The Task of Being Loved

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to be loved? After the discovery this summer that much of what I first present to the world is a performance/mask, I have been putting a lot of energy to present an authentic self to the world for better or worse. I've been delighted to discover it takes a little LESS energy to do that as opposed to presenting the mask. Hooray.

So I've been reflecting on why it is so hard for me to be loved. I know without a doubt in the world that my family loves me and always has. It's all the others. The rest of the world that causes me great doubt.

So it was especially interesting for me to revisit my high school. In many ways, this first real community of people who's opinion I cared about (though it most likely started in middle school). In that place, I felt like next to nothing. I wasn't part of the popular crowd. I didn't get asked to parties. I didn't sit with the cool kids in the circle. I had my few people and I knew they loved me. I told myself that the rest of them didn't matter but I assure you it hurt every time I heard about another party or event I had missed out on. I hurt every time that group cracked up in laughter at an inside joke that I didn't get. I didn't really like high school.

Theater was one of the redeeming things for much of the time. That sort of fell apart senior year, though. One of my best friends and I essentially had a falling out. My other best friend was off at college already. Both of the boys I liked were dating other girls. Let's just say I was ready to go to college...

College, then, was a chance to "reinvent" myself. I was embraced by all these fabulously nerdy friends in my honors program. We had beautifully silly deep conversations about God, we fought over politics, we bonded over movies and music. Still, I felt like I should know more politics, more culture, more literature, MORE. How had I not heard of THAT movie? Read THAT book? Why didn't I know who the ruler of that country was? I was behind intellectually. THAT sucked.

I'm sure that was part of the reason I took a year off before going onto seminary. Took time to decide just who I was. I started working at the coffee shop and met people that I adored. They even liked me. We got along smashingly. We buckled over in laughter. Had heaps of inside jokes. It was bliss. It was my place.

Still, due in part of the outgoing nature of the barista position, my coworkers got worried when I wasn't that bubbly. What was wrong? I remember one particular day when I was feeling neither depressed nor bubbly and was simply mellow. Everyone asked me what was wrong. I knew then that something WAS wrong if I couldn't be NOT chipper for a day without causing a stir.

Seminary was next. I was worried before I even got here that this would be a place of snobby do gooders who never drank, swore, or moved a toe out of line. I am happy to report to my bliss and ongoing relief that this place is filled with humans like me. People who are struggling through their own stuff. People who are real. Tragically, I still pretty much only knew how to be chipper, bubbly, susie sunshine. I was presenting what I thought people wanted.

This is a good moment to add an aside. All along I've had amazing friends that have gotten past that surface level and in many ways, they have saved me. Accepted me. Loved me.

But, CPE happened. It challenged all the ways I was presenting a mask, giving a performance, or trying to be what I thought everyone wanted me to be (including what I thought I SHOULD be). It was a really, really hard lesson. See my post in the midst of it? This one? Yeah, that was heart open honesty right there.

And in a sense, I've been trying to keep my heart that open (that raw?). Loving the intricacies that make up me. The randomness. The silliness. The seriousness. The sarcasm. The holy. The profane. The writer. The singer. The bum. The go getter. The child of God.

Still, I find it remarkable when others like me, want to be around me, love me. So abundantly blessed that I just shake my head and wonder why.

Think God's trying to tell me something??

The Past and Present

I think I could start every post with an apology for not posting more often. But you'll forgive me dear readers, right?

I just got back from a lovely trip south for good friends and family. One of my good friends got married last weekend and I got to be there in FL to celebrate with him! I'm only jealous I can't get to know his beautiful bride more. I did get to spend some fabulous time with my coffee shop friends (they're family - let's be honest). Then we traveled back up to Chattanooga so I could have a day or two to visit with everyone else I love there. The problem is I never seem to have enough time. This was also the case with my Nashville visit but I did get lots of quality sibling time and a full day with each of the parents. Splendid.

One of the more extraordinary parts of my visit to TN was the fact that I did a blast through my past by visiting my college, visiting my high school, and driving past my middle school. Really enjoyed visiting the high school as I went to see two of my favorite teachers. Got to catch up with them. It was seriously strange walking down those hallways with all those little bitty kids though! Was I that small? Yes, yes I'm sure I was. I felt so grown up THEN but it doesn't seem right in comparison to how grown up I feel now. I know that feeling will continue to frequent my body, though, so I guess I best get used to it?

Good to see how much I've changed and how much I am still unshakably ME. That's the best part about visiting the past, right? Noting the change or lack thereof?

On a side note, despite concentrated efforts to throw off the familial opinion that I am a klutz/ditz, I left my cell phone in my mother's car when she dropped me off at the airport. So if you'd like to get in touch with me this week, please email (or stop by if you are able).

All the best. (insert comment to post more often here)

The Playground Problem (a sermon manuscript)

(Dear friends, this is the manuscript for the sermon I preached this morning on Luke 19:1-10. Thought a few of you might want to read it!)

Have you ever pictured Zaccheus as a little boy? To begin with, his name means innocent. He's short. We see him climbing up trees. Eager to see this grown up person, Jesus. Climbing down out of the tree as fast as he can because Jesus has said he's coming over to his house to play. I can picture them arriving at the house and this little boy eagerly taking Jesus' hand to show him all the cool toys he has in his room.

Or maybe you see Zaccheus as a grown man. He is a chief tax collector. He's rich. Today, his house would be strewn with the latest technology. He might drive a sports car. Either way, he's still the unpopular kid on the playground. Not throwing big birthday parties at his house but perhaps sitting alone at his own table at lunchtime, munching on a PB&J and wondering why he has so few friends. But we'd say he's a good kid. He gives away his lunch money and says he's SO sorry when he accidentally trips another kid on the playground.

Or maybe you picture the adult Zaccheus, sitting alone in his big house. He's a good man. He gives monthly to local and international charities that work to end poverty and is always quick to apologize if he makes a mistake at work or unknowingly does something wrong to a member of his staff.

We would call him a good man. Zaccheus is good kid.

So perhaps it is even more heartbreaking when we hear the crowd start to grumble. We know what's coming next. And then we hear it, “Four eyes.” “Stupid.” “Shrimp.” “Why is Jesus going to HIS house?” “Sinner.”

Is it any wonder that immediately after these grumblings, Zaccheus stands up straight and tells Jesus about his annual giving percentage and his track record of correcting wrongs? Looking up into Jesus' face and pleading, “I'm a good man.” Or perhaps, with tears on the playground, asking “Why?”

In those words, I find the story hits home.

This is the season of Endorsement, after all. The time when we get to tell our synod candidacy committees that we are fit for ministry. Ready for internship next year. We've written our essays about grace and baptism and finding our gifts here and we've added stories about how much we learned in CPE this summer.

I met with my committee two weeks ago. And I know that buried in my attempts to prove myself to them... lingered all my doubts. What if I'm not ready yet? Will they say no? What if God is calling me to do something else? What if I'm too much of a sinner to ever lead the church?

I don't know what your doubts are. Maybe they're a lot like mine. Maybe you worry if God can actually craft you into the kind of pastor you dream of being. Maybe you worry if you are doing enough. Studying enough. Attending chapel enough. And in that, we're like Zaccheus. As eager as we are to take Jesus' hand, we worry what the crowd will say.

Because Zaccheus isn't only speaking to Jesus but to the crowd gathered around him that is singing mockingly at the little kid in glasses, “Zaccheus can't see us!!” We're back on the playground, watching the other kids taunt us. And even though we're in seminary now, we carry those voices around with us.

So what does Jesus do? Here he is on the playground with this little child, Zaccheus; or, in the house of this man Zaccheus who is desperately trying to prove himself worthy. Offering up twenty different reasons why he's good enough. Telling the other kids that he's good enough to have Jesus over.

So Jesus says, “Today salvation has come to this house since he also is a son of Abraham.”

It is a profound statement. In it, Jesus claims Zaccheus as a child of God.

Important.

Worthy.

Loved.

In Jesus' response to the crowd's grumbling, he quiets them. He doesn't tell them Zaccheus won him over with his fancy house or fun toys. He doesn't tell the crowd that Zaccheus won him over by his laundry list of good deeds and gold stars.

Jesus tells the crowd that Zaccheus is a son of Abraham. Jesus claims Zaccheus as a child of God.

And I wonder why Jesus even stopped, called him down out of tree, from the margins, and decided to sleepover. Perhaps he saw the desperation of that face in the tree. Knew all that Zaccheus was doing to try to prove himself. Knew that he needed to hear that he was a child of God. Knew that he needed a visit from Jesus.

Jesus does that today, too. Claims us as sons and daughters of God. It matters not that we are children or adults. Jesus doesn't care about the depth or shallowness of our pockets. Jesus even knows that we ARE sinners. Knows all of our doubts. And Jesus quiets them again and again by claiming us.

My committee recommended me for endorsement... but some of you know that the experience was difficult. Instead of feeling affirmed about the things that God has been planting in me making me ready for ministry, I felt even more full of doubt. I was worried about my worthiness for ministry. I was questioning everything.

Sadly, it wasn't their telling me that they were recommending me for Endorsement that made me remember I was a child of God, but the community that wrapped its arms around me afterwards.

The friend who made me coffee and brought it to me when I said I didn't want to talk. And then stayed and listened to me talk for an hour. The friend who told me I was fabulous and reminded me of all those along the way who have told me that they want me to be a pastor.

They were Jesus to me. Quieting the crowd that was raging inside me. Reminding me that Jesus has claimed me. It wasn't about what I could do and it certainly wasn't about proving myself to my committee. It was the simple reminder that Jesus claims me.

Jesus claims YOU. Jesus claims each and every one of us as sons and daughters of God.

Walk the Walk

So I've been talking a lot and writing a lot in my journal and in letters about discipline and grace.
I picked up this book back in April @ Cornerstone church with friends called "The Discipline of Grace" by Jerry Bridges. The subtitle? "God's Role and Our Role in the Pursuit of Holiness." And if this sounds like something I wouldn't typically read, then you are correct. Lutherans are all about the grace. All about it being what GOD does and not what we DO. We can't earn our way into God's favor and love. And while I don't agree with every piece of theology in the book, I'm finding it is beautifully paired with my Systematic Theology class and my Jesus and the Gospels class.

Most especially, the method of theology called praxis method. As I understand it, its how you put your theology into practice. Doing something with it instead of the opposite end of the spectrum where you sit on your ass all day in a room with other brains and think about shit. While I hope that will never be the case with my own theology, I can tell you countless others have gone astray. It doesn't help the church.

And then there are the four gospel stories. And though we saw Jesus in the temple, philosophizing and coming up with riddles to make us think, we also saw Jesus eating dinner with tax collectors and the poor. Out healing. Out teaching. Out doing things. But I don't want to negate time spent in the temple, arguing with other leaders about the important issues. I just think that there's a balance.

We talk in seminary about pastors who are generally the sort to be found in their office and those who are generally never found in their office. There are upsides and downsides to both. Most obviously, if you only sit in your office, you aren't visiting the hospital, being in the community outside the church, etc. But then again, if you aren't in your office, there are fewer opportunities for *knock, knock* "Um.. pastor? You got a minute?" So again, there's a line to walk. It'll be fun to find it.

So with all these fine lines that I imagine I'll spend the rest of my life navigating... I find they seem to be nuances of that first one, discipline and grace. How much do we have to sit down and realize that it isn't up to us? How much do we need a poker at our side telling us that God wants us to use these hands, this voice, that talent or skill?

And honestly, even the things of ministry that are FOR God and our relationship with him take discipline. Getting a book and bible out to do a devotion (I don't)? Remembering to actually pray for that person you said you'd pray for (I forget)? Not falling asleep during your evening prayers (guilty!)? And for me, it's also going to chapel, going to class, and the NEVER simple task of getting out of bed in the morning. It takes MY work, not all God's. There are all kinds of "but" statements I could throw in here but I think I'll leave it at that. Because today, I think I need the reminder that I have two hands that work and a heart that beats (and perhaps also because I know at the core of my being that I have a God who loves me just as I am??).

Be blessed.

Being in Community

Hello cyber world o' mine. I must apologize once again for being gone so very long. Now that the third week of classes is beginning, I'm finally getting into the rhythm of everything once again. CPE sucked the life from my very bones and graciously gave it back in pieces. I've been remade. So it made it especially exciting and terribly difficult to come back into this community here at seminary.

I remember distinctly one of the professors saying at the start of my first year here that it is easier for us to see God's grace and forgiveness in our OWN lives than to see it in someone else's. In other words, he told us that before long we'd be looking at one another and going, "Well SHE shouldn't be here!"

Well... let's just say I've been needing to remember that speech frequently. Not necessarily with my friends in school but the larger community. Look how flawed we are. See how flawed I am? How does God do work through flawed people? And yes, I've read the Old Testament - I know he uses drunkards, adulterers, etc. to do great things. I'm just a little tired weary.

Part of it has to do with the church wide assembly's decision to ordain homosexuals in committed monogamous relationships. So many people freaked out and were sad. Let down. But here, we are all pretty much over the moon about it. So I have to grapple with the idea that one decision can be seen as the church finally being like Christ but also failing to uphold the teachings of the Bible. So I feel I cannot celebrate when so many people are grieving.

There's this gap. This vision I have of polar opposites. Everywhere I look I see saints and sinners. Mind you, I'm talking about one person being saint and sinner. So people have tried to tell me to separate the two. Just focus on that person being an amazing pastor and don't worry about their affair. Or focus on their sermon, not on their getting drunk. So I try. But then I wonder if this is the way to go. Not just because it is really difficult to separate one part of someone from another part, but because I'd like to believe that I could love the whole person and not pick that parts I like. I cannot reduce people down to saint in some contexts and sinner in others. We are saint and sinner all the time. We do not throw switches on and off. If we could, don't you think we'd choose saint?

And you know, I think that's the beauty of it. We cannot be saint without also being sinner. How can we see the light except for the darkness that surrounds it? Otherwise we are just blind.

*Sigh*

I'm learning to bring that light and dark together without making some sort of middle gray area. I know life is not black and white but I cannot believe it is always gray. And maybe it just comes down to perspective. Yours. Mine. That guy's. Her's. God's.

Do you ever want to ask God why in the world he keeps on loving us despite all our flaws, wounds, and brokenness? I do. But I have to say I'm thrilled to death he does... even if I don't always understand it.

A tidbit in remembrance

From a travel journal my Grandma had that only had a few entries:

September 11, 2001

The girls and I are at a beautiful home on a lake in Jacksonport, WI. We are in DOOR CO - known as a fantastic tourist "get away"!!

Kaye, Beth, and I arrived Sunday evening between five and six, and Susan and Nancy arrived soon after. Nancy had flown into St. Paul on Saturday. Kaye arrived in Mendota Thurs. evening, and Beth came on Saturday. Our trip here was in pouring rain - BUT - it was lovely on Monday and also today. We have been glued to the TV because of the horrible news on the bombing in N.Y. and Washington.

My 200th Post!!

It is fitting that my 200th post is also written on the day that I finished CPE. Cause for celebration and marking time passed...

I wanted to share a bit of our goodbye process today. To close, we went around and said, in one word, what we hoped most for each other. What did they hope for me?

Happiness.

Love.

Self.

A-place-by-a-babbling-brook. (This was my supervisor so he could break the rules.)

In other words, they got me. They pegged me completely. Today (and throughout the internship), I had small mirrors held up for me that presented a completely accurate picture of me - not only what I presented on the outside but all the way down to my fears, hopes, beliefs, and passions. It was a remarkable experience to be seen for who you really are - the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful in between.

Secret of Life

"The Secret of Life" by Faith Hill

Couple of guys sittin around drinkin
Down at the starlight bar
One of em says, you know Ive been thinking
Other one says, that wont get you too far
He says, this is your life, and welcome to it
Its just workin and drinkin and dreams
Ad on tv says just do it
Hell if I know what that means

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is a beautiful woman
And marilyn stares down from the barroom wall

You and me, were just a couple of zeros
Just a couple of down-and-outs
But movie stars and football heroes
What have they got to be unhappy about?
So they turn to the bartender, sam, what do you think?
Whats the key that unlocks that door?
Sam dont say nothin, just wipes off the bar
And he pours them a couple more

cause the secret of life is in sams martinis
The secret of life is in marilyns eyes
The secret of life is in monday night football
Rolling stones records and moms apple pie

Sam looks up from his sunday paper
Says, boys, youre on the wrong track
The secret of life is there aint no secret
And you dont get your money back
Hey

The secret of life is gettin up early
The secret of life is stayin up late
The secret of life is try not to hurry
But dont wait
Dont wait

The secret of life is a good cup of coffee
The secret of life is keep your eye on the ball
The secret of life is to find the right woman
The secret of life is nothin at all
Oh, its nothin at all
The secret of life

Couple of guys sittin around drinkin
Down at the starlight bar
One of em says, you know Ive been thinking
Other one says, that wont get you too far
That wont get you too far

Just read a fascinating reflection on the Sodom and Gomorrah story. Worth a read.

"Anyone who reads this passage with an ounce of intelligence or imagination can see that this is absolutely not a condemnation of homosexuality as we understand it."

http://normalsusan.blogspot.com/2009/08/sunday-august-2-2009.html

Question and Answers

Much of what this first year of seminary education (including CPE) has taught me is that there is a lot in me that has yet to be nailed down. I do not have a definitive stance on a good number of theological issues. When I said in a prayer the other day about a patient's soldier friend, "Don't take this one away" - I got asked about the theology behind it. I didn't have an answer.

So I've been asking myself more questions. Just what do I feel about death? The power of prayer? The idea of God's grace? Embodiment? Homosexuality? End of life issues?

It has all landed on my plate. Not everything is demanding a decision. Part of the blessing of this past year is the bliss of the color gray. I'm learning how very little in life is black or white. Much of it is in between. I see this as just a bit of the beauty of humanity and the blessing of diversity.

I've also had the chance to discover where I'm falling down on some of those issues. What do I do when faced with a dead body in a room where 20 people are grieving that death? Where one is grieving? None? How do I feel about doctors and DNR orders? How many times in one day can you ask, "What if this were me in their shoes?" and not go crazy?

Needless to say, it has been a year of questioning myself right down to the heart and soul of me. This summer has been an opportunity to ask those questions and play with the different answers. The unique stage of CPE gives me a chance to see how different answers sit with me and how others sit with their answers. I've had a chance to decide what exactly I believe in a space that welcomes the questions and the varied answers that come with them. God bless the people in this program and my seminary for questioning my answers.... but still allowing me to be me. (And God bless those of you back home who have loved me for years regardless of what my answers are.)

As for those questions, or more specifically, for my answers, I'm sure you'll be reading about them soon enough. I'm ready to write.