Today is one of those days that makes the long winters of the North tolerable. It's sunny and crisp. There are little hints of spring all over the place. It's a perfect 10, honestly. So, I did what I do on nice days. I went for a run around the bay. Ok, fine! I went for a run around half the bay and walked the rest. Damn winter weight.
On my way home, I couldn't help but smile at the beauty of the day. I wanted to drink it in. And as I did, I remembered that it's Good Friday. Of course, I knew. I was still trying to enjoy the bit that was my day off before heading to church for what a friend laments to be "substitionary atonement day." Case and point why I hate today. In this twisted irony of enjoying the world's beauty, I felt actual guilt. The kind you feel when you are grieving. It seems that each counseling session I do before a funeral/memorial service shares this same wisdom. On the day that their loved one died, the weather was perfect. People were outside in their yards. People were smiling. And the grief-striken bystander wonders when they might know that kind of happiness again. That's what I felt today. That's what I feel today mingled with a few tears.
I found a companion today in the words of these two theologians. I'm only halfway through but today I read about beauty and remembered my own truth. I remembered what God has taught me over the years of grief. Still, I sigh but it's so nice to know that I'm not alone.
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
4.10.2009
4.08.2009
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.
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.
5.14.2008
Excuse Me.
I've struggled to point to examples of why my relationship with my colleague isn't ideal. In some ways, I am blessed that I can't conjure up a list upon request. I cannot cite all of the wrongs. I can only share that these moments hurt. The emotional impact lingers more than the details of the would-be crime.
But, here I am on my colleague's day off working on the church newsletter and wondering about the summer. I learned yesterday that there was a woman near death. She's not a member. She's beloved by one of our members. He wanted to know if he or I would do the service. Of course. The call came today. She died last night. The funeral home called my colleague at home and he agreed that one of us would do it. My colleague then called me and asked me to do it for a particular time on Saturday.
I was in Bible Study when he left the message. I had gotten a similar message last week, which I consider to be rude. I know that people die and these events interrupt our lives as clergy. We are called to be there. I'm ususally happy to be there -- but not when I don't get the first call. Not when I don't get to talk to the funeral home or the family to agree on a time. Not when it's dictated to me when and where I should offer the blessings of God. It just rubs the wrong way. Tell me I'm overreacting, if you must. Tell me that's what I'm called to do. I know. I just want to feel like I'm actually part of a team rather than waiting in the wings for someone that doesn't want to go on stage. You can also tell me that was a bad metaphor for what we do. This isn't a stage -- but I'm feeling dramatic.
But, here I am on my colleague's day off working on the church newsletter and wondering about the summer. I learned yesterday that there was a woman near death. She's not a member. She's beloved by one of our members. He wanted to know if he or I would do the service. Of course. The call came today. She died last night. The funeral home called my colleague at home and he agreed that one of us would do it. My colleague then called me and asked me to do it for a particular time on Saturday.
I was in Bible Study when he left the message. I had gotten a similar message last week, which I consider to be rude. I know that people die and these events interrupt our lives as clergy. We are called to be there. I'm ususally happy to be there -- but not when I don't get the first call. Not when I don't get to talk to the funeral home or the family to agree on a time. Not when it's dictated to me when and where I should offer the blessings of God. It just rubs the wrong way. Tell me I'm overreacting, if you must. Tell me that's what I'm called to do. I know. I just want to feel like I'm actually part of a team rather than waiting in the wings for someone that doesn't want to go on stage. You can also tell me that was a bad metaphor for what we do. This isn't a stage -- but I'm feeling dramatic.
5.12.2008
Instead
Instead of writing my Statement on Ministry, I could daydream.
Instead of getting it in gear and applying to that job that sounds kinda nice, I could re-write my job description.
Instead of insisting that I'm restless, I could involve my colleague in a conversation about what it would mean to shift the entire staff dynamic at the church.
Instead of change, I could be like every elder member of the church. I shall insist that I'm not ready and change their world instead.
Instead of getting it in gear and applying to that job that sounds kinda nice, I could re-write my job description.
Instead of insisting that I'm restless, I could involve my colleague in a conversation about what it would mean to shift the entire staff dynamic at the church.
Instead of change, I could be like every elder member of the church. I shall insist that I'm not ready and change their world instead.
2.19.2008
Losing Control
My meditation in discovering my own practice of self care is focused this week on control. After making lists last night about the the possibility of change (and the pros and cons of each decision), I was invited to explore an opportunity in my own life in which I could acknowledge a situation in which I was not in control. A committee meeting seemed like a good suggestion -- though I don't have one until Thursday. I wasn't sure what opportunity would allow me to meditate on control -- until I found myself in tears in my car only 30 minutes ago.
I can't control this. I really can't. I know I can't. I have to let this be in God's hands because there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it. But O Jesus, could you allow me to take care of my body without getting the third degree of why I need to have this done?
She's only 28. This was what the technician said to my new Advocate at the Medical Center. She rose to the occasion when I last felt defeated. She was there again. Thank you for this saint, God.
And yet, God, I'd really like some explanation about why I need to go through the wringer on this every time I try to care for myself. My tone is not gentle. I'm not nice about this. I just want to get this stupid mammogram over with so that I don't have to worry about it again for another year. But, no, I'm not in control. Clearly, I'm not in control. Former Medical Center never sent the films of my last mammogram -- so I was made to feel like a drug addict demanding something I didn't need. They don't want to do the procedure until they can compare it with the old films. It's for the best care, I'm assured. They want to know if a mammogram is really the right action for me to best care for myself.
And yet, I wonder why this couldn't have been solved before I went to the Medical Center. If this was a question, couldn't you confirm? Couldn't you demand these forms yourself when clearly my request didn't suffice? Did this have to wait until today when I'm sitting in the oversized gown with my breasts practically exposed? And is it really necessary for you to speak down to me when I look upset? Is it really so shocking to you that I look like I'm near tears? All I want is to get this done. All I want is to release control of this.
O God, why can't I just let this go? Why can't it be taken care of for me? Why do I feel responsible? I just don't want to fucking deal with this. I want my fantastic advocate to take care of all of these ridiculous details so that I don't control them anymore. I want someone else to have this because I can't take it. This is not worth my would-be shiny new pair of big girl underpants.
I can't control this. I really can't. I know I can't. I have to let this be in God's hands because there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it. But O Jesus, could you allow me to take care of my body without getting the third degree of why I need to have this done?
She's only 28. This was what the technician said to my new Advocate at the Medical Center. She rose to the occasion when I last felt defeated. She was there again. Thank you for this saint, God.
And yet, God, I'd really like some explanation about why I need to go through the wringer on this every time I try to care for myself. My tone is not gentle. I'm not nice about this. I just want to get this stupid mammogram over with so that I don't have to worry about it again for another year. But, no, I'm not in control. Clearly, I'm not in control. Former Medical Center never sent the films of my last mammogram -- so I was made to feel like a drug addict demanding something I didn't need. They don't want to do the procedure until they can compare it with the old films. It's for the best care, I'm assured. They want to know if a mammogram is really the right action for me to best care for myself.
And yet, I wonder why this couldn't have been solved before I went to the Medical Center. If this was a question, couldn't you confirm? Couldn't you demand these forms yourself when clearly my request didn't suffice? Did this have to wait until today when I'm sitting in the oversized gown with my breasts practically exposed? And is it really necessary for you to speak down to me when I look upset? Is it really so shocking to you that I look like I'm near tears? All I want is to get this done. All I want is to release control of this.
O God, why can't I just let this go? Why can't it be taken care of for me? Why do I feel responsible? I just don't want to fucking deal with this. I want my fantastic advocate to take care of all of these ridiculous details so that I don't control them anymore. I want someone else to have this because I can't take it. This is not worth my would-be shiny new pair of big girl underpants.
2.14.2008
V-Day
One of my favorite people just sent me an e-card from NOW which instructs me to love my body and take a quiz. I'm prone to distraction -- so I did.
Question 8 was:
A new trend of plastic surgery called ________ is when external folds of skin surrounding the vulva are snipped to better resemble images of "ideal" women.
A. fallopioplasty
B. vaginomentation
C. labiaplasty
D. uteraloptic
E. None of the above, this surgery doesn't exist.
Correct! Your Answer: labiaplasty. Correct Answer: labiaplasty
Labiaplasty is a procedure designed to reduce a woman's labia. Some doctors perform 40 to 50 labiaplasties a month on women as young as 20 years old, even though they can cost upward of $4,000 and take several months to heal. The American Society of Plastic Surgeons (ASPS) began collecting information on vaginal rejuvenation in 200. Growth in this area alone increased almost 30% from 2006.
This is replusive and upsetting. Once again, I feel called to Pray for Our Pussies. Sisters in Christ, let us pray. Let us pray that more women will know that they are beautiful. Let us model this with our curves and long hair. Let women hear the good news of Eve Ensler. And God, grant us peace in all of our pussies.
2.12.2008
No Motivation
Is this happening to anyone else?
Lent arrives and church life gets a little more exciting -- but I'm totally not interested. I'm finding excuses to not be in the office. I'm just not inspired. Maybe it's the endless snow. I'm glad that I didn't seriously entertain the thought of a call in Minnesota. Brrr.
Lent arrives and church life gets a little more exciting -- but I'm totally not interested. I'm finding excuses to not be in the office. I'm just not inspired. Maybe it's the endless snow. I'm glad that I didn't seriously entertain the thought of a call in Minnesota. Brrr.
1.30.2008
Wednesday Lamentations
This is one of those weeks that seems impossible to fathom. So, I'm going to do the only thing I can right now and write. I don't know how to pray. I can't sit still. I just need to write. So, here are my prayers in no logical order.
One of our church members is in the hosptial. Got there last Sunday after hacking up a lung in the pew. His cancer is out of remission and now the man is dying. We're in Patriot land though -- so he wants to hold on until the Super Bowl. God forgive me for thinking that's innane.
Mom's annniversary is this Saturday. I'm surprisingly OK -- though everytime I think about this church member I want to cry. He's one of those people that you love even though he's a pain in the ass at every church gathering. Maybe that's why I love him. I baptized his grandson last year right before confirmation. It was my first baptism. It's created a connection. Go figure. But, that doesn't change the fact that I've spent an inordinary amount of time in the hospital this week. This is not my favorite place and not the time of year I really want to be there. I know it's part of my calling and I'm glad that I can be there. But, it's really hard and I'm not enjoying it.
And then, just when I think I can allow myself to go to that 7 year old place, BAM! A member shows up in my office yesterday to tell me that he's on suspension from work because of an allegation of sexual misconduction. Let me say that again. Allegation. Not confirmed. Shit. Did I mention that he's one of our Youth Advisers? So, I spent this morning rereading all of our Safe Church Policy documents and documenting all of my contact with this member since yesterday. His big question was why this would happen to him. I found this fascinating as I gave up on this idea of God a long, long time ago. This guy lost his wife last year -- almost to the day -- and still thinks that everything happens for a reason. Bless you child, but I can't think of a God that would will this upon you. This isn't a test. This isn't something to learn from. This just sucks.
It's time for Bible Study. Let's hope that I can hold it together.
One of our church members is in the hosptial. Got there last Sunday after hacking up a lung in the pew. His cancer is out of remission and now the man is dying. We're in Patriot land though -- so he wants to hold on until the Super Bowl. God forgive me for thinking that's innane.
Mom's annniversary is this Saturday. I'm surprisingly OK -- though everytime I think about this church member I want to cry. He's one of those people that you love even though he's a pain in the ass at every church gathering. Maybe that's why I love him. I baptized his grandson last year right before confirmation. It was my first baptism. It's created a connection. Go figure. But, that doesn't change the fact that I've spent an inordinary amount of time in the hospital this week. This is not my favorite place and not the time of year I really want to be there. I know it's part of my calling and I'm glad that I can be there. But, it's really hard and I'm not enjoying it.
And then, just when I think I can allow myself to go to that 7 year old place, BAM! A member shows up in my office yesterday to tell me that he's on suspension from work because of an allegation of sexual misconduction. Let me say that again. Allegation. Not confirmed. Shit. Did I mention that he's one of our Youth Advisers? So, I spent this morning rereading all of our Safe Church Policy documents and documenting all of my contact with this member since yesterday. His big question was why this would happen to him. I found this fascinating as I gave up on this idea of God a long, long time ago. This guy lost his wife last year -- almost to the day -- and still thinks that everything happens for a reason. Bless you child, but I can't think of a God that would will this upon you. This isn't a test. This isn't something to learn from. This just sucks.
It's time for Bible Study. Let's hope that I can hold it together.
1.24.2008
I Hate Dating!
After enjoying a lovely dinner last night with new clergy friends, I came home to unwind, pay bills and talk to this new boy interest. It was an annoying conversation. He asked the same questions that he had already asked. I didn't play it cool. I called him on it. He didn't seem all that bright while claiming to be an intellectual type. Nothing about his personality seemed to have all that much depth.
We had already talked about not showing up at church to "check me out" but he confessed that he had thought about doing it anyhow. I was annoyed. We met online. It's been clumsy with his worklife and Christmas smackdab in the middle of our trying to get to know each other. And he's worse at the phone than I am. (This is a special talent reserved for the very few.)
So, he sends me an email this morning to tell me that he doesn't want to have dinner with me after all. He explains that I'm religious and he's not -- and that will only be awkward. He carries on this inner monologue is five paragraphs of email while also including that I'm not well-read and narrowminded. Is it unfair that I think he's actually the one that's narrow?
I hate that others assume what it means to be religious. I hate that this is a barrier in dating. Ask me. Don't assume that you know. Don't write me off after an awkward conversation because you can't remember that we have already had this conversation. Yes, this is a weird flaw of dating clergy. It's our job to remember conversations and remember details in some strange mental catalog that no one understands. Yes, I remember our conversation and what you said. But, I'm more sorry that you can't imagine what it might mean for someone to be religious and interested in people that are not. I'm sorry that you can't think outside of the box. But, most of all, I'm angry that you sent me this email first thing in my day. I want to pray to God to smite you except for the small problem that I don't understand prayer or God's actions in that way.
But instead, I'm going to talk to a lesbian couple about their union because their home church has shunned them. Isn't it wonderful that I'm called to stand in these wonderful moments of love? Or is it tragic that I'm becoming more bitter?
We had already talked about not showing up at church to "check me out" but he confessed that he had thought about doing it anyhow. I was annoyed. We met online. It's been clumsy with his worklife and Christmas smackdab in the middle of our trying to get to know each other. And he's worse at the phone than I am. (This is a special talent reserved for the very few.)
So, he sends me an email this morning to tell me that he doesn't want to have dinner with me after all. He explains that I'm religious and he's not -- and that will only be awkward. He carries on this inner monologue is five paragraphs of email while also including that I'm not well-read and narrowminded. Is it unfair that I think he's actually the one that's narrow?
I hate that others assume what it means to be religious. I hate that this is a barrier in dating. Ask me. Don't assume that you know. Don't write me off after an awkward conversation because you can't remember that we have already had this conversation. Yes, this is a weird flaw of dating clergy. It's our job to remember conversations and remember details in some strange mental catalog that no one understands. Yes, I remember our conversation and what you said. But, I'm more sorry that you can't imagine what it might mean for someone to be religious and interested in people that are not. I'm sorry that you can't think outside of the box. But, most of all, I'm angry that you sent me this email first thing in my day. I want to pray to God to smite you except for the small problem that I don't understand prayer or God's actions in that way.
But instead, I'm going to talk to a lesbian couple about their union because their home church has shunned them. Isn't it wonderful that I'm called to stand in these wonderful moments of love? Or is it tragic that I'm becoming more bitter?
12.04.2007
To Tell the Truth
A friend just sent me an eamil that I started a reply to from my email program until I realized that it was going to be a long, long email. This friend asked the question about how to preach when your heart is breaking. I'm thinking about this again as I condiser Isaiah 11:1-10 for this coming Sunday. How do you deliver the good news when your brother attempts suicide? How do you preach hope when the darkness of the world threatens your faith when a pimple appears on your breast? How do you tell the truth? Do you even dare? So, I'll tell you what I have learned in these past few weeks: You tell the fucking truth.
I'll say it again. You tell the fucking truth. You talk about scripture and how this is not new. People have been feeling exile, abandonment and loss of hope for centuries. You tell the truth of your own faith. For me, this is where my faith started. It started when things were broken. My mother had died. I asked big questions when others didn't want to ask them. I pushed and lamented and cried. This is what most of the people in our pews are doing anyhow. Give them the permission to do it aloud.
Tell them that you heart is breaking. Tell them that it hurts and you don't have answers but this is your church too. And as my colleague has said, ministry goes in circles. Let the circle envelop you so that you can feel that support, love and nurture.
I know that there are clergy who say that we need to hide these parts of ourselves so that we don’t bleed all over the congregation. I know there is a big risk there. Trust me, I know there is a risk there. But, damn it, this is what we are about. We are supposed to be vulnerable and humble and scared at what unexpected thing God has in store for us. Preach it. Talk about it Bible Study. Don't bottle it up. Or you will become like me -- and just blog about it.
I'm meeting this week with a member of my Pastor Parish Relations Committee to express this lament. I was told by one of those members of the clergy that I couldn't tell the truth. I couldn't share that my brother had just attempted his life. I couldn't talk about it at all. Because I didn't know the results and it would cause too much concern, I was told to keep it to myself. I have news for you. You would never tell anyone in your church to do this. You are a good pastor. You would never tell someone to hold back. You would encourage them to find a way that they could tell the truth -- in small ways perhaps. You would invite them to pray about it and think about how it could be heard. You would invite them to share because only in sharing can we grow. The question I will I ask the member of the Pastor Parish Relations Committee is not why couldn't I share, but what happens when we discern our ministry differently? This is a question really about the possible tensions between Senior and Associate Pastors. What happens when we disagree? However, this is not only a question for us. It is a question for our whole church. How do we hold each other together? How do we support each other when we disagree? How do we create a space of openness for everyone in our congregation to tell the truth?
When I was in seminary, I saw pastors share their heartache and I grimaced. Some people just don't want to see this in their pastors. And I gotta say -- I don't know how to be church for those people. I'm weak and human. Sometimes I'm confused and angry and heartbroken. Can I only share this with other clergy and friends? Ack! Now, I realize that what I witnessed was a victim mentality which truly doesn't help anyone. No one needs to see their pastor as a victim. The caretaker mode kicks in and what really gets lost is the opportunity for empowerment. And in my year of ministry (11 months of ordained ministry), I’m more and more convinced that this is what we are all about. We are about empowerment. We are trying to be so bold that we can turn to others after the sermon is over and tell the truth.
I just spoke with a member of our congregation today who experienced this when I preached part of my heartache two weeks ago. She turned around in her pew. She hugged someone she barely knew and they told their stories of loss. And today, she hugged me and thanked me for being so brave. This is what it is all about. We are supposed to be brave enough to tell the truth so that others can do the same. Tell them your heart is breaking. Do it with compassion, thought and love. Do it with tenderness and wisdom. Tell the truth because "you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free" (John 8:32, NRSV).
I'll say it again. You tell the fucking truth. You talk about scripture and how this is not new. People have been feeling exile, abandonment and loss of hope for centuries. You tell the truth of your own faith. For me, this is where my faith started. It started when things were broken. My mother had died. I asked big questions when others didn't want to ask them. I pushed and lamented and cried. This is what most of the people in our pews are doing anyhow. Give them the permission to do it aloud.
Tell them that you heart is breaking. Tell them that it hurts and you don't have answers but this is your church too. And as my colleague has said, ministry goes in circles. Let the circle envelop you so that you can feel that support, love and nurture.
I know that there are clergy who say that we need to hide these parts of ourselves so that we don’t bleed all over the congregation. I know there is a big risk there. Trust me, I know there is a risk there. But, damn it, this is what we are about. We are supposed to be vulnerable and humble and scared at what unexpected thing God has in store for us. Preach it. Talk about it Bible Study. Don't bottle it up. Or you will become like me -- and just blog about it.
I'm meeting this week with a member of my Pastor Parish Relations Committee to express this lament. I was told by one of those members of the clergy that I couldn't tell the truth. I couldn't share that my brother had just attempted his life. I couldn't talk about it at all. Because I didn't know the results and it would cause too much concern, I was told to keep it to myself. I have news for you. You would never tell anyone in your church to do this. You are a good pastor. You would never tell someone to hold back. You would encourage them to find a way that they could tell the truth -- in small ways perhaps. You would invite them to pray about it and think about how it could be heard. You would invite them to share because only in sharing can we grow. The question I will I ask the member of the Pastor Parish Relations Committee is not why couldn't I share, but what happens when we discern our ministry differently? This is a question really about the possible tensions between Senior and Associate Pastors. What happens when we disagree? However, this is not only a question for us. It is a question for our whole church. How do we hold each other together? How do we support each other when we disagree? How do we create a space of openness for everyone in our congregation to tell the truth?
When I was in seminary, I saw pastors share their heartache and I grimaced. Some people just don't want to see this in their pastors. And I gotta say -- I don't know how to be church for those people. I'm weak and human. Sometimes I'm confused and angry and heartbroken. Can I only share this with other clergy and friends? Ack! Now, I realize that what I witnessed was a victim mentality which truly doesn't help anyone. No one needs to see their pastor as a victim. The caretaker mode kicks in and what really gets lost is the opportunity for empowerment. And in my year of ministry (11 months of ordained ministry), I’m more and more convinced that this is what we are all about. We are about empowerment. We are trying to be so bold that we can turn to others after the sermon is over and tell the truth.
I just spoke with a member of our congregation today who experienced this when I preached part of my heartache two weeks ago. She turned around in her pew. She hugged someone she barely knew and they told their stories of loss. And today, she hugged me and thanked me for being so brave. This is what it is all about. We are supposed to be brave enough to tell the truth so that others can do the same. Tell them your heart is breaking. Do it with compassion, thought and love. Do it with tenderness and wisdom. Tell the truth because "you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free" (John 8:32, NRSV).
11.04.2007
Hitting Send
Recently Besomami and Little Mary asked interesting questions about blogging ettiquette. Little Mary is a little more direct. She calls it a pet peeve. I'm not sure where my gripe is exactly. It might be ettiquette. It might be a pet peeve. It might be a rant. (I know. Imagine!)
My lament is not in the blogosphere -- but a question about email. It is my personal feeling that people misuse email in horrible and abusive ways. For those of you that know me, you know that I hate the phone. I do email lots. I admit it. I email in my ministry more than I would like to admit. This is something that I agonize over daily. Do I take this as a teaching moment about good communication or respond to the passive aggressive email in the way that this person is contacting me? More often than not, I hit reply. It makes me cringe. I'm embarassed to admit it.
However, this email was not a church-related email. This was an email that arrived this afternoon from a member of my family to addressed to my parents and cc'ed to every relative in the family. It was an attack on my parents. It was one of those awful emails that makes you pause and wonder if this person should have counted to 10 before hitting send. This relative is angry. Very angry. Isn't it charming that not only do we express anger but pull up all past wrongs in the midst of disaster? This is what my relative did.
I did not reply.
Instead, I thought of Jesus drawing a line in the sand. I thought of how he turned the crowd and asked who among them was not also angry or guilty or sinful. A woman stands in the midst of the crowd. She is the source of their anger. They are ready to throw things. They are ready to hit send and draw deeper lines in the sand. This is why I did not reply. I don't want deeper lines in the sand.
My family is complicated enough. I have three families beyond my immediate family. It seems that there are always lines in the sand that I'm trying to traverse. There are always lines that I have smooth out. And there are lines that require me to ask everyone to resist the temptation to throw things. I don't want to do this anymore. When the only person who understands what it was like for me to grow up ends up in a Psych Ward, I'm refusing to play on these lines anymore.
Instead of precariously playing on these lines, I'm blogging. I hope this doesn't fall into anyone's pet peeves because it is a release for me. Even though she's cat blogging (one of my pet peeves), ppb encouraged me to do bibliotherapy. I haven't read anything since she gave this wonderful advice of reading to offer myself some therapy. I read some poetry on Thursday but I abandoned my books over the weekend. I can't seem to find the attention span to read. My mind wanders too quickly -- but blogging offers a connection that reminds me that others are praying. Others are listening. Whether you know me or not, you have been a blessing to me as I try so hard not to dance across the lines that my family draws. Your comments have supported me tremendously when I can't (or won't) share what is happening with my church family.
My lament is not in the blogosphere -- but a question about email. It is my personal feeling that people misuse email in horrible and abusive ways. For those of you that know me, you know that I hate the phone. I do email lots. I admit it. I email in my ministry more than I would like to admit. This is something that I agonize over daily. Do I take this as a teaching moment about good communication or respond to the passive aggressive email in the way that this person is contacting me? More often than not, I hit reply. It makes me cringe. I'm embarassed to admit it.
However, this email was not a church-related email. This was an email that arrived this afternoon from a member of my family to addressed to my parents and cc'ed to every relative in the family. It was an attack on my parents. It was one of those awful emails that makes you pause and wonder if this person should have counted to 10 before hitting send. This relative is angry. Very angry. Isn't it charming that not only do we express anger but pull up all past wrongs in the midst of disaster? This is what my relative did.
I did not reply.
Instead, I thought of Jesus drawing a line in the sand. I thought of how he turned the crowd and asked who among them was not also angry or guilty or sinful. A woman stands in the midst of the crowd. She is the source of their anger. They are ready to throw things. They are ready to hit send and draw deeper lines in the sand. This is why I did not reply. I don't want deeper lines in the sand.
My family is complicated enough. I have three families beyond my immediate family. It seems that there are always lines in the sand that I'm trying to traverse. There are always lines that I have smooth out. And there are lines that require me to ask everyone to resist the temptation to throw things. I don't want to do this anymore. When the only person who understands what it was like for me to grow up ends up in a Psych Ward, I'm refusing to play on these lines anymore.
Instead of precariously playing on these lines, I'm blogging. I hope this doesn't fall into anyone's pet peeves because it is a release for me. Even though she's cat blogging (one of my pet peeves), ppb encouraged me to do bibliotherapy. I haven't read anything since she gave this wonderful advice of reading to offer myself some therapy. I read some poetry on Thursday but I abandoned my books over the weekend. I can't seem to find the attention span to read. My mind wanders too quickly -- but blogging offers a connection that reminds me that others are praying. Others are listening. Whether you know me or not, you have been a blessing to me as I try so hard not to dance across the lines that my family draws. Your comments have supported me tremendously when I can't (or won't) share what is happening with my church family.
10.01.2007
The Curse of Email
I just wanted to say it was certainly a pleasure meeting you at the annual meeting this weekend. It is very encouraging to see young pastors such as yourself who are poised, articulate, and professional in both demeanor and dress taking leadership positions in the UCC. I hope we have the opportunity to cross paths again and I wish you the best always in your ministry.
This was the email that arrived in my inbox just now. Apparently, I met this person at our Annual Meeting this weekend. I don't remember who it was. But, I'm annoyed by this email. Why shouldn't I be "poised, articulate and professional" just because I am young clergy? And why is it necessary to comment on my clothing? I was actually pushing the envelope a little with what one of my colleagues called "catwoman boots." But, why is that needed? Why?
9.30.2007
Whirling
I am still at the Annual Meeting of the Maine Confernece United Church of Christ. And I'm tired. I could be tired because the conversation has been tiring. We were prophetic -- or I like to think that even though I'm not sure what we did vote on was actually prophetic. Or maybe because we have been sitting for so freakin' long.
I started a blog for church. No one reads this other blog yet. That's not true. I know there is one reader. But, just one and there are no comments yet. I admit that I like the comments. It's part of what compels me to blog. Anyhow, I have been blogging for church during these decisions. And this would be DAY 12 without a day off. The 7 delegates of my local church don't understand this. They are hopeful and excited. But, they don't really absorb the idea that I'm working all weekend. One of them offered that it must be a break to have Sunday morning off. Actually, I would love to have had my weekend and work tomorrow morning at church. I wasn't there last week after the Confirmation Retreat. I feel disconnected.
OK, I admit. I feel tired. But, I'm plotting for the "extra" day off that I am taking on Tuesday. Erica asked for a little help in her blog. And I feel a similiar plea every time I take a day off on a day that others (I mean, non-church types) don't have the day off. How am I supposed to make friends if I have weird days off? Like a Tuesday? WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO HANG OUT WITH?
I know. It's whiny. But, I wonder this sometimes. I'm a little tired too. But, instead, I think I might get a massage. A friend gave me a very, very generous gift certificate to this place. Of course, the tension I feel is not as much in my feet as it is in the that between the shoulders space. So, I wonder if I should look a little further and save the gift certificate for cold Maine weather. So much to think about.
I started a blog for church. No one reads this other blog yet. That's not true. I know there is one reader. But, just one and there are no comments yet. I admit that I like the comments. It's part of what compels me to blog. Anyhow, I have been blogging for church during these decisions. And this would be DAY 12 without a day off. The 7 delegates of my local church don't understand this. They are hopeful and excited. But, they don't really absorb the idea that I'm working all weekend. One of them offered that it must be a break to have Sunday morning off. Actually, I would love to have had my weekend and work tomorrow morning at church. I wasn't there last week after the Confirmation Retreat. I feel disconnected.
OK, I admit. I feel tired. But, I'm plotting for the "extra" day off that I am taking on Tuesday. Erica asked for a little help in her blog. And I feel a similiar plea every time I take a day off on a day that others (I mean, non-church types) don't have the day off. How am I supposed to make friends if I have weird days off? Like a Tuesday? WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO HANG OUT WITH?
I know. It's whiny. But, I wonder this sometimes. I'm a little tired too. But, instead, I think I might get a massage. A friend gave me a very, very generous gift certificate to this place. Of course, the tension I feel is not as much in my feet as it is in the that between the shoulders space. So, I wonder if I should look a little further and save the gift certificate for cold Maine weather. So much to think about.
9.19.2007
The Breast Center
I called the Breast Center at the local hospital today. Can you believe that there is something called the Breast Center? The receptionist was lovely. She referred me to the right people to talk to about DNA testing -- and then transferred me to talk to the mammogram people.
If you are 40 years old and a woman with breasts, this should be routine for you. I'm not going to lecture you about it. Just do it. It's part of the self care thing and we just don't know what causes this cancer thing. So, please. Get a mammogram. Support the women of your churches and local communities to do so. OK?
If you are under the age of 40 and call something like the Breast Center at your local hospital to schedule a mammogram, the nasty woman on the other end of the phone will be nothing but nasty. Imagine the rudest voice possible asking you, "Why exactly do you waht to do this?" This is after she asked you if the appointment was for you or someone else (where she thought she was preempting the strike.)
I was not composed in this moment. I was angry. "BECAUSE IT KILLED MY MOTHER," I said. And she barked back something about needing to have permission from your doctor. Through clenched teeth, I explained that I had moved and had not needed this before. I hung up the phone -- still irrate. But I gathered my wits. And in the 15 minutes before Bible study, I made some calls to find a freakin' doctor. Ok. Ok. I should have done this a long time ago. But, I did it. Nice lady doctor in a nearby town that my insurance will even cover. Woo hoo!
And then, I made a call to the DNA people and left a message. I'm not convinced that it's the right choice for me. One of my dear friends listened to me talk about this on Sunday night after I had read the dreaded article. We talked about my family history and all of my fears -- or at least, many of them. My dear friend has listened to me admit these things before. Those things that I dare not tell many people about how my mother's death and disease affect me. I'm so grateful for friends like him. But even with good friends to listen, I'm not sure that the DNA test is the right choice. And yet, I need to talk it out with someone in the medical community. I need to explore what it would mean. I need to figure out why God is putting this before me right now. Is this even God moving me this way? How can one be sure?
If you are 40 years old and a woman with breasts, this should be routine for you. I'm not going to lecture you about it. Just do it. It's part of the self care thing and we just don't know what causes this cancer thing. So, please. Get a mammogram. Support the women of your churches and local communities to do so. OK?
If you are under the age of 40 and call something like the Breast Center at your local hospital to schedule a mammogram, the nasty woman on the other end of the phone will be nothing but nasty. Imagine the rudest voice possible asking you, "Why exactly do you waht to do this?" This is after she asked you if the appointment was for you or someone else (where she thought she was preempting the strike.)
I was not composed in this moment. I was angry. "BECAUSE IT KILLED MY MOTHER," I said. And she barked back something about needing to have permission from your doctor. Through clenched teeth, I explained that I had moved and had not needed this before. I hung up the phone -- still irrate. But I gathered my wits. And in the 15 minutes before Bible study, I made some calls to find a freakin' doctor. Ok. Ok. I should have done this a long time ago. But, I did it. Nice lady doctor in a nearby town that my insurance will even cover. Woo hoo!
And then, I made a call to the DNA people and left a message. I'm not convinced that it's the right choice for me. One of my dear friends listened to me talk about this on Sunday night after I had read the dreaded article. We talked about my family history and all of my fears -- or at least, many of them. My dear friend has listened to me admit these things before. Those things that I dare not tell many people about how my mother's death and disease affect me. I'm so grateful for friends like him. But even with good friends to listen, I'm not sure that the DNA test is the right choice. And yet, I need to talk it out with someone in the medical community. I need to explore what it would mean. I need to figure out why God is putting this before me right now. Is this even God moving me this way? How can one be sure?
9.01.2007
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.
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!
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!
Letter to the Editor
Alex has inspired me to actually articulate my thoughts rather than only sharing them with colleagues and friends. Below is a Letter to the Editor responding to two different articles, entitled True Church and A Mormon president?: The LDS difference.
Musician Dan Bern sings, "And if you must put me in a box, make sure it's a big box." Upon reading the recent articles, A Mormon president?: The LDS difference and True Church, I feel that our boxes are much too small. It would be dishonest to say that the Pope's statement did not sting as much as it would be unfair to say that I have not questioned Mitt Romney's presidency. And yet, I don't feel that we are listening. We are not asking Mitt Romney fair questions. We are not asking the LDS community or even the Pope to join us at table. Instead, we are gossiping around our own dinner tables about things that we have seen and heard. We are talking about our own hurts and distrust without finding ways to engage in authentic conversation with those that we are making the other. The questions posed by the Editor begin to break down these boxes. Certainly, no one is "left off the hook." I only hope that we can find ways to rejoice with the other that we are so determined to put into a box.
8.21.2007
Two Week Vacation
I've been on vacation for two weeks -- and I have to admit that I have missed my blog. That makes me cringe a little. But, I gotta say that after being in DC with lots and lots of fellow bloggers just two weeks ago, I have missed my blog. Really, I have missed my friends. < < Hello friends!! > > (Is that a hug or a wave? Who cares?)
Last week, I took an art class on Cape Cod with an old, old friend. It was great to spend time with her. We haven't seen this much of each other in ten years. And we got to paint horrible color studies and pretend that we could still be artists. We had met in art school in high school. Then, we were gifted and talented. Now, we might be -- but only on a good day. And though I hate color studies, it was great to be playing with paint again. We got to embrace gay culture in P'town at Carnival. Though gay culture is never far from my life, I was urked that the queer community in P'town doesn't understand the indulgence of Carnival in relationship to the religious observance. Whatever. It was fun. And I got to spend time at the beach. Hooray!
I'm still at the beach visiting family in Long Island. It's raining. It's been raining for two days. This is bad beach weather. But, I got to go school shopping with my sister and be horrified by some of her 16-year-old sense of fashion (She's adorable, mind you).
And everyone wants to know how my new life is. How is it? they all want to know. And I can say that church is great. Church is great. I love what I do. I love it so much and I'm so relieved that I'm not constantly thinking about what I left behind or worrying about the ill members. Yeah! And my job is a little funky for folks that are not active in church... So, I constantly wonder how I should explain what I do.
I usually start with the job description. "I cover four areas of ministry: worship, mission, youth and education...." But, then I get stuck because I don't really know how to explain what I do in these areas. I don't really do any of these things (Thanks be to God). I get other people excited about them and help them to do it. I recruit where I needed. I support and hold hands. I grieve with them when it doesn't work. I celebrate when anyone has good news. I could explain all of this, and though I try the reply always comes back: "So, what do you do every day?"
Sigh. "Well, I start my day with a large cup of coffee. I check my messages. First on the phone and then e-mail. I talk to the church administrator and see how her dating life is going. I talk to the Senior Minister about stuff. And then, well, I don't know. It depends on the day... Sometimes I go to the hospital. Sometimes I take people out for ice cream or coffee. Sometimes I work for hours and hours to create curriculums. Or I talk on the phone..." All of this is met with blank stares. Does anyone else have this experience?
Being with family is great because they really care about your social life. And this side of my family all wants me to paint -- which I have fallen out of practice with. They are cute about it though. And I would love to get back into it but it hasn't been a need recently. Although, I'm thinking about the Manifesta. And I hear Stacey echoing in my head, "By all means, join a rock band." Like hell. But, I could take an art class. And maybe I should... Arg. Vacation should't make you feel bad about being lonely in your new home. Vacation should be about giggling and watching movies and being lazy. Right? Right. I'm going to go be lazy some more. I only have 5 more days to be lazy.
Last week, I took an art class on Cape Cod with an old, old friend. It was great to spend time with her. We haven't seen this much of each other in ten years. And we got to paint horrible color studies and pretend that we could still be artists. We had met in art school in high school. Then, we were gifted and talented. Now, we might be -- but only on a good day. And though I hate color studies, it was great to be playing with paint again. We got to embrace gay culture in P'town at Carnival. Though gay culture is never far from my life, I was urked that the queer community in P'town doesn't understand the indulgence of Carnival in relationship to the religious observance. Whatever. It was fun. And I got to spend time at the beach. Hooray!
I'm still at the beach visiting family in Long Island. It's raining. It's been raining for two days. This is bad beach weather. But, I got to go school shopping with my sister and be horrified by some of her 16-year-old sense of fashion (She's adorable, mind you).
And everyone wants to know how my new life is. How is it? they all want to know. And I can say that church is great. Church is great. I love what I do. I love it so much and I'm so relieved that I'm not constantly thinking about what I left behind or worrying about the ill members. Yeah! And my job is a little funky for folks that are not active in church... So, I constantly wonder how I should explain what I do.
I usually start with the job description. "I cover four areas of ministry: worship, mission, youth and education...." But, then I get stuck because I don't really know how to explain what I do in these areas. I don't really do any of these things (Thanks be to God). I get other people excited about them and help them to do it. I recruit where I needed. I support and hold hands. I grieve with them when it doesn't work. I celebrate when anyone has good news. I could explain all of this, and though I try the reply always comes back: "So, what do you do every day?"
Sigh. "Well, I start my day with a large cup of coffee. I check my messages. First on the phone and then e-mail. I talk to the church administrator and see how her dating life is going. I talk to the Senior Minister about stuff. And then, well, I don't know. It depends on the day... Sometimes I go to the hospital. Sometimes I take people out for ice cream or coffee. Sometimes I work for hours and hours to create curriculums. Or I talk on the phone..." All of this is met with blank stares. Does anyone else have this experience?
Being with family is great because they really care about your social life. And this side of my family all wants me to paint -- which I have fallen out of practice with. They are cute about it though. And I would love to get back into it but it hasn't been a need recently. Although, I'm thinking about the Manifesta. And I hear Stacey echoing in my head, "By all means, join a rock band." Like hell. But, I could take an art class. And maybe I should... Arg. Vacation should't make you feel bad about being lonely in your new home. Vacation should be about giggling and watching movies and being lazy. Right? Right. I'm going to go be lazy some more. I only have 5 more days to be lazy.
8.08.2007
Conference Blogging
So, here I am at the College of Preachers on a hot day in August. It's been a strange experience. Wonderful in many ways as I got to actually meet some of the women who have blogs that I read avidly. One of them just insisted "Why the hell hasn't Pastor Peters posted?" So here I am. And she just walked past exclaiming that now she gets to read it soon after I post. Silly lady. I'm going to have wine with her later to discuss the same things I am posting about. What a disappointment for her.
See, I have to preach a freakin' sermon tomorrow. Tomorrow. I think I might die. Crucify me now. Well, don't actually. I hate atonement. That would be indeed a cruel fate for me.
Anna Carter Florence gave us all of these fun ideas about how to attend to the text. I really wanted fantastic new ideas but it turns out that my seminary preaching professor should be idolized in the way that I idolize her. However, Anna left out blogging. And this is honestly how I process my thoughts. So, here we go.
The text is for Labor Day -- the official Sunday of Associate Pastor preaching. It's the gospel: Luke 14:1, 7-14. And it has a parable that is a non-parable. This fact alone boggles my mind. I have no idea what to do with this.
Then there is this whole thing about meals which makes me daydream about Hal Taussig -- one of my other favorite seminary professors. He was all about the meal. Ignoring the interjectory that happens in verses 2-6, we jump right into this meal where people are vying for the best seat. I can only imagine this as a game of musical chairs where someone is inevitably left out. Is this one in the lowest as in v. 10? Are we supposed to tell this poor child, "Friend, move up higher"? Wait. Stop. I hate this heirarchy stuff. Why must there be someone high and someone low? Moreover, how does that happen when they are all reclining? That doesn't make sense to me at all. Someone explain this to me.
The New Interpreter's Bible points out that the first three verses (7-11) are directed to the guests which copy each other:
But then in the following verses (12-14), Jesus is talking to the host with this same strange pattern:
So what the hell do I do with that? I'm not sure. I really have no idea. And you can tell that I have weird aggression because I have to preach this tomorrow. Damn it. But, here is what I'm thinking about. I'm wondering about the host and if God is who we imagine to be our host (as it will be a Communion Sunday), what does this mean in this weirdo parable? Of course God will be blessed! Obviously! And God better be serving a whole lotta meals. But, while the host is doing the inviting (and obviously God is going to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind), what is all this moving around we are doing? Why are we trying to sit next to?
I'm thinking about healthcare. I'm thinking about Michael Moore's realization. I'm thinking about our church's outreach ministry. All of that stuff that prevents us from being together -- because we are so concerned about status and place. What does this all mean when we come to the table?
Because we better be invited as this is an open table in the UCC. All are welcome. God is doing the inviting. But, we're all moving around. I feel like Jesus should turn to the one that gets pushed out of this vicious game of musical chairs and say those words that we say to make it all better (you know what they are). But, he doesn't. He talks to us all. I just can't quite figure out what this means for me. Right now. And I have to preach this tomorrow. Arg.
See, I have to preach a freakin' sermon tomorrow. Tomorrow. I think I might die. Crucify me now. Well, don't actually. I hate atonement. That would be indeed a cruel fate for me.
Anna Carter Florence gave us all of these fun ideas about how to attend to the text. I really wanted fantastic new ideas but it turns out that my seminary preaching professor should be idolized in the way that I idolize her. However, Anna left out blogging. And this is honestly how I process my thoughts. So, here we go.
The text is for Labor Day -- the official Sunday of Associate Pastor preaching. It's the gospel: Luke 14:1, 7-14. And it has a parable that is a non-parable. This fact alone boggles my mind. I have no idea what to do with this.
Then there is this whole thing about meals which makes me daydream about Hal Taussig -- one of my other favorite seminary professors. He was all about the meal. Ignoring the interjectory that happens in verses 2-6, we jump right into this meal where people are vying for the best seat. I can only imagine this as a game of musical chairs where someone is inevitably left out. Is this one in the lowest as in v. 10? Are we supposed to tell this poor child, "Friend, move up higher"? Wait. Stop. I hate this heirarchy stuff. Why must there be someone high and someone low? Moreover, how does that happen when they are all reclining? That doesn't make sense to me at all. Someone explain this to me.
The New Interpreter's Bible points out that the first three verses (7-11) are directed to the guests which copy each other:
14:8 "When you are invited ... do not sit down ... in case ...
14:10a But when you are invited ... sit down ... so that ...
14:10b then you will be honored
14:11 wordy eschatological stuff.
But then in the following verses (12-14), Jesus is talking to the host with this same strange pattern:
14:12 "When you give a luncheon or a dinner ... do not invite ... in case ...
14:13 But when you give a banquet ... invite
14:14a And you will be blessed,
14:14b wordy eschatological stuff.
So what the hell do I do with that? I'm not sure. I really have no idea. And you can tell that I have weird aggression because I have to preach this tomorrow. Damn it. But, here is what I'm thinking about. I'm wondering about the host and if God is who we imagine to be our host (as it will be a Communion Sunday), what does this mean in this weirdo parable? Of course God will be blessed! Obviously! And God better be serving a whole lotta meals. But, while the host is doing the inviting (and obviously God is going to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind), what is all this moving around we are doing? Why are we trying to sit next to?
I'm thinking about healthcare. I'm thinking about Michael Moore's realization. I'm thinking about our church's outreach ministry. All of that stuff that prevents us from being together -- because we are so concerned about status and place. What does this all mean when we come to the table?
Because we better be invited as this is an open table in the UCC. All are welcome. God is doing the inviting. But, we're all moving around. I feel like Jesus should turn to the one that gets pushed out of this vicious game of musical chairs and say those words that we say to make it all better (you know what they are). But, he doesn't. He talks to us all. I just can't quite figure out what this means for me. Right now. And I have to preach this tomorrow. Arg.
7.29.2007
Lingering Thoughts
I was all ready to go to bed. But, these thoughts are lingering with me and I can't seem to get away from them -- even in my feeble attempts toward slumber. So, I thought that I would share these thoughts so that they no longer have to be only mine. Both happened today.
The first happened just after church. One of my favorite church ladies held my hand and thanked me for my sermon. She grew up Missouri Synod Lutheran -- and though she loves our church, she struggles with the progressive politics and theology that is often espoused from the pulpit.
"That," she said, "was a great sermon." I said my feeble thank you before she added her next words.
"That was a good fundementalist sermon."
Stunned, I am. I smiled before finding the only words on my heart: "Um, I wouldn't call it fundamentalist."
"Don't argue with me," she said as she patted my hand. "It was a good sermon. I needed to hear it."
This is an interesting moment for me. This is a moment I would have never, ever expected. I went to a seminary for "heretics" and have been called one more than once. I have been vocal in my faith and my politics to the point that it was difficullt for many of the search committees that interviewed me. And now, I have preached a fundamentalist sermon. Huh. I am just stunned. Is this what happens when you are a Biblical preacher? I preach the text with subtle references to other things. Wow. What do I do with this?
And then, there was this other lingering thought from this afternoon. I was lamenting to a possible new friend (though I doubt this person will actually become a friend, or whatever he might hope to come) about the church. I said something about why we don't do something in our church. It was judgmental and perhaps a little harsh. I'll give you that. But, he said: "It doesn't seem like you really enjoy your work." Again, I was stunned as I realized something that has been very difficult for me in the endeavor of making new friends. See, his assumption was wrong. It's not that I don't love the church. I DO! I love it so much I could burst. But, I believe that the church -- as a human institution -- has a long way to go. And I'm going to love it during its arrival to this new place.
And while I'm lovin' the church, I need friends that understand the complex nature of my relationship with the church. I love the church so much that I don't think that I should have to prove it. That's not the stuff that I want to talk about usually. Usually, when I gather with friends in a safe space, I want to vent. Perhaps that's unfair to my friends. But, I want to talk about the stuff that drives me crazy. I can't do that at church. I can only do it with friends. Arg. So, this frustrated me. Thanks for listenning. Now, I'm going to try to sleep.
The first happened just after church. One of my favorite church ladies held my hand and thanked me for my sermon. She grew up Missouri Synod Lutheran -- and though she loves our church, she struggles with the progressive politics and theology that is often espoused from the pulpit.
"That," she said, "was a great sermon." I said my feeble thank you before she added her next words.
"That was a good fundementalist sermon."
Stunned, I am. I smiled before finding the only words on my heart: "Um, I wouldn't call it fundamentalist."
"Don't argue with me," she said as she patted my hand. "It was a good sermon. I needed to hear it."
This is an interesting moment for me. This is a moment I would have never, ever expected. I went to a seminary for "heretics" and have been called one more than once. I have been vocal in my faith and my politics to the point that it was difficullt for many of the search committees that interviewed me. And now, I have preached a fundamentalist sermon. Huh. I am just stunned. Is this what happens when you are a Biblical preacher? I preach the text with subtle references to other things. Wow. What do I do with this?
And then, there was this other lingering thought from this afternoon. I was lamenting to a possible new friend (though I doubt this person will actually become a friend, or whatever he might hope to come) about the church. I said something about why we don't do something in our church. It was judgmental and perhaps a little harsh. I'll give you that. But, he said: "It doesn't seem like you really enjoy your work." Again, I was stunned as I realized something that has been very difficult for me in the endeavor of making new friends. See, his assumption was wrong. It's not that I don't love the church. I DO! I love it so much I could burst. But, I believe that the church -- as a human institution -- has a long way to go. And I'm going to love it during its arrival to this new place.
And while I'm lovin' the church, I need friends that understand the complex nature of my relationship with the church. I love the church so much that I don't think that I should have to prove it. That's not the stuff that I want to talk about usually. Usually, when I gather with friends in a safe space, I want to vent. Perhaps that's unfair to my friends. But, I want to talk about the stuff that drives me crazy. I can't do that at church. I can only do it with friends. Arg. So, this frustrated me. Thanks for listenning. Now, I'm going to try to sleep.
7.20.2007
The Things We Do For Love
Sometimes I think that the church gets mixed up in the wrong details. Sometimes I think that we worry about things that really don't matter. And more often than not, it seems that we get most concerned about love. We worry about how God loves the world or how God defines love in the divine relationship with humanity. And sometimes, we even have the audacity to determine how humanity should celebrate the gift of love that God has given us.
I wish I had my Book of Worship now to remember the exact wording of the vow that I took at Ordination. As I imagine they are to many clergy, these vows are very important to me. I reread them when I need to focus on a bad day in ministry. I reread them and pray that I might live more deeply into these vows. But, there is one vow that has something to do with being called to guide God's people to live joyfully as God created them. That's not the right wording and if I remember it on Sunday, I will actually look it up at church. But, it's something like that. It's mixed in their with the vows to read and study and pray. To offer sacraments and preach the word. And then, the United Church of Christ reminds us that we are called to lead people on their spiritual journey -- wherever it might lead.
Now, there are dangerous places that this journey might go. You can imagine those situations yourself without my naming them. And we can all pray that we have the strength to deal with those dangerous places. We can all pray that we can lead, encourage, guide and love. After all, that's a big part of our call as clergy: to love.
And love can be dangerous. It can take some amazing turns. Some frightening and unexpected detours that we might never have planned for. This part of the journey is not only about loving others, as it is for Kate. This journey can also take us to deeper places of loving ourselves, like it has for Drew. Perhaps there is a need for boundaries so that no one is in too much danger.
But, I wonder. I wonder about our Stillspeaking God who has yet more "truth and light to shine upon God's word." I wonder if we are just not yet ready for all that God has in store for us. I wonder if those things that some of us find uncomfortable and being transgender or polyamorous are part of the audacious nature of that 16th verse in the third chapter of John that we love to quote so much. Perhaps. I admit that I'm still not sure. But, perhaps. Perhaps God loves the world so much that we are pushed to new places to explore what that kind of love might mean. Perhaps God dares us to imagine more truth and light in places that we think we have placed neat boundaries for our own safety and protection. Perhaps God calls us to be more dangerous. Perhaps.
I wish I had my Book of Worship now to remember the exact wording of the vow that I took at Ordination. As I imagine they are to many clergy, these vows are very important to me. I reread them when I need to focus on a bad day in ministry. I reread them and pray that I might live more deeply into these vows. But, there is one vow that has something to do with being called to guide God's people to live joyfully as God created them. That's not the right wording and if I remember it on Sunday, I will actually look it up at church. But, it's something like that. It's mixed in their with the vows to read and study and pray. To offer sacraments and preach the word. And then, the United Church of Christ reminds us that we are called to lead people on their spiritual journey -- wherever it might lead.
Now, there are dangerous places that this journey might go. You can imagine those situations yourself without my naming them. And we can all pray that we have the strength to deal with those dangerous places. We can all pray that we can lead, encourage, guide and love. After all, that's a big part of our call as clergy: to love.
And love can be dangerous. It can take some amazing turns. Some frightening and unexpected detours that we might never have planned for. This part of the journey is not only about loving others, as it is for Kate. This journey can also take us to deeper places of loving ourselves, like it has for Drew. Perhaps there is a need for boundaries so that no one is in too much danger.
But, I wonder. I wonder about our Stillspeaking God who has yet more "truth and light to shine upon God's word." I wonder if we are just not yet ready for all that God has in store for us. I wonder if those things that some of us find uncomfortable and being transgender or polyamorous are part of the audacious nature of that 16th verse in the third chapter of John that we love to quote so much. Perhaps. I admit that I'm still not sure. But, perhaps. Perhaps God loves the world so much that we are pushed to new places to explore what that kind of love might mean. Perhaps God dares us to imagine more truth and light in places that we think we have placed neat boundaries for our own safety and protection. Perhaps God calls us to be more dangerous. Perhaps.
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