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?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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!!!!
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!!!!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
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?
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
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?
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."
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."
Monday, March 21, 2011
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
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 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?
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Monday, March 07, 2011
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?
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.
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.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
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.
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 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.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
A Taste and See Saturday Preview
I wrote this for the other blog I contribute to, Taste and See. This is a sneak peak on my Saturday post....
As I send out prayers for the Middlers awaiting internship assignment and the Seniors awaiting synodical assignments, I am noting the flux in my own community here in Montana and the transient nature of internship. There are interim pastors coming and going from four ELCA churches and the staff is changing around at the care facility I work for.
I have the illusion that once I am on first call, life will calm down and I will, at last, have a consistent community. But this is merely a myth I tell myself to deal with all the change in my own life. I've moved every year for the past 7 years and sometimes twice a year if summer happened to be happening elsewhere! I long to have a community that stays put around me and I with it instead of this ongoing change.
I know many other interns and I anxiously await the time when we can hug one another again and walk down to Jimmy's for a pitcher of Linney's. Skype and phone calls just aren't the same. And then I start to think how quickly this year has gone by and how quickly our final senior year will go by and my breath catches. That's barely any time at all before we all begin to depart for our first calls and lives outside of the seminary.
What do we do with all this change?
Perhaps the key is to begin looking at life moment by moment and enjoying those who are around you in that moment. There is no guarantee that any of us will be around tomorrow or next month or next year.
And if Vitor were here, he'd offer an eschatological remark about bringing about the kingdom. It's us. It's now. Seize the day. The day is all we've got.
As I send out prayers for the Middlers awaiting internship assignment and the Seniors awaiting synodical assignments, I am noting the flux in my own community here in Montana and the transient nature of internship. There are interim pastors coming and going from four ELCA churches and the staff is changing around at the care facility I work for.
I have the illusion that once I am on first call, life will calm down and I will, at last, have a consistent community. But this is merely a myth I tell myself to deal with all the change in my own life. I've moved every year for the past 7 years and sometimes twice a year if summer happened to be happening elsewhere! I long to have a community that stays put around me and I with it instead of this ongoing change.
I know many other interns and I anxiously await the time when we can hug one another again and walk down to Jimmy's for a pitcher of Linney's. Skype and phone calls just aren't the same. And then I start to think how quickly this year has gone by and how quickly our final senior year will go by and my breath catches. That's barely any time at all before we all begin to depart for our first calls and lives outside of the seminary.
What do we do with all this change?
Perhaps the key is to begin looking at life moment by moment and enjoying those who are around you in that moment. There is no guarantee that any of us will be around tomorrow or next month or next year.
And if Vitor were here, he'd offer an eschatological remark about bringing about the kingdom. It's us. It's now. Seize the day. The day is all we've got.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)