Trees and Things

"Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams."


Most years I grow weary of close minded people griping about X-Mas, Happy Holidays, and so on. This year, however, there's been a strong response about Christ being in the midst of these.

My favorite, has been about Christmas trees. My atheist or agnostic friends are quick to point out to me that Christmas trees are not Christian. I enjoy the moment when they are shocked at my agreeing with them. Christmas trees were not present at the birth of Christ (nor were whales, octopi, or lobsters, but I love that scene in Love, Actually). And I'm okay with it. And I'd cry if there were no tree up in my mom's house this Christmas.

Why the tie? What's the point of putting up a tree, more capable it would seem of celebrating winter solstice than Christ?

For me, it has to do with that line in "I'll be home for Christmas" and a God who promises to shine in our darkness. Last year, all alone in Montana, I had a tiny little tree with one strand of lights. It didn't feel like home. The one time I felt like I was home was sitting in the church at night, with only the grand Christmas tree lit up. That glow, that "love-light" is Emmanuel, God with us. That glow is home. That glow is love.

Besides, Christ hung on a tree for us. That speaks some profound love that no darkness can conquer.

(Photo by Eric Renshaw. Taken at Opryland Hotel, where I go every year to see this tree and all the decor.)

Theology Paper

Cranky

I would love to tell you that being in ministry means that no one is jerk, no one takes advantage of others, and everything is hymn singing and harmonies. But I'd be lying.

It's the end of the semester. A long but fast semester as it turns out. I'm still two papers away from the end of this semester (graduation in May...) and I've got little energy to put towards those papers, much less anything else.

But then something comes up and I find myself absolutely hating someone. I'm being vague intentionally and I'm sorry that I have to be. But it doesn't really matter as the issue is not the person,  but the hate.

I'm not one to hate. I just don't. I find that I go back to anyone I have issues with and we resolve them, even if we can never return to the level of trust and intimacy we had previously. I don't like burning bridges, etc. I'm friends (in some sense of the word) with all of my exes and two good friends who really hurt me.

What do you do when the issues can't be resolved? When you've made the effort again and again (and again) to figure out how to be in relationship with a person and you keep getting walked on? I'm at a loss.

And yet, as a soon-to-be-pastor, I feel as if I should be moving towards forgiving. I should let grace abound and get over it. I should move on. What's that whole thing about forgiveness being for the person forgiving, not the one being forgiving? Don't hold on to hate. Etc., etc..

Perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps I'm just up to my ears in emotion and need to give myself a few years to cool off....

Haircuts, Glasses, Coats

Funny how when you change the outside, you sometimes feel better on the inside.

Chopped off my hair this weekend, got a new pair of glasses with an update prescript, and got a new winter coat (mega on sale which makes it better). I feel good.

And yet...

As All Saints Day is coming up, I remember those who have died. I remember those who are dying. I've been grieving for the upcoming death of my good friend from high school and church, Carrie, who has been struggling with an aggressive cancer. Pray for peace as she is surrounded by the love of family in these final days.

In the now immortal words of my seminary colleages, FUCK CANCER. My new hair, new glasses, new coat... do nothing to stop the onslaught of disease in our bodies or in the world. Though I do find some comfort in them, I struggle with the balance. Haircuts and glasses and warm coats are necessary, yes. Perhaps this is guilt? Guilt that I am alive to enjoy and need haircuts, glasses, and coats.

Happy All Saints day soon. I'm celebrating with a new haircut, new glasses, and a new winter coat.

Cherch

 

http://tasteandseelstc.blogspot.com/2011/10/cherch.html

The Church and Being Pissed Off

I'm pissed off. I really, truly am.

You see, two years ago, my church body made a decision. And now no one seems to be standing behind that decision.

I'm not trying to be vague. The ELCA voted to ordain gay and lesbian clergy who were in committed relationships. In the in between time, many individual churches have left the ELCA. I get that some people believe homosexuality is a sin. Scripture does not convince me of that, however. I fully support my GLBTQ brothers and sisters. I am a proud ally.

And recently, two dear friends have been rejected because of their sexuality. They're young and have amazing skills for ministry and a passion for what this church could be. And yet, they aren't allowed to do ministry. People seemed to be scared. Fear is stopping people from calling my dear friends to be leaders in this church.

I'm pissed off. I really, truly am.

It's time to take a stand.

Deadlines

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. 

Douglas Adams

1. Last Thursday, my Approval Essay was due. I turned it in Friday at 4. Only the recipient's mail box was full. So I tried to e-mail it to a second person via my cell phone. On Monday, I get a tap on the shoulder after chapel. Wanna turn that in? Oh, I sent it already. Nope, you didn't. Okay, sorry, I'll resend it.

On Tuesday, I find that neither the first, nor the second email got sent from my phone. This increases my hate for my phone. I now have upset the person trying to get this (now very late) paper. I e-mail it from my laptop. Success.

2. I also needed to turn in my project evaluation from internship. I keep forgetting. The recipient keeps asking. I keep forgetting when I am near my computer. I email it from my computer during one of my classes on Wednesday.

3. I was one of the brilliant people who decided to present an exegesis paper in my Gospel of John class on the third week of class (God bless those who went the second week). That's basically a biblical research paper. This was due Tuesday at noon. I sent it in at 11:59. Then my roommate graciously printed the papers and walked them to the professors while I went back to babysitting.

4. For my Monday afternoon class, I neglected to get the reading done (see #3). And I completely forgot that there is a reflection due on our reading at the start of each class. I have yet to email this in.

5. Monday evenings are also the time to turn in another reading reflection, this for a class that meets on Thursday. I never did it. See #3.

6. As I'm remembering about the reading journal for the Thursday class, I remember that I failed to email or print the paper due last Thursday. I just sent in the electronic copy. I'll hook the printer up in a bit and print that tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow...

FML.

Dream State

The world looks so different now. As if internship were a dream I had that I am now waking from, a big sleepy, a big groggy. And yet, I am changed. Not in the sense that you had a dream where something bad happened and awoke and couldn't shake it for the day... but a knowledge that I have changed. Things deep within me have been rewired. I see the world differently from when I was last here.

And here, for those who can't follow my travels (I understand, I barely can), is Chicago. Back at seminary again for a final year of academics. I return to find several faculty and staff gone and new ones arrived. I come back to two different classes of students. I come back to slightly different courtyards, hallways, stairwells, and offices. Small things have shifted that allow me to realize I've been gone a year.

I'm a True Blood fan. This you should know well. On the first episode of this season, the main character, Sookie Stackhouse, comes back home after being in fairy land (yeah, it's bizarre, don't ask) only to discover that she's been gone over a year. Her home looks different, babies have been born, her ex is king, and her brother is now a cop. Sometimes, the only way to know you've been gone is to see the changes in others.

So here, beyond the walls and objects that mark time, my friends have grown into pastor, preachers, ministers, and stronger people of faith. Listening to them speak about the places they were on internship and the people they met and ministered to and with reminds me that I too have my stories. And though that have a dream like sheen to them, my heart assures me I spent a year in Billings, Montana doing ministry.

To quote Talladega Nights, "That just happened!!!"

I'll work on believing it now.

Light shining

As I am taking in so many "last times" on internship, I am reflecting on this wonderful quote by Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Parable of the SOIL or SOWER?

Greetings! I'm trying to get back into blogging mode. I apologize for leaving you alone for so long. Here's the basis for tomorrow morning's sermon on Matthew 13 (Read ye' first this week's texts!). I hope you enjoy it!
~A

I believe most of you are familiar with the parable of the sower. These different kinds of soil that the seed falls on. Then Jesus' interpretation of this parable that explains the seed is the word of God and describing how certain people respond to it.

We tend to come away believing this gospel is about us. We believe it is about the soil and we work to be good soil so that we can receive the word from God and produce good fruit. Except making it about the soil makes it about us and we really can't go anywhere from there. Because as soon as this parable becomes about turning ourselves into good soil, we've lost God. It becomes a competition to see who can be the best soil. We'd even start comparing what kind of good soil we are - thirty fold, sixty fold, a hundred fold?! It's not enough to be good soil, we want to be great soil. In reality, we know that we are often times quite rocky, a bit weedy, or even shallow. Just because we follow Christ doesn't make us perfect soil.

And while it is fine and well and good to want to receive God's word, we have to remember that it isn't about us. This is not the Parable of the SOIL but the Parable of the SOWER. So I'm going to propose something to you. I know we all love the image of God as a good shepherd and God as a father or even a painter if we look at sunsets and sunrises, but I want you to imagine God as the Gracious Gardener. Or how about the caring farmer? Benevolent Rancher? The great sower of seeds.

This idea of God as a gardener or a care taker for creation is all over scripture. Today we get a platter full in our stories: rain, snow, seed, bread, mountains, hills, trees, field, thorn, cypress, brier, myrtle, earth, oceans, mountains, seas, waves, peoples, more earth, dawn, dusk, more earth, water, river, more water, grain, even more earth, furrows, rain, ground, paths, fields, wilderness, hills, meadows, valleys, and a little more grain.

That's quite a list! All beautiful images of creation. All rich descriptions of how God will provide for the earth. And people are included in that list as a part of the creation that God made and called good. God cares for this creation.

So I take this idea of God as a Gardener and re-read this Parable of the Sower. What I see is a sower spreading seeds with abandon. He isn't the smartest farmer if he is wasting his seed on rocky fields, though, right? Why waste precious seed on that which isn't worthy to receive it? Quite frankly, it seems a bit foolish. I know my dad aerated his lawn before he put down grass seed. He wanted to ensure that the ground had the best chance of keeping that seed.

So I don't know. I don't have much of a green thumb. Perhaps you have some ideas. Many of you are farmers. You grew up on ranches. You keep beautiful gardens. And even for those of you who lack green thumbs like I do, you most likely have a lawn that you mow or some kind of green plant in a pot in your house. If nothing else, you know the theory of gardening even if you don't do so.

So let me ask you this: what did you do when the fields were full of rocks on the farms and ranches? You removed them. Made big rock piles.
What do you do when a plant is in a pot that is too small? You get a bigger pot and find more soil so it isn't sitting in shallow soil.
What about those weeds in your garden? You pull them out! Spray weed-be-gone or something to get rid of them.
What about when the ground is dry? When a plant isn't getting enough sunlight? When a tree needs pruning?

You care for your plants. You tend your garden. You remove the rocks and weeds. You make sure there is enough sunlight and soil to go around. You water the flowers and plants and trees and grass.

So if God is even half the farmer that we are, we've got to imagine that God knows how to remove our rocks. Knows what to do when we are getting a bit chocked on weeds. Knows how to feed us with daily bread. Waters us with the waters of baptism. And speaks to our souls when we find our faith getting shallow.

And yes, this Generous Gardener spreads the word generously. This gardener is not holding back and being frugal with what is being given. This radical gardener is going crazy and planting seeds in every kind of soil there is. There is no waiting to see if the soil will turn itself into good soil.

This gardener has the best green thumb in the world and can make small blades of grass come up through concrete. This gardener causes trees to grow out of the rock face and tender flowers to come up through the snow. This gardener created the world by speaking it into existence and us with it.

This is the Spirit that resides in us. In Paul's letter to the Romans, he wrote "If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, God who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through the Spirit that dwells in you."


There's something about knowing that that seems to make me stand a little straighter. I can bear more. I can trust more easily. My faith comes naturally knowing that I am cared for. The God of creation is looking after me. I don't know how to be grateful enough.

This power, this presence, is in all of us. As we splash in the waters of baptism and eat and drink this bread and wine, God is feeding us and watering us. Our Gracious Gardener is caring for us.

And all God's people said: AMEN! +

It's July?

I'm a little shocked it is July. Okay, not a little shocked. A lot shocked. These last few months have flown by. Lots of changes in my world, and most of them wonderful.

1st up: I'm no longer doubting my call to ordained ministry. This is what I need and want to do with my life. Now, I can still get grumpy from time to time that I will not be some famous author or play writer or director... but I trust that this will fill up my heart. I also trust that I will continue to read books and attend plays and write poetry because they are a part of my soul's contentment.

Secondly: The parish pastor I was working with left to move on to something new so I stepped up as pastor. One of my elders now calls me "the head poo-poo" and I can do nothing but laugh. They have all been gracious and wonderful as I take risks and lead all on my own. It's most likely one of the best parts of my internship. How often it is that we learn best by doing. I'm a pastor so I know I can be a pastor. (Oh, the wild wacky world of internship.)

Thirdly... well I'm not sure there is any major thirdly other than my departure from Montana at the end of the month. It will be very hard to leave even with all my friends and family waiting anxiously to see me again in August. Bittersweet is the word one of my friend's used. It's all bittersweet.

I was wonderful if I placed on a scale all the voices asking me to stay and all the voices asking me to come home for goodness sake!... which side would win out. Just today, one of the nurses asked if I was working full time at St. John's or if I was still an intern. In the St. John's world, many of their Administrative Interns simply transition into full time employment after their internship is complete. It's like residency.

So I've spent a good bit of time explaining "the process" and telling everyone that I have one year left of school. Some elders laugh and tell me they'll take me as I am - they think I've had enough schooling! Generally I graciously smile. Snarkily I know that is often the thought once seniors get back to school after internship. We'll see...

Well I'm on the move again. Out to the brewery for a drink with visiting friends: http://thepilgrimpastor.blogspot.com/

Love and hugs oh cyber world!

1L

It appears I disappeared

Well friends. If you've been following for a while, you know my writing comes in waves. And that I'm not one to apologize for absences from my blog. It happens. We move on.

My lack of writing things out simply means that I've had more of creation to engage in my process of processing this whole internship thing. Quite honestly, I've grown so much in this last month that I'm a little shocked. But grateful, oh so grateful. I'm getting a clearer picture of what type of ministry I want to do in the future (more on that later), I'm dressing in a such a way that I feel comfortable in my skin and confident, and I'm preparing to be the church's pastor for the last 6 weeks of my internship.

Life is... good. My phone kind of hates me. My laptop dislikes me every other week. The rain is dismal but I'm grateful it's not a tornado and that all my loved ones are safe. I've got lots to keep in prayer because it seems this world is a bit off kilter right now. But I was made to pray so it feels right, even if most of my prayer of late is petitions for peace and healing. Guess we can't ever have enough of that, eh?

Just wanted to check in. I'm working on my sermon for this Sunday and will post it when I'm done. Til then, may the peace and joy and love of God be with you all.

p.s. Good new music: Lady Gaga's newest and Cage the Elephant. Awesomeness in musical form.

Rejoicing

I will rejoice in breaths of spring on my face and in the flower beds...


I will rejoice at the resurrection of Jesus Christ....


I will rejoice at the new life that is promised through him....


I will rejoice as my medication begins to make me a healthier person...


I will rejoice in the comfort and love of friends and family...




But I cannot rejoice at the death of Osama Bin Laden. I will not. There is not hope in this death for me. While I understand that some see it as a mark of justice served, I turn my eyes upon a world that repays hate with hate. We are lost in poverty, death, injustice, hatred, debt, ignorance...


My friend Angela reminded me of this wonderful quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Seminarian Sunday

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Happy Easter to you all. I had a lovey retreat up at Chico this last week. I got to visit Yellowstone National Park again despite the heavy snow that still made most of the roads impassable. How many of you have been to Yellowstone National Park? How many of you have been more than once? Twice? Three, four, five!?

When I think about the Easter season, I think about places like that. Places that draw us to them over and over and over again. One could assume that if you've been there once, you're done and you can check it off your list, right? Why go back? You've seen it!

The reasons we keep returning to Yellowstone are easy and numerous. We want to see it in all the different seasons. We want to see how the seasons change the landscape. We want to see the young bison and elk that are new to the park. We want to see if we'll catch a glimpse of a grizzly or a black bear. We want to see an eagle, a geyser, a waterfall, a coyote, or something else we rarely see. We want to breath in the sights and sounds and smells of nature. It does something for our souls.

The better question is why WOULDN'T we keep going back?

At the north entrance to the Yellowstone National Park is the Roosevelt Arch that reads "For the benefit and enjoyment of the people." And as I drove under it, I thought, what would happen if we put that plaque at the church entrance? A flat out testament and proclamation that Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of the people. Of all people. An open invitation to come and worship.

Would it somehow make church a place we want to keep coming back to? A place where we want to go more than once or twice a year? A place where we are eager to see new faces and catch a glimpse of the extraordinary? A place where we come to feed our souls and find rest? A place where we come to stand together in justice and love of all creation?

And while church might be all those things for most of you, I know many believe the church is dying. It isn't really a place where most people want to go anymore. In part, I believe this is because we seem
to get distracted by the ordinary or even the ugly parts of church. I've heard a lot of people say they've been 'burned by the church" and thus, won't ever come back.

Funny, that while we are walking around or driving through Yellowstone, we don't care about the large and numerous piles of dung, the blacked trees in burnt forests, or the man-made bridges and roadways that dart through and interrupt the natural beauty. We accept the ugly as part of the beauty there.

And yet, we come here and expect all the beauty and none of the mess. We want perfect music, perfect messages from the sermon and liturgy, perfect flowers and banners and bulletins, and perfection from our
brothers and sisters in Christ. I am not removed from this. But I've come to realize that the ugly and the beauty go together. The dark with the light. I grew up in a church were the pastor wasn't the best
preacher but that just made me love the liturgy and the hymns even more. I come from an imperfect family whom I adore because of their imperfections.

As a people, we can drown in our pursuit of perfection, especially here as we seek the body of Christ. We are like Jesus' disciples in the gospel today, locked up in a room, so afraid of death. And yet, even as we are trapped in our fears, Jesus shows up in our midst. Says "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." We are pulled out of fear and into new life. Quite literally, Jesus is sending us away from those things that bind us and trap us. Not only a fear of death, but a fear of anything ugly or ordinary or imperfect.
Jesus has set us free.

What I find remarkable is that a week later, those same disciples are up in their room... again. Not out. Not proclaiming. Not doing what Jesus wanted them to do. And while I might give them the benefit of the doubt and say they might be taking a break from sharing the good news that Christ is risen, I'm not ready to let them off the hook yet.

We tend to focus on Thomas who missed that first visit when in reality, I wonder why the other disciples are still hanging around. Though Jesus tells Thomas that those who believe and do not see are blessed, the other disciples have now seen Jesus twice!! Jesus could have easily appeared to Thomas at some time when Thomas was alone but Jesus thought it was important to appear to all of them, again. What that tells me is that they needed to see Jesus again. They needed to hear him speak again. They needed another sign.

In many ways, I see the church today as that room full of disciples, Thomas included. We pout that Jesus lived, died, and rose again 2,000 years ago. We pout that we do not see Christ. We imagine that life with Christ was easier. How easy it would be to believe if Jesus were in the room with us now. If so, we'd see past the ugliness of our world and see instead a savior, setting us free.

Do you see Christ? Because I believe God is with us in every moment. That spirit that Jesus breathed on the disciples we carry with us everywhere we go. And when we gather as a group here together, we form the body of Christ. We are the body of Christ. And we receive Christ again in the spoken Word. And we receive Christ again in his body and blood shared at the table. And we receive Christ as we share with one another the words Jesus shared with his disciples: Peace be with you.

Like those disciples, we are church. We aren't always pretty and we are never perfect, but we've been sent to proclaim the good news. It was those disciples, after all, who did leave that room and began to share the good news of Jesus Christ. These are the disciples that went out to proclaim that Christ is Risen!! He is risen indeed!! Alleluia!! They started the early church. In all their doubting imperfection and hesitation and fear, they are us, the church. Christ appeared to them, not once but twice. And Christ appears for us today, not once but over and over again, each time we gather.

Like Yellowstone National Park, Christ is for the benefit and enjoyment of all. We cannot soak it all up on one visit. We cannot take in all the beauty at one time. We are not able to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth to which Jesus loves us.

To say Christ is Risen! does not mean that Jesus won't challenge us, push us out of our locked rooms, and coax us from our fears. To say Christ is Risen! does not mean the church has magically become a
perfect place filled with perfect people. To say Christ is Risen! rather implies that we embrace both the ugliness and the beauty of life as the body of Christ. To say Christ is Risen! is to begin to proclaim to all the world the wonder and beauty of our faith.

We cannot remain in our rooms, in these walls, staying quiet and waiting for another sign. We see Jesus here and now. We see Jesus in the faces of our friends and family. In the beauty of Yellowstone and in our own back yards and gardens plots. In the delight of our pets and the animals of all creation. We see Jesus, continually calling us out of our fear and into the world to proclaim the good news.

And so, set free from our fears, embracing the ugliness and the beauty of new life in Christ, we proclaim with all those early Christians, "CHRIST IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED! ALLELUIA!"

Amen. +

FAQ

A local church's FAQ section. Very well written:

Q: Do Lutherans really believe the Bible?
A: Lutherans aren't fundamentalists, and we don't use words like "literal," "inerrant," etc.  We see the Bible as the sole source of our faith, and it's where the conversation begins.  We believe what the Bible says about Jesus, that he really is the son of God, and that his life, death, and resurrection mean endless love and life and peace for us.  But it's not our science textbook or a book of law to burden us.

Shame and Such

There's something debilitating happening in our culture today: shame.

There's the idea that if we don't live a certain way, look a certain way, believe a certain way, that we are somehow letting someone down. It's all that keeping up with Joneses stuff. We want to give off the impression that we have it all together. We want people to believe that we're stable, healthy, and happy. And when we see the few exceptions to the rule, instead of praising them, we sigh and confess that if they'd make a little more effort to fit in, they'd be happier.

Truth: I listened to a woman talk about a man she met last week. She was telling me that he just looked disheveled and slightly threatening with longer black hair that was stringy around his face. He was antisocial and awkward. And while he was confessing how hurt he was by people's rejection of him, she was considering telling him to make a little effort to fit in. If he'd only cut his hair and make an effort to engage people in conversation, he'd do better. He'd be happier if he decided to fit in a little more.

And as I was hearing this I seething with anger. Why is the solution that this man needs to cut his hair and be less awkward? It's the shaming culture we live in. There's some inherent sense that we all need to fit into this suggested mold or stereotype in order to function in society. Blissfully, there are more accepted molds than there used to be so it makes it somewhat easier if you want to be a punk or a frat guy or a nerd or a jock. But what about the ones who never fit a mold? I wager this is actually every single one of us.

We love watching Finn on Glee be both a jock and a gleester. We love watching cop shows where the hard hitting detective is a softie with the kids. But somehow it doesn't translate into our own lives. We have a hard time accepting an artist who does not have a "real" job. We get uncomfortable with sexuality and gender, so we force labels as if it is a black or white. In reality, I'm beginning to see it is a beautiful array of gray.

And then think about Jesus. The way our religions file Jesus into a certain category or type even though all four gospels point to a person bent on not fitting into any mold. Jesus hung out with prostitutes and unclean people, the wicked tax collectors and the holier than though pharisees. Jesus ate with these people. Jesus defied the religious and societal laws that were binding the Jewish people so tightly. He tried to set them free from their beliefs about what made a person worthy. And he invited the world into that peace and acceptance.

Want to know why I'm a Christian? Because Jesus didn't fit in a box. He pounded home the messages of love and grace and accepting people where they were at and serving one another joyously. I don't think there's any message our world needs more today than that. Let go of the stereotypes. Let go of the molds. Embrace the in between. Embrace the gray. Embrace your neighbor and the stranger and your "enemy" on all sides.

Otherwise, I fear we will all be lost as we bounce between labels and molds and stereotypes that never define who we really are. We'll condemn others who do not fit just as we try to squeeze ourselves some idea of perfection and societal acceptance. When are we going to realize that not only does that idea not work, it is killing us slowly?

Love, actually

When I left Tennessee to begin seminary, I made a Goodbye mix for friends and family. I popped my copy of this mix into my cd player this week and was struck by track one, a rather unique folk sound coming from Panic at the Disco!, cleverly named "Folkin' Around."

"If I've forgotten how to sing
Before I sung this song
I'll write it all across this wall
Before my job is done
And I'll even have the courtesy
Of admitting I was wrong
As the final words before I'm dead and gone

You've never been so divine
In accepting your defeat
And I've never been more scared to be alone
If love is not enough to put my enemies to sleep
Then I'm putting out the lantern
Find your own way back home"

And when I am re-exploring my call to ministry from the ground up, instead of trying to fit myself into being a certain kind of pastor, I'm thinking about that concept of love and what it means for me. If it's not enough, then I'm putting out the lantern and quitting ministry. Does this sound harsh? For me, it feels freeing. I'm going to do the thing I know how to do - love people. If it's not enough and I get a negative review on my evaluations or a postponed or denied approval come senior year, then I'll quit.

But this is all I know how to do. I don't know how to sing all the hymns that people believe I should. I don't know how to speak slowly enough or loudly enough so that all the elders can understand me. I don't know how to be energized around ministry when most of what I'm doing feels draining to me. I don't have a polished answer of what type of ministry I want to do. It's not what I'm doing on internship. And I'm finally at a place where I can say that.

So I'll start at the commandment to love and build a life and a ministry from there.

Faith Stories - Take This Cup From Me

Matthew 26:36-46


Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me."


And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want."


Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."


Again he went away for the second time and prayed, "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done." Again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy.


So leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words.
Then he came to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand."


In front of the tomb where Lazarus was laid, Jesus was deeply moved and wept. He wept with Mary and Martha and the Jews who came to grieve with them. And part of me is thinking that is strange. After all, he knows that in just a few minutes, he will call Lazarus from the tomb. This is his plan. This is something he knows is going to happen. And yet, he weeps. It is by far one of the most comforting stories for me, knowing I worship a God who weeps with us in our sorrow, even if God knows great joy is on the horizon.

As we move towards Palm Sunday and into Holy Week, we remember these final days. The entry into Jerusalem, that last supper, these garden prayers, the betrayal, the cross, the grief. All the moments that happen before a joyous resurrection.

This moment in the garden is particularly beautiful because it shows us a very human Jesus. One who is pleading with God and asking if there is any way the coming events don't have to happen. Have you ever prayed prayers like this? Think about your story and find one moment when your prayers were similar. These type of prayers show up at certain places in our lives, often when a big change is happening and we know our lives will never be the same.

As we remember these final days, I wonder if we can NOT think about the resurrection just yet. I don't want to skip past the pain of these garden prayers or the betrayals or the cross. Because there is something unique in this part of the story that we rarely get to dwell on. So often the good news is the resurrection, the new life in Christ, the bliss of Easter morning.

But there is good news here, too. Good news in a God who weeps. Who is deeply moved and filled with sorrow. A God who does not try to cheer us up and tell us that good days are on the horizon but simply sits and prays and weeps. THIS is a God I can relate to.

I think about these final darker days when people say we should live a life like Jesus. What they mean, typically, is that we should have faith in God and we should love people like Jesus did. What I think of, is that being a Christian and being called to live like Christ means that some of our days will be very dark. We will be on our knees in a garden, praying that this would pass. Praying to God to make anything other than the outcome happen. Praying for a different ending or a solution that hurts less. We pray for escape of some kind from the life we are living.

Welcome to Christianity. Where we come to suffer with Christ. Where we welcome a God into the midst of our pain, not because the pain will vanish with God's arrival, but because God knows what we are going through. And not in that fake assuring way when someone says, "I know exactly what you're going through." God, on the other hand, knows and chooses to be with us in the midst of it.

There have been a few times in my life that I have prayed desperately for the cup to pass from me. The first one I recall was when I learned about my parent's divorce. I wept. I remember my grandfather's death. I remember the tearful prayers before I left for seminary. I remember my first big heartbreak. I remember a lonely Saturday evening in December struggling with loneliness here in the middle of Montana.

Often what I needed in those moments was an anchor to hold on to when I felt like my entire world was changing. My life was shifting and would never again be the same. It was uncomfortable. I was afraid. And then life moved on as it always does. Those changes are still part of me - a huge part of me. But I know a God who walks with us through the valley of death and does not skip ahead to the horizon.

Have you ever prayed a prayer like Christ did in the garden? Asked for a different solution? For relief from overwhelming sorrow? What kinds of situations have you most often prayed these prayers?

Good and Evil

And speaking of black and white thinking... I bring you Ecclesiastes 7.

It Is Impossible to Be Truly Good

 ¹⁵ In my useless life I have seen both of these:
    I have seen good people die in spite of their goodness
       and evil people live a long time in spite of their evil.
 ¹⁶ Don't be too right,
       and don't be too wise.
       Why destroy yourself?
 ¹⁷ Don't be too wicked,
       and don't be foolish.
       Why die before your time?
 ¹⁸ It is good to grab the one and not let go of the other;
       those who honor God will hold them both.

New Thing I Love

I gave up drinking massive amounts of soda (soda pop, pop, coke, sodee) a long time ago. Too much sugar. Bad for the body. Do we know how terrible high fructose corn syrup is? The worst. Addictive, too.

And don't tell me to drink that diet crap, either. Fake sugar tastes like hell and is made of chemicals that could very well be just as terrible on our bodies as the other kind of sugar. I vote real sugar over fake sugar.

Despite all this, I do occasionally enjoy a nice fizzy fountain beverage. Pop's fun and delicious. I love cherry flavored brown soda and root beer the most.

Then last year when I was in Mexico, I swore off Coca-Cola because I believe they have shitty business practices that screw people over. And yes, I have also experienced the kind ways they donate to local businesses and their generosity on this side of the Mexican border - doesn't make up for consuming the limited clean water supply in Mexico and amping up the caffeine and sugar when distributing to the Mexican people who by heritage are already prone to diabetes!!

So my consumption of pop dropped dramatically.

But occasionally, I find little things that bring me great joy. One of them is Thomas Kemper Sodas. I asked for a root beer last Friday at a restuarant here in town and they brought be a bottle of Thomas Kemper Root Beer. I fell in love. In the first place, it is made from cane sugar and honey! Secondly, it is "locally" made in Oregon. And to boot, it's damn delicious.

I'm not sure if any of you in TN can get Thomas Kemper beverages there though there's a link on their site to find it (here). But they make delicious Ginger Ale, Vanilla Creme, Root Beer, and Orange Cream sodas. :D I'm on a hunt for that Black Cherry....

If you come visit me in Billings, I'll share. ;)

Things I love - USAA!

Can I tell you how much I love USAA? Banking is a breeze. Being constantly on the go and moving every year makes other kinds of banking nearly impossible. I can deposit my checks by mail or I can SCAN THEM AT HOME... which, let me tell you is amazingly easy. The site is super easy to get around. The customer service rocks 100% of the time (which means a lot coming from me, a customer service snob). Insurance is affordable (car, renters, life, whatever). Basically, I can't say enough good stuff about them. I'll be banking with them as long as is humanly possible.

Blinking

"65 years... don't they go by in a blink."
-Bill Parish, Meet Joe Black

Last year Easter was the day after my birthday and my heart was a little broken. But I had a little party @ Free B's and got my xbox and got to see some family members, namely my mom who was in town for Easter and my birthday. The year before that I was thrown a surprise party in TN in which I got to see many friends and family, bowl, wear a birthday crown with star sunglasses and a feather boa, eat yummy food, and bask in the love of my friends.

The year before that... was that the year I got my first tattoo? Yes, my 23rd. See how my mind is going adrift even a few years into my past? People kept asking me this morning how old I was today. When I replied 26, they mostly laughed and said I was so young.

And I see the future stretch out before me, unknown but so incredibly full of possibilities. Some days it is scary. Some days it is the only thing that makes me stop panicking - knowing I have time. That's not to say I will waste my days, but I've got time enough to do the things God has called me to do. Time enough to figure out who I am (a question I don't think we are ever done answering, even at 87) and where God will lead me (I just mistyped God as TOE - beautiful.)

Thanks for the memories, friends. ;)

The Shame Spiral - Take Two

Okay, I've been processing and attempting to step out of the spiral. My other supervisor's question about it is around that whole "DO vs. BE" thing I've been struggling with (on internship and throughout my entire life). His phrasing: "Performance vs. Service."

For more explanation: if my motivation is service, I can fail at performance and think, "Oh well. I tried." Whereas, if performing well was the goal, and I didn't do a task well, I've failed completely.

So, re: the shame spiral (about depression being apparent), we know what the performance side of me is thinking - failure!!! What does the servant side say?

I believe it would say something about connecting with people who are also struggling with depression. Using the things I am struggling with to then engage the world. To present myself and say that I am a work in progress just as they are (whatever their age).

The servant side might say something about grace. God's grace. Other's grace for me (as is abundantly evident by your comments on the former post about this). And something about having a little grace for myself. As Nikki said, I take myself too seriously.

So for now, I'm going to work on being unabashedly, unashamedly, unapologetically ME. Here's goes nothing.

Mayday! Mayday! Shame Spiral Occuring!

I asked one of my supervisors about a question on my mid-year evaluation. About ministering in the wilderness. On the evaluation, they both asked me to explore my call and the question of whether or not I was called into the wilderness. From what I gather from his answer, I've been dwelling too much on missing people and it seems to be a looming (or present) pitfall to my ministry.

So of course as I start to process this, I think, well SHIT. My missing people has played an adverse affect on my ministry! So I'm feeling ashamed that it is so apparent and wondering what is WRONG with me (shame words) that I can't simply be present here and learn ministry here and establish relationships here. I feel ashamed that I am not doing better and I wonder if they regret having me as their intern.

My brain goes in two directions:

The first is denial and some anger: Of COURSE I'm missing my people. I'm in Montana! I'm alone on internship trying to learn how to do ministry! Of course I'm lonely! Of course that is going to be apparent as I work on figuring myself out. To presume otherwise would be just as large an issue.

The second is curiosity: I can choose to see this as an opportunity for growth and understanding. Because this isn't the first time I've heard this. My CPE supervisor two summers ago said the same thing about my missing people. He thought it was not the general, "I miss you" that all people experience but something more. So I say thanks for the insight and take it to my therapist and spiritual director.


Shame is such a nasty thing. Doubting who we are at the very core of who we are. Not just guilt. Shame. Being ashamed that I struggle with depression. Being ashamed that I shared these struggles with being alone. Being ashamed in feeling like I have let people down, not only my supervisors, but my congregations of people I am ministering to. Perhaps even feeling like I let down the seminary, my home church, the ELCA...

Send prayer. I'm on the shame spiral.

Faith Stories - David

1 Samuel 16:1-13

16:1 The LORD said to Samuel, "How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons." Samuel said, "How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me." And the LORD said, "Take a heifer with you, and say, 'I have come to sacrifice to the LORD.' Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you."


Samuel did what the LORD commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, "Do you come peaceably?" He said, "Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the LORD; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice." And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.


When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, "Surely the Lord's anointed is now before the LORD." But the LORD said to Samuel, "Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart." Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, "Neither has the LORD chosen this one." Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, "Neither has the LORD chosen this one."


Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, "The LORD has not chosen any of these." Samuel said to Jesse, "Are all your sons here?" And he said, "There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep." And Samuel said to Jesse, "Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here."


He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The LORD said, "Rise and anoint him; for this is the one." Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the LORD came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.


We began our faith stories journey as a people called from our comfortable places into desert places. We began our journey walking in faith.

Then we lingered in the desert together, thirsty for water. Water flowed from a rock and we were reminded that God provides abundantly, even in places and times of scarcity.

And today, we find that we, as children of God, are seen for more than what we appear to be. We are shone that God truly sees us, the real us.

When you hear this story of Samuel and David, where do you see yourself? What character do you identify with? Are you like Samuel, the one constantly acknowledging the spirit of God in others? Lifting up others? Helping others?

Are you like Eliab or Abinidad, the child or sibling that has been left behind while another has been chosen? Are you like Jesse, the parent anxiously watching someone evaluate your children?

Or are you more like David, the one not worthy to be seen? The unexpected Cinderella, the underdog, the biblical dark horse. At one point, we've all been there, in David's shoes. I can't say I've fought any Goliath's, but I've certainly felt unworthy.

And, like the rest of the characters in the story, we'd likely be wondering what God was up to when David, the youngest son, the shepherd, was chosen by God and anointed by Samuel. Just like the Israelites in the desert, wondering why Moses was hitting a rock with a stick. It doesn't make sense. God doesn't make sense.

I'm not sure how many of you know I have tattoos. The one on my shoulder blade is a bird inscribed with the word Sibling. My sibling has the matching one on his calf. And I love the confused look on people's faces when I say the bird is a black crow. Not some lovely peaceful dove. Not some precious canary or colorful parrot, but a crow. A bird widely despised by many people is the bird I chose to get inked into my body.

But despite the stigma crows have in our society today, some legends and mythology about crows show them to be creatures of high intelligence and protectors of all creation. In one legend, the great crow bring fires to a world dying from cold. In another, a crow brings light to a people lost in darkness. In another, crows rescue creation from a burning world. In each case, the once beautiful white or multi colored birds are burnt and covered in ash and become black. Their blackness is seen, not as a punishment, but as a mark of the service they rendered to others.

I proudly wear my black crow as a reminder to myself that ministry is much more than standing in a pulpit and preaching. It is a life of service, of caring for creation. And as I explore my call to ministry on this internship, this crow is a reminder that God calls some unexpected people into service. I look at the great ancestors of the faith and laugh. In our perfect savior's lineage and our biblical family we have prostitutes, drunks, adulterers, liars, thieves, and murderers.

God chooses the unexpected. Chooses to work in unexpected ways. Chooses to accept the appearance of something and then look beyond it. Look into it. God chooses Abram. God causes rocks to give thirsty people water. God chooses David to be King. God chooses us to be God's people. Daughters and sons that are not perfect, that do not often look the part, but are children of God all the same.

A lot of it boils down to identity. What we defines ourselves with. If we define ourselves based on the outward appearance, our job, our house, our bodies, our clothes, our cars, we will forever be striving for perfection. It's like believing only the flashiest, most eye grabbing cover of a book will cause people to pick it up and read it.

But we are more than our book covers. We are the pages of rich stories within. And as baptized believers, children of God, we can also be confident that our stories are being heard. We give each other the gift of storytelling both as we share and as we listen. And of course, were two or more are gathered... we believe that God is with us. I imagine the holy spirit hanging on our every word, basking in the power and beauty of our unique stories.

In our baptisms, we were marked in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We were anointed, like David. In the baptismal waters, we find our identity as God's children. You have a story to tell. You have an audience to hear your story. Will you share it?

Did you ever wonder why I got a crow tattoo?

Did you ever wonder why I got a crow tattoo? It was instigated by State Radio and their call to action being symbolized with a crow. It was through them that I first heard the Native American legend about the crow rescuing the whole world and being turned black in the process. The crow is my constant reminder to get out of the pulpit and into the world. This is one version of that story.

Rainbow Crow

(Lenni Lenape Tribe)
retold by
S. E. Schlosser
It was so cold. Snow fell constantly, and ice formed over all the waters. The animals had never seen snow before. At first, it was a novelty, something to play in. But the cold increased tenfold, and they began to worry. The little animals were being buried in the snow drifts and the larger animals could hardly walk because the snow was so deep. Soon, all would perish if something were not done.

"We must send a messenger to Kijiamuh Ka'ong, the Creator Who Creates By Thinking What Will Be," said Wise Owl. "We must ask him to think the world warm again so that Spirit Snow will leave us in peace."
The animals were pleased with this plan. They began to debate among themselves, trying to decide who to send up to the Creator. Wise Owl could not see well during the daylight, so he could not go. Coyote was easily distracted and like playing tricks, so he could not be trusted. Turtle was steady and stable, but he crawled too slowly. Finally, Rainbow Crow, the most beautiful of all the birds with shimmering feathers of rainbow hues and an enchanting singing voice, was chosen to go to Kijiamuh Ka'ong.

It was an arduous journey, three days up and up into the heavens, passed the trees and clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, and even above all the stars. He was buffeted by winds and had no place to rest, but he carried bravely on until he reached Heaven. When Rainbow Crow reached the Holy Place, he called out to the Creator, but received no answer. The Creator was too busy thinking up what would be to notice even the most beautiful of birds. So Rainbow Crow began to sing his most beautiful song.

The Creator was drawn from his thoughts by the lovely sound, and came to see which bird was making it. He greeted Rainbow Crow kindly and asked what gift he could give the noble bird in exchange for his song. Rainbow Crow asked the Creator to un-think the snow, so that the animals of Earth would not be buried and freeze to death. But the Creator told Rainbow Crow that the snow and the ice had spirits of their own and could not be destroyed.

"What shall we do then?" asked the Rainbow Crow. "We will all freeze or smother under the snow."
"You will not freeze," the Creator reassured him, "For I will think of Fire, something that will warm all creatures during the cold times."

The Creator stuck a stick into the blazing hot sun. The end blazed with a bright, glowing fire which burned brightly and gave off heat. "This is Fire," he told Rainbow Crow, handing him the cool end of the stick. "You must hurry to Earth as fast as you can fly before the stick burns up."

Rainbow Crow nodded his thanks to the Creator and flew as fast as he could go. It was a three-day trip to Heaven, and he was worried that the Fire would burn out before he reached the Earth. The stick was large and heavy, but the fire kept Rainbow Crow warm as he descended from Heaven down to the bright path of the stars. Then the Fire grew hot as it came closer to Rainbow Crows feathers. As he flew past the Sun, his tail caught on fire, turning the shimmering beautiful feathers black. By the time he flew passed the Moon, his whole body was black with soot from the hot Fire. When he plunged into the Sky and flew through the clouds, the smoke got into his throat, strangling his beautiful singing voice.

By the time Rainbow Crow landed among the freezing-cold animals of Earth, he was black as tar and could only Caw instead of sing. He delivered the fire to the animals, and they melted the snow and warmed themselves, rescuing the littlest animals from the snow drifts where they lay buried.

It was a time of rejoicing, for Tindeh - Fire - had come to Earth. But Rainbow Crow sat apart, saddened by his dull, ugly feathers and his rasping voice. Then he felt the touch of wind on his face. He looked up and saw the Creator Who Creates By Thinking What Will Be walking toward him.

"Do not be sad, Rainbow Crow," the Creator said. "All animals will honor you for the sacrifice you made for them. And when the people come, they will not hunt you, for I have made your flesh taste of smoke so that it is no good to eat and your black feathers and hoarse voice will prevent man from putting you into a cage to sing for him. You will be free."

Then the Creator pointed to Rainbow Crow's black feathers. Before his eyes, Rainbow Crow saw the dull feathers become shiny and inside each one, he could see all the colors of the rainbow. "This will remind everyone who sees you of the service you have been to your people," he said, "and the sacrifice you made that saved them all."

And so shall it ever be.

Music Madness

There's something lovely and amazing about music. And I delight in discovering new artists to love on. I've been allowing myself a trip to Best Buy for music every other week or so. It turns out that CD's are pretty darn cheap! I've gotten so used to buying songs on iTunes that I forget. And the truth - I've missed those little plastic cases and the quirky way an artist presents each new album.

What I've been listening to this year so far:
The New Pornographers -Together
(Catchy and light and very playable. Check out their video for Moves on their website.)
Mumford and Sons - Sigh No More
(aforementioned <3 )
Florence and the Machine - Lungs
(Lots of good stuff beyond the catchy Dog Days song)
The Black Keys - Brothers
(Recall Chop and Change on the Twilight soundtrack? There's plenty more where that came from. Great disc to drive to with the windows down.)
Missy Higgins - On A Clear Night
(Discovered her through Pandora but you might know the track, Where I Stood)
The Decemberists - The King Is Dead
(A beautiful blend of sounds. As ever, I adore that sound. This album is their best yet.)
Erin McCarley - Love Save the Empty
(Another Pandora discovery. The title track is fantastic.)
David Gray - Foundling
(Dahan and I agreed that we'd purchase an album of David Gray singing the ABC's. I love me some David Gray.)


Then I've downloaded a lot of odds and ends on iTunes that I'm enjoying like:
Sweet Sweet Heartkiller by Say Hi To Your Mom (that track is from 2006 but they've got newer stuff that I'm exploring)
Peter Bradley Adams
Maximum Balloon

Also, I've been getting back into country. Blame in on MT. Or blame it on Sibling's girlfriend who made me a mix. I've always loved it but it is greatly frowned upon in the modern music scene that sometimes I'm a bit quieter about that. But it's true. Yes, I love country. Even the cheesy stuff!!!

Happy hunting. Many of those sites I linked have players where you can listen to their music for free. Go. Sample. Enjoy. Draw good music unto yourself!!!!

Faith Stories - Scarcity and Abundance

Exodus 17:1-7

From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the LORD commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, "Give us water to drink." Moses said to them, "Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the LORD?"

But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, "Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?" So Moses cried out to the LORD, "What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me."

The LORD said to Moses, "Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink." Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel.

He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the LORD, saying, "Is the LORD among us or not?"

Water coming from a rock seems like a bit of a far stretch. Then again, so does manna from heaven. And so does the Son of God rising to new life here on Earth. But these are not stories about miracles or magic as much as they are about a God who provides for people thirsty and hungry for something more.

One of my favorite New Testament passages is the feeding of the 5,000. I love how the disciples bicker about where they are going to get enough food to feed 5,000 people. I love how Jesus calmly asks them for their few loaves of bread and few fish. I love that there is abundance where there was one scarcity.

Even more than this, I love the unbelievability of this story. And I love how the unbelievability doesn't matter. A person once told me that they did not believe the bread and fish magically multiplied as it was being passed through the rows and groups of people. He thought that the miracle of this story was that each person added to the basket what little they had, their scraps, their leftovers from their own pockets, and fed each other. The miraculous is not necessarily in the how. It is not hidden in the details. It is the entire story - the fact that Jesus fed a restless crowd of 5,000 a meal of simple bread and fish and all were satisfied.

So when I hear about these people complaining in the desert and thirsting for water, I hear the disciples whining. I even hear our complaining and our groaning. Most especially when we look at our bank accounts, wallets, and budgets. When we look at the world around us and wonder how all these people can be fed. When we see natural disasters and $300 billion dollars in damage from the earthquake and tsunami. We see scarcity everywhere we look.

And if we look back at our own faith stories, we will remember times of scarcity. And we will also remember times of abundance. If you look closely, you will be able to see how this abundance came from scarcity. It came from unexpected places. From impossible places. Money coming through when it was desperately needed and absolutely not expected. Housing when there was none. Food when there was none. Needs being met in strange and extraordinary ways.

In my own story there are small examples and big examples. Small things like needing professional clothing but not having a ton of money to get a new wardrobe... and then a friend who had lost weight do to unexpected surgery and needed someone to take her clothing. Half the things you see me wear are from her wardrobe. Her needs met my needs completely.

The time between graduating and beginning seminary when I needed a place to live that wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg. I also needed a job. And then the parent's of two little girls I babysat for asking me if I'd be interested in moving into their downstairs bedroom and being a nanny. Free rent and a job with a family I adored? Abundance out of scarcity.

Simple things like needing someone to talk to and a friend calling out of the blue. Wondering what I would cook for supper seconds before someone invites me over to eat with them. A unexpected check or refund when my bank account was declining. Grace when I was expecting the worst.

And I choose to see God in all of this. In the story of Moses and the rock, God's presence is very clear. Explicitly. But the simple act of striking a rock and seeing water burst forth is does not appear, on the surface, to be God's act. That's Moses. That's a stick. That's a rock. But I assure you, that's God. Answering the loud prayers and quiet pleas of thirsty people.

Look back at your story and find God there. Find God in the abundance out of scarcity. In water from a rock. In unexpected places. In impossible places. And as you look back and picture the story altogether in all its pieces you will see that our story is not finished. And when we look around at the scarcity that seems to swallow the world, we will begin to see our God of abundance at work. Making impossible things possible. This is the God of our story, at work in every place we see need.

Where has scarcity led to abundance in your story?

Weariness and Hope

I just read a highly conservative online Christian publication insulting one of my role models, Nadia Bolz-Weber, by calling her a "pastor" (yes, with quotes as if she is not a real pastor) and then calling her a pastrix. I want to weep.

But when that article began insulting Outlaw Preachers, I knew they'd be right up my alley. Outlaw Preachers (http://www.outlawpreachers.com/) give me hope. The House for All Saints and Sinners (http://www.houseforall.org/) gives me hope. They're having a Beer and Hymns night at Hamburger Mary's - anyone up for a road trip? And my buddy Kevin mentioned The 99 Collective (http://the99collective.com/).

It's just nice to know that as soon as I begin to get weary of this exhausting thing called ministry and the difficulties presented with it given that I am a young, liberal, female intern in the ELCA... I can find places of hope for the new church.

Thanks be to God for the hope of a brighter tomorrow.

Enneagram

Ever done an enneagram inventory? Take the test: http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/dis_sample_36.asp

Well I'm a 2. A helper. Though the downside to this is (they say) I project my helping attitude onto others when in turn it is what I am seeking for myself. So a lot of the helpful tidbits I get sent via the EnneaThought for the Day are about taking care of myself and not using others.

All that aside, my EnneaThought today was perfect seeing that it fell on the day of my mid year evaluation.

Learn from this universal truth: Once we understand "not doing," we see that the real struggle is to relax into greater awareness so that we can see the manifestations of our personality. By neither acting on our automatic impulses nor suppressing them, we begin to understand what is causing them to arise. (The Wisdom of the Enneagram, 346)

Sounds like a good focus for the last half of internship, eh?

Internship Mid Year Evaluation

Please describe your best gifts and passions for ministry.

I have been reflecting most on the gift on sunshine. A while ago my mother called me her Susie Sunshine but then during CPE I experienced my desire to cheer people up in a new way - it was not always welcome, desired, or the right pastoral care move. People experienced me as overly cheerful and thus off putting. I realized part of this desire to cheer up people who were in the hospital came from making rounds with my father, who is a doctor, when I was younger. I was the cute little girl who would cheer up the ailing patients. During CPE my greatest lesson was to simply sit and visit without the need to cheer people up. In the end, listening is one of the greatest gifts I can offer. Hearing someone's story or holding someone's pain. While this was a wonderful lesson, I ended up denying or rejecting my sunshine gift.

On internship, I have been able to reassess my sunshine status and see it is a more positive way. I have come to realize that I truly have a gift of sunshine - of brightening up someone's day by sharing a hug or smile, listening to someone's story, or bringing communion or scripture. The difference now is my motivation. Before I believe I wanted to cheer people up so I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable with their illness and the darkness of the world and within me. Now I seek to offer people the hope and peace of Christ wherever they are at. I smile in worship because I enjoy worshipping. I hug people because I genuinely care. I sit and listen to stories because I know they have value and deserve to be truly heard. And people reflect back to me that they enjoy my presence, my joy, my energy.

When reflecting on this with my spiritual director, she reminded me that sunshine has no need to speak. It simply shines. So in ministry, it is not about the correct words or phrases. I don't have to say the right thing. I don't even have to say anything. For me it is the difference between DO and BE. For someone who struggles with perfectionism, I cannot be more grateful for a gift that allows me to simply be present with someone without having to DO anything. I see this sacred sunshine as God's presence with us. The holy. The divine. For where two or more are gathered...

Additionally, "light in the darkness"  has become a huge part of my faith. I learned that in accepting the darkness of the world, within us, and within each person, I was better able to understand what the light was. I can more assuredly point to Christ and declare that God is with us in the darkness. God is with me in my depression. God is with all people in their struggles. God is with this all the grieving world. This is why we come to church - to praise the light in the darkness and share stories of how God has been there for us. In this way, we become light for one another.

So in thinking about ministry and my place in God's kingdom, I will sing with all the children of God, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let is shine. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine."

3 Year Anniversary

It hasn't always been consistent. It has sometimes fallen by the wayside. But it's official - I've had this blog for three years as of Friday!!!

First post: http://tntochicago.blogspot.com/2008/03/beginning-of-back-story.html

Which also means I am three years into the seminary process. What an adventure it has been. A few weeks back my spiritual director suggested I tell the faith story of my internship thus far. And it caused me to reflect on the whole faith story of seminary. The story of call. The story of my life. They are all so intricately woven together.

To my faithful readers: thanks for being around for me to write to. And as always, thanks for reading...

Love,
Red

Phoenixing

In all this Lenten discussion of ashes, my brain has finally made the connection that the Church is going through a phoenixing. What I mean is that the church seems to be dying... and a new birth is on the horizon.

It is dying to its old ways - moralistic preaching and moral absolutes. I see the new church preaching the story of Jesus Christ and letting the people decide for themselves what to do about abortion, political debates, and whether or not women and gay and lesbian people can be leaders in the church. Then again, if it is a lesbian person preaching that gospel good news, people may not be able to hear it. I struggle with that.

The Church is dying in a physical sense if we think about whom the members of the Church are. Most of my congregation is made up of elderly people. Though many amazing things happen in my congregation and being older is by no means a limitation... the fact is that this older generation is dying. This causes some tension in my opinion. There's the practical problem of differing tastes: the older generation wants the Creed, the classic and familiar hymns, and a more traditional worship service; the younger generation is somewhat okay with the traditional worship style (typically if they grew up with it) but are more interested in inclusive language, social justice issues, newer hymns, and different forms of spirituality (and religion). But if the congregation is made up of older members, how do you form a church that will meet their needs and yet still welcome in another generation?

And I do recognize that this tension is the very task of being a pastor. How to minister to one group and at the same time open the doors to another who has different tastes. The comfort is that at the most basic level, we're all human and we all need to know we are loved and a part of something bigger than ourselves.

But the Church is dying. In ways that I couldn't even begin to articulate. But this means that the next generation of church will be a different looking place once it arises from the ashes of what is now.

Perhaps the new church will not be easily recognized within church walls and on rosters of church membership. Perhaps the new church will be so busy working for justice that Sunday mornings no longer look like they always have. Communion will happen around tables at youth hostiles or homeless shelters where it doesn't matter what clothes you wear or how well you can read the bible. Preaching will happen with our very lives as we live out the gospel in our various vocations. Baptism will be celebrated in rivers and streams and creeks and oceans - and we'll be surrounded by all of creation, not just us humans. Sharing the gospel will happen in online chat rooms reaching people who cannot leave their homes because of depression, anxiety, illness, or disability. The gospel will reach places it never could before as it is spoken by pastors and people with dyed hair and tattoos and piercings (*cough cough* Like me!).

The Church is phoenixing. Are we ready for the flames?

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

What does one do when one plans a (Shrove Tuesday pancake) party to which no one shows? Take it as a personal insult? Chock it up to busy lives where people forget or get busy?

More specifically, how does one not take it is a personal insult and instead accept that lives get crazy and people forget?

No, seriously. How?

I'm trying to think of how I could have invited people differently, made more explicit invites, sent confirmation e-mails or texts, etc. Is it my fault that no one showed up to my little party? Bad party idea? Bad party night? Bad host?!@*#

...that might make me feel worse.

I want my TN and Chicago friends back.

Ash Wednesday Sermon

Ash Wednesday -

For months, our stories have surrounded us in light. Not only the bright star announcing the birth of Christ but the brilliance of Christ himself, transfigured on a high mountain.

So when we turn to focus on our inner being, on the work of our hands, we seem to step away from the brilliance of the holy and into the shadow of our selves. To be sure, we are coming down that mountain into the mundane. And for anyone who knows anything about walking up and down large mountains, it is just as difficult to hike down as it is to hike up. It's just a different kind of difficult.

So this is Lent. The descent. The difficult walk down. The shadowy time when we look in upon our very souls and take inventory on what we find there. When we see with new eyes the ugliness of sin. It is the darkness of the tomb after the black afternoon of Good Friday. It is the acknowledgment of that darkness within our own bodies.

To say this journey inward, towards God, is easy would be a lie. It is always difficult to encounter the darkness. Think for just a minute about the absurdity of putting ashes on our bodies to remember our mortality. This morning, as I was distributing ashes to several elders with severe dementia, they looked at me like I was asking them to eat mud. They shooed me away with grand looks of confusion and even anger. Who was this woman offering to put some kind of muddy ash on their face? Why in the world would anyone want that?

It is abnormal to choose to encounter our mortality. Society leaves this task to those people with terminal illnesses or their family members. In general, we try to stay far away from the mess of death and dying. And in truth, we all try to resist death. Store shelves are lined with products for looking younger, feeling younger, and staying younger. It is clear, in our society, that death and darkness and are bad things. Reflecting on our mortality is, then, not only a bad thing but an absurd thing.

Perhaps that is why this tradition is not wide spread. Why so few know what it means to put ash on foreheads. Why so few choose to remember that they are dust and to dust they shall return.

Because it is never easy to encounter our mortality, to explore the darkness within us. Perhaps we all believe that to encounter the darkness means to give up. Or perhaps you think like I used to. I believed that the darkness would swallow me whole should I choose to explore it. By simply acknowledging the darkness of the world and the darkness within me, all light would cease to shine and I'd be left alone, consumed by the darkness.

This could not be farther from the truth. Because, if we learned anything during Epiphany, we know that when we delve into the depth of our deepest self, we will find God there. The one that breathed life into our dust still remains. We will discover that in the muck and mire of our souls, God appears. It should not surprise us to find God there - the light refusing to be consumed by the dark.

After all, this is where God DELIGHTS to be. Jesus is the light of the world after all. It is God that illumines us from within, still surrounded by our darkness. It is God that illumines the world, despite its darkness.

So tonight, we remember our mortality. We remember our beginning as dust. We remember the power and light of the One who breathed life into us, a light that covers all the broken, murky, ugly, sinful, or shameful parts of our souls.
So as we come down the mountain contemplating the darkness of sin and the cross, we descend into our souls, confessing our darkness and acknowledging the darkness we see in the world and in each other.

Lent is a time to explore the darkness. To search for the light of Christ that was not left behind on the mountain top but is still alive in each of us. Lent is the season to discover that death and darkness never have the final word, whether within each of us or throughout the world.

Amen.

Ashes

Distributing ashes to seniors with severe dementia has given me a whole new perspective on Ash Wednesday. When I asked if they'd like ashes for Ash Wednesday, several of the elders looked at me like I was asking them to eat cardboard.

From the woman and her daughter patiently waiting with grateful hearts for me to come to her room and read Psalm 51 and do the imposition of ashes to another woman who very nearly lashed out at me in confused anger when I offered to put ashes on her forehead...

It begs the question, why in the world would any of us want ash on our bodies? Beyond the fact that it is unusual to play in the mud and dirt and earth past the age of, oh, seven or eight, is the fact that for those of us who are quite aware of the meaning of Ash Wednesday, we are reminding ourselves of our mortality.

And that's something we NEVER do in our world today. It is impolite to ask someone's age. The shelves are stocked with ways to look younger, feel younger, and stay younger. Our society doesn't seem very comfortable with aging and dying. And yet...

We are dust. And that's where we shall return.

So why on earth would we want to remember that?! Why on earth would we put oily ash on our foreheads that looks like mud? Why begin 40 days of repentance and fasting and prayer?

I don't have the answer but it is worth reflecting on - the power of humility. The recognition of our mortality. A time to truly reflect on our heart and soul's life of faith. In these few short years that we have on earth, what's the point?

God bless you all this Ash Wednesday.

Within the sorrow there is grace. When we come close to the things which break us down, we also touch the things which break us open and in that breaking open, we uncover our true nature. 

~ Wayne Muller

I am a story holder

I think it has to be one of my gifts that people will just open up to me and pour their story into the space between us. An hour later they say, "Wow, I guess I needed to say that." Or, "I didn't mean to talk your ear off!!" Or "Thanks for listening." I nod, usually grateful that they trusted me enough to share their story in the first place. Grateful that I could be the person to hold their story for that hour.

I say this not to boast, for in truth, sometimes I get really frustrated. I'm trying to walk out the door, people!! Or to the girl giving me a pedicure two summers ago before my friend's wedding who told me about her best friend's death when I asked about her tattoo, I'll admit that I wanted the short story. The simple story. The story that wouldn't engage my heart. The story that would allow me to sit back in the chair that massaged my neck and just get some pretty polish on my toes and relax.

Storytelling happens often when I least expect it or desire it. When I go in to check on a resident and share a simple hello and end up talking to the grieving daughter for thirty minutes. After a prayer, she has tears in her eyes, unaware of how much she simply needed to share her grief.

It's an amazing gift God's given me. I'm just wishing I also had the gift of patience to endure the gift of story holding. Perhaps it is just out of practice and is buried in me somewhere?

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.


Poem: "Kindness" by Naomi Shihab Nye, from The Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. © Eighth Mountain Press, 1995.

Living the Gray

Last Saturday, I spent much of the day sobbing, pouring out my sorrows to my counselor and my mother and lamenting the depression that was sitting on my shoulders like an unshakable heavy blanket.

This Saturday, I feel like I'm in a whole different world. While on one level this makes me feel a tad bi-polar or manic, I also recognize that in some of those dark days, I faced some realities. And since then, those realities have been confirmed and balanced. So instead of feeling unnaturally happy and bubbly, I feel content. Like I am at the end of a long battle in which I neither won nor lost. It just ended.

My CPE supervisor told me that I thought too much in zero sum terms. If I win, someone else loses. If I lose, someone else wins. And despite believing I was someone who didn't think in extremes, I've found that many of my thoughts and beliefs about life betrayed me. Dualism - boo.



For instance, as soon as I knew I got my first choice for internship, I knew someone else who had put Montana first didn't get their first choice. I immediately saw my gain in terms of another person's loss.

Additionally, I often see my "single" status as a deficiency. I either have worth because I am with someone or I do not because I am single. This kind of flawed thinking is slowly being corrected (in part thanks to my two amazing supervisors, my mother, and Brene Brown's words around shame and imperfection) but the fact that it existed shows you that I think in extremes.

It also explains the way I self sabotage. I'm either great at something or I don't do it. I'm either a fantastically skilled and loving pastor the first day of internship or I'm not going to be a pastor. (Yes, this sounds ridiculous. I see that now.)

All or nothing doesn't work in life. VERY few things are black and white. For instance, I tried to tell myself for years that the world was good. It was good. It is good. It's grand. It's all good.

And then I saw the ugliness. Saw the flaws. Saw the brokenness. Saw divorce and betrayal and death and wondered what to do with it given that the world was supposed to be good. The struggle was that if I allowed any of this bad stuff to exist, the world would be bad, evil, and ugly. The good would be gone and I couldn't live in that kind of world.

And yet, the darkness hounded. I frequently fell into depression trying to figure out how to live in a world and a body that was EITHER completely black or completely white. Like Jacob, I wrestled.

I was told once and have been reminded repeatedly that to be Lutheran you must love paradoxes. Must love embracing both/and. I'm thinking now that to be Christian you must love paradoxes. To be ALIVE, you must love paradoxes.

So I'm trying to embrace the gray. Embrace that I will never be one to exercise every single morning at 6am. This allows me to work out once or twice a week and go to yoga and feel damn good about it. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Likewise with healthy meals. Prayer. Pastoral visits. Ministry.

To give the best of myself does not mean that the end goal is perfection. And not reaching perfection does not mean that I did not give the best of myself nor that I am incomplete. Rather, it's life. Nothing is black or white. We bounce around in shades of gray, embracing the dark with the light.

I received a card from a good friend this week. She closes with saying, "You are beautiful my dear - light, dark, and all the shades of grey in between." My heart wept with joy. I will now do my best to continue living the gray.