Crisis in the Church

Last Thursday, we had an incident in the church office. It's left us all a little shaken. It required a staff meeting yesterday to talk about how we create a safe environment. The conversation turned toward how we need to be more vigilant in locking the doors and keeping people out. Sigh.

A man moved into our neighborhood two weeks ago. He's HIV positive and must be suffering from other ailments that have not been named to us. He doesn't have any resources, including food and decent health care. He showed up in worship two weeks ago and then again on the following Monday. I was at a meeting all morning. I missed this first office visit, where my colleague toured him around our city to acquire a bus pass. It seems his social worker has abadoned him at a location that promised a bus route. Our church is off the bus route. He lives across the street. This doesn't add up. As far as I can tell, it's a phantom bus. Alas.

Last Thursday, he missed the bus. He came into our offices wanting a ride. He'd been given one before. He assumed we would provide one again. The secretary didn't understand his request. She asked if he wanted to wait for our Outreach Coordinator who was in a meeting. He decided to wait. Forty five minutes later, he was still waiting and visibily angry. The Outreach Coordinator finally appeared but not before this man escalated into rage. It was scary. Perhaps we should just lock the doors, and yet...

My heart breaks for this man. His anger comes from so many doors being slammed in his face over the years. And yet, that doesn't mean that we risk the individual safety of anyone in our building -- including the preschool kids downstairs. How do we create a safe church that is open to all? How do we address needs while making it clear what it is that we are able to do during times of crisis?

Right now, I need wisdom. It seems like every safe church resource that exists is to protect our children by screening staff and volunteers with bakcground checks. I'm not scared that someone is going to wander into the church with a gun -- though this has made the news in other churches. I'm more fearful that our staff will find themselves feeling compromised or worse. That's not justice either. And so, I sigh.

God is Good

I sometimes forget this. I forget that it's possible that God is at work in all aspects of our lives -- even when we can't make sense of these things. But, it's true. God is good.

I went to the hospital. Baby and Mommy are doing well. They are both bruised and aching but they are well. They are healthy -- and God is with them. Praise God. God is good. All the time.

It's a nice reminder in the week before vacation. I leave for Scotland on Sunday. I need to remember that God is good. All of the time. And working in my life. I need that to be the good news of my retreat to the land of my ancestors.

Girls in the Pulpit

Last summer, when I attended the Young Clergy Women Project's Testimony Conference in Washington DC, my colleagues and I wrote a manifesta of what it means for us to be young, female and clergy. One of the lines of this manifesta that echoes in my head often is:

Let little girls play in the pulpit.

On Sunday, before church when she would be baptized, one of our little members told me that she wants to be a minister. After the hand shaking ritual after worship, I went back into the sanctuary to see this same little girl playing in the chancel. Her father reminded her that if she was going to be a minister, she couldn't roll around like that. Not intending to undermine her father, I encoruaged her to play in this space and then asked her if she wanted to see something "really cool."

I took her hand and led her to the pulpit where she cooed into the microphone and smiled boldly in stepping into this sacred space.


It was truly a moment for all little girls that dream of following God's call into the unknown.

Prophetic Words of Hope

I admit that I have not chosen my desired candidate from the various primaries of way-too-many candidates. It has just seemed too much -- even though I have had my eye on a select few. I haven't chosen. I have attempted to not be swept up in the political glory of what is happening in Iowa right now. I'm trying not to pay attention because most of it is just silly name calling and pointing fingers. (Honestly, it's childish).

And then, I opened my browser and the New York Times annouced Obama Triumphs in Iowa Contest as Clinton Falters; Huckabee Rolls. So I started to read this lead article and found these words:

“They said this day would never come. They said our sights were set too high. They said this country was too divided, too disillusioned, to come together over a common purpose...You have done what the cynics said you couldn’t do. You have done what the state of New Hampshire can do in five days. You have done what america can do in this new year, 2008. We are one nation, we are one people, and the time for change has come.”

My heart swoons.

It's a little Don Quixote -- and yet, it's that impossible hope that gives me hope. We can overcome. There will be change. There is more to come. Hope is not impossible. Dream the imposible dream. Sing, if you like. (I learned this entire score in high school Spanish, so I'll sing in Spanish.) I'm not sure if I can get that swept up when the man only got 37.5 percent of the 97 percent of tallied votes. It's the majority -- but can I really allow myself to fall in love with Barack Obama?

1000 Steps at Christmas

Before the hustle and bustle of the Christmas celebration began (I'm keenly aware that I need coffee), I got a little reprieve with my friend Songbird. I love that she joked that it might not be wise for us to have wine or beer before celebrating the birth of Christ with our church families. We might not have the wisdom of wisepeople to entertain such a thought -- but I'm grateful that for the gift that this friend is. I'm grateful for the gift that she has been to me in this year. And I'm so grateful that she continues to push me on my spiritual quest.

It's funny that she can do this in giving a gift. But some people are just that talented. After our collective decision not to imbibe, we exchanged gifts like wisepeople -- and she has pushed me to think and ponder what this moment of birth is all about. My dear friend gave me a candle with these words spoken by Lao Tzu written on its side:

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.

So I'm thinking about Joseph and his journey of 1000 miles. I've never really considered Joseph until this year. I always dismissed his side of the story -- until I had the opportunity to preach it yesterday. Joseph's story is a difficult one but there is such an amazing story of possibility and hope in his story.

I'm thinking about Mary and her impossible journey across 1000 miles of "virginity" compelled by a bravery that I can only dream about. I wonder what her single step was. I wonder what made her say those brave words in Luke: "Here I am, servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word" (Luke 1:37, NRSV). I wonder if she tripped. I wonder how she found the footing. I wonder how she could have been so brave.

And I'm thinking about the child that is about to be born and wondering what steps he took. I'm wondering what shit he stepped in and how in the world he inspired so many (including me) to take 1000 steps with him. And I'm wondering where we are going. Perhaps this is the biggest question that I have on this Christmas Eve. I'm wondering where this child will lead us -- and particular where this child is leading me beyond the starry night. I'm wondering about this light that my friend has given me. I'm wondering about where I'm supposed to shine my light and how far I'm supposed to walk. And as my mind wanders to 1000 places, I'm blessed to know that I have friends that will walk with me and talk with me and show me that they care. I'm blessed on this Christmas night -- even when I can't find the energy to express it -- because I have friends.

That went off the deep end with schmaltz, right? It sounds a bit too much like I'm George Bailey. Oh well, it's my favorite movie. Why not? It's Christmas, right?

Reclaiming Christmas

This is one of those posts that I'm going to get a lot of virtual hugs. So, I'm going to start by politely stating -- please don't offer me any hugs. None of this: ((Pastor Peters)). She doesn't need ((this)). She just needs to think aloud. And maybe get some amazing insight here and there without it becoming a pity party. Because it's not. It's not a pity party at all.

A few weeks ago, I read this article on Fidelia's Sisters. And since then, I've been trying to figure out how to be gentle with myself.

It has also invited me into completely new territory. By the way, I love new territory. I'm uncertain and nervous -- but a little part of me is ready to conquer it all. Punky Brewster comes to mind, for no certain reason. That's Punky, by the way in her very own Christmas special. Anyhow, this gift of gentleness has invited me to think about how I could reclaim Christmas.

I am a young, single pastor in a town far, far, far away from my family. There are no little itty bitty violins. I miss my family -- but I'm not racing home to see them. There is nothing appealing about getting in my car at midnight on Christmas Eve after leading three worship services to drive six long hours. Actually, it would be further. It would be eight hours to my grandparents (assuming that there is no traffic in the city). There is nothing appealing about an all-night drive to arrive glazed over like a donut to open stockings. Nope. I would rather sleep late. Sleep really, really late.

But because I'm not with my family, I really don't want to spend this holiday with another family. This just makes me miss my family more. I don't want that. I don't want the reminder of what I'm missing. That's depressing -- even if it offers a great meal.

Instead, I want to find some magical way to reclaim my holiday. I want to do something totally different. My lament is that I have no idea what that could be. I'm not sure where to turn because it's so new and so exciting. I want this day of freedom to be my Christmas miracle -- a day that is so unique that I find a new way to celebrate the incarnate God. And so, I continue my search like the wisepeople.

The Magic of Christmas

I know. It's only November -- but if you are a pastor like me, you have probably spent the past week or two beginning preparations for the season. It's not that far away at all. It's only a few Sundays until Advent arrives. In fact, before Advent arrives, The Magic of Christmas will start. This our local version of Christmas nonsense. You know the type. It's a little Broadway. A little orchestra. A little choral music and a random ballerina. I saw it last year with a church member. It gave me a headache not only because I'm a New Yorker and snotty about such things -- but because it displayed the things that I loathe most about Christmas.

OK, that's not entirely true. Two weeks ago, when I was shopping in Target, I squealed when I saw the Christmas display. Literally. I sent a text message to express my glee because there was no one to share it with. I realize it wasn't Halloween yet. I did not care. My best friend since first grade teases me about this -- as she is one of the few that has seen this obsession manifest itself year after year since we were both wee. She knows that I start listening to Christmas carols really, really soon. Too early by most standards. And if you are going to scoff at me, you can stop reading because the Christmas fun started yesterday.

While I was waiting for my friend to arrive from NJ, I painted to the TransSiberian Orchestra. Oh yes, I did. I needed a little cheer. You know, like when Auntie Mame sings that we need a little Christmas, I need it right now. So I painted my emotional bleh and and along to Christmas carols. It was the perfect release. I needed that magic -- the kind of magic that is released from the end of a paintbrush in brilliant colors. I needed the magic that is promised with the incarnation. I needed the magic of century old lyrics that sing this magical hope. I neeed a little magical Christmas -- right here.

Remember Me

When only one person appeared for Bible Study this afternoon, I announced that I would need to leave early. I needed to worship. I needed to run for the hills -- but the best thing that I could do at that moment was go to worship. I wondered if it would be wiser to go the beach and cry -- but I already knew that my prayers were paralyzed. I needed others. I needed a community that didn't know my problems but would sing the Spirit around me. So, I went to sing with the Episcopalians at their Wednesday night Taize service.

I was still late -- despite my best efforts. And even still, once I settled into the hard wooden pew of the chapel, I started to cry. And it just came in that way that tears come. I cried as I croaked lyrics. I sniffled as I sang. I needed to be in prayer today because I don't know what to do with the news that I recieved yesterday. With the mammograms and delayed travel, I was really beginning to feel pretty great -- until yesterday. Things were pretty fantastic until I learned what was happening at home. I wonder if it's even appropriate to post on my blog. I wonder if I should reserve my feelings and not share the deepest sorrow I have felt in a long time. And though I shall reserve my boundaries for my congregation, I need to share this truth somewhere. I need somewhere to say -- other than to God -- that I have no idea what to do with this. So, I sang this chant:

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom
Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom

This is not a chant we commonly sing at this ecumenical gathering -- but it is my favorite. I understand the Scriptural reference and what this refrain for our vision of eternity. And yet, I have always thought this verse has more to do with calling to Jesus to coax us into what we believe to be possible. Make the kingdom (ahem, realm) possible in our hands. Show us how! Show us how! Remember us as you share your vision! This is how I have always sung this chant. This is how I have always understood it -- until today. The universalist theologian in me that believes that everyone will be remembered was forced to pause. And here is the crux of my fears: my brother attempted to take his life earlier this week. I don't know what to do with this reality. I don't know how to pray -- but I want him to be remembered. I want Jesus to be there even if that's the last person my brother wants to be there.

My chants were riddled with this plea. I want my brother to taste this grace -- even though I know it is so far outside of his realm. My chant was for hope and peace. I didn't find either in this moment of prayer. I want both peace and hope and yet I don't know how they might be realized. So, I pray for Jesus to remember us -- all of us.

What Is the Meaning of Success?

President Bush said it last night. General Petraeus said it earlier this week. Perhaps others are saying it too -- and I'm too impatient to read the article or listen to the rest of the audio broadcast. But, President Bush is convicted in his belief that we are showing signs of success in Iraq. We can't back out now, he insists from his own logic that I cannot seem to grasp. But, in his speech last night (which I can't bring myself to actually get through without screaming), President Bush announced that our success in Iraq may allow gradual troop cuts. This number is not clear. The actions that need to be taken are incredibly vague. And like many others, I'm frustrated.

In the week of the sixth anniversary of 9/11, I find myself once again eager to be in prayer and fellowship with others who share my hope for peace. Perhaps that is why this digs me most. This news comes this week -- when our nation mourns our wounds. This news comes this week as if to placate our fears. It just doesn't seem right. And I know that I am not alone.

I got an email from Jim Wallis today. At the very end of the email, he asked for prayer. He reminded his email audience of the power of prayer and that prayer can and will change our world. But, this was after he asked for money -- twice. He asked for donations in particular increments to support Sojourners work toward peace and justice. I deleted the email in annoyance. As much as I value the work that Sojourners does, the double request for money hit the same nerve that Bush seems to disregard human lives. Is it money that will solve this problem? Has money ever solved any problems in our world? Didn't our nation's greed send us to Iraq in the first place?

I admit that I'm ranting. I admit that I may be unfair to Jim Wallis and the hardworking people at Sojourners. But, I can't help but wonder what it means to have success. What is success in this particular conflict? Can anyone be bold enough to assert that success has been obtained? Perhaps I'm still grieving 9/11 or perhaps I'm still thinking about the funeral that I officiated at earlier this week. But, these words by Ralph Waldo Emerson come to mind:

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

I wonder who is breathing easier on this day after President Bush and General Petraeus have annouced success. I wonder what part of the world is better. Where are the healthy children and blossoming gardens? Or where might we find a redeemed social condition? I cannot know. And this is why I join Sojourners and others in prayer. I pray with members of the United Church of Christ and I pray with friends who find the words for my prayer when I cannot. May it be so.

Good News in New York

A good friend in New York (and a former colleague when he was my boss at Common Ground) just sent me this New York Times article claiming that there is "only one first time for getting your name in the paper." Don't you love that? I love that he dreams so big -- not only in his personal life, but knowing that the work he does will change the world if not New York.

If you don't believe there is good news in the world today, read this for some gospel truth. My preaching professor in seminary told us to look for images of the resurrection in our everyday world. And this is surely going in my file.

Bad News

While I was on vacation, an opporunity for women in ministry became available. With the events that I attended this summer, I thought that maybe women in ministry were making some exciting changes. I thought that things were getting better. This news does not prove this point. It makes me sad. OK. It actually makes me furious. But, leave it to the boys at Southwestern Theological Seminary.

Southwestern’s Homemaking Concentration provides “practical experiences for skill development for the most important job a woman may have: the nurture and care of the family.”

The Web site describes further the intentional design of the Homemaking Concentration stating that, “It is unique in that we recognize the need to challenge women both intellectually and practically. It is our mission to equip a woman to impact women and families for Christ.”

I would love to hear thoughts on this new program. In fact, I would really like to read something published in Fidelia's Sisters. Have you heard about this upcoming publication? It's a new publication created by the board of the Young Clergy Women's Project to address issues, concerns and the abundant creativity of young women in ministry. It will be an online publication which you can watch for here. And I'm hyping it without the consent of my fellow board members (did I say I was on the board?), but I'm really excited about it the good news that is coming. The release date is October 1st. Get ready!