students wouldn't take me seriously as an authority figure, I was stressed about the time commitment...it was rough.

The first class went OK. It was short; we just did some preliminary discussion and went over the syllabus. The second class at least filled the allotted time, and I made it through the necessary points about story and narrative. The third class, I tried to add in some group discussion, which seemed to help the students engage the material more. And yesterday's class left me feeling the best about it that I have so far. I don't anticipate that things will continue to improve on to infinity, but at the very least I do feel like I'm gradually getting a grip on things and gaining confidence, and that's pretty cool.

I've already picked up on the fact that it's important to remain flexible in teaching. I've had to gauge where the students are not only in their background knowledge but also in their learning styles. Having grown up in hyper-competitive, high-pressure academic settings, the feel of Methodist is very different (which also probably has to do with the fact that this is a required course, so no one is really in there because they're excited about the Bible). Plus the class is from 3:30-4:45, which is a time of day that I know my body is begging for a nap.

The professor who usually teaches the class has given me his syllabus and lecture notes, so I'm not creating this from scratch. I've been using his lectures as a guide, but as I get my footing and gain confidence, I'm starting to branch out a little more and bring in some of my own material from courses I've taken and readings I've done. Next Tuesday, we're talking about the first sin (Genesis 3), and I'm planning to throw them a curveball by introducing Elaine Heath's version of "the Fall" as presented in The Mystic Way of Evangelism. It's...a slightly different take on the story, and I'm interested to see how the class will respond. I'm also hoping to figure out how to draw on C. S. Lewis' Perelandra. Shoot, I could teach a whole class on Genesis 3 and understandings of the first sin.

So, I'm enjoying teaching so far and am grateful for the opportunity. This will be great experience and, if nothing else, driving to and from Fayetteville twice a week is giving me time to listen to audiobooks. Right now, it's Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex. We'll see what I dig up next.

After the Yellow Ribbon

2011-08-30T20:11:00.000-07:00

Registration is now open for After the Yellow Ribbon, an event coming up in November at Duke Divinity School, sponsored by the student group Milites Christi. The conference will include a performance by and conversation with artist Derek Webb (that's the part for which I'm responsible). To learn more about the event, click here, and check out the awesome video below—Stanley Hauerwas on moral fragmentation and war.

Stanley Hauerwas: On moral fragmentation, formation, and repair from Pilar Timpane on Vimeo.

Interview conducted by
Logan Mehl-Laituri

Producer and Editor
Pilar Timpane

Associate Producer
Tyler Mahoney

Form Coming Through

2011-08-29T14:56:00.000-07:00

I think I am going to like my preaching class.

This is not a surprise to me. Intro Preaching is being taught this semester by Chuck Campbell, about whom I have heard many classmates rave. And a number of my friends from both the second- and third-year class are taking Preaching this semester.

My first confirmation was the John Coltrane video that was playing as we took our seats. By the time Chuck (as he insists we call him) launched into a comparison between jazz and preaching, I was hooked.

Preaching, like jazz, is all about several different tensions, in particular the dynamic between learning and mastering the fundamentals (often tedious work) and having the freedom to improvise. The fact is that you cannot improvise freely unless you are solid on the fundamentals. This is not what I want to hear; I am the kind of person who tends to drop something if I can't do it well right away. But this is true not only about preaching and music but also about ministry, relationships, spirituality and more; you can't get to the really exciting stuff without learning your scales, and the better prepared you are on the fundamentals, the freer you are to play.

One thing Chuck pointed out that I particularly liked is that the term performer at its root means "form coming through." The form, whether it is jazz or preaching or any number of things, is always particular to the one performing because it is embodied in that person. Chuck encouraged us to find something that we are really good at and care about, relate that to preaching and try to find a place in you where preaching and that meet to play together and inform each other. Preaching is not about the preacher, but it is never separated from the preacher's particularity.

As much as I've whined about having to take this course because it meets twice a week for 2.5 hours, I really am looking forward to preaching class. I have a professor who really cares and gets it, and classmates who are ready both to work and to play and to challenge me to do a little more of both.

A Franciscan Blessing

2011-08-28T09:35:00.000-07:00

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

Amen.

What I'm Reading #29: Blue Like Jazz (Donald Miller)

2011-08-21T10:27:00.000-07:00

Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality, by Donald Miller

Blue Like Jazz (Thomas Nelson, 2003) is one of those books I've thought vaguely I should read for a few years now. I'd see it in the bookstore as an assigned text for a class I wasn't taking, glance at the pretty blue cover and think, "I should get around to that someday." As it turns out, "someday" was dictated by the Kindle version being on sale and me needing something other than school-related books to read before classes start.

I was skeptical at first. Any Christian book that does well on sales whose author is still living generally makes me suspicious. But I found this book profound in its simplicity and helpful in many ways. Sure, at times it sounded like Miller was trying a little too hard to create his own Traveling Mercies (and he admits this was part of his intention), but overall it was a straightforward, unadorned look into the thoughts and feelings of another pilgrim searching for the path, and it did what I think a good autobiography or memoir should do: it made me feel a little less alone.

I'm sure different parts of Miller's story will resonate with different people, and there may be things I overlooked now that might strike me as significant later, or vice versa. Although I found nuggets throughout to cling to, the part that I most identified with was when Miller talked about a time when he was in a relationship and found himself unable to believe that he was really loved. He would get anxious and needy, always seeking his significant other's affirmation, until it finally became too much for her. He realized that at some point he needed to be able to love himself, to allow God to love him, to embrace his own belovedness, before he could truly love another person. It reminded me a lot of Henri Nouwen's books Life of the Beloved and The Inner Voice of Love, but from a very concrete young adult perspective.

Knowing that another Christian struggles with some of the same things I do, whether that's feeling loved, enjoying the company of atheists more than that of other Christians at times, having questions about the Bible or any number of other things, was nice. Sometimes the suberabundance of spiritual memoirs feels narcissistic to me, but isn't it true that all we really have are our own stories of encounters with God? And if that's what we have, shouldn't we share it?

Favorite Quotations

"Do I want social justice for the oppressed, or do I just want to be known as a socially active person?"

"Nothing is going to change in the Congo until you and I figure out what is wrong with the person in the mirror."

"The goofy thing about Christian faith is that you believe it and don't believe it at the same time."

"I love to give charity, but I don't want to be charity. This is why I have so much trouble with grace."

"Self-discipline will never make us feel righteous or clean; accepting God's love will."

"...there are some guys who don't believe in God and they can prove He doesn't exist, and some other guys who do believe in God and they can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now it's about who is smarter, and honestly I don't care."

"...believing in God is as much like falling in love as it is like making a decision. Love is both something that happens to you and something you decide upon."

Constructive Conflict Resolution (or, Stop Being a Saint)

2011-08-19T11:27:00.001-07:00

I spent most of my day yesterday in a (very cold) room in Duke's Smith Warehouse. From 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., I was in a class on Constructive Conflict Resolution as part of Duke Continuing Studies' Nonprofit Management Certificate requirements. The classes I've taken for the program have been hit or miss in terms of their helpfulness, but this one was definitely a hit. The instructor, Robert Kenney, really knew his stuff and continually checked in with the 6 of us to make sure we were keeping up and were able to connect what we were learning with real life in terms of applicability.

We went through a lot of material, looking at the basics of conflict, root cause analysis, conflict resolution styles, active listening, constructive feedback and more. But perhaps the most helpful part was when we examined several different conflict styles, diagnosed our default modes, and considered how to move from where we naturally are to a more constructive approach. I've reproduced a chart he showed us below:

I didn't even have to read the descriptions or look too hard at the chart to figure out which style represented me. I am the saint, the smoother. This made me feel good about myself for about 2 seconds, until I read the description and realized that smoothers often put on a false front and ultimately are seeking others' approval, not really a resolution to a conflict. Ouch.

Let me just go over the conflict styles quickly. Avoiding is exactly what it sounds like, but something I hadn't thought of before is that although temporary avoiding can sometimes be helpful to let conflicting parties cool off, using avoiding as a permanent solution involves not only walking away from a conflict but also walking away from the relationship. By saying the conflict isn't important enough to deal with, you're saying the relationship isn't worth your time and energy. Eek. Smoothing often puts the other person's interests first but can be disingenuous when the smoother doesn't admit that he or she has a stake in the conflict. Fighting is the most common response, where one's own concerns are first; this style is appropriate in some circumstances, of course (like abuse or when the other party has clearly done something wrong), but is generally unproductive. Bargaining is basically compromise and is good, but the best outcome is problem solving, where brainstorming leads to a joint conclusion that benefits both parties. Kenney encouraged us always to aim for problem solving, because then if you have to settle for second best, where you end up is with bargaining, which is still OK; but if you aim low for bargaining, you may still fall to smoothing, avoiding or fighting.

The goal of self-diagnosis was to figure out how to move from our natural tendencies (which are almost never the best ones) to problem solving. In my case, here's what I have to do as a smoother: I have to realize that it's only a temporary fix, and I need to acknowledge my own concerns in the situation. My first reaction to conflict (which I fear profoundly) is usually to apologize and to seek to change my behavior or situation to make everything OK for the other person, even if such a change is not beneficial to me. I credit this to my natural peacemaking tendencies, but what I hadn't thought of is that ultimately it is not an honest approach to conflict resolution and may make me seem insincere. Plus, if I constantly yield ground to others and never stand my own, I'll end up feeling bitter and put-upon, and nobody likes a martyr.

I liked that the axes of the chart had to do with concern for others and concern for self; I hadn't really thought of conflict in those terms before. I tend to think that humility and selflessness are good traits, but I'm realizing that I sometimes misconstrue those values. I assume that in order to have a high concern for others, I must have no thought for myself. Certainly there may be circumstances in which this is the case, but if I've been paying any attention to the gobs of Henri Nouwen I've read, I should know that the only way I can love anyone else rightly is by accepting my own belovedness. I think the same principle applies here. If I cannot acknowledge my own needs and values as important in a conflict situation, how can I do so for someone else? Humility is not about self-deprecation but about seeing and valuing the personhood of both oneself and of another human being equally. Just as a fighter creates more problems by putting his or her concerns above those of others, I do no one any favors by denying my own concerns. That's not a relationship; it's a means of pacification, and probably ultimately lets me feel good about myself for how humble and selfless I am.

What's your default conflict style? When might one of the less desirable styles actually be necessary? How can the church help people, communities and institutions better manage conflict?

My last year of seminary is going to be insane

2011-08-18T18:20:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if blogging about how crazy this year is going to be will reduce or increase my stress...but I'm in the process of populating my task management software (I use Schoolhouse) with pretty much every reading assignment, paper, exam, activity, deadline, etc., and it's actually making me feel a lot better, so maybe this will do the same.

Taking a step back: in a week and a half, I will start my third and final year at Duke Divinity School. If all goes as planned, I will graduate in May, be commissioned in June and then start a real job somewhere. This terrifies me, and I am compensating by overcommitting and making my last year crazy, awesome, and crazy awesome. Here are the things I have going on for 2011-2012:

School. This is the one I'm most likely to neglect, so I need to list it first. I'm going to be completing my summer directed study on evangelism (no, my paper's not finished yet) and taking 3 courses: Preaching, Methodism (the first semester, which I skipped) and a course on contextualizing the Gospel, taught by Father Rommen, our resident Eastern Orthodox guru of awesome. I would like to have decent grades, but we'll see how that goes. In the spring, I know I have a Black Church Studies requirement as well as a Missions requirement left, and from there I'll hopefully get some electives squeezed in (finally). I'm theoretically doing the Hebrew reading group as well, though I dropped voice lessons at least for the fall (sad but necessary time- and money-wise).
The Burch House. I'm moving back into 913 Burch with some of my favorite people! There will actually be 7 of us there until Samuel gets married in October, and we'll be back to only 2 girls, but I'm excited to move in, get settled and get into the routine of prayers, meals, etc. We also need to have another epic house party/bonfire at least once this year.
Teaching at Methodist University. This is why I'm only taking 3 classes this fall. Somehow, I have been offered the opportunity to teach a Biblical literature course at Methodist University in Fayetteville. It blows my mind that the religion department there would entrust me with this task, and I am both terrified and excited by the challenge. I'm not creating a class, just adapting a professor's syllabus and doing my own take on one he teaches regularly. I'm hoping it'll be a good way for me to get my feet wet in real teaching, which is something I've claimed to be interested in but haven't really done beyond Sunday School and book studies. So Dukies, you won't see me Tuesday or Thursday afternoons, and when I have to grade papers, I may find deeper empathy for our preceptors than I've previously had.
Goodson Chapel. I will be reprising my role from last year of worship intern for Goodson Chapel, helping to plan our Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday worship services. Fellow past intern Ron and I will welcome Kiki and Julie to the team and hopefully have at least as much fun as we did last year working with Sally Bates, David Arcus, and the many faculty, students, guest speakers, ensembles and more we get to collaborate with to create worship at Duke Divinity School.
New Creation Arts Group. Despite what I said last spring, it looks like I will be in some leadership position for New Creation this year. Communications and publicity stuff comes naturally to me, so I'll be helping with some of that (including stewardship of our blog, which is evolving in content, theoretically) alongside our new leadership, and I was asked a while back if I'd be willing to continue to do music programming (i.e. pick up on David Johnston's awesome work with last year's concert series, etc.). My summer experience, particularly the Earth House part of it, has given me new energy for this kind of thing, so I'm really looking forward to continuing to be a part of the NCAG leadership team.
Milites Christi. Here's another one of those "How the heck did I get involved with this?!" things. Milites Christi is a Divinity School student group concerned with cultivating a pastoral response to war, peace, veterans' issues, etc. In November, they're hosting an event called After the Yellow Ribbon that will be promoting some really important conversations around such things, and I'm primarily helping with a big concert happening the Saturday evening of the conference. Here's how I got connected: sometime last year, my classmate Logan Mehl-Laituri (who's spearheading all of this) said something like, "Hey, you play music, right? Do you want to open for Derek Webb?" And that's how I ended up with my name on the contract that's bringing Derek Webb to Goodson Chapel in November. Oh, and I'm reading drafts of a book Logan is writing as part of a group of people helping him with feedback as he goes.
Vespers Ensemble. I was in the Duke Chapel Vespers Ensemble from 2006-2008 and returned last fall. I love this choir. We sing some incredible music, and especially last spring, we developed a sense of community and camaraderie that made it even more enjoyable to be a part of the group. This fall, thanks to the course at Methodist, I will not be able to sing in the weekly Thursday evening vespers services, but I will still participate in weekly rehearsals, go to Boone with them in October to sing at a church there, and join in our winter concert. Besides being my main source of musical challenge these days, Vespers has also become an important social outlet for me, particularly because its members are not all (or even mostly) Christian, and I sometimes forget how much of a bubble the Div School is.
Certificate in Nonprofit Management. For a while now, I've been working on earning the Certificate in Nonprofit Management from Duke Continuing Studies. This has been my attempt at rounding out my seminary education with courses on fundraising, grantwriting, accounting, conflict resolution and more. It's been start-and-stop for scheduling reasons, but I'm finally close to completing the certificate and hope to do so before the fall semester ends.
Commissioning. If I want to be commissioned next spring (and I do), I have to write my commissioning papers by January. Actually, first I need to apply for commissioning by the end of this month—sending in that application is on my to-do list for tomorrow. These papers cover theology, doctrine, and a bunch of other stuff...clearly, I need to sit down with the assignments and wrap my brain around them. These papers always seem to cause great anxiety for Methodist students, but I'm hoping I can manage them alongside my schoolwork without too much angst.
CCDA. This is just one week on October, but I'm excited enough about it to include it. The Christian Community Development Association (CCDA) holds an annual event that I've heard of but never been quite motivated enough to attend. This year, it's being held in my new favorite city, Indianapolis, so the plan is to road trip up there with some of my favorite Div Schoolers, see my Indy friends, and participate in what I've heard is a pretty awesome conference.
My music. I've scaled back gigging and have decided I'm only playing shows in Durham, but I already have two solo shows coming up in the next few weeks. Turns out that when you send incessant booking emails for 2 years, whether for yourself or not, people contact you when they need a performer. Also, I'm theoretically opening for Derek Webb. Also, I learned a new style of guitar playing and began adjusting my approach to songwriting over the summer, so I'll be adapting a lot of how I do music as I go this year. I'd love to do some more writing and recording, including continuing to pursue my interest in writing modern hymns that I stumbled upon last year. I'm actually singing a hymn of mind at my dad's church this Sunday, arranged for piano and cello by the amazing music minister there...I'll let y'all know how that goes.
GET A LIFE!!! This is actually probably my highest priority. I want to have a life my last year of seminary. My first year, I didn't bother to make friends. My second year, I did better, and especially towards the end of spring semester, I had begun to develop some friendships that I very much hope will deepen this year. I am excited to pursue these and other new and old relationships with friends, classmates, colleagues, etc.

Hm. That is a lot of stuff. Seeing it kinda makes my head want to implode, but I'm also pumped up now. I'm really excited about all of it. Feel free to check my pulse anytime you see me in the halls, though. ;)

Finding True North #37: What DID I Find?

2011-08-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

I am currently in Ann Arbor visiting a good friend from undergrad, so although field ed is officially over, my midwest adventures continue a bit longer. Perhaps it's a means of denying the end of the summer, but I'm OK with that.

I came to this summer with a theme: "finding true north." I came without specific expectations but certainly with hopes. I hoped to wrestling with God and hopefully maneuver my way, however awkwardly, into some vocational clarity. Anticipating graduation in May of next year, I hoped to get a little direction and discernment on what might come after.

Around the next to last week of field ed, a friend asked if I had gotten the clarity for which I had hoped. I told him yes and no. My summer 2011 field ed experience could not have been more perfectly suited for me, in ways both expected and unexpected. Some of the things I most enjoyed came as no surprise, while some of what I grew most passionate about I could not have foreseen. Over the course of my 10 weeks in Indianapolis, God opened me up to possibilities that I hadn't dreamed of but which, as it turns out, are probably (hopefully) going to shape and even define my future ministry.

I've likened this opening up to an explosion. Through my work at North UMC and Lockerbie UMC, through the surprising gift of Earth House, through myriad friendships and relationships built over the course of the summer, I feel as if God has blown my world to bits. I know that's a violent image, but it has been a process that is both disconcerting and exciting. Maybe it's something like fireworks. Some of my expectations and self-imposed restrictions had to be destroyed in order to create something so much more exciting and beautiful.

The learning process is not over, of course; in fact, this summer was really just the beginning, at the most a continuation, of discernment processes that will probably go on throughout my life. I was affirmed in my passion for worship design; my horizons were expanded in my love of the arts; I was called out and challenged on administrative shortcomings that I had previously been able to gloss over quietly. The list of things to explore and work on has doubled from the beginning of the summer, not being checked off but rather being added to.

So, did I find true north? I'm not sure. I feel like God, rather than pointing me in a direction, showed me the potential for a whole new dimension of ministry. It's not about me deciding which road to take, but about finding where my path intersects with others, climbing a tree to expand my vision, wandering off the road to plant a garden or cutting my own path through the underbrush. God has given me the freedom and imagination to dream as big as God does, while constantly reminding me that dreams are not to be merely abstract visions but embodied, relational, and contextual. I will continue to pray for a vision of the forest and the trees.

Don't BS God

2011-08-06T14:06:00.000-07:00

The other day, a friend of mine asked me a question that I get all the time: "Is it OK for me to pray for [insert prayer request here]?"

I have had people ask me if it's OK to pray for healing from cancer and PTSD, for good test grades, for a job, for their boyfriend not to be gay. Depending on who you are and what your faith background is (or isn't), there is almost certainly some confusion about for what it is acceptable to pray.

(Why people ask me, I don't know. I guess that's what I get for putting myself out there publicly as someone who's trying to figure out the God thing, whatever that means.)

I think it's a good question to ask. How we pray is not only an indicator of how we think about God, it can actually form our concept of God. Good prayer habits need to be cultivated so that we aren't just asking for selfish things but also praying for others, being aware of what's going on in the world, and attending to all facets of what should be a multi-level conversation with God.

Prayer does not come naturally to people, especially not in its fullness, which includes the good old ACTS acronym (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving and Supplication) as well as lament, celebration, etc. Prayer is something about which we need to be intentional because it shapes our view of God, of others and of how we ought to live in this world.

But here's the thing: God doesn't want our BS. God wants us. There is nothing we can say to God that will come as a surprise. Prayer is not about politeness. Seek God's will in prayer, yes; but don't BS God.

If you have a desire that doesn't line up with what you believe God's will to be, guess what? God already knows that, and the only way you can start to reconcile your desires with what is best for you and for others is to be honest about those desires.

My friend who asked if she could pray for her boyfriend not to be gay? She's a pro-gay kind of person, and I'm sure that by now her prayer would be different and she would want to be able to want for him to discover and be comfortable in his true sexuality, but at the time the pain of losing a relationship in such bewildering circumstances was so strong that all she could do was to cry out and beg for it not to be true. And I think God was OK with that.

So. Pray for what you want! Reflect on that continuously, notice patterns in your desires and be willing to be self-critical and seek transformation when necessary, but be honest with God. You can't hide anything from him anyway.

Finding True North #36: Procrastination

2011-08-04T10:51:00.000-07:00

(Source.)

I hesitate even to start writing this blog post, anticipating that I will save the draft and leave it unfinished for an embarrassingly ironic amount of time.

However, I have at least started it!

On Monday, I had my final one-on-one meeting with my supervisor here at North UMC, Kevin Armstrong. He had completed my final evaluation for the field ed office, so we went over that. I deeply appreciated Kevin's approach to the evaluation because he took it seriously and used it as an opportunity both to affirm and encourage me, as well as to call me out on shortcomings and things that need improvement.

One of the big things he pointed out to me was my tendency to procrastinate on unpleasant tasks, especially administrative tasks. This was not news to me, but especially since college, procrastination has become a talent of mine, so I've never really been called out on it before.

I'm dead serious about procrastination being a talent. I like to tell the story of the time my freshman year of college when I had two final papers due on the same day at 9:00 a.m. I started the first one (a 14-page paper) the day before at noon—and when I say "started," I do mean, "got books from the library and began my research." I finished that paper around 6:00 p.m., headed back to my dorm, stopped off for dinner along the way, chatted with a few friends, and by about 7:30 p.m. was stationed in the common room with a stack of physics books to start on a 20-page paper. Yes, I said a 20-page paper on physics. This included one book in French. I finished that paper around 4:30 a.m., slept for a few hours, got up, checked both papers briefly for typos, and turned them in.

I got As on both papers.

This story was repeated, though usually in less dramatic fashion, throughout my undergraduate career. I have yet to suffer serious consequences for procrastination, though I haven't been able to pull off As in the same way since starting graduate school, so there has been a little pushback for me in seminary.

Anyway. In going over our evaluation, Kevin pointed out that he's heard the phrase "I really ought to get on that" cross my lips many times this summer, and he's absolutely right. I should have a lot more written on my evangelism directed study than I do, and a few things got wrapped up this week that probably could have been done earlier.

I realized that the things on which I most regularly procrastinate (other than schoolwork) generally fall into 2 categories: simple but irritating tasks such as changing the address on my driver's license (which I just did after meaning to do so for about 2 years) and big tasks about which I am excited but which I fear I am not going to complete to my satisfaction.

My evangelism directed study falls into the latter category. I have enjoyed doing the reading, conversing and thinking related to that course way more than I ever anticipated. I think that once I get the paper written, it will be something of which I can be proud. And yet, I really only have a few pages on paper. Heck, writing this blog right now is really just a way of putting off working on it.

What Kevin said to me about procrastination and about administrative tasks in general is this: the main reason he came down on me in that area is that he knows I'm perfectly capable of doing that sort of work. Even I know that's true. I have great attention to detail, and if I'm convinced an administrative task is worth my time, I can rock its socks off. I think it's a combination of that—being convinced that it is worth my time—and being convinced that I am, in fact, capable of completing the task well. And maybe getting over my paralyzing fear of the phone.

Finding True North #35: The Kenya Interns

2011-08-04T06:19:00.000-07:00

What some of my gentle readers may not know is that I am actually one of four Duke interns connected to North UMC this summer. You haven't heard much about the other three because, well, they were in Kenya for 7 weeks.

I did blog about the Global Interfaith Partnership, the organization that attempts to collaborate with various faith communities here in Indiana as well as with churches, schools and communities in Kenya. It is through that group that several Duke students travel to Kenya each year to work with the Umoja Project. This summer, Lindsey, Lydia and Camille focused specifically on the issue of the girl-child, gathering information and building relationships around women's empowerment as they visited churches, schools and more.

The Kenya interns came back to Indianapolis about a week and a half ago, and ever since then (and even before) I have constantly been asked about what they did in Kenya. But honestly, even though I've spent my share of time working in the conference room with them since their return, I didn't really know. I sporadically had kept up with their blog, but I didn't really know specifics.

However, last night the trio gave a presentation on their pilgrimage, and it gave some profound insight into their experiences. Each of the interns focused on a concept that had emerged as central to them individually over the course of the summer—for Camille, it was openness; for Lindsey, it was presence and trust; and for Lydia, it was empowerment. They showed pictures of the people they had met and the places they had visited, shared about what the Umoja Project is doing in communities and how it can better partner with people in the spirit of its name (which is Swahili for "unity"), and at times made themselves vulnerable to us as they described challenges they faced while in Kenya.

Perhaps most interesting to me personally was Lindsey's reflection on race. Lindsey was the only white intern, so she had some experiences that Lydia and Camille did not. Having struggled myself as I've considered international missions, it was helpful to me to hear Lindsey reflect on the ways in which she sometimes encountered different treatment because of her skin tone, from innocent things like children wanting to rub her arms to more intense experiences like someone suggesting that perhaps Jesus was a "mazungu" (white person or foreigner) because Jesus loved the children as Lindsey did.

It seemed to me that although the Kenya interns left a lot of their own questions unanswered, that was precisely how it should be. They closed essentially with an invitation into umoja—unity—not only in this particular project but in our lives as a whole. Although I am more than happy to have been "the intern who stayed," I have benefited from the connection with the Umoja Project through the other interns and will continue to do so as I return to school with these three incredible women.

When I Say I'm Pro-Life, This Is What I Mean

2011-08-02T13:30:00.000-07:00

I am pro-life.

I respect the sanctity of every human life. This means that I am against abortion and the death penalty. (If you want to hear my reasoning on the latter, here is an article I wrote in undergrad on the subject.) It also means that I am anti-war, anti-torture, pro-gay and pro-union, and I have certain opinions on taxes, prison reform and immigration—because it's all connected for me.

But, while I am pro-life, I am anti-being-mean-to-women-in-difficult-situations. You will not find me demonizing a woman who has had an abortion. I will never picket an abortion clinic. I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those "Life Guard" t-shirts with a fetus in the cross.

Here's what inspired this post: I happened to pick up a copy of the Indy Star and saw this in an article about new laws going into effect in Indiana:

[If you are] A woman considering abortion: Your physician — regardless of whether he or she thinks it is true — will have to tell you that life begins at fertilization, though a federal judge put on hold a provision that required health-care professionals to say that a fetus can feel pain at 20 weeks. You'll also be required to view an ultrasound of the fetus unless you specifically decline to do so in writing.

I don't want to get into the science of reproduction, but my definition of when life begins is probably pretty early. However, this law troubles me. Here's the thing: I'm pro-life and anti-guilt, and I don't see how this law could be said to be aimed at anything other than guilt production. The part the federal judge withheld makes that even clearer. One of the lives for which I am, well, "pro" in a situation where a woman is considering an abortion is, in fact, the woman's life—not just her physical life but her dignity and overall well-being. Intentionally inflicting guilt upon someone, in my opinion, is life-destroying in its own way.

No woman should ever be shamed into keeping a baby—or, for that matter, into having an abortion (but that's a whole other can of worms). But I am pro-life. So what am I saying?

I think that preventing abortions needs to start long before a woman sets foot in a clinic. Sex education in public schools is broken (I grew up in a school system that had abstinence-only sex ed...which, honestly, is no sex ed at all). The spread of AIDS and other STDs, not to mention abortion and unwanted birth rates, is evidence enough that our society is failing to educate its members on sexual health. And I won't get too deep into this right now, but there are structures of shame and guilt in the church that hold women captive and turn the gift of life into a scarlet letter, and I can't imagine God doesn't find that offensive.

I am all about context. One thing that bothers me about this Indiana law is that it does not even give doctors the option of discerning the woman's situation. I don't think that ending a life, even an unborn life, can ever truly be justified, but an uncompromising stand against abortion will frequently fail to offer compassion and understanding to women making an unimaginably difficult decision. Attempting to "protect" an unborn child by turning it into a weapon against its mother is unfair both to the child and to the mother. There absolutely are loving, contextual ways to offer a woman alternatives to abortion, but simply telling her that life begins at fertilization (thereby implying she is choosing to end a life) feels, frankly, passive-aggressive and judgmental.

Finding True North #34: Prayers of Intercession for July 31

2011-07-31T07:26:00.000-07:00

These are the prayers of intercession that I wrote for use in worship at North UMC on July 31, 2011. The passage for the day was Mark 5:1-20 (the Gerasene demoniac), and I tried to pick up on themes in that narrative as well as on current events within the church and around the world. Each petition was followed by "Lord, in your mercy" and the response "Hear our prayer." There are a few biblical allusions and one paraphrase of Gandhi...

__________

O Lord, today we lift up your Church. We pray for those who have experienced rejection at the hands of your followers. Many have rejected you because the Christians they meet are so unlike your Christ. Lord, we know that even as we seek here at North Church to become more welcoming, we have a long way to go. Strengthen us in our resolve publicly to demonstrate your love and acceptance to all people, and forgive us when we fail to do so.

God of all the nations, we pray for our country. As our leaders struggle to make decisions and reach compromises, we ask for your wisdom and discernment. Remind us and our leaders that when we are dealing with money and resources, we are engaged not in a game of politics but in the important task of using your good gifts rightly. Renew a sense of stewardship and responsibility in this nation as we make our way both at home and in our international relationships.

God of all creation, we give you thanks for the good earth you have given us for food and habitation. We confess that we do violence to you, the creator, whenever we violate your creation by exploiting its resources. Remind us that the good news is not announced to disembodied human souls but to embodied human beings whose fate is bound to the fate of this earth. Give us grace to see through your eyes and to appreciate and honor our place in your grand design.

Lord, we give you thanks for the ways in which you reveal yourself to us in community and in relationships. Help us to love as you love. Whenever we are tempted to ask, "What have you to do with me?", remind us that we are all members of one body, your body. Release the chains that bind us, and lead us with cords of human kindness and bands of love.

We pray today for all those who suffer—for the sick, the hungry, the poor, the lonely. We pray for victims of violence of all kinds. We lift up in particular the people of Norway. Give your children strength to extend grace in the face of violence, both to those who mourn and to those whose actions cause mourning. Assure us that you have made peace by the blood of the cross, and it is that blood that will have the final word.

Finding True North #33: Wrestling with God

2011-07-29T07:09:00.000-07:00

Since Brenda is leaving town again (*sigh*), I'm on point for worship Sunday evening at Lockerbie Central. This time, I actually got to design the service myself, which is exciting because (a) I love doing that and (b) this is my last Sunday night service of the summer (*sniff*). Also, the Old Testament lectionary passage this week is Genesis 32, the story of Jacob wrestling with God—perhaps my favorite Bible narrative. I found a great video by Peter Rollins commenting on the passage (see below). Plus, my favorite hymn, "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown," is based on the passage. (That hymn is also Isaac Watts' favorite, so I'm in good company on that.)

I did have an interesting process in putting together the service, because our guest speaker for this week is Taylor Burton-Edwards, who works on worship resources for the General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) and is an emerging church/liturgical studies guru. I ended up on the phone with him going over the worship order I had put together, dismantling and reconstructing it. It was a humbling process, but helpful—he persisted in asking what the purpose of each element of worship was, how the flow would go, etc. What emerged, I think, will be a much more effective, engaging worship service than I had originally created, and having gone through that with Taylor will hopefully inform future worship design decisions. Also, I made a pretty Powerpoint presentation to use (I know PPT is so out of date, but it's what I have).

Anyway, I wanted to share the first part of the service, which centers around the Genesis passage. We're going to start the service by interweaving "Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown" (I really need to record my quasi-arrangement of it) with Genesis 32:24-31, moves into the video and then goes into my own brief comments on the Scripture. This blog will probably represent my first draft of comments and may be updated later. Here goes! Advance apologies for the length of this post...

__________

Come, O thou traveler unknown,
Whom still I hold but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with thee.
With thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle 'til the break of day;
With thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle 'til the break of day.

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.

I need not tell thee who I am,
My misery and sin declare;
Thyself has called me by thy name,
Look on thy hands and read it there.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name and tell me now.

Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed."

Yield to me now, for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair!
Speak to my heart, in blessing speak,
Be conquered by my instant prayer.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if thy name is Love.

Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me,
I hear thy whisper in my heart.
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
Pure, universal Love thou art.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
Thy nature and thy name is Love.

Wrestling with the Divine from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.

The story of Jacob wrestling with God is one of my favorite narratives in the Bible. I fell in love with this story, and with the hymn that we just sang, during my freshman year of college. That's the year over which I grudgingly came to terms with my call to ministry. While some of my friends had inspirational stories about receiving their call, I felt much more like I was fighting to get any sort of clarity out of God. Hearing a Biblical story about one of the great Israelite leaders physically wrestling with God resonated with me in a way that other call stories never had.

I love the image of wrestling with God because it says a lot about God's character. God is not afraid to get down and dirty with us. God invites us to grab him and wrestle with him because God can take it. Too often we treat God as some delicate being that we might damage if we question him. God's feelings are not hurt by questions or by pushing back! God does that thing Morpheus does in the movie The Matrix where he reaches toward Neo and beckons: "Come and get it." God doesn't just accept our questions as inevitable; God invites us into a wrestling match through which we can ask our questions and be transformed.

Of course, the reason why God can handle our questions and our push-back is that God ultimately is in control. Take a look at Rembrandt's depiction of Jacob wrestling God. (Just as an aside, the vast majority of artistic renderings of Genesis 32 show Jacob wrestling an angel, and I'm sure many of us, myself included, have often thought of this story in those terms, though the word "angel" actually is never used.) One thing I love about this painting is that it is unclear whether God (or the angel) is wrestling with Jacob or holding him. It almost looks like Jacob is being cradled, even falling asleep. Short of the angel putting him in the sleeper hold, what this says to me is that even in the midst of what may feel like physical grappling with God and God's will, God holds us; God is in control; we can rest even as we wrestle. God gives us that space and that freedom because God does not fear our questions but welcomes them and welcomes us. Thanks be to God for the spaciousness of his love.

Finding True North #32: Every Church Needs a 93-Year-Old Mystic Artist

2011-07-27T07:08:00.000-07:00

In my Pentecost sermon, I talked about a banner that was created by Doris Douglas, a longtime member of North UMC who for decades has created gorgeous textiles designed to lead the church visually through the Christian year. Not only are these banners beautiful works of art, they are born out of deep prayer and meditation. Doris, I believe, is a mystic of sorts whose contemplative life has born a wealth of artistic fruit.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of spending some time with Doris and with Teresa, another church member who has taken on the task of photographing the many banners and documenting the stories behind them. The banners are created intentionally in the context of the liturgical year and scriptural references, with rich symbolism built in. Yesterday, Doris showed me her banners, speaking to her inspiration, the symbolism and the artistic process.

Throughout our time together, Doris actually encouraged me to try to create something like these banners myself. Mind you, visual art is not my forte. But she pointed out several times where she used a simple technique or an accessible method that she thought I could try out. Although Doris is the visionary behind this wealth of art, she has always drawn other people into the process. I love the idea of one person with vision and talent empowering other people to participate in the artistic process, including even people like me.

At one point, Teresa told me that I would never see anything like this in another church. Doris' gifts are certainly unique, but I hope that the spirit of contemplation and creativity that she exemplifies is something I can one day find and encourage in another context.

Finding True North #31: Chicago

2011-07-27T06:34:00.000-07:00

Before this summer, I had never really spent much time in the midwest. I had technically been to Chicago, but only in the sense that I flew into Chicago and was promptly shuttled out to Evanston. So I decided that I absolutely had to visit the windy city before returning to North Carolina.

So, native midwesterner Jordan Updike and I set out on a Friday afternoon on a 24-hour road trip to Chi-town. I had a blast. Chicago is such a cool city. The architecture is gorgeous, the energy is amazing, and oh my goodness there's public transportation. You can get print copies of The Onion on street corners, and there is a surprising amount of green space. Millennium Park is awesome and the waterfront is gorgeous. I've always thought of myself as a mid-sized city girl, but I could dig Chicago (except maybe in the winter).

One cool part of the trip is that we stayed with Matthew Johnson, the pastor of Holy Covenant UMC in Chicago. Matthew is into progressive, emerging church-type stuff, and he just moved to an appointment in the city a month ago. Holy Covenant is a fascinating church that is poised to do some incredible things. The church's membership is around 200 and they worship about 150 on a Sunday. They've been a reconciling congregation for a long time—I think they were one of the first in the area.

One thing Matthew talked about that I found fascinating is that the congregation is transient, being made up largely of young people, which would normally be a disadvantage, but Matthew is choosing to see it as an asset, as an opportunity to train up quasi-missionaries to go out intentionally into other congregations to be transformative. I'm excited to have made the connection with Matthew and with Holy Covenant and to continue those conversations.

We explored downtown Chicago Friday evening and Saturday during the day, with a jaunt out of the city to visit Jordan's aunt's horse ranch sandwiched in there. I ate Chicago pizza for the first time (YUM).

On the way back Saturday night, we stopped off at the Indiana Dunes. (Side note: the Great Lakes are incredible. They look like oceans. I'd been on one of them before, but it continues to blow my mind.) There are beaches in Indiana! I did not know this. Anyway, we got there about 20 minutes before sunset and decided to stick around for the show. Not only was the sunset gorgeous, the sun actually went down right behind the Chicago skyline. I wish I'd had a better camera, but the pictures still turned out pretty well. It was incredible.

I thoroughly enjoyed my short trip to Chicago and would love to come back someday.

Finding True North #30: Imposter Syndrome and the Invisible Alb

2011-07-25T19:18:00.001-07:00

Today, I had my weekly meeting with my supervisor (AKA Kevin, the senior pastor at North UMC). I always enjoy our conversations because they are a great opportunity to unpack (Duke buzzword!) my field ed experience and to get ideas, inspiration, food for thought or all of the above.

This week, we talked for a bit about authority and leadership, things I'm always working on (and probably always will be). I went away with two things to chew on:

1. I have imposter syndrome. Wikipedia summarizes it as when "competent people find it impossible to believe in their own competence." It's having this fear that when people find out who you actually are or what you're actually capable of, they'll be disappointed. This has come into sharp focus for me this week as a few exciting opportunities have come up and left me simply confused as to why anyone would entrust me with something like teaching a class on biblical literature, for example. It seems to me that there is some balance to be struck here between believing in and embracing my own call and gifting without being arrogant. But false modesty, as C. S. Lewis says in The Screwtape Letters, is really just another form of pride, and self-deprecation denies what God has done and is doing in my life.

2. Apparently I carry myself differently (with more confidence and authority) when I'm wearing an alb (see image). I don't fidget as much or twirl my hair (things I know full well I do a lot of the time in meetings). It's not necessarily about the alb itself, but when I'm up front in church leading worship, I act like a leader. I've had several members of NUMC comment on my composure; one woman even told me I had the most poise of any intern they've had. (I'm friends with several former interns and so can call shenanigans on the truth of that, but it was still appreciated.) Kevin encouraged me to think about what it is that makes the difference in my comportment, to find my "invisible alb" and figure out how to put it on when doing something simple like walking into a room or attending a meeting.

Do you have imposter syndrome or an invisible alb?

What I'm Reading #28: Evangelism after Christendom (Bryan Stone)

2011-07-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

Evangelism after Christendom: The Theology and Practice of Christian Witness, by Bryan Stone

I'll tell you up front: this is not a quick or easy read. Evangelism after Christendom (Brazos 2007) is an important but very dense and theologically heady treatment of the question of how to cultivate the practice of Christian witness in a post-Christendom culture. Stone is heavily influenced by the likes of Stanley Hauerwas, John Howard Yoder and Reinhard Huetter—all familiar names to this Duke Divinity student.

Perhaps one of the most important insights that Stone offers, influenced heavily by the work of Alastair MacIntyre, is the notion of evangelism as a practice with means and ends internal, not external, to it. Stone wants the church to move away from evangelism that is focused on conversion and numbers, a sentiment echoed by many of the authors I've been reading for my evangelism directed study. The practice of evangelism is about faithfulness to the goals and means internal to it, not about an external product or results.

Stone also talks a great deal about how we live in a post-Christendom culture. This, he says, is not necessarily the threat we tend to see it as. In fact, the church's removal from being the lynchpin of society may open it up more to prophetic witness. "Ironically, it may be that it is precisely from a position of marginality that the church is best able to announce peace and to bear witness to God's peaceable reign in such a way as to invite others to take seriously the subversive implications of that reign." The gospel, Stone claims, is and should be subversive, and when the church is too closely allied with the status quo, it loses that voice.

For Stone, evangelism, and God's work in the world, is thoroughly social and communal. Here's a potentially controversial statement: "One of the enormous challenges of Christian evangelism today is that in order to learn once again to bear faithful and embodied witness to the Spirit's creative 'social work,' it may have to reject as heretical the pervasive characterization of salvation as 'a personal relationship with Jesus.'" Salvation history, he argues, is and always has been about God calling out a people. Yes, that "people" is comprised of individuals, but the good news is about how we live in peace with one another, not about where we're going after we die (an inherently problematic question).

This blog post feels pretty lame to me, but it's hard to boil down the complexity of what Stone has done into 600 words...so I'll leave you with this: this book is great, but I only recommend it if you want something dense and philosophical. :)

We Are Made of Love

2011-07-25T07:26:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a lot of music-related posts lately. Here's a song I simply want to share because it is beautiful. This is "Needle and Thread" by Sleeping at Last. Check out the lyrics and the video below.

When the world welcomes us in
We're closer to heaven than we'll ever know
They say this place has changed
But strip away all of the technology
And you will see
That we all are hunters
Hunting for something that will make us okay

Here we lay alone in hospital beds
Tracing life in our heads
But all that is left
Is that this was our entrance and now it's our exit
As we find our way home

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end
Where we begin to understand

That we are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of it

"You were a million years of work,"
Said God and his angels with needle and thread
They kissed your head and said
"You're a good kid and you make us proud
So just give your best and the rest will come
And we'll see you soon."

All the blood and all the sweat
That we invested to be loved
Follows us into our end,
Where we begin to understand

That maybe Hollywood was right
When the credits have rolled and the tears have dried
The answers that we have been dying to find
Are all pieced together and somehow
Made perfectly mine

We are made of love
And all the beauty stemming from it
We are made of love
And every fracture caused by the lack of love

Finding True North #29: One Voice

2011-07-25T06:52:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I got to sing The Wailin' Jennys in church.

I have had some great opportunities in worship and the arts this summer, thanks in no small part to working with Brenda Freije, the Pastor of Discipleship and Formation at North and the pastor of Lockerbie Central, who is a phenomenal musician. Brenda, Anne Moman (the NUMC youth director) and I got together as a trio and sang The Wailin' Jennys' song "One Voice" in worship.

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

We didn't just sing it though—we used it as a prayer response. Kevin, the senior pastor, crafted some beautiful petitions that all closed with, "Lord, as we speak," to which the congregation responded, "Help us also to listen," and in between sections of the prayer, Brenda, Anne and I sang a verse of "One Voice." It worked so well that we just used the prayers and song again last night at Lockerbie Central.

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two
This is the sound of voices two

It was certainly different (at least from my experience here) to have a guitar and microphones in North's sanctuary, but part of what I love about the worship here is that it is definitely traditional but with space and freedom built in. That kind of integrity and flexibility in worship is something I love.

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three
This is the sound of voices three

After worship, a church member asked me if I knew when I got here that I'd have so many opportunities to use my artistic gifts. I told her that I had hoped to be able to, but I couldn't have known just how I was going to be engaged in that respect. She commented that not many churches have opportunities like that. Welcome to one of my biggest fears about getting an appointment after graduation.

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and a will to trust
Leave the rest behind, it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us
This is the sound of all of us

But you know what? With all the experiences I've had with the arts and worship not only this summer but last school year through New Creation Arts Group and Goodson Chapel, and with all the opportunities I've had over the years to incorporate artistic expression into my faith journey, there's no way that won't be a part of my ministry, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing. If I've learned anything in my engagement with the arts, it's that even the smallest bursts of creativity can draw people into the life of faith in powerful, dynamic ways. Maybe one day I'll use the "One Voice" prayers again; or maybe I'll be in a place where the congregation can create its own prayers and song.

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

All That We Let In

2011-07-21T07:10:00.000-07:00

I love the Indigo Girls. My dad loves their music, so I grew up on it. Nobody warned me that being obsessed with them would cause people to make assumptions about my sexual orientation in high school; but that's beside the point.

The Indigo Girls have a beautiful song called "All That We Let In." Click here to listen to a sample. Below are the lyrics to the first verse and the chorus:

Dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nursed along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

And I don't know where it all begins
And I don't know where it all will end
We're better off for all that we let in

I've come to see something that seems to be a part of a lot of religious practice that really bothers me. Many Christian seem to me to be preoccupied with keeping out the bad. Being "a good Christian" comes to be about a Puritanical list of "don't"s designed to shield us from bad influence.

I've seen it play out countless times, whether in the controversy over the movie based on Philip Pullman's book The Golden Compass (at least one religiously affiliated school in Durham sent letters home to parents warning them not to allow their children to see the movie) or in the continuing debates over homosexuality, where much of the rhetoric seems to me to be driven by a fear of "traditional" morals and marriage being undermined by the presence of people from the LGBTQ community. Paranoia over movies puzzles and amuses me; the idea that the presence of another human being might pollute a well-to-do community disgusts me.

I believe what the Indigo Girls sang: "We're better off for all that we let in." I think that the church as a whole as Christians as individuals need to shift from a position of defensiveness to one of openness and receptivity. Insulating ourselves from people who disagree with us and experiences that don't fit our understanding of how things should be make us, well, insular. And fearful.

When we draw such black-and-white boundaries on what we can and cannot do or see or feel and who we can or cannot know or associate with or befriend, we create a culture of fear that prevents us from living into the abundance of God's love. There is nowhere you can go where God's love will not follow you. Some rules are there for good reason, but obedience to rules for rules' sake is a vain attempt at controlling God (see my post on Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God). Obedience is part of Christian discipleship, but it should flow from love and not from fear.

Open yourself up to life. You might be surprised by the places where God can meet you.

Finding True North #28: Family Time!

2011-07-18T14:11:00.001-07:00

Most of my family (minus my sister) came to visit over the course of the past week!

Dad and Noah in front of Lucas Oil stadium.

Noah and me at the canal.

Mom and I bought matching dresses. :) Here we are downtown.

What I'm Reading #27: The Prodigal God (Timothy Keller)

2011-07-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

The Prodigal God: Recovering the Heart of the Christian Faith, by Timothy Keller

I can recommend the book The Prodigal God (Dutton 2008) readily as being accessible for its length, content and language, which is great in and of itself. But Keller concisely states an interpretation of the parable of the prodigal son that is not necessarily new but is still important for people of all walks of faith to hear. It recasts the parable of the prodigal son as the parable of the two lost sons and uses the adjective "prodigal" to apply to God in an interesting way.

My favorite book on the parable found in is and always will be Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son, which uses Rembrandt's beautiful painting of the homecoming scene as a meditative center. Keller, like Nouwen and many others, encourages readers to focus not just on the younger son but on the older son. Rather than joining the party and welcoming his little brother home, the older son sulks, feeling jilted.

Keller's description of the older son hit pretty close to home for me in many ways, as did Nouwen's when I first read it: I am literally the oldest child, the goody-two-shoes, the rule-abiding, parent-pleasing daughter who does what is expected of her and more. When I read Nouwen's book, I felt chastised for attitudes I held (and still struggle with) in relation to my younger sister, and reading Keller's book, I felt similarly convicted for how I sometimes approach my faith. Rules and order are important to me, and although this is not a bad thing, I realize that rules can become idols. Discipline is an integral part of the spiritual life, but never for its own sake, and I am having to learn to recognize and let go of rules that I cling to as an end in themselves rather than a means to an end—the end being communion with God and others, and the participation in the kingdom. Keller says that religious legalism is as much as if not more of a way of abandoning God than the younger son's abandoning his father because it is an attempt at controlling God and getting what you want out of God.

Something interested that Keller pointed out about the older son he does by situating the parable in its context between that of the lost sheep and the woman with the lost coin. In both of the latter stories, someone goes looking for what is lost, but in the parable of the prodigal son, no one goes after the younger son. This raises the question: who, if anyone, should have gone looking for him? The answer is clear: his older brother. But the older son's pride and self-righteousness prevented him from extending compassion to his younger brother and seeking him out as he should have done.

Early on, Keller points out that the actual definition of the word prodigal is not, as we so often assume, "wayward." Rather, the word means "recklessly spendthrift." In this context, he says, it is really the father in the story—God—who is prodigal. The father recklessly, foolishly, lavishly gives his money, his property, his dignity and his love to a son who has rejected him. This is the God we must learn to love and to imitate: a God who loves with reckless abandon, when it makes no sense, when it is rejected, when it causes resentment in those who think they deserve it more. This is the prodigal God to whom we are continually called to come home.

Finding True North #28: Reflecting Toward 9/11/11, Part 3—Interfaith Worship

2011-07-11T16:03:00.001-07:00

This is part 3 of a series in which I'm reflecting on liturgical themes and symbols as I prepare to offer some ideas to North UMC for worship on 9/11/11, the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks, which falls on a Sunday. You can read part 1, "Ashes," here, and part 2, "Tears," here. In both of those, I focused on specific images and began to lay some groundwork for potential worship ideas; here, I will talk about interfaith/intertradition worship, as North will be participating in an interfaith service in addition to its Sunday morning worship on 9/11/11. After this, I'll move on to thinking more concretely about how North might begin to plan a service that is reflective, meaningful, and hopefully coherent—meaning I will probably reject many of my coolest ideas...but that's part of the point.

Interfaith worship is tricky. There are all sorts of theological questions to be asked right off the bat. Just starting with ecumenical Christian worship, there are problems of tradition, Biblical interpretation, authority, etc. When you move to interfaith worship and include, for example, Jews and Muslims, you've opened a whole other can of worms. Yes, these are the big three Abrahamic faiths—but do we even worship the same God? How do we acknowledge and embrace our common ground without resorting to a "least common denominator" attitude that diminishes the theological and liturgical integrity of each discrete faith tradition?

I believe that it is important to meet people of other faiths on their terms, not ours. This means being willing to learn about and be attentive to other beliefs and traditions, even if they may seem to contradict ours. The Liturgical Conference blog offers some really helpful guidelines for interfaith/intertradition worship, to which I have linked at the bottom of this post. Here's an abbreviated version of their guidelines:

Learn to appreciate the underlying worldview of another faith.
Learn the names of things.
Find an interpreter/"native informant."
Learn to observe and listen.
Abide by the conventions.
Respect the practices reserved for "insiders" (don't appropriate at will!).
Expect surprises.
Reflect theologically on your experience.

My favorite definition so far of the term "hipster" is "apathetic cultural appropriator." We live in a time and place where cultures other than ours often have a sort of exotic appeal, but the temptation to appropriate from other traditions without understanding the full meaning of that appropriation is dangerous. In worship planning, this means that we shouldn't cobble together a variety of exotic-looking practices and call it interfaith worship. There needs to be some sort of integrity within the service itself as a coherent whole as well as in regard to each tradition represented. As the guidelines above make clear, having a "native informant" is vital to this process. Even a scholar of Islamic practice may not suffice in translating the customs and rituals that are a part of Muslim worship, and just because Christians read the Hebrew Bible as well as Jews does not mean that they can immediately transfer their understanding of Scripture and superimpose it on Jewish tradition. Basically, planning interfaith worship well means entering into relationships that are mutual, open and attentive. This is harder than picking a song in Arabic, reading a Psalm in Hebrew and singing a Christian hymn; but the results of such time investment will be immeasurably better in terms not only of the integrity of the worship itself but in terms of building relationships among people of different faiths.

Have you participated in an interfaith worship service before? What was it like? What did you enjoy about it, and what rubbed you the wrong way? What specific issues does a 9/11 remembrance service bring up in terms of interfaith relations that might affect one's approach to planning such an event?

"Guidelines for Interfaith/Intertraditional Worship," The Liturgical Conference, part 1 (link) and part 2 (link).

Finding True North #27: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 2—Tears

2011-07-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

This is part 2 of a series within a series I'm doing that emerged from conversations with the North UMC staff around preparation for this year's 10th anniversary 9/11 commemoration, which falls on a Sunday. As I did in part 1 ("Ashes," which you can read here), I am focusing on a single image tied to 9/11 remembrance and exploring its Biblical, theological and liturgical connections.

To this day, when I see footage of the 9/11 terror attacks, tears come to my eyes. I did not know anyone who perished that day. I'm not from New York or DC. I watched the tragedy unfold on a television in my 9th grade biology class. Yet, as easily as I cry, I do not think I am alone in experiencing that depth of emotion when remembering that day in 2001. As we approach the 10th anniversary of 9/11/2001, tears are still close for many.

The authors of the Bible were no stranger to tears. People in the Bible wept out of grief, in remorse, for joy, from despair, in unbelief and hunger and thirst. In Luke 7, a woman bathes Jesus' feet with her tears; in Acts 20:19, tears accompany the endurance of trials; in Acts 20:13, warning others to be alert brings the speaker to tears; in 1 Corinthians 2:4, weeping accompanies the expression of deep love; and in Philippians 3:18, speaking of the enemies of Christ prompts the flow of tears. Weeping can mean many things, and it is not an activity that is rare in the Bible.

The Psalms especially are full of tears: "I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping" (Psalm 6:6); "My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, 'Where is your God?'" (Psalm 42:3). Jeremiah practically begs for tears in order appropriately to mourn his people's demise: "O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my poor people!" (Jeremiah 9:1). Tears are acceptable, almost necessary, and excessive.

(I'd just like to point out that the men of the Bible cry a lot. Esau, Job, Joseph, Peter, Jesus, the list goes on and on. Wonder if that squares up with some of what muscular Christianity is painting as "masculinity" these days.)

The inherently excessive nature of tears is something on which contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura reflected at length during a lecture I attended this past April (see my blog about that here). Fujimura recently completed the Four Holy Gospels Project to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. The project is one-of-a-kind in many ways, and it was no small undertaking. As he approached it, Fujimura chose a Bible verse to meditate on as he painted: "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). This proved appropriate in a number of ways, one poignant one being that Fujimura works with water-based paints, so he imagined himself literally painting with the tears of Christ, those tears illuminating each page of Scripture. (See an article by Fujimura called "The Beautiful Tears," link provided at the end of this post.)

But Fujimura had more to say about tears that I found deeply poignant. In his lecture, he drew the audience into the story of John 11—the death and raising of Lazarus. When Jesus arrived, he first met Martha, who said, almost rebuking Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:21). Jesus gave her a simple, straightforward answer: "Your brother will rise again" (John 11:23). Martha knew about the resurrection to come, but Jesus reasons with her in regards to his own identity and ability to restore life, thus satisfying and reassuring her. Then he encounters Mary, who says the same thing her sister had said: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:32). But Jesus responds differently this time. He sees her tears and the tears of all those who loved Lazarus, and he, too, weeps.

Fujimura pointed out how nonsensical this is. Jesus had just told Martha that Lazarus would be raised. Why did he not give Mary the same reassurance? Fujimura says that it is because Jesus knew and loved each of these women in their particularity and knew that while Martha would be comforted by a direct answer, what Mary most needed at that moment was not to be alone in her grief. Jesus was literally wasting time and energy crying over the death of a man whom he knew full well he was about to raise from the dead. Jesus cried useless, wasteful, excessive tears, all for love of his friends.

Tears are a waste of time, but precisely because of that fact, they provide a unique access point for the divine. God's love is neither efficient nor utilitarian. The psalmist even imagines that God keeps count of these useless drops of water that pour from our frail eyes: "You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your record?" (Psalm 56:8). If you or someone you know is a hoarder or a pack rat, at least they do not keep tears in bottles. But to God, each tear is precious because it is an overflow of the fullness of the human heart.

In God's economy, the wastefulness of tears hides a promise to which we can all cling. Tears are a direct cry for help, and God does respond: "I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears; indeed, I will heal you" (2 Kings 20:5). As preoccupied as the psalmist sometimes seems to be with tears, even in the psalms of lament, we find hope: "May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy" (Psalm 126:5). Isaiah makes that promise more explicit, as does the author of Revelation: "Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces" (Isaiah 25:8); and "God will wipe away every tear from their eyes" (Revelation 7:17). This promise does not diminish the reality of whatever might have brought on tears, but it does give us a sense of God's presence even—and especially—when we weep.

How might all of this connect with our remembrance of 9/11? First, the church can and should make space for tears, not just on 9/11/11 but at all times. What that means concretely, I'm not sure, and I am wary of anything in worship that is geared intentionally at producing an emotional experience. But this anniversary marks an event that has unique power and resonance throughout this country, and the church needs to be aware that we are dealing with mass grief, sometimes in strange and nonsensical ways (like how I find myself a little choked up writing this). How might the image of water be incorporated into worship? Doing a baptismal remembrance is an obvious answer; recalling that we are baptized not just into life but first into Christ's death could help people connect this national grief with a corporate performance of going from death to life. How might an adaptation of a service of remembrance strike the balance between mourning and hope? Where could the arts fit into such a remembrance?

__________

Makoto Fujimura, "The Beautiful Tears." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Finding True North #26: Hospital Visits and Pastoral Care

2011-07-07T11:45:00.000-07:00

One of the many wonderful things about interning at a church the size of North UMC is that they don't really need an intern. That sounds bad, but what it means is that I have a lot of flexibility. There's a lot to do, and I can get involved in whatever I want. Discipline is required to do the things I don't necessarily want to do but need to do, of course, but I figure that's a good thing to learn.

That having been said, I hate hospitals and nursing homes. So I made sure early on that I expressed a desire to go on hospital and other pastoral care visits. Yesterday, I got to tag along with Rick Pickering, North's Pastor for Care and Nurture. Rick has a wonderful pastoral presence, which I think was part of the reason that even when we walked into Indy's ginormous Methodist Hospital, I wasn't uncomfortable. We visited two church members at Methodist, and I was able not only to meet and speak with them but also to observe Rick's bedside manner, for lack of a better phrase. He has an attentive, non-anxious presence that seemed to me to make the patients feel cared for but not fretted over, their pain acknowledged but not given power.

We also went to a retirement community to visit a 93-year-old woman who Rick says is the closest thing North has to a matriarch. She has been involved in just about every aspect of the church for decades. It was incredible to talk to her because her memory is still razor sharp—better than mine, and at her age she would have an excuse to let things slip. We ate lunch with her and Rick asked questions about the history and present of North, what she thought about certain things going on, etc., and each answer led to a story complete with details like names and dates, even if the narrative was from 30 years ago. I hope to catch up with her again before the end of the summer. People like her are the true keepers of what my old worship professor would call the "sacred bundle," those things most important to the history and identity of a congregation.

Rick and I are going to meet sometime soon to debrief on those visits, and I should get at least one more opportunity to go along on some other ones. He said he'd like to get me to see a variety of different situations so I can get an idea of the breadth of pastoral care. I'll probably also do some hospital visits with Kevin at some point (I was going to a week or so ago, but scheduling and early discharges caused that not to work out), so that will be good as well. Hooray for doing things you don't really want to do and enjoying it.

Finding True North #25: Reflecting toward 9/11/11, Part 1—Ashes

2011-07-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

Just over two months from now, we will mark the 10th anniversary of September 11, 2001. It is a significant moment in and of itself, and I have heard many religious leaders already thinking through and planning for the commemoration. It is particularly meaningful for Christians that the anniversary falls on a Sunday. My supervisor, Kevin Armstrong, asked me not only to look into worship planning resources for 9-11 but also to help think through what the church’s posture should be on such a day.

In our initial conversation about this, Kevin suggested taking a Biblical, theological approach to the thought process, perhaps focusing on a key image or two that might aid in both reflection and worship planning. His suggestion was the image of ashes; another I will explore is that of tears, and others may come up. What follows is a series of musings on ashes using Biblical references as well as artistic and liturgical ciphers to encourage thoughtful conversation as we approach 9-11-11. At the end, I have included links to various resources, including liturgies, prayers, hymns, interfaith worship planning guidelines, articles and more.

The image of ashes can be somewhat graphic in relation to 9-11. Makoto Fujimura, an artist whose studio was two blocks from Ground Zero (and whom I will discuss more when I talk about tears), talks about his son, whose school was near the twin towers, being covered with "that white dust, later called 'dust of death'" when he emerged from the chaos. Smoke and flames burned through Manhattan, debris indistinguishable from incinerated humanity settling on trees, grass, buildings and people. Two 1300-foot towers and thousands within became nothing but rubble and ashes.

Dust and ashes show up throughout the Bible both as metaphorical images and as tangible materials with a purpose. Dust is actually the medium in which God works to create human life—God "formed man from the dust of the ground" (Genesis 2:7), and the familiar adage "ashes to ashes and dust to dust" echoes the Scriptural "you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Genesis 3:19). In the Old Testament, ashes are something insubstantial; Job accuses his friends of speaking falsely, saying, "Your maxims are proverbs of ashes, your defenses are defenses of clay" (Job 13:12). This image of frailty is one Abraham recognizes in his own humanity when he says, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes" (Genesis 18:27). Dust and ashes are the immaterial material from which we ourselves are made and to which we will return.

Another important function that ashes have in the Bible, especially in the Old Testament, is their role in the sacrificial system. Burnt offerings were part of ritual purification; Numbers 19 describes a process by which the ashes of the purification offerings are mixed with water (I think the images of tears is related here) to make the unclean clean again. Of course, the sacrificial system is connected with a concept that ashes symbolize: repentance. Repentance and mourning are the main contexts in which ashes appear in the Bible. Putting ashes on your head and wearing sackcloth are signs of both. But the prophet Isaiah insists that such actions are not sufficient as an offering if works of mercy and grace does not accompany them:

Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58:5-7)

Ashes are important to ritualized actions of mourning and repentance, but even as they image desolation and destruction, they are not the end but should help us be led by God to choose the fast of justice.

An obvious liturgical tie-in to the image of ashes is the imposition liturgy of Ash Wednesday. The imposition of ashes has to do almost entirely with repentance, but I've been thinking about this more in the context of healing for a variety of reasons. First, in keeping with Elaine Heath's assessment of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich in the book The Mystic Way of Evangelism, I’m starting to think about sin more in terms of wounds. In that framework, what sin requires is healing, not condemnation. Moreover, I have participated in Ash Wednesday services where the ashes were mixed with oil. This not only makes imposition easier, it also carries symbolic weight, since anointing with oil is often associated liturgically with services of healing. How might the imposition of ashes be presented as an image of healing and restoration as well as (or simply as) repentance?

__________

Makoto Fujimura, "Post 911 – Ground Zero Meditations." (link)
General Board of Discipleship (GBOD) Resources: Remembering 9-11. (link)

Finding True North #24: Cowboys, Pit Crews and the Church

2011-07-05T06:58:00.001-07:00

Kevin Armstrong, the senior pastor at North UMC in Indianapolis, asked the staff to read an article that appeared in The New Yorker in May. It is actually the commencement address delivered to Harvard Medical School's 2011 graduating class by Atul Gawande, and it is called "Cowboys and Pit Crews." The staff is slotted to discuss the article and its implications for the pastoral team at today's staff meeting, but I actually won't be there, so this is my reflection on the article.

Gawande's speech is focused on the medical world and has lots of implications for health care policy and even education, but I'm going to set all that aside for now. His basic point is that doctors for a long time were expected to be able to hold all the information and skills necessary to practice medicine independently—and before modern medicine developed and ballooned into what it is now, they were able to do that.

Unfortunately, Gawande says, the idea that a doctor should be a cowboy and work autonomously is destructive in a system that now requires more and more specialization. An individual doctor is able to practice medicine in a much narrower sense than was one possible, but he or she is still expected to function independently—hence the ongoing problems with misdiagnosis, the high rate of infections contracted within hospitals, redundant testing and treatment, etc. Gawande argues that doctors need to be able to work more collaboratively, because as each doctor becomes more focused in his or her specialization, he or she needs even more the expertise of other professionals.

Gawande advocates the cultivation of three main values: humility, discipline and teamwork. He points out that these values are "the opposite of autonomy, independency, self-sufficiency," mores that we prize and of which we are reluctant to let go, having been so indoctrinated in them. We do not need doctors who can work independently, Gawande says; we need pit crews, not cowboys.

I am glad to know that the staff at North is starting a conversation about this particularly on the teamwork front. One thing I have loved about working here is that the leadership is very much hands-off. I always tell people that when it comes to working, I need direction but not a lot of supervision. I do not respond well to micro-managing, so the atmosphere at North is a great fit. They bring in people who are gifted at what they do, and they trust them to do their thing without excessive hand-holding. It is a very empowering approach, and Kevin (along with the rest of the pastoral team) is always available to respond to questions or concerns.

However, one thing the church is realizing is that there are a lot of incredible ministries going on here, all of which are great in their own right, but which would benefit from improved communication and collaboration with other things happening in the church and the community. People involved in outreach may not have the slightest clue of what's going on with the children's ministry, and that is true both of parishioners and pastors. It's not surprising in a church of North's size with the number of amazing ministries it has, but since I've been here, I've heard a number of conversations that reveal a common desire to work together more. It seems to me that there is a balance to be struck between micro-management and fragmentation, but when that balance is found, good things will happen.

__________

This has nothing to do with anything, but in googling "cowboy preacher" to find a picture for this post, I found the website of The Reverend Lon M. Burns, D.D., M.S.W., "America's Favorite Jewish Cowboy Minister." What?!

What I'm Reading #26: The Company of Strangers (Parker Palmer)

2011-06-30T13:07:00.001-07:00

The Company of Strangers: Christians and the Renewal of America's Public Life, by Parker J. Palmer

I discovered The Company of Strangers (Crossroads 1981) through my pastor and supervisor for the summer, Kevin Armstrong. This book will definitely figure in my evangelism paper, particularly in the section I plan to devote to Lockerbie Central UMC and Earth House. It is also relevant to what North UMC is currently doing in exploring public ministry. Relevance all around.

Palmer emphasizes the importance for the church and the world of public life and interaction with the stranger in ways that challenge some basic assumptions about how one lives a good life. Especially in today's American culture, we value privacy and intimate relationships. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but Palmer admonishes the church not to devalue the public life and relationships with the stranger in the meantime, even and especially where we find those things threatening.

Although Palmer insists that a robust private life is vital to the health of the public life, he stresses that the former will suffer without the latter. He writes, "The word 'private,' which we often use to denote the opposite of the public realm, literally means 'to be deprived of a public life.'" For Palmer, the public and the private are interconnected and interdependent. A healthy private life enables people to live publicly, while a healthy public life gives meaning and context to the private. Problems such as crime and safety are often approached with private solutions such as home security and gun ownership, but in reality, a public solution—making the public more connected and aware of itself and all of its members—better ensures private well-being.

Another interesting point Palmer made is that our obsession with intimacy and warmth can become problematic. If we only value close relationships, we jettison all other associations, which almost always has a homogenizing effect, especially in churches. It also puts enormous pressure on any relationships we do have, because if they are not conducive to intimacy, we assume they are not valuable and abandon them. The stranger, Palmer says, is precisely where we learn things about ourselves that we do not like, or learn things about others that can help us grow. The stranger could be someone of a different socioeconomic class or of a different political persuasion, and without such interaction we become insular and self-satisfied. Moreover, we see in the Bible that God identifies with and comes as the stranger (Abraham and the three men/one man at the Oaks of Mamre in Genesis 19, Jesus on the walk to Emmaus in Luke 24, etc.). God not only meets us as a friend, God confronts us as a stranger, as the "other." If we forget that, we run the risk of domesticating God and making God in our own image.

Of course, it is in the public where we meet the stranger, and so Palmer insists that the church must be concerned not only with what goes on within its walls but what goes on outside the walls. The church must find a way to be in public ministry, not to increase its numbers or to make itself look good, but because it is in the public and among strangers where we meet a God who is bigger than ourselves.

Favorite Quotations

"The God who cares about our private lives is concerned with our public lives as well. This is a God who calls us into relationship not only with family and friends, but with strangers scattered across the face of the earth, a God who says again and again, 'We are all in this together.'"

"I once asked a politically active black minister in Washington, D.C. to name the primary task in his ministry. I suppose I expected him to say something about political organizing, protest, and the like. Instead, he said, 'To provide my people with a rich social life.' I asked, ‘Do you mean parties and pot-lucks and socials and things like that?' thinking his answer sounded a bit frivolous. 'Of course,' he said, 'things like that give my people the strength to struggle in public.'"

"We gain a deeper understanding of our relation to the stranger when we remember that Jesus did not merely point to, but identified himself with the sick, the prisoner, the stranger."

"Hospitality means letter the stranger remain a stranger while offering acceptance nonetheless."

"The best deterrent to crime against private property and persons is not a home arsenal, or even a skilled and well-financed police force, but the presence of a public which is aware of and cares about itself."

"The irony is that every community which rejects the stranger and anxiously protects 'its own kind' gives witness, not to the strength of its identity, but to its deep-rooted insecurity."

Finding True North #23: Boycotting a "Not Kosher" Hotel

2011-06-30T12:49:00.000-07:00

This has almost nothing to do with my field ed placement. However, it shows the kinds of friends I'm making in Indy: awesome ones. Today, my friend Rebecca, a Moravian pastor here in Indianapolis (but originally from NC, what's up!), roped me into participating in an action against the Hyatt Hotel downtown. The hospitality workers and community members have been working for fair process and union rights at the Hyatt for several years now. I had no idea what I was getting into, but the more I learn, the more interesting this looks.

The group I tagged along with today is called UniteHere! and today, housekeepers across the nation spoke out against poor working conditions at Hyatts all over. Here's something from UniteHere's website:

When two housekeepers in New York came forward to report assault on the job, taking on some of the most powerful men in the world, they exposed some of the grittier and oftentimes hidden aspects of hotel work--the work of scrubbing toilets, changing sheets, and encountering guests alone behind closed doors. Hotel housekeepers--overwhelmingly women, immigrants, and people of color--are the invisible backbone of the hotel industry. While incidents of sexual assault are uncommon, the women who work as housekeepers routinely face a broader spectrum of dangers at work, from sexual harassment to the debilitating injuries that many women sustain after years of making beds and scrubbing floors.

Perhaps most fascinating to me is that a group of clergy has come together and published an investigation into working conditions at Hyatts. Their findings have caused rabbis to pledge to declare the Hyatt "not kosher." Wow. (Read more here.)

I'm theoretically pro-union (because Amy Laura Hall is pro-union and I take my marching orders from her), but I've never paid really close attention to worker's rights beyond a vague interest in the recent brouhaha in Wisconsin and some talk about a living wage. Needless to say, I had never participated in a public action like this. It was kinda fun.

I was a part of the distraction. A group of us walked into the atrium of the Hyatt holding posters covered with pictures of various leaders at non-union Hyatts around the country, singing "We Shall Overcome." Meanwhile, a delegation, including both workers and community members, went to the general manager's office with the intention of giving him one of the posters and asking for an audience to discuss workers' rights and fair process.

Downstairs, we got through probably 15 stanzas of "We Shall Overcome" before we were asked to leave. It was, I admit, a little awkward, standing there in the lobby bellowing out a spiritual as people leaned over railings all the way up the multi-story building to see what we were doing. But public embarrassment is a big part of activism, I suppose.

We learned later that the delegation had been treated rudely in the office. The general manager was (apparently as usual) out for the afternoon. The delegation spoke with some other people in authority, and one Latina worker told about confronting an employee from Colombia who did not have time to talk, but the worker said, with tears streaming down her face, that she didn't understand how a person from the Latino/a community could be a part of a company that treated her own people so poorly.

So that was my adventure for the day. Rebecca said she'd keep me in the loop for the rest of my time here in Indy, and I intend to do further research to get up to speed on what's going on with the Hyatt, plus to figure out where this kind of thing is happening in Durham. I told some friends last night in an email that my inner activist is waking up, and it's freaking me (and, I suspect, the people around me) out a bit. In a good way.

Finding True North #22: Disaster Preparedness

2011-06-29T06:49:00.001-07:00

Yesterday in staff meeting, we spent a good bit of time looking at a draft of a disaster preparedness plan that a team from North has been working on for some time. The goal of such a plan is to equip the church ahead of time to deal with crises both within the walls of the church and in the surrounding community, whether that means a health emergency during a worship service, a tornado ripping through the city, someone bringing a gun to church or some sort of widespread pandemic.

I learned that few churches apparently have such a system in place, and interestingly enough, this plan was adapted in part from one adopted by McMannen UMC in Durham, a church I am fond of because they have supported the Wright Room Summer Program (not sure if that video's public, it's on Facebook) at Asbury Temple UMC, where I worked its first two years of existence. The connectional system gets personal again.

Anyway, I thought it was pretty interesting that North has put so much time and energy into this sort of preparation. Some of it involves ensuring that church documents and valuables are recovered in the case of something like a fire, but if there is attention on intra-church disaster, there is more on how the church might respond to one in the wider community. They are working on getting officially registered with the Red Cross to serve as a shelter in times of emergency; their facility in and of itself could be a valuable resource in a crisis, not to mention the church as a place for worship and prayer. Here's an excerpt that I found moving because it evokes the importance of the church as a spiritual center and respondent in crisis:

If the church should fall victim to the disaster and not be safe for occupancy or remain only as a pile of holy rubble, find a tree, a tent or awning to gather under. Set up a homemade altar and make a cross to adorn it. The pastor and the victims will need this Holy Ground to turn to.

Basically: whatever it takes. It'll be interesting to see how the plan evolves and is implemented. Thank God for churches like North working to be everything Christ would be even in unthinkable circumstances.

Do your churches have anything like this? What do you think about a disaster preparedness plan, and what should the church's role be in a time of crisis?

Finding True North #21: Jesus' Public Ministry

2011-06-28T06:21:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday, North UMC launched a worship and sermon series focused on Jesus' public ministry. The goal of the series, which will also include curriculum to support small group discussion along the way, is for the church to figure out how to publicly proclaim its welcome to all people. There is a particular focus here on the LGBTQ community, with the question being not whether to be welcoming but how (and whether to affiliate with the Reconciling Ministries Network (RMN)). The discussion also includes questions on how better to support families of children and adults with disabilities.

These are things that North is already doing, so ironically, they are trying to work out how to "talk the walk." Usually for a church, it's the opposite. I am truly blessed to be in a place where actions speak louder than words, but words are also taken seriously. North's approach to the ministry of welcome and inclusiveness has been intentional, scriptural, theological and corporate in a way that I haven't really seen before, especially not in a pretty mainline Protestant church. On Sunday, as I listened to Kevin explain the public ministry series and deliver a sermon entitled "From the Inside, Out," challenging the church to think about how they might take the hospitality that is already demonstrated within the walls of North UMC and proclaim it to the broader community.

As part of the process, a letter was sent out to the congregation and printed in the bulletin. You can open a PDF of the letter here. It was drafted by the Inclusiveness Task Force at North, a group that was charged a while back with helping to structure the conversation and move the church forward in the goal of more publicly stating its welcome to all people. I was able to meet with this group a few weeks ago and was impressed not only with their focus and sense of purpose but also with their concern for making space for other voices. They recognize that because this move toward inclusiveness is supported by the majority of the congregation, those who may not be comfortable with such a public statement may feel like they cannot speak up for fear of seeming unwelcoming. North had this conversation (specifically about affiliating with RMN) 18 years ago and it was tabled, and apparently there are still people around who have residual struggles from that. But Kevin and the task force are doing everything in their power to bring those voices into the conversation, something that I rarely see happening on either side of the discussion—or really in any discussion these days.

I'm thrilled to be at North as they embark on this conversation. It's been incredible to see how they're approaching it and to be a part of the process, even tangentially. Kevin has asked my help in some aspects of worship planning around this series, so I've been able to contribute some, particularly in the way of hymn suggestions. We opened the service this past Sunday with a David Haas hymn that I love, "We Are Called," based on Micah 6:8. Here are the lyrics:

Come! live in the light!
Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord!
We are called to be light for the kingdom,
to live in the freedom of the city of God!

(Refrain)
We are called to act with justice.
We are called to love tenderly.
We are called to serve one another, to walk humbly with God.

Come! Open your heart!
Show your mercy to all those in fear!
We are called to be hope for the hopeless,
so all hatred and blindness will be no more!

Sing! Sing a new song!
Sing of that great day when all will be one!
God will reign and we'll walk with each other
as sisters and brothers united in love!

I'm so excited to be part of a faith community, even just for a summer, that is dedicating itself to living in the light and finding its prophetic voice intentionally and prayerfully in an increasingly polarized world.

Finding True North #20: Inside the Bottle, Outside the Box

2011-06-25T06:39:00.000-07:00

On Thursday evening, I went to a fundraiser for a nonprofit organization called Outside the Box, or OTB for short. The event, a wine tasting and silent auction, was cleverly billed as Inside the Bottle. Jordan Updike, the executive director of Earth House, a member of Lockerbie Central UMC and one of my unofficial guides to Indy for the summer, is on the board of directors for OTB and so had an extra ticket and invited me along. I had heard some about OTB and was interested in learning more, and I had never been to a fundraising event like that, and since I'm theoretically working on a professional certificate in nonprofit management from Duke Continuing Studies, I'm taking any opportunity to learn about grassroots organizations.

Here's a snippet from OTB's mission on their website:

Outside The Box Inc.’s mission is to empower people with disabilities to be the leaders in their lives and create meaningful days. We believe in every person’s ability to create a meaningful and productive day based on their strengths and what is important to them.

OTB is an organization that provides customized services to adults with developmental disabilities. Their model has been recognized as unique in many ways, and they joked at one point that they don't see other groups with the same client base as competition, but rather as a referral source. They work with clients on everything from character development to finances and have a 100% success rate in job placement. Their services include day programs and employment services as well as a really neat arts program called Studio OTB. Some of the art created by clients was for sale as part of the auction, and Earth House will actually be hosting an exhibit called "Outside the Cigar Box" where 150 cigar boxes painted by clients and staff of OTB will be on display. You can check out some of the boxes and the creative process for that on Studio OTB's blog.

Here's a video that gives you a better look into what OTB is and does:

I was really moved by this event, not only because it was a huge success with hundreds of attendees and over $30,000 raised. I have an inner activist/community organizer that has been hibernating for the past several years, but in the last few months it's been waking up. (I blame Dr. Amy Laura Hall, the Toward a Moral Consensus Against Torture conference, and the Jack Crum Conference on Prophetic Ministry for this.) This summer is already opening my eyes to the ways grassroots movements can make a real impact on the community, and even how the church can be involved creatively—but more on that later.

The fundraiser was largely aimed at raising money to renovate a new building that OTB recently acquired. The organization started in a tiny room with a handful of clients and has steadily expanded, and the recent acquisition of a 7-acre property with an old nursing home promises to double their capacity in terms of clients served. The move was made possible in large part by a $100,000 grant from an incredible organization called Impact 100. Here's a brief description from their website: "Impact 100 Greater Indianapolis is a charitable women's giving circle dedicated to awarding high impact grants to nonprofits in our community in the areas of arts & culture, education, environment, family, and health & wellness." The idea is that a group of women comes together to make a real impact on an organization collectively, giving a $100,000 gift to a select group and then smaller gifts to others as well. OTB was this year's large grant winner. That this gift was given by a group of women was made even cooler by the fact that both the executive director and board president of OTB are women.

I really enjoyed myself at Inside the Bottle, but it was especially neat to learn more about Outside the Box. I'm going to see about visiting OTB at some point this summer. North UMC is currently discussing how publicly to profess its openness and inclusivity, a conversation that is largely about the GLBTQ community but which is also being expanded to include the differently abled and even socioeconomic classes that aren't necessarily represented or potentially welcome (or perceived as welcome) at North. Maybe OTB can give us some ideas for how better to reach out to and support families of children and adults with disabilities. Interestingly enough, the executive director of OTB attends North.

I love how everything is connected.

Finding True North #19: A Faith of Aesthetics

2011-06-23T06:52:00.001-07:00

My new favorite spot for quiet time and prayer is the chapel at North UMC. It is a small, beautiful space located at one corner of the main church building where we have morning prayers each day. I love it for its intimate feel, the piano I've taken to playing in the mornings, and the beautiful stained glass windows that tie together the semicircular external wall.

I picked up a brochure on the chapel windows, which I was pleased to know was available just outside the chapel. The art was commissioned in 1997, the artist being MAuren McGuire from Phoenix, AZ. The five windows trace salvation history from the birth of Jesus to the descent of the Holy Spirit, and though I'd want salvation history (or, to use a word I really don't know why I remember besides the fact that it's fun to say, heilsgeschichte) to go back to creation, I realize 5 windows is limiting. In any case, the windows are beautiful and draw anyone paying attention into the stories.

Naturally, the first window that caught my attention was the last one, which depicts Pentecost. As I was preparing my Pentecost sermon, anything having to do with the Holy Spirit was grabbing me. I love the broad sweep of the dove's wings and the little tongues of fire hovering over the disciples' heads. You can see close-ups, as well as many pictures of the other windows, in the slideshow at the top.

A while back, I was reading a book by my favorite author, Sharon Kay Penman (yes, it's historical fiction, I'm a dork). It was probably her book Time and Chance, because I remember it was Eleanor of Aquitaine whose thoughts Penman was exploring. Queen Eleanor was kneeling in a beautiful chapel to pray, and she found herself thinking that she had, to use the one phrase I recall, "a faith of aesthetics."

I strongly identified with this because space and visuals have always been important to me in life and especially in my faith. I appreciate and find God in beautiful things, whether that is a stained glass window, a Gothic sanctuary or an ordinary space made sacred by something as simple as a candle. For me, aesthetics has to do not only with visual art but with things like wood and stone, the feel of a seat or the floor, and the sounds of a space. Music is part of my aesthetics, whether it's playing out loud or in my head. At times, aesthetics have been all that has sustained my faith, and though I'm tempted to feel guilty about that, I refuse to do so.

Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite was the 5th/6th-century Christian theologian and philospher whose idea about a celestial hierarchy influenced later theologies of aesthetics, including arguments made by Abbot Suger of the abbey of St. Denis, whose basilica was the first church to use Gothic architecture as it came to be in the cathedrals and churches of medieval Europe. Criticized for the decadence of the structure, Suger argued, as Pseudo-Dionysius had, that visual beauty called people to contemplate the beauty and transcendence of God. The lines of Gothic arches and the light streaming through stained glass windows, he said, drew people's eyes, hearts and minds upward.

There are a lot of questions in such a discussion about stewardship. When I took a course on Gothic cathedrals in undergrad, my dad sent me a cartoon that depicted a bishop protectively holding a model of a cathedral while Jesus, depicted as a beggar, holds out his hand asking for help. The construction of Chartres cathedral in particular created a divide between the church and the city that even Duke and Durham's town-and-gown complex can't imagine. Of course, sometimes we focus our understanding of stewardship too narrowly on the building itself; understanding the impact of such a structure on the surrounding community is a helpful broadening of the discussion, but Elaine Heath argues that stewardship ultimately needs to be about creation care. How can the upkeep of a large facility be maintained in such a way as to be environment- and community-friendly?

Last night, I attended a meeting of the Board of Directors at NUMC. One thing they discussed was the use of their building. I had already been part of conversations on the subject, and one staff member said she feels strongly that the building is part of the church's ministry. It truly is, and part of the discussion last night was how to make that even more true. North has a gorgeous neo-Gothic building that sits on the corner of Meridian and 38th Street, a bizarre meeting place of vastly different cultures and socioeconomic groups. Last week through Party in the Park, an outreach event that started up last year, North invited the community to come over for food, fellowship, games, stories, crafts and more. Party in the Park is held in the parking lot, and for many of the attendees, just coming that far onto the property was probably a big deal. Of course, people are in and out of the building all the time, so not everyone is afraid of this big stone structure.

How can churches like North with large and beautiful (but, to some, intimidating) structures open themselves up to their communities? How can beauty and aesthetics become inviting and instructive, not simply for show? These and more are some of the questions North is wrestling with and which the church at large needs to face as membership and giving decline while large portions of budgets must continue to go to building maintenance. How can a beautiful building like North's become a gift to the community and not simply a burden on the membership?

Worship Design: Style (or Not), Preparation and Fear

2011-06-22T19:15:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got the opportunity to spend a few days shadowing worship designer Marcia McFee at the Indiana Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. I had a great time—in addition to being a wonderful artist, leader and practical theologian, Dr. McFee is a fun person to be around. I took copious notes in a teaching session she held for the conference, and although I could reproduce her presentation here verbatim, I'd rather just pull out a few salient takeaways.

1. Worship style is not as big of a deal as we make it out to be. Dr. McFee didn't say this outright, but her approach makes it clear. In a church obsessed with worship style and divided by wars over guitars vs. organs, Dr. McFee's work is refreshing because she approaches worship design with absolutely no reference to style. She is steeped in the language of ritual and liturgy, but she emphasizes the importance of context and of working with what you have. Don't add more bells and whistles in an attempt to make worship more exciting, she says. Instead, work on getting more out of what's already there. Even the simplest settings have the potential to be a spiritual portal to transformation, what Dr. McFee says worship always should be.

2. Preparation gives you the freedom to worship. Dr. McFee used a metaphor that I appreciated: worship preparation is like building a pile of leaves. It takes time and energy, and you may be worried about messing it up once it's been built up, but the bigger your pile, the freer you are to dive in. Worship should be a freefall into the love of God, a fall broken and enabled by the preparation. Sometimes people are resistant to too much preparation because they want the Spirit to be free to move, but that's just why the image of a leaf pile is perfect—it is built with intention, but you cannot be so attached to it that you're afraid to mess it up by diving in, as leaf piles are intended to be dived into. Dr. McFee encouraged pastors who feel like they never get to worship when leading to take a closer look at how they are preparing themselves, both logistically and spiritually. Even worship leaders should be free to worship, to invite others into worship in which they too are participating. Dr. McFee talks about moving from presiding over worship to residing within the worshiping community, from being "guardians of religious practice" to being "midwives of sacramental moments." Wow, right?

3. Fear around changes in worship reflect an unarticulated fear of losing God. This point struck me as important. I've observed some pretty irrational reactions to changes in worship (or in churches in general) with much puzzlement—including, at times, my own reactions. Dr. McFee said that because worship is most people's access point to God, a change can leave them fearful of losing that connection. At the heart of this, of course, is our problematic tendency to domesticate God, to put God in a box of our choosing. This is not something for which to chastise parishioners, but it is something to understand when meeting resistance to change in any church setting, especially in worship.

Those are just a few things Dr. McFee talked about in her presentation, and there was much more I learned in conversation and observation. All in all, I learned a lot from my few days with her, and I look forward to exploring these and other themes around worship not only this summer but throughout my life and ministry.

What I'm Reading #25: The Mystic Way of Evangelism (Elaine Heath)

2011-06-22T08:51:00.000-07:00

The Mystic Way of Evangelism: A Contemplative Vision for Christian Outreach, by Elaine Heath

It feels like my pace of reading has slowed down lately, and although that's partly true thanks to field ed revving up, I'm feeling less productive in finishing books because I keep picking up new ones before I get done with old ones. The Mystic Way of Evangelism is one of those. It was recommended to me in conjunction with the evangelism directed study I'm working on, specifically as I look at Lockerbie Central UMC/Earth House in downtown Indy, Lockerbie being an emergent congregation whose expression of radical hospitality (though not equated with it) is this coffeehouse collective focused on the arts, wellness and conscious living. Elaine Heath's book, I was told, would help me understand some of what is going on there, and it certainly did.

This is a beautiful book, it's not long and it's an easy read, so I'd happily recommend it to anyone, even if you aren't interested in something too theologically heady. Heath explores the examples of various Christian mystics across time and space, engaging with favorites of mine like Julian of Norwich, Henri Nouwen, Hans Urs von Balthasar and more. Through a hermeneutic of love grounded in contemplation, sustainability and community, Heath builds a theology of outreach that acknowledges the challenges of post-Christendom and re-imagines basic concepts like holiness, sin and stewardship.

Heath does what many of the other authors I'm reading on evangelism have done: she makes it clear that this is no longer Christendom and no longer modernism. However, although the church is certainly in financial jeopardy as membership and giving decline, for Heath this is an opportunity for the church to become more fully the church. She describes this as "the dark night of the soul," applying a mystical theme to the corporate life of Christianity as it stands today. This dark night is precisely what the church needs to purify itself and to reclaim its prophetic voice, Heath says:

"Contrary to being a disaster, the exilic experiences of loss and marginalization are what are needed to restore the church to its evangelistic place. On the margins of society the church will once again find its God-given voice to speak to the dominant culture in subversive ways, resisting the powers and principalities, standing against the seduction of the status quo. The church will once again become a prophetic, evangelistic, alternative community, offering to the world a model of life that is radically 'other,' life-giving, loving, healing, liberating. This kind of community is not possible for the church of Christendom."

The modern frameworks once used for evangelism are no longer in place. We need a new model—and not just a new set of tactics, but a whole new (or old) way of understanding faith, community and healing.

One of Heath's projects is to re-frame how we think about sin. Using Julian of Norwich's Revelations of Divine Love, she shifts from the language of original sin to that of original wounds. Julian's visions displayed God's compassion for God's children, especially in a vision where she sees humans as an overeager servant who falls headlong into a ditch and injured himself terribly in his rush to do his master's bidding. Heath writes that Julian "locates sin in the context of wounds, offering a therapeutic vision of redemption." This completely changes the way God looks at sin, and how we should look at sin: "Wounds precede sin—original wounds—and for this reason the eyes of the Lord look upon the human predicament 'with pity and not with blame.'" Heath takes this even further when she draws a comparison between the story of the fall in Genesis and childhood sexual abuse. Adam and Eve had no reason or capacity to mistrust the serpent, Heath explains, just as a child may be told not to talk to strangers but has no defense mechanism for when their uncle or family friend says or does something they can't understand. This reminds me of the theologian Irenaeus, whose theology of the fall Dr. Warren Smith succinctly described as "we tripped on our shoelaces trying to stand up." The language of wounds, which prompts compassion, is, I think, a far better suited paradigm than that of sin, which only draws blame.

Heath also engages with Phoebe Palmer and other who were part of holiness movements. For Heath, holiness is not about keeping oneself clean and pure while rejecting any potentially tainting influences. She discusses the parable of the woman with the hemorrhages whom Jesus heals. I literally teared up reading this. "Instead of her uncleanness polluting Jesus, his goodness makes her whole. Jesus is glad to touch her." I cannot help but think of this fear of pollution in the context of the ongoing struggle within the church over homosexuality (which parallels a long discussion Heath has about divorce). This post by Dan R. Dick concerning the ongoing church trial of Amy DeLong has this heartbreaking line in it: "our Christian family is broken and that we are seeking ways to amputate limbs from our body." The church, Heath insists, is not called to purify itself in the sense that it should remove influences it sees as bad for its self-righteous holiness; rather, the church is called to kenosis, to self-emptying for the sake of the world. Holiness is not about us but about becoming vessels for God's grace: "We are not set aside and made holy for our own pursuits; we are now in partnership with God in God's mission." The idea of kenosis is directly related to evangelism, for while we often think of evangelism in terms of boosting membership or giving, it is really in the giving away that the church most truly embodies the reign of God: "The church has been at its missional best when giving itself away."

Finally, Heath discusses the concept of stewardship at length. She invites the church to shift its thinking about stewardship from building maintenance and capital campaigns to creation care. Evangelism, she insists, is never complete unless it is good news announced to the whole of God's creation. "Evangelism is not good news until it is good news for all of creation, for humanity, animals, plants, water, and soil, for the earth that God created and called good." Heath challenged me with her ideas on how a pastor should live—that is, the church should move toward a model where buildings and staff are a minimal or nonexistent expense, and all funds go to mission, theological education and the like. The goal of all of this is sustainability and a holistic evangelism that embraces all the world. "[T]his theology of stewardship is grounded in the conviction that the Christian lifestyle, in regard to material goods, should be one of simplicity, adequacy, and sustainability." She advocates for a model of bivocational pastors in small urban and rural communities rather than the growth-oriented church of suburbia. Yes, Heath is helping me understand Lockerbie Central, and making me like the concept more and more.

I could write much more about this book, but instead I'll recommend it highly. It won't take long to read, and it invites the reader to come home to love that he or she might better love others. It is a beautiful little book that offers hope for the future of the church and the world.

Favorite Quotations

"Christian mysticism is about the holy transformation of the mystic by God, so that the mystic becomes instrumental in the holy transformation of God's people. This transformation always results in missional action in the world."

"[A] high Christology requires a hope for all people; otherwise we imply that the sufferings of Christ were insufficient, incapable of bringing about the possibility of salvation for all."

"God's mercy and justice are one and the same. The One who judges the world is the One who died to save the world. Therein lies our hope."

"The call to give ourselves in ministry is first and always a call to come home to love."

"Bonaventure asserts that the incarnation of Christ was not brought about by sin. Rather, the incarnation is the final perfection of creation, the completion of the universe."

"With a hermeneutic of love I give myself in prayer and friendship to the people around me, not so that I can get something from them, not even a commitment to join my church, but so that I can minister to Jesus in them, Jesus who thirsts."

"A hermeneutic of love is fully aware of the devastation of sin and evil, yet refuses to give them the last word."

"You're Too Young to Preach!"

2011-06-21T09:41:00.001-07:00

I'm usually pretty laid-back in life, but there are a few things about which I have a chip on my shoulder. One is the fact that I look young. It doesn't generally bother me, and I know one day it'll be a good thing, but when it interferes with how people perceive me in a position of authority—or with my own capacity to embrace that authority—I get irritated. So I'm going to sound annoyed for the first part of this post, but hopefully I'll get over it by the end.

I am young. I turned 24 in April. But I can't tell you how many time in the past few weeks I've heard some version of "You can't be more than 20!" Call me back in a decade when that starts to be a compliment. In the meantime, having someone say to me (as a woman did just today), "You're too young to preach"—that doesn't do much for my already lacking self-confidence.

I've tried to make adjustments on my end to make it easier for people to accept me as a leader-y type. I bought grown-up clothes and cut off my hair (OK, that was really just an impulsive thing. Check it out). But there is nothing I can do about the fact that I am a petite, cute blonde girl. Look, I know that I'm freaking adorable. If that sounds narcissistic, I'm just making up for a lifetime of false modesty that left me with a horrible self-image I'm starting to salvage.

I whined about this to my friend Ben my first week here in Indy. I was complaining about feeling like people don't take me seriously as a pastoral figure because I'm small and cute. I was frustrated with myself because a situation had arisen where I was questioning my own ability to comport myself pastorally without letting that other stuff get in the way. Ben pushed back—look, he said, you can be as professional and pastoral as it gets, but wearing an alb doesn't make you any less interesting or attractive (thanks, friend!). I don't cease to be me when I'm in the role of a pastor. Yes, there are boundaries to navigate and ways of interacting with parishioners that I need to learn, but that's precisely what I need to be figuring out now in preparation for ministry. If I look young now, I'll probably still look young in ten years.

I don't really want to complain about looking young or cute. Heck, I like being adorable. I like wearing pretty dresses and having a sassy haircut. I don't think that being a pastor means I have to be less attractive—sure, modesty is a thing, but that's a whole other discussion (seriously, post coming eventually about clergy apparel/women's clothing). So while comments about my youth might make me grumpy if I'm feeling particularly sensitive that day, here's my solution: I'm gonna keep doing my thing, chasing God and being awesome. I'm going to keep wearing my absurd collection of dresses and being young at heart and in demeanor. I'm going to pursue my vocation and kick its holy butt with God's help. There will always be someone who won't take me as seriously as I'd like because I'm a woman or Southern or short or Christian or cute...but maybe I take myself too seriously anyway. If I let myself get bent out of shape over such things, it'll only make it worse. (Am I doing that now? Ha...) Some days it feels like being young and pretty holds me back—but I bet it can be useful at times, even in a pastoral context, because what's not to love? :)

Finding True North #18: Why Do We Do This Again?

2011-06-19T17:56:00.000-07:00

This morning at North UMC, I led the prayers and sang with the choir on the offertory anthem. Joining myself, Kevin and Brian in worship leadership was 13-year-old Alyssa Welch, who served as our lector for the day. Alyssa has a voracious appetite for books and highly recommended a few fantasy bookss to me between services, but that's beside the point. With the candor of a tween, Alyssa said something before the 8:30 service that was funny but also prompted me thinking about not only North Church itself but the church at large—maybe even life in general.

Back story: NUMC has 2 Sunday morning services, at 8:30 and 11:00 a.m. The 8:30 service averages not quite 150 people on a good day, the 11:00 more than double that. I have learned two things about these worship services since being here: one, that the two services are basically two different churches; and two, that the people who attend the 11:00 service are baffled by the small, subdued character of the 8:30. This is amusing because Barbara, my awesome host, attends the 8:30, so frequently when 11:00-attending church members ask who I'm staying with, they draw a blank when I respond. It's also helpful to me to be staying with Barbara, because I understand that the people who go to the 8:30 actually like it being quieter, less crowded and calmer than the 11:00 (noting that both are traditional, high liturgy services). End of back story.

Moments before we walked into the first service, Alyssa poked her head into the sanctuary, observed the 70-80 people who were seated at that point and turned to us with a simple question: "Why do we do this service again?" The pastors and I laughed, in part because that question has actually come up in meetings (which, ironically, have always involved all 11:00-ers). Alyssa was asking a pretty obvious question: why, when so few people attend, do we bother holding an 8:30 service?

The first thing I've been thinking about in connection with this question is how distinct the two worship services are at North. Because I live with Barbara, I know why some people prefer the 8:30 service—I suspect at least some would not attend the 11:00 if the church were to consolidate (not that that's an option, I'm just speculating). This sort of disconnect is inevitable in any large, multi-service church, especially ones where the character of one service might appeal more to certain people. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but I am an advocate of cohesiveness and connectivity wherever it is possible, so I'm curious what other churches with a situation similar to North are (or aren't) doing to encourage a broader sense of communion among folks who may not be physically in worship at the same time. Even at North, the services aren't complete islands—for one thing, service time of choice is not the only classifying factor in the church, but also the Sunday School classes and various outreach ministries do bridge the gaps.

That was the more mundane line of thought prompted by Alyssa's comment; more broadly, I think "Why do we do this again?" is a great question to ask of anything and everything in the church (or in life). This should be true not only of things that are off base somehow but also of things that seem to be going well. Alyssa asked a question that plenty of 11:00-ers have probably at least thought if not said, but let's take her cue and apply it across the board. Why do we do the 11:00 service? Why do we send youth teams to Haiti? Why do we run a thrice weekly soup kitchen? Why do we have Sunday School? The answers to such questions would be as varied as the people giving them and more, and there's no correct answer, but what we should be listening for in responding to any of these questions is the place of God in the answer. Is God the source and goal of whatever it is we're doing? Is God even a part of it?

If God is working in a low-attendance service, let's keep having it. A better-attended service may actually have less God in it if it becomes a matter of convenience or social interaction or what have you. (I don't see that as an issue at North, just pondering in generalities here.) Let's hang on tightly to Alyssa's question: "Why do we do this again?" Hopefully, whatever it is, we do it to glorify God and build up one another.

Finding True North #17: Back to Normal

2011-06-16T17:30:00.000-07:00

Having had one "normal" week in Indy and then one made crazy by Annual Conference and sermon prep, I'm not really sure what it means to go back to normal, but theoretically that's what I'm doing this week.

Today I got to church about an hour early (I usually arrive at 9:00 for morning prayers). I went to the chapel (a lovely space), did a little work, played some piano and journalled. I should make a habit of doing that. I had gotten into a good schedule of quiet time at home in the mornings my first week here, but that got so disrupted last week I'm not sure I could get back to it. And being in a space like that for some centering time is really helpful to me as a person for whom aesthetics and place are important spiritually.

I spent a good bit of time after prayers working on a new website for Lockerbie Central. Brenda had started on one using Weebly, an online content management system that lets you build sites from templates. I had fun working on the layout and organization of the site, setting up a Facebook page we'll theoretically get out there once the website is done, etc. My one semester of computer science in undergrad sparked an interest in web design for me, so even when I'm bootlegging it, I really enjoy it. Beyond the technical stuff, it's fun to think about how to tell a story and give people remote access to a community or idea or organization.

Kevin (um, Rev. Armstrong?) picked me up mid-morning to go to a meeting of the advisory board for the Spirit and Place Festival, an annual event in Indianapolis exploring the intersection of the arts, humanities and religion. Spirit and Place is a project of The Polis Center, IU School of Liberal Arts, and IUPUI. This year's program is centered around the theme of "The Body." It was an interesting group of people with some pretty creative ideas, and I wish I could be here in November to check it out. Here's a video that gives a sort of commercial for the event in general:

One thing I'm really growing to appreciate about Kevin is his engagement with the community and the city of Indianapolis. He is very much in touch with what's going on in civic life and works to be both a voice and a listening ear for faith in the midst of things.

Tonight I went to choir rehearsal, partly because it was their last practice before the summer schedule kicks in but mostly because I'm singing a solo Sunday. It's a beautiful arrangement of "I Surrender All" to a new tune by Steve Potts. It's lovely.

Now I am going to go read. I was doing so well my first week here with reading, and it's time to get back on the bandwagon.

Finding True North #16: Catching Up—Annual Conference, Preaching and More

2011-06-14T10:13:00.000-07:00

Well, I am behind on updates. What a crazy week! I am still absolutely loving it here in Indianapolis. Though my adventures last week took me north to Muncie, IN and south to English, IN, so I'm getting out. Let's see if I can get caught up on life lately.

Last Wednesday through Friday, I was at Ball State University (which has the most confusing campus ever) for the Indiana Annual Conference. People joke about conference being a drag, and sometimes it is, but you know, it can be really cool to have all those clergy and laity together in one place. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Of course, I didn't have to go to the meetings and voting sessions because I was backstage most of the time with Marcia McFee, worship designer/leader extraordinaire. Dr. McFee was kind enough to take me on as her intern for the conference, so I got to shadow her and help out behind the scenes with worship. Well, until Friday, when Dr. McFee lost her voice and I was suddenly assigned a solo (a beautiful new setting of the hymn "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling" to a tune by Mark Miller). That was not in the plan, but it was a lot of fun. I sang during the commissioning/retirement service, which was a truly beautiful occasion and got me excited about being on the ordination track.

(Side note: someone asked if I were Dr. McFee's daughter. Blonde worship geeks unite!)

I will probably do a separate post reflecting on Dr. McFee's worship workshop/seminar (I keep getting myself in trouble by promising later posts), but it was very educational simply to follow her around for a few days. She has an approach to worship design that transcends discussions of style, which I greatly appreciate, because I think the worship wars that plague the church today are complete garbage. Dr. McFee is a performer, so she is all about preparation, intentionality and presentation, but she also strives to make worship a performance that people are enabled to participate in rather than passively observe.

Annual Conference was also a lot of fun just for the people. Hanging out with Dr. McFee was great fun, and I actually got to chat with the bishop (Michael Coyner) some backstage. Bishop Coyner is pretty awesome, though the test of his awesomeness will come if he ever sees this picture—he left his dressing room door open with the bishop's crozier right there. What else was I supposed to do? :)

Anyway, I got to meet a number of really wonderful people, bonded with the musicians and ran into old friends at conference. Not only were several people from North there, I also got to meet Brent Wright, the pastor of Broad Ripple UMC in Indy (Brent and I have a mutual friend at Duke), and I ran into Brian Jones, former director of the Duke Youth Academy back when I was a student there. Have I mentioned that I love the connectional nature of the UMC? Because I really, really do. I love knowing people and making relational connections. Being in a wholly different state where I shouldn't have known anyone and yet finding new and old friends was pretty cool.

I came back from conference a day early because I had a wedding to attend on Saturday, and it ended up being doubly good that I returned Friday because I ended up going to a social gathering of people from Earth House. I love Earth House, and the people there are amazing, not to mention my age. In the past week, I've actually started making some friends in my age group, which is great. Hopefully Friday night was just the beginning of adventures with these folks over the summer.

Anyway, the wedding on Saturday was in English, IN, about 2.5 hours south of Indianapolis. It was a lovely wedding, and I got to see a lot of friends from college. But I also got to see southern Indiana, which has a lot of beautiful farmland and actually some hills (since central IN is pretty darn flat). Hooray for exploring the state a bit.

Then Sunday was my day to preach at North. I already posted my sermon, so feel free to check that out. I was pretty nervous about preaching, but excited too, and I think it went well. I actually had to practice my sermon for the staff the previous Tuesday afternoon, which was incredibly nerve-wracking—using a microphone in a huge, stone sanctuary with 5 people sitting there. Yeesh. But the feedback from the staff was very helpful and shaped the final form of my sermon.

I preached twice, at 8:30 and 11:00 a.m., and the second service went better, but that was to be expected. I was really encouraged by the feedback I got from parishioners—of course, church people are going to be nice regardless, but several people actually quoted back to me points I had made, saying they had resonated with what I said. That was affirming to me, because it means I connected with at least some people in meaningful ways. I enjoy preaching, but it's pretty terrifying and I don't have much experience, but this was a positive and helpful experience for me.

This week has continued to be intense, but in a good way. Tonight is the last day of Party in the Park, North's version of Vacation Bible School, sort of. This is the second year for Party in the Park. Basically, they've set up in the church parking lot and the park across the street with a big tent and several activity stations for kids, including storytelling, crafts, music, games and more. They've served dinner each night and invited the surrounding community to join in. It's been going great so far, though unfortunately it's raining today, which may put a damper on the last night, but hopefully people will still come when we hold it inside tonight.

I think that'll do for an update for now. Indianapolis is an amazing city. A few of the North clergy have been joking about me switching conferences, and as much as I love Western NC, I'm really starting to love Indy as well.

Finding True North #15: A Pentecost Sermon

2011-06-12T10:30:00.001-07:00

I have a lot of updating to do here about Annual Conference and more, but for now I'll just post my sermon from this morning. The sections that are in verses and italicized were sung; you can listen to the whole of that song, "Spirit Hymn," below if you want to know what it sounds like complete and accompanied (I sang the verses a cappella).

Spirit Hymn by Sarah Howell

"The Ultimate Birthday Gift"
Pentecost Sermon 6-12-11
North United Methodist Church
Indianapolis, IN

Happy birthday, church!

If you didn't know it was your birthday, that's good. I didn't get you anything.

Today we celebrate Pentecost. This is when we remember the descent of the Holy Spirit on the disciples after Jesus' resurrection. Sometimes, Pentecost is called the birthday of the church. So, happy birthday, church.

A birthday celebration is different from a graduation or retirement party because it doesn't celebrate an achievement; it celebrates a person's existence. Spiritual writer Henri Nouwen says this about birthdays:

"On our birthdays we celebrate being alive. On our birthdays people can say to us, 'Thank you for being!' ...[Birthdays] remind us that what is important is not what we do or accomplish, not what we have or who we know, but that we are, here and now. On birthdays let us be grateful for the gift of life" (Here and Now, Crossroads 2006).

We can see in the reading from Acts that the church gets the ultimate birthday gift: the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is not a thing that is given to us wrapped in pretty paper. It is not an object or an instrument put at our disposal. The Spirit is God. She is an active divine agent, the source of our life as church, an equal member of the Trinity. Just a side note: I tend to refer to the Holy Spirit in the feminine. This is not an attempt at being politically correct. The Hebrew word for "spirit" in the Old Testament, ruach, is feminine. The Greek word for "spirit," pneuma, is neither masculine nor feminine, but I'll err on the side of the feminine for today.

The Holy Spirit is God, the gift and the giver. At Pentecost, God gives God's very self to us. This unique gift unifies us, brings us into God's story, and opens up God's grace to us. On this, the church's birthday, we celebrate being together through the Spirit who is the source of our being.

Spirit, unify us by your love
Spirit, draw us in your life above
Pour yourself upon our hearts
Through your grace which abounds
You are gift and you are giver, you surround

Of course, the gift of the Spirit is not something to be framed or placed neatly on a shelf. This gift does something to its recipients. When the Spirit rests on someone, she is not resting in the same way we might when taking our Sunday afternoon nap. The Spirit rests actively, and that active resting empowers us to participate in God's mission.

The Spirit does not come to individuals for their own benefit. The descent of the Spirit is not primarily about salvation. But the Spirit is concerned with individuals and with their particularity. When the disciples started speaking in tongues, the Acts passage says, "at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each" (Acts 2:6). The Spirit caused a miracle of diversity because the Spirit is the creator of diversity. God made and loves all the details and distinctions that make each of us who we are. Jesus came as a particular person in a particular time and place. God is not interested in saving "humanity" as a general category. God is interested in you, in me, in our individual particularity and in our gathered diversity.

Because, you see, unity is one thing and uniformity is another. Sometimes we mix those up and think that in order to be unified, we must conform and become all alike. But Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "Unity has never meant uniformity." At Pentecost, we do not see everyone suddenly learning to speak or understand the same language. Instead, we see the good news miraculously being translated into each person's native tongue. Christianity has been a faith of translation from the very beginning. Muslims believe that if you read the Qur'an in a language other than Arabic, you are losing something central to its meaning. But Christians may read the Bible in any language, in every language.

I want you to take a look at the banner on the pulpit. If you can't see it well from where you're sitting, there's a picture of part of it on the front of your bulletin. Be sure to come up and look at it after service. Doris Douglas created this banner, and I had the immense pleasure of meeting her my first week here. For years, Doris' beautiful banners have adorned this church and led this community through the Christian year. These incredible works of art are born out of deep prayer and love. When I first saw this Pentecost banner, I knew I had to talk about it in this sermon. Take a look at the flames on the banner. Even in black and white, you can tell that they are all different colors. That's part of what I love about this banner—it dazzlingly illustrates diverse unity. Each tongue of fire is distinct, but together they all form one glorious blaze.

There are in this church many examples of this diverse unity. I've only been here two weeks and I'm already catching on. Just think about the Umoja Project through which this church is connected with other faith communities here and in Chilaimbo, Kenya. The very name of the project, Umoja, means "unity" in Swahili. I have heard the stories of relationships built across continents between people who are so very different—and yet who are united in love and friendship. These relationships have enriched the lives of everyone involved precisely because they represent diverse unity. The Umoja Project is a gift of the Spirit to all of those involved, and it is a richer gift for involving so many different kinds of people.

Both Doris' banner and the Umoja Project are illustrations right here in our midst of how the Spirit creates unity in diversity as the source of both. In Acts chapter 2, we read about "divided tongues, as of fire" resting on each person (Acts 2:3), but “they were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:4), the same Spirit. God's image dwells in each of us in astounding, glorious variety. We must learn to recognize the image of one God in many people.

Spirit, open out our hearts to you
Spirit, make our sweet communion true
Give us strength to overcome
All the bound’ries in place
Open us to see God’s image on each face

Earlier in the service, the choir sang an anthem called "Hymn of Fire." You can find the text in your bulletin. I am particularly struck by these lines:

"By thy sharpened word disturb us, from complacency, release!
Save us from our satisfaction when we person’lly are free yet are undisturbed in spirit by our brother’s misery!" (Eugene Butler)

Most of us probably would not immediately associate the word "disturb" with the work of the Holy Spirit. In fact, it sounds like the opposite of one of the Greek names for the Spirit—parakletos, which means "comforter." But the Spirit's fire is not intended to give an individual a warm, fuzzy feeling. Because we are unified in love, whatever comfort we may find in our own lives can never be complete while another child of God suffers. 1 Corinthians 12:26 says, "If one member suffers, all suffer together with it." The Spirit makes us all members of one body, Christ's body; and we the body of Christ suffer wherever one member encounters injustice, oppression, poverty or evil of any kind.

The Spirit empowers us to speak up against that suffering. This is almost guaranteed to cause us discomfort, because in this world, where there is suffering, there is almost always someone else benefitting from that suffering. The gift of the Spirit is not always easy to accept, because it may put us in opposition to earthly power. Throughout the Bible, from the Old Testament prophets to Jesus to the disciples, there is a pattern: the Spirit descends on a person, empowers him or her to participate in God's mission, and that person immediately gets into trouble. The ancient prophets were not well-liked. When Isaiah declared, "The spirit of the Lord God is upon me...he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners," his listeners probably did not cheer. The oppressed have oppressors. The captives have captors. The Spirit calls us to be brave, to speak prophetically into a broken world, knowing that there is a cost, knowing that in order to receive the Spirit's comfort, we may first have to experience discomfort.

In his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning points out that Jesus is constantly found sharing meals with unlikely people, often scandalizing the well-to-do in the community. Manning says that we may not grasp the full significance of this today, but in ancient Israel, an invitation to share a meal was an invitation to deep friendship, particularly if it involved inviting someone into your home. Food is an important aspect of our life as a faith community. There are plenty of jokes out there about Methodists and potluck dinners. But if we are all one body in the Spirit, we cannot limit meal fellowship to people we know or like. True meal sharing happens when a volunteer at Bread 'n' Bowl, the food ministry here at North, steps out from behind the table to sit and eat and form friendships. Proverbs 22:9 says, "Those who are generous are blessed, for they share their bread with the poor." I am inclined to read it this way: "Those who are generous are blessed because they share their bread with the poor, in their sharing of their bread with the poor"—a sharing I envision as mutual, at a common table. Martin Luther said that we are all mere beggars telling other beggars where to find bread. Wherever there is sharing across boundaries of culture, race, economic or other social status, the Spirit is doing her awkward but redemptive work of comfort.

Yes, the Spirit is a comforter. She is the comforter. But God's definition of comfort may not always be the same as our definition of comfort. One individual's comfort is conditioned by the comfort and justice offered to others. Again, 1 Corinthians 12:26 says, "Where one member suffers, all suffer together with it," but then it goes on: "if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." Our comfort is found not in personal good feelings but in the restoration of the whole body, and we are called to participate in that healing. The Spirit comes down as fire to burn away our complacency and our apathy. Have you ever heard the saying about "afflicting the comfortable and comforting the afflicted?" It was originally said about journalism, but I think it also applies to the Holy Spirit. She "afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted." If we are too comfortable in our faith, we can expect to be disturbed and made uncomfortable by the Spirit. But on the other hand, if we find ourselves afflicted and in distress, just as surely we can count on the comforting presence of that same Spirit.

Spirit, comfort us in suffering
Spirit, to the body help us cling
Make us see upon the cross
Christ whose wounds are the balm
Hold us safe within the Savior’s nail-scarred palm

Now, let's go back to this notion of gift. Several years ago, my dad introduced to our family a tradition that he refers to as a "hobbit birthday." If you don't know what a hobbit is, let me explain: hobbits are found in the fictional realm known as Middle Earth. This is the setting of J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy. Hobbits are essentially very small people with pointy ears and really hairy feet.

But that's beside the point. You see, hobbits do something interesting on their birthdays: they give gifts to other hobbits. So now, on his birthday, my dad gives my mother and each of us kids a present—for his birthday.

Maybe the church could learn a lesson from hobbits about birthdays. What kind of gift might we the church be able to give to others for our birthday? What do we have to give? Well, we already have the ultimate birthday gift. We have the Spirit.

The Spirit has been moving throughout God's salvation history, empowering her people for worship and mission. Today we are invited to participate, to take part, to live into the Spirit's continuing story. Bryan Stone says that learning to be a Christian "is not just learning about a story; it is learning to live into a story” (Evangelism After Christendom, Brazos 2007). When we witness to the work of the Spirit, we are pointing out the ways in which the reign of God is already here. We point to something beyond ourselves and yet find ourselves caught up in it. As we are caught up in the life of the Spirit, we want to draw others in with us and show them what has ignited our hearts. We have the ultimate gift to give as a church. What's more, the Spirit doesn't need any help from us to dazzle the world. We are called to be the kindling for the Spirit's fire. John Wesley said, "Catch on fire with enthusiasm and people will come for miles to watch you burn."

Spirit, prophet and redeeming one
Spirit, with the Father and the Son
Let us live into your love
As partakers of God
Help us witness to your glory shed abroad

Holy Spirit, let us live into your love. Would that all your people were prophets, and that you would put your spirit on us! Make us witnesses eager to share the gift of yourself that you pour out on us. Amen.

Finding True North #15: Youth Sunday @ NUMC // Lyceum @ LCUMC

2011-06-06T05:12:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I took communion three times. Maybe that's gluttony, but in my mind it made up for the fact that I'm pretty sure the last time I had Eucharist was May 10, during field ed orientation.

My second Sunday in Indianapolis involved three worship services—two at NUMC and my first at LCUMC. I got to be in the congregation for the two NUMC services because it was Youth Sunday.

Youth Sunday was excellent. I was curious to see how it would go because I've seen some pretty awful Youth Sundays in my time. But the NUMC youth did a great job. They used the theme "Stranger or neighbor?", from a Lenten retreat they did recently, to frame the service, and explored what it means to recognize one another as neighbors. The youth group here is diverse (in many ways) and missionally driven. Two graduating (or recently graduated) seniors told their faith stories, each of which was compelling, though both were different from the other and demonstrated the breadth and depth of the experience of a youth at this church. The service was convicting. The youth even took the opportunity to publish a letter in the bulletin expressing a call to the church to support full inclusion for the GLBT community, using the youth group's mission statement to frame it: "North United Methodist Church Youth Ministry seeks to learn, serve, and celebrate God's awesome love with EVERYONE!" This was not a normal Sunday service with youth plugged in at random; through liturgy, Scripture and music, the youth got to tell their stories of faith, even participating in the Great Thanksgiving. It was great to be there.

Then, yesterday evening, I participated in my first service at Lockerbie Central UMC. This week, they started what they're calling "Lyceum," changing the format of Sunday evenings to include 25-30 minutes of worship and then a time of presentation/discussing with various speakers coming in over the course of the summer. Last night, the speaker was...me. Well, Brenda and me. Anyway, first was worship, and I ended up bringing my guitar and playing along with Kari, a member who is cool in general but also plays piano, so, bonus points. We did a song I hadn't heard before called "Here Is Love" (that's the normal AKA lame version, but I found it in Welsh too!!). It's pretty, and it worked well with Kari on piano and me on guitar. We also did two Taizé chants, and in between were prayers, Scripture and a brief reflection on the Word. Then we moved into communion, and I (sort of) assisted. It was awesome! I mean, I just broke the bread and lifted the cup when Brenda got to that part, but I'd never participated in that beyond leading musical responses to the Great Thanksgiving or serving communion. So that was neat.

After worship, we migrated downstairs to the cafe. Brenda and I gave a brief presentation about "Approaching the Bible in the 21st Century." Because I'm me, I had put dibs on talking about the Old Testament, so I had composed a list of things I think are important to keep in mind when thinking about the Old Testament. You can look at that here if you care/are looking for ideas on ways to start a basic conversation about the Bible/want to judge me. :) We opened the space up for conversation, which was pretty interesting, though there were several people I wished had spoken up. We'll keep working on the format to encourage discussion while keeping things on track, but I thought it went well.

I'm excited to continue to help out at LCUMC and to get to know the congregation better. That will be a place where Brenda and I will get to sort of try things out, and hopefully I'll get to do more music there as well.

Also, I have an in/out button at NUMC, and it makes me feel really cool.

Finding True North #14: A Busy Week (or so) Ahead

2011-06-05T04:41:00.000-07:00

In the past few days, I've realized the next week and a half is going to be a little crazy. Here's my upcoming schedule, as much for my sake as for your perusal:

June 5 (today): Youth Sunday @ NUMC in the morning; helping lead worship and discussion @ LCUMC in the evening.
June 6-8: Leading morning prayers @ NUMC (which also means leading devotion at Tuesday staff meeting).
June 6: Three meetings back-to-back in the morning/midday—senior staff, Earth House staff, weekly meeting with Kevin (my pastor/supervisor). Then Inclusiveness Task Force meeting in the evening.
June 7: Practicing my Pentecost sermon for whoever will listen after staff meeting.
June 8-10: Indiana Annual Conference—hanging out with Marcia McFee. :)
June 11: Megan Shelton's (friend from undergrad) wedding in Southern Indiana.
June 12: Pentecost—I'm preaching. Then LCUMC in the evening.
June 13-15: Party in the Park, a big, three-day community event held at NUMC.

There are probably some other meetings in there somewhere, but I don't have my calendar in front of me. (Anyone know how to access Outlook remotely?) So, yeah! Busy week. I should work on my sermon some more and figure out what we're doing for morning prayers (and probably find a sub for Thursday...)

Finding True North #13: Earth House/Lockerbie Central UMC

2011-06-03T11:26:00.000-07:00

Earth House Cafe from Craftedspoon on Vimeo.

Welcome to Earth House. I had a meeting here this morning and decided to stick around for a while and hang out. This is going to be my go-to place to chill this summer.

Here's a little bit about Earth House from their website (bold text is my emphasis):

At Earth House we support the arts, promote healthy living, and encourage sustainability by collaborating with local organizations and artists to cultivate community in action. Housed in the historic Lockerbie Central UMC building, the Earth House experience includes all-ages concerts, films, performance arts, classes, social forums, volunteer events and Indiana's only 100% fair trade/organic coffee shop. We believe that creating a healthy, sustainable community begins with you.

This place is cool. I mean, you can see that clearly in the video. Plus, I had mango black bean pizza for lunch. And there is currently a beautiful exhibit called "Windows and Mirrors," a reflection on the war in Afghanistan, on display here. It's pretty incredible.

Let me back up. Earth House occupies the building of Lockerbie Central United Methodist Church, a downtown church that was the result of a merger between two dying Methodist churches. Attempts by young people to revitalize the church led organically to the emergence of Earth House, which is now its own entity, though the church is connected with its programming and hopes to make that connection more of an emphasis. Brenda, the Pastor of Discipleship and Formation at North (one of my summer supervisors), is the volunteer pastor here. She is full-time at North, but she is also appointed as the pastor here, through some strange arrangement that the conference and NUMC are just sort of allowing to happen because it works. LCUMC meets on Sunday evenings and follows an emergent worship style, though for the summer they plan to switch things up a bit to create more space for community discussion. Hence, I'm helping to lead a conversation about the Bible this Sunday. As in, 2 days from now.

Earth House is constantly holding all kinds of events. It is the only 100% fair trade, organic coffee shop in Indiana. It is the largest all-ages music venue in Indianapolis. They are located at a unique spot in the city, sort of at the intersection of several demographics. This is one of the few church-related places where a Jewish youth center feels comfortable holding events. In the past 2 years, more than 100,000 people have come through here. Jordan Updike, the executive director of Earth House, says he hopes this is filling a deep need he perceives for artistic space for his generation (which is also my generation...what are we, Gen Y??).

The meeting I attended today involved several people from Lockerbie Central/Earth House as well as a group from The Garden, the non-traditional worship community that is connected with St. Luke's UMC here in Indianapolis. I don't know enough about The Garden to speak too much to what they do, but it sounds pretty interesting and I intend to learn more. Anyway, this group of people was exploring the possibility of The Garden starting a service at LCUMC on Sunday morning, the only time when there isn't already programming happening in this building. As Brenda explained it, there is a sort of gap in terms of the church having a theological voice and providing non-threatening opportunities for people to enter into those kinds of conversations, and The Garden could be a helpful third entity in tying things together at the location.

It was really interesting to eavesdrop on the conversation for many reasons. These groups are not doing your typical church stuff. You know how I always laugh when people tell me that Duke is too liberal? Those people have no idea what's out there. And, as it turns out, what's out there is pretty awesome.

Part of what interests me most in talking about Earth House/LCUMC/The Garden is the high level of suspicion of evangelism. (I'm right there with them.) I've been doing all this reading about evangelism in a post-modern America, and here is a church (LCUMC) that is seeking to welcome the neighboring community without tricking them or pressuring them to conform. Last summer, I played a show at a youth-oriented coffeeshop that was totally awesome except for one thing: in order to get in, you had to either pay $2 or have a 5-minute conversation with one of the adult volunteers, and the goal of every one of those conversations was to squeeze a conversion out of some teen who just wanted to play pool. I was, how do you say...uncomfortable. That is not what Earth House/LCUMC is going for, and I am very much interested in it. One thing that several LCUMC people talked about in the meeting was that they have adopted, over against traditional evangelism, is an emphasis on a ministry of presence. Several time, people mentioned that they don't have to go find people to tell about the church; through programming at Earth House, people ask them all the time. In articulating the vision of Lockerbie Central, one person (maybe Jordan, I'm forgetting now) said that there are sort of two sides to their mission: Micah 6:8 (act justly, love mercy, walk humbly) and the idea of sanctuary, of creating a safe space. Part of that involves not handing out tracts or making people feel like the price of being in the building is conforming. But there is witness happening here, simply by how the community's needs are being met, both in ways they might want and in way they might not expect.

I'll be thinking about this question of witness a lot this summer as I work on this directed study on evangelism. I will probably write my main paper on this class in part as a field study on Earth House/LCUMC (and possibly NUMC if I get involved in their conversations around hospitality). What I'm learning in all my reading so far is that there is a lot involved in the question of how to understand and approach evangelism, so there is much to explore...and that's kind of exciting.

(Sorry, I just love this blog Hyperbole and a Half, which is where that picture came from.)

Finding True North #12: Bread 'n' Bowl, Farmer's Market, Meetings and Choir

2011-06-02T18:35:00.000-07:00

Barbara (my host) offered to make me a sandwich today before I left for work, which I really appreciated but was able to turn down gladly because I had cool lunch plans. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, North hosts Bread 'n' Bowl, a soup kitchen open to the community. Kevin took the Kenya interns and me out to lunch on Tuesday, so today was my first opportunity to check it out. I showed up a few minutes before they opened the doors and was immediately put to work. They serve a meal and let people take bags of soup and bread with them, so for the first little while I was in charge of keeping the desserts and soup bags stocked on the tables. Once the 11:00 rush subsided, I got a plate and sat down with some people. I got to talk to Charles, an older gentleman (he's 89) who was very nice and has been coming to Bread 'n' Bowl for a long time. I also met a few other people, including Mike, who kept telling me how pretty I was, though not in a way in which I felt threatened at all (though there is almost certainly a MUCH longer post coming eventually on that topic (being a pretty woman in ministry)). I found the group really friendly and plan to come to Bread 'n' Bowl as often as I can while I'm here.

I worked on writing the call to worship and prayer for illumination for June 12 and did some other work after that, plus a few extra things like reading about North's architecture and stained glass. I ran some errands and proved that even in a city laid out on a grid, I can get lost. One of my errands involved getting a padfolio. My friend Emily Knight (one of three red-headed Emilys in the Div School) had shown off hers right before I came to Indy, and I decided I needed something to make me feel grownup, especially since I've been bringing my backpack to work. (It worked, by the way.) I also found the youth room in a very successful hunt for a comfy place to lie down and read for an hour before the Farmer's Market, which started up this afternoon. I got there right as it opened, pet a puppy Great Pyrenees, and bought a quart of delicious strawberries (there is approximately 1/2 qt. left).

I ran back to the house briefly to get some food and change, and when I came in the door, Barbara was standing in the hallway looking at my sheepishly. "I'm going to buy you a new pair of shoes," she said in an apologetic tone. "Why is that?" I asked. Apparently Sadie isn't a big chewer but will occasionally get into shoes, and I've been intentionally keeping my doors closed when I'm gone, but today there was a guy here cleaning the windows, and my bedroom door got left open. Barbara discovered one of my shoes in the living room, its wooden heel gnawed on the end. Fortunately, I was already planning to throw that particular pair of shoes away, so it wasn't a big deal. It was just funny to see her apologize for something that wasn't a big deal.

And so back I went to church to the Board of Directors meeting. This was interesting. They went over some finances and checked in on a few issues I'll get to hear more about later (i.e. there are 2 task forces, one on inclusiveness and one dealing with some property the church has acquired, that are having meetings soon to which I am invited), but then we started talking about the new website that is under construction. Apparently a tech task force had been assigned the task of approving the design, but communication wasn't what it should have been (ironically) and now there is the possibility of backtracking on some of the work that the design firm has done. Being moderately interested in web design myself, I had some opinions about the two designs they showed us, but I chose just to listen (I'm patting myself on the back right now, FYI). It was interesting to think about the power dynamics between a governing body of the church and a specifically formed task force, plus to hear a little discussion about the website, the church logo, etc. Again, there will be another meeting in the future devoted to talking about that more fully, and I let them know I'd be interested in attending.

By the time the meeting was over, I was late to choir practice, but I went anyway. I'm singing a solo in church on June 19, and I had not anticipated having to sing it tonight, but they were working on the piece, so...yeah, I was so hoping to impress Mark and Martin with my mellifluous voice and how perfectly it sat in this song, but that is not how it went, ha. But that's OK; it's a beautiful piece, and the choir was enthusiastic about welcoming and encouraging me. Rehearsal was fun, and we sang some good music, including a movement from Mozart's Mass in C Minor. Plus I got to sing along with one of the pieces they'll be offering on June 12 (Pentecost), when I'm preaching, and the text is fabulous; I'll probably be working it into my sermon now.

Side note: pretty much every situation I've been in so far at this church has had an atmosphere of joy and comfort that I just don't always (or even often) find in places, especially when I'm new and nervous. The hospitality and community here is amazing, and I'm so glad to be a part of it.

And now it is 10:00 p.m., and I am home and ready to fall into bed. Tomorrow is technically my day off, though I do have one meeting (but a cool one—more on that tomorrow!), and Barbara and I are meeting her daughter and granddaughter for sushi dinner. I also have plans to take the Monon trail south tomorrow morning (assuming I get up at a decent hour). Hooray Friday.

Finding True North #11: Teaching, Worship, Names, and Kenya

2011-06-01T12:17:00.000-07:00

Today I spent a lot of my time bugging Brenda. If things continue as they are, it looks like I'll be splitting my time between Brenda's office and Nancy's (where I actually have a desk and a church computer). That's fine by me, because they're both awesome.

Brenda and I were working on two things: planning worship for Lockerbie Central on Sunday (yes, this Sunday) and brainstorming for a worship design class we're hoping to teach. We're planning to lead a discussion about "Approaching the Bible" this Sunday evening at Lockerbie as part of the worship service, and I immediately put dibs on the Old Testament. Since my Facebook poll yesterday about sermon titles was at least amusing, I posted another question today: "If you could say one thing to a group of people about the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, what would it be?" I think my favorite responses were, "It's hard out there for a...prophet" (Kate Flynn) and, "If it doesn't matter as much as the NT, then we sure are killing a whole lot of trees for no reason" (Sarah McGiverin). Nice. Anyway, I'll share more about that once we hammer out our plans for Sunday.

I've also been working on the bulletin and my sermon for Pentecost. I am *quite* excited about it. The choir has an anthem recalling Ascension Day and one focused on Pentecost, and the organ prelude and postlude are liturgically appropriate, as usual. And, of course, I picked good hymns. :)

For lunch, Brenda, Brian and I went to Yats, a cajun creole restaurant that is apparently a college favorite. This happens to be one of four eateries that Chad, last year's Duke intern, recommended I go to while I'm here. Check. The food was great, though I sure do need a nap right now. Also, one of the guys working there knew Brenda from Earth House, so we got free lunch. Awesome.

Something else I did today was to start a document on my computer called "My NUMC Directory." I adapted this idea from Laura Steed, who told us yesterday that when she first went to Kenya, she would write down names of and take notes about people she met to help herself remember them later. I procured a church directory and wrote down the names of people I've met directly so far, adding biographical info and memorable bits of stories to help me remember where I met them and who they are. I'm hoping I can keep up with this and that it will help me with name retention.

Kevin was out of the office most of the day because last night his father fell and was taken to the hospital. From what I've learned, his father has been ill for a long time—as in, over a decade. Prayers for Kevin and his family are encouraged.

The last thing on my schedule today was a board meeting for the Global Interfaith Partnership. It was at 4:30, so a little before 4:00 I decided to give myself a bit of a break to go read. I'm currently reading a novel by C. J. Sansom called Heartstone as well as Bryan Stone's Evangelism After Christendom. I need to finish the latter so I can write a paper for my evangelism directed study, and I need to finish the former because I'm not allowed to start Nikos Kazantzakis' The Last Temptation of Christ (which my friend Ben lent me) until then.

Anyway, I was just a spectator at this meeting, but it was interesting. Global Interfaith Partnership cooperates with various congregations and faith-based organizations in Indiana, and many more in Kenya. The Partnership supports the Umoja Project in Chulaimbo, Kenya, where the other interns are heading tomorrow. The group is working on getting an interfaith pilgrimage planned for clergy from here to travel to Kenya. They are also working on girls' issues and handed out the results of wide-ranging interviews conducted on a recent trip to Chulaimbo, which revealed the ways in which young women are particularly disadvantaged in that cultural and economic location. Ellen Daniels-Howell, the executive director (who is a member at North), said that professional women especially had a lot of ideas of how to help improve the situation of girls there. Also present at the meeting was Winnie Amollo, a former Umoja scholar who worked for the project for a year after graduating. Suzanne Anthony, a member at North (whose sister is in my class at Duke), just spent 4 weeks in Chulaimbo and reflected on the depth of relationships and competency of the staff that she witness while she was there. The GIP is really focused on empowering local leadership to make positive change for the community.

Tomorrow promises to be busy. I'd like to go to Bread 'n' Bowl, the thrice-weekly soup kitchen hosted at North—that's at 11:00 a.m. The Farmer's Market starts tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. Then there's some Board of Directors meeting I'm going to at 5:30 (I don't actually know what they direct) and then I *might* attend choir practice at 6:30. There are only 3 choir rehearsals left before they switch to summer choir, a more relaxed format that includes just a 10:15 a.m. Sunday morning rehearsal to sing at 11:00. I'd really like to be able to see Mark and Martin at work before that changes over.

As the summer cranks up, don't worry, I probably won't continue to post daily. But everything's just so new and exciting! :) Blessings.

Christians and the Old Testament (a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

2011-06-01T08:12:00.000-07:00

"My thoughts and feelings seem to be getting more and more like those of the Old Testament. It is only when one knows the unutterability of the name of God that one can utter the name of Jesus Christ; it is only when one loves life and this earth so much that without them everything seems to be over that one may believe in the resurrection; it is only when one submits to God's law that one may speak of grace. It is not Christian to want to take our thoughts and feelings too directly from the New Testament." – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Finding True North #10: First Day at the Office

2011-05-31T18:32:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning at 7:00 a.m., 30 minutes before my alarm, which wasn't a big deal because I'd gone to bed at 10:00 p.m. the night before. I don't remember the last time I got 9 hours of sleep in a night.

That's beside the point. I'm just really proud of myself for getting some sleep.

My first day at the office started at 9:00 a.m. with morning prayers in the chapel at NUMC. This is a daily thing that the pastoral staff does and which is open to anyone who wants to come. They rotate weekly who leads prayers, and today Brenda led. She read this week's lectionary passage from Acts and then invited us into a period of silence, after which we went through the prayer request cards people had filled out on Sunday. We also took joys and concerns from within the group present and prayed together, closing with a hymn. I'm pretty stoked to be starting my days like this. (Theoretically, that's how my days start at Duke, but those days start at 6:30 a.m., so, yeah.)

I totally overdressed, by the way. I wore an awesome new dress from Anthropologie with a pair of heels that is super cute, but the right shoe squeaks when I walk. I've had them for years, and every time I put them on, I think, "This time it won't squeak." It always squeaks. I need to get rid of them. Anyway, I overshot the office dress code, but I figured it was better to over-dress than to under-dress. Plus, did I mention my new dress is awesome? Because it is.

After prayers, I spent some time talking to Brenda about plans for worship at Lockerbie Central UMC, where I'll spend some time this summer in addition to being at North. They're planning to experiment with a new worship format where they start with a time of prayer and worship, then move into a time of conversation that is structured but not a sermon. I may get to help lead one or two of these sessions, and I'm interested to see how it goes.

By the way, when I walked into Brenda's office, the first things I saw were the guitar and the huge Bose speaker tower. Amazing.

After that, I spent some time in Nancy Fykes' office. Nancy is Kevin's assistant, and her office is where my desk is. She took me on a full tour of the building, got me set up with a computer login, email, calendar and such, plus gave me keys to the building and my registration info for Annual Conference, which is next week. Nancy is on the ball.

For lunch, Kevin took myself and the three Kenya interns (plus Laura Steed, who just graduated from Duke Divinity and is going back to Kenya for 18 months, having spent last summer there) to Patachou (I'm trying to do a better job of logging my restaurant escapades here—I had the Caesar Salad Wrap and their Highlander Grog coffee, per Kevin's recommendation). Not only was lunch delicious, it was fun to hear the other interns (Lindsey Long, Lydia Malone and Camille Glover) talk about their hopes for the summer. I especially liked Lydia's answer to the question about expectations, because she said quite simply that she wanted to learn to love God more. And when they asked me about my hopes for North, I was able to tell them quite honestly that I'm not jealous of the Kenya interns (because I was worried I would be); I already felt really at home at North on Sunday and am so excited about being here for the summer. Sure, I'd love to go to Kenya someday, and I know my beautiful colleagues will meet God there; but my call right now is to meet God in Indianapolis, and I couldn't be happier to be here.

After lunch was my first staff meeting, and it was genuinely fun. We did some get-to-know-you games for the sake of us interns and talked about various upcoming events at the church. The Farmer's Market, which is held in the church parking lot, starts this Thursday, and June 13-15 is Party in the Park, a community outreach festival they started last year (I think). There's plenty else going on, those were just two neat examples. I also got to talk to Brenda and Mark (the music minister) about worship; I'm figuring out Pentecost, and the Sunday after (June 19) I'll be singing a solo in church. They're putting a lot of trust in me, having never heard my voice.

For the remainder of the day, I worked on my calendar and the bulletin for Pentecost. I had to come up with a sermon title, and an off-the-cuff post on Facebook solicited these ideas (titles for a sermon of unknown topic):

"Insert Sermon Title Here" (Anna Jensen)
"Reading Between the Lines" (inside joke with Kathy Smallridge dating back to high school)
"Reading Between the Lions" (Matt Rawle's early Christianity update to the previous suggestion)
"Hey Paul! Is That a Thorn in Your Side or Are You Just Happy to See Me?" (Ron Beaton, a fellow 2012 M.Div.)

...and others. Just thought those were amusing. Anyway, I'm bad at coming up with sermon titles, in part because I worry I'll get a great idea on Friday night and have to change my approach, but my sermon is called "The Ultimate Birthday Gift." I told you I'm bad at sermon titles.

Anyway, I came home for a bit after work before going back out to a dinner with the Green Samaritans, an adult group from the church. Kevin had invited me along but had to leave as soon as he got there because his father was just admitted to the hospital (prayers, please). So I ended up having a delightful evening listening to hilarious stories about kayaking mishaps and learning about what plants you can and can't grow in Indianapolis. These people were so friendly, as everyone at the church has been so far, and it was wonderful to get a chance to sit down and talk to folks. They even made up nametags to wear for my sake, which I appreciated. (Note to self: get your hands on a church directory ASAP.) Perhaps the best part was Doris...who will get her own post. For now, I'll just tell you that I've been noticing beautiful textile and multimedia banners and pieces of art around the church, and I had been told the woman who makes them is 93 and has been doing that for North for decades. I got to meet her and learn about her work tonight, and seriously, it merits its own post, but I need to get my hands on some pictures first.

Apparently sunset was at 9:06 p.m. tonight; it was at 8:31 p.m. in Charlotte. Sunrise is closer together though. I hadn't thought about daylight being different here until I talked to my mom around 9:30 and we still had some light. But I digress. My first day at the office was wonderful. Tomorrow will probably involve more work on worship for North and Lockerbie Central; I will also probably attend a meeting of the board of directors of the Global Interfaith Partnership in the afternoon. And I can probably delay my bike ride until after all of that, since apparently it stay light out past 9:00 here. Good night!

The Isenheim Altarpiece

2011-05-30T14:41:00.000-07:00

The Isenheim Altarpiece is a 16th-century work of liturgical art painted by Matthias Grünewald. The work is larger than the image I'm posting, but this is the section that interests me most. Karl Barth kept a print of this painting in his office, and he was particularly drawn to John the Baptist's hand. Being so Christocentric in his theology, Barth wanted to embody that finger that points to Christ. My dad gave me a small print like this, and I've placed it in the window above my desk area for the summer. I hope it will be a reminder of the importance of pointing beyond myself to Christ.

Finding True North #9: The Monon

2011-05-30T08:17:00.000-07:00

When I was 12, I wrecked my bike. It was my fault, and I unsuccessfully lied about how it happened (I am notoriously bad at lying), so my parents told me that if I wanted to replace my bike, I'd have to pay for it myself. At 12, I didn't exactly have the money for a new bike, so I just went without one until the summer before my senior year of college. I went to Back Alley Bikes in Chapel Hill and brought home a Schwinn that had been fixed up and was a slightly unpleasant dark pink color. Her name is PB&J, which stands for Pepto Bismol and Joy. I quickly fell in love with the American Tobacco Trail, a rails-to-trails project in Durham.

Needless to say, I was thrilled to learn that Indianapolis has several such trails, the main one being the Monon. I decided to explore it today, and I ended up biking for an hour and 45 minutes. I went a little further than I intended/realized and ended up in Carmel, a suburb just north of Indy. The trail provided a pretty interesting cross-section of the city (which, thankfully for my abysmal sense of direction, is a grid).

I started in the middle of this first map, by Broad Ripple near the Indianapolis Art Center. This trail entrance is really near the house where I'm staying—it only took a few minutes to get to the trail. I crossed the White River and Williams Creek as well as the Indiana School for the Blind. I ogled the loft apartments springing up along the Monon as I went.

Of course, where the map ends is not where I stopped. Here's another map to show where I kept going into Carmel. You see how the first map ends at 96th Street? That's where this one picks up. And can you make out the uppermost horizontal line on this second map? That's 146th Street, where I finally turned around. Whew. Oh and Carmel has this massive new community center (Monon Community Center) right on the trail, complete with a performing arts center, civic center and water park (which just opened this past Saturday). Wow.

Probably the best thing about the ride was the middle aged couple I met when I stopped to drink some water and study a trail map during my first leg of the ride. They asked for me to take their picture, then we started chatting. Their names are Barb and Ken ("Barbie and Ken," they joked) and they're from the south side of town. I had been basically ordered to go north on the Monon, and I had no intention of obeying that directive forever, so I saw this as an easy opportunity to ask about the south half of the Indy Monon. Barb and Ken assured me it was safe, plus there is apparently a really beautiful trail that breaks off from it further down. I'm interested to learn more about what parts of the city are considered "good" or "bad"—apparently NUMC is on the cusp of both. Barb's brief assessment was that the south side of town is more laid back and less economically advantaged. Anyway, they learned I was in seminary and welcomed me to the city, and Barb said she would pray for me. Amazing. This place gets better every day.

When I started out this morning, I was feeling ambitious and thought I could tackle the entire trail today. But I haven't exercised in a while, and as the morning went on, it got hotter and more crowded (thanks, Memorial Day holiday). I can already tell that my legs are going to be really sore tomorrow. But the next time I bike, I'm going to take the Monon south and see what I can find.

Finding True North #8: My First Sunday

2011-05-29T14:05:00.000-07:00

This morning, I went to church at North UMC for the first time. And by "went to church," I do mean that I put on my new alb, sat up front with the clergy, and read Scripture in service. Nothing like being thrown in head first.

I love this church. Worship was awesome. The choir (under the direction of Mark Gilgallon) sounded great, and the organist (Martin Ellis) is fantastic. The choir did an introit and two anthems—and people responded with "Amen"s both to the choir and to the organ. Someone told me after service that I seemed so relaxed reading Scripture, and I think it's because although North's worship is highly liturgical, the atmosphere is...well, relaxed. I didn't feel intimidated or nervous, even in such a big, pseudo-gothic space (I'll take pictures soon).

The pastoral team is great. Kevin Armstrong is the senior pastor; Brenda Freije is the new Associate Pastor of Discipleship and Formation; and Brian Williams is the Pastor of Mission and Outreach. Before services, I convened with the 3 of them in the sacristy...which they refer to as "the batcave." It is clear that this church fosters a sense of camaraderie within the pastoral team, and it was just plain fun to be with them. Everyone has been so hospitable to me already—Teri Crouse is another intern (she goes to Christian Theological Seminary here in Indy) and was so helpful in getting me ready for the service. I'm looking forward to working with them all as the summer progresses.

After both services, I stood in the lobby with the 3 Kenya interns (the Duke students who do field ed in Kenya spend time at North before and after their trip to Africa) to meet and greet. The church members are incredibly friendly and welcoming. Everyone I met seemed genuinely glad for me to be there. I already got recruited to play on the softball team, to go to the symphony, and to sing a solo in church. I was also struck by the diversity within the congregation; it is a predominantly white church, but I met a number of African and African-American members. Also, I need to check my facts on this, but I believe that North is a reconciling church, if not officially then at least functionally. Members had nametags, and on many of them I spotted stickers with the Reconciling Ministries Network logo. There is diversity evident in a lot of different ways, and I'll be interested to explore the dynamics of that within the church further.

I'm running out of brain power at the moment—after church, I went to lunch with the Kenya interns and one of their hosts, then I came back, finished reading a book, drafted my Pentecost sermon, and did various things until some of Barbara's neighbors came over for dinner, and they left a little after 9, so...I'm wiped. Tomorrow, I don't have to work, so I'm hoping to explore the Monon Trail, a rails-to-trails greenway that runs through the city (and on which I could theoretically bike to work if it's not too hot). On Tuesday, I'll get to attend my first staff meeting, and I can't wait.

What I'm Reading #24: The Evangelistic Love of God and Neighbor (Scott Jones)

2011-05-29T13:24:00.001-07:00

The Evangelistic Love of God and Neighbor: A Theology of Witness and Discipleship, by Scott J. Jones

I admittedly read The Evangelistic Love of God and Neighbor (Abingdon Press 2003) pretty quickly; this is one of the texts for my evangelism directed study, and I need to get a few more books read and move toward writing my first paper. But I did enjoy it and commend it as a helpful exploration of love of God and neighbor as the governing standard for evangelism. This book is especially applicable for parish ministry, particularly in a United Methodist setting, as that is its audience.

Jones begins chapter one thus: "To evangelize non-Christian persons without loving them fully is not to evangelize them well. To love non-Christian persons without evangelizing them is not to love them well. Loving God well means loving one's non-Christian neighbor evangelistically and evangelizing one's non-Christian neighbor lovingly." Love is the source and rule of evangelism. This is not a general, sweeping, vague love but a concrete, contextualized, Biblical love. Jones stresses the importance of relationships, not simply as means to an end but as genuine meeting places where God's love is shared.

Jones wrestles throughout the book with varying definitions of evangelism. He notes the danger of seeing evangelism too narrowly, in the sense that its goal is conversion and its activity ends there. He works from a definition set forth by William Abraham and expands it thus: evangelism is "that set of loving, intentional activities governed by the goal of initiating persons into Christian discipleship in response to the reign of God." For Jones, evangelism and discipleship cannot be separate. He draws on the commission text found in Matthew's gospel: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19).

Although I could have stood for a tighter structure in the book overall, I would recommend it for its accessibility and relevance. Particularly useful is the appendix, which includes a list of misconceptions about evangelism and 20 components of an evangelistic congregation.

Favorite Quotations

"The triune God is the primary agent in evangelism. Human agents play an important, but secondary role."

"[W]hatever privileged position we understand the church to hold in God's mission, it is highly presumptuous to suppose that God is not at work outside the church."

"It is not the aim of Christian evangelism to convert people. Rather, the aim of evangelism is to make disciples of Jesus Christ, and conversion is one part of that process."

"All Christians are called to bear witness in all places because Christ died for all persons."

"[L]ove is the chief criterion for the adequacy of evangelism."

"[T]o feed someone without inviting them to become a Christian is to fail to love them fully. Conversely, to invite someone into Christian discipleship without attending to their social, political, and physical needs is to fail to love them fully."

Finding True North #7: Sadie

2011-05-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

This afternoon, I took a nap. This was curled up first at my feet during and then in my arms after as she licked me awake:

Meet Sadie. I couldn't get a very good picture because she's never still (her tail at least is always moving). This is the dog that belongs to Babara, my awesome host here in Indianapolis. She thinks Sadie's an affenpinscher mix, and Sadie is super sweet. I'm grateful to have some furry, enthusiastic, uncomplicated love in the house this summer.

Finding True North #6: Getting There

2011-05-27T18:49:00.000-07:00

I am now in Indianapolis! I started out around 9:30 a.m. and got here at about 8:00 p.m. after stops for bathroom breaks, gas, trying not to fall asleep, and getting cash for stupid toll roads in West Virginia. The map I posted was NOT the way my GPS took me.

I started in North Carolina.

I then drove through Virginia.

Then I spent a while in West Virginia, where I saw beautiful mountains except that there was an intense thunderstorm blocking my view.

Then suddenly I was in Kentucky! I had never been to Kentucky. It was very...Kentucky-ish.

I did not realize I was in Ohio until I came upon this crazy looking city on a river. I was very confused until I saw a sign for Cincinnati. (Also never been to Ohio. Could you guess?)

Finally, I crossed over into Indiana, and things flattened out considerably. Because Indiana is flat.

Now I am taking a breather before unpacking a few small things at the house where I'm staying. A church member is hosting me for the summer, and she is great. She immediately took me to her favorite restaurant, where I had delicious chipotle fish tacos. She also has a very cute dog named Sadie. And I have the run of her basement for the summer. And we drove past Peyton Manning's house.

Also, I passed the church on the way into town, and it is beautiful. I am a sucker for this kind of architecture—probably my favorite course in undergrad was an art history class on Gothic cathedrals.

Tomorrow I plan to unpack more fully, prep for liturgizing on Sunday, and maybe go explore on my bike a bit. My host showed me a bike trail in Broad Ripple that looks awesome and is close by.

Cannot contain my excitement. :)

Who Goes to Heaven?

2011-05-27T05:01:00.000-07:00

I mentioned this program in my post about Rob Bell's book Love Wins. This was a dialogue at Myers Park UMC about the afterlife, heaven, hell, sin, redemption, etc. Parts 1 and 2 are below.

Finding True North #5: A New Adventure

2011-05-26T05:56:00.000-07:00

I am ready for my adventure to the north. My bags are packed, I'm stocked up on snacks and audiobooks, I gave my pet mice to the animal shelter yesterday, and last night my boyfriend of 2+ years and I broke up.

Not to equate all of those, of course. I'm being facetious. That last bit came after lots of prayer and discernment was the most mutual, amicable, fun and respectful breakup ever. Although there is definitely sadness involved, Gary and I hope to remain friends. If you're going "Whaaaaat??" because you're one of those people who has asked us recently when we're getting married (no offense, but that was getting super awkward), I've re-posted on Facebook a beautiful note Gary wrote explaining our decision and thanking everyone for their support.

So, I start out this summer experiencing loss on the one hand but freedom on the other. Our decision to separate was based largely on vocational discernment, and while there was a time when we thought our callings were more compatible, we realized our relationship wasn't giving either of us the space we needed to pursue God's will for our lives. So you see—"finding true north" has many layers for me. Like an onion. Or an ogre.

So, this onion-y, ogre-y princess ("princess" is the Hebrew meaning of my name, שרה) is hitting the road in the morning. Here's the route I'll take tomorrow (10 hours of driving plus stops):