We were driving to dinner last night...because God knows I am not capable of cooking anything...when John reminded me that this year would be Fiona's third birthday. Her third birthday!! It was like a little alarm went off in my head. I have been noticing how lengthy and how clever she has been getting. Like when she tells me things that show she is comprehending things I am saying in ways I wasn't aware and I am reminded that I need to watch what I say just a little more. (Not that I EVER say anything she couldn't repeat)! Or when I am holding her and people comment that pretty soon she will be as long as me while also feeling my back bend in an angle only a 29 year old could recover from, and I am now 30.
I am pretty certain that there are no better reminders of the advancement of time than our children. Like little clocks ticking in our ears, they keep us ever mindful of the steady march of our lives; that life is short and quick lived, a gift to be appreciated and not taken for granted.
I am a strong believer that living lives that illustrate our appreciation for time look very different for different people. Each person called to explore the world and share our gifts in radically different ways. Some of us being parents, teachers, pastors, engineers, accountants, friends...we are all uniquely called to fully live in this world in different ways. Still, we are all called to live fully. And with that, to perserve in our search for what that means in relationship to one another and to experiment with choices that honor this call.
It could be said that I have "drive." An insatiable passion for learning, for growing, for achievement that would probably make the average person roll their eyes and go take a nap. I feel the press of time against the list my life's bucket list and feel ever more hurried to do more, to be more. I thought that with a new year in a new decade of my life this rush within might be calmed but instead it has become more intense than ever.
There was something inside me that was lit a long time ago. A moment when the way we were told to be, the things we were expected to achieve, became completely inadequate for my own personal sense of fulfillment. Perhaps, it was the moment I began the journey of 'salvation', the moment for me that Jesus touched my life with all of His radical-ness and counterculterism. Not a moment of salvation, but a beginning toward salvation. Not just for me, but for all of us. That we might all crave for our world much more than even our most ambitious individual resolutions could promise.
And while this might seem from the outside to be a quick light burning, the truth is that I can't imagine living any other way than this life of constant striving. My resolution this year is to inspire you to join me in this constant struggle against stagnation. In a journey away from the comfortableness that our lives so easily mold to. Toward a vision that challenges all of our self doubts and societal norms. A world of radical inclusiveness and just equality. A life in search of meaning. What would this look like for you? For us?
I have begun to contemplate this vision that God can only hold us if we jump from the point on which we find ourselves settled. That our lives can only be truly Hers if we move from the place we are steadily standing and step out into a new unknown. This year, let's jump. Let's hold hands and jump into an uncertain future that promises only that which God can provide. I promise it will be the best resolution.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
The Message of the Manger
The Barna Group just release a study entitled, "Six Megathemes Emerge from Barna Group Research in 2010." For the most part, it wouldn't appear that any of the findings in this study were a surprise to anyone involved in or aware of the recent participation trends in 'The Church'. The reality that faith and spirituality have begun to take a backseat to the race for personal accomplishments and the hiatus of financial comfortability are no surprise to people who witness the falling numbers of persons sitting in church pews on Sunday mornings and the empty classroom seats during even the most short term Bible studies.
As a young mom combined career 'church person,' I know that faith takes a backseat in the fastlane of our lives; that in the midst of decisions between church participation and sports events or nights cuddled up on the couch with family; that church will probably continue to fall lower and lower on the list. I know that we compartmentalize our church life rarely speaking to or welcoming others to experience something that we have almost written off as without value. I also am incredibly aware, as the Barna Study reports, that most people my age are undereducated about Christian theology or biblical study. I know that for most of the people in our society church has offered nothing positive and continues to offer nothing of value to our American culture. These are desperate findings for a time of seeming desperation of our church and our culture. In a time when people seem to be struggling more than ever without much of a forum to feel heard, the church seems to be a gradually disappearing historical landmark.
And while most of this seems equally depressing and predictable, somewhere buried in this report is written, "...a growing majority (of young adults) believe the Holy Spirit is a symbol of God's presence or power, but not a living entity." Really? The thought had never even crossed my mind. I hadn't even thought of the possibility....God is dead, of course....but the Holy Spirit, too? In my personal confusion with theological inconsistencies it has always been the gift of the Spirit and the power of its love and grace that I have depended on for guidance and strength with this concrete concept of God crumbles as an archaic statue and Jesus, well, seems far off and unknown. Without the belief that the Spirit is living among us with the power to make possible beauty out of ugliness, order out of chaos and understanding where there is only ignorance, what would the point be of Church, of Christianity, of Faith?
Without the Living Spirit, wouldn't we lose the conduit through which God's words are spoken to us in this contemporary time? While we could harness the limited power of 'one,' wouldn't we lost the power of 'us'? The unexpected rise of people whose actions form a movement so much greater than the results of the many individuals compromising the movement. To me, this is the work of the Living Spirit. And without the possibilities of a creating and engaging Spirit, we have little hope that life will ever be different, that the promises of this season would have any relevance for 2010....outside of the empty observance of a story which happened a long time ago.
The birth of Christ in the world was a life changing event 2,000 years ago and is meant to be a life changing event today. Perhaps if we question the depth and meaningfulness of our contemporary Christmas Season it isn't because of our traditional scapegoating of consumerism but because of our inability or unwillingness to see the birth of Christ into the world through Easter eyes: that there is a Living and Active Spirit of God in our world, today. That a baby was born into this world so that we would have the possibility of understanding what justice and righteousness looks like in God's view. It requires Christmas to be, this year, a celebration of Christ's birth as Immanuel into the world just as it was on the first 'Chrstmas;' an event worth traveling for, out of our comfort zones to make true something we have only heard of and only momentarily envisioned.
As a young mom combined career 'church person,' I know that faith takes a backseat in the fastlane of our lives; that in the midst of decisions between church participation and sports events or nights cuddled up on the couch with family; that church will probably continue to fall lower and lower on the list. I know that we compartmentalize our church life rarely speaking to or welcoming others to experience something that we have almost written off as without value. I also am incredibly aware, as the Barna Study reports, that most people my age are undereducated about Christian theology or biblical study. I know that for most of the people in our society church has offered nothing positive and continues to offer nothing of value to our American culture. These are desperate findings for a time of seeming desperation of our church and our culture. In a time when people seem to be struggling more than ever without much of a forum to feel heard, the church seems to be a gradually disappearing historical landmark.
And while most of this seems equally depressing and predictable, somewhere buried in this report is written, "...a growing majority (of young adults) believe the Holy Spirit is a symbol of God's presence or power, but not a living entity." Really? The thought had never even crossed my mind. I hadn't even thought of the possibility....God is dead, of course....but the Holy Spirit, too? In my personal confusion with theological inconsistencies it has always been the gift of the Spirit and the power of its love and grace that I have depended on for guidance and strength with this concrete concept of God crumbles as an archaic statue and Jesus, well, seems far off and unknown. Without the belief that the Spirit is living among us with the power to make possible beauty out of ugliness, order out of chaos and understanding where there is only ignorance, what would the point be of Church, of Christianity, of Faith?
Without the Living Spirit, wouldn't we lose the conduit through which God's words are spoken to us in this contemporary time? While we could harness the limited power of 'one,' wouldn't we lost the power of 'us'? The unexpected rise of people whose actions form a movement so much greater than the results of the many individuals compromising the movement. To me, this is the work of the Living Spirit. And without the possibilities of a creating and engaging Spirit, we have little hope that life will ever be different, that the promises of this season would have any relevance for 2010....outside of the empty observance of a story which happened a long time ago.
The birth of Christ in the world was a life changing event 2,000 years ago and is meant to be a life changing event today. Perhaps if we question the depth and meaningfulness of our contemporary Christmas Season it isn't because of our traditional scapegoating of consumerism but because of our inability or unwillingness to see the birth of Christ into the world through Easter eyes: that there is a Living and Active Spirit of God in our world, today. That a baby was born into this world so that we would have the possibility of understanding what justice and righteousness looks like in God's view. It requires Christmas to be, this year, a celebration of Christ's birth as Immanuel into the world just as it was on the first 'Chrstmas;' an event worth traveling for, out of our comfort zones to make true something we have only heard of and only momentarily envisioned.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Unexpected News
I love Mary. Maybe I should be Catholic but my favorite part of reimagining the story of Jesus' birth is definitely envisioning the experience of Mary. The story of this young woman who receives the most unexpected news with the most unexpected circumstances naturally resulting in the most unexpected outcome.
In some ways it seems like Mary's story has so many elements that modern day women can relate too. Even before Jesus 'officially' enters the picture Luke tells us that Mary was "thoroughly shaken" at the news of her pregnancy. And while it was an angel who delievered her news and not a stick she just peed on for the fifth time after drinking ten glasses of water, everything about becoming a mother continues to hold quite a bit of mystery and unexpectedness (even with the birthing classes!)
While I may excel at making millions of 'mistakes', I never seem to have accidents. It seems like I have so many friends who have shared similar stories of unexpectedness. My friend who went to the emergency room because she was at a loss as to why she was so ill. My sister calling me late last year to tell me her most unexpected news. Even I was a happy accident at one time in my mom's life. (Now I think I qualify as more of a permament fixture).
For probably a year John and I have been tossing around the idea of having another baby. And like a game of Russian Roulette we half try, half the time. And every month I hold my breath and wait to see if we too will be the recipients of a "happy accident". In my mind I rehearse all the silly things I would say, like "I know! We weren't even really trying! I just can't believe it!" It seems utterly ridiculuos to be diappointed to not get something you weren't even sure you were ready for in the first place.
Because see, there is the other side of me. The logical side that tells my more dramatically inclined side that she is competely insane and needs to go get her uterus removed before she makes a decision that ends up causing her to check into the inpatient facility down at Lutheran Hospital. And then, just like the unwritten story of Mary I imagine, I pray the exact opposite of what I just prayed five minutes ago, taking back everything I just prayed, and tell God how NOT ready I am and how please NOT to 'bless' me with a happy mistake.
Still every time a month goes by without the unexpected news that I wholeheartedly await, I feel a loss.
Maybe that is where our happy accident stories come from. Why we live in the scientific age of the 21st century surrounded by so many couples who literally have no idea how they got pregnant. This fear confessing that we desire to be a parent, to be responsible for a human being in this unpredictable and broken world, and that it is a totally insane endeavor which we just tried for a very long time to willingly enlist into this army of insanity. I don't know exactly what it is, but I want it too. The pleasure of the constant unexpectedness that children bestow upon us...even before their arrival.
For me, in the midst of the realities of a full and demanding life I intuitively create and desire a narrative like Mary's. To embrace this concept that pregnancy just happened to us. Another arrival of unexpected news even to perhaps the most expecting persons.
I remember being four months pregnant on the beaches of Florida watching a tired mom and dad playing with their children in the sand and totally freaking out. I mean complete instant meltdown. Although John and I had tried for almost a year to get pregnant after six months of talking about trying and had just been through four months of utter esctasy that we were going to be parents, I had changed my mind and did not want to be a mother afterall.
Still in sptie of all the tears and hard lessons, the self sacrifices and life changing events, half of me craves my own 'happy mistake.' I want to stop justifying trying to do something totally insane and to just have it happen to me beacuse right now I am stuck in the relentless debate about what will damage Fiona more, being an only child or having a sibling. I worry about where the imaginary baby's room would be, (right now it would be the garage). How we would afford two children. How I could make it through another pregnancy that included throwing up on a daily basis yet, in some cruel joke of fate, still gaining fifty pounds. How I could possible balance another baby with all my personal goals and aspirations in ministry...
Sometimes I feel like a happy accident would be the place where I caught my breath, where I wasn't sitting in the middle but where a decision had been made but seemed so far out of my control.
Mary speaks to me in different ways every year but this year this is where Mary's story truly tugs at my heart. Outside of the whole riding a camel for two weeks while being 9 months pregnant (and no epidural), I really envy Mary's birth story. Because even when our "happy accidents" find their ways into the anticipation of all of our efforts, we still sit in this space of uncertainity.
Wouldn't it be comforting to have angels come down after you see that little positive sign...or don't. After you realize that what has been unexpected is now here...or that it isn't. Angels like those that visited Mary, in what must have been one of the most exciting and devastating moments of her young life, to tell you just as they told her "Look, I know you are feeling about one thousand emotions right now that are all mixing up into some creative expression of a nervous breakdown, but seriously, 'Don't be afraid'. God has a great surprise for you: a happy accident. You are not alone. It will all be okay."
Perhaps the real unexpectedness is never the signs we are stuck with but the messages the angels bring us. That whatever the circumstances; God is with us, we are not alone. For me, in the simultenous emptiness and fullness of my life this message has been the blessing of my Christmas Season. That in pregnancy, in the loss of a child, in the failure to conceive, Mary's angel's words continue to serve as both the quiet winter's snow that comforts me and as the stars guiding my way forward into the unexpectedness of the promises of the Christ child.
In some ways it seems like Mary's story has so many elements that modern day women can relate too. Even before Jesus 'officially' enters the picture Luke tells us that Mary was "thoroughly shaken" at the news of her pregnancy. And while it was an angel who delievered her news and not a stick she just peed on for the fifth time after drinking ten glasses of water, everything about becoming a mother continues to hold quite a bit of mystery and unexpectedness (even with the birthing classes!)
While I may excel at making millions of 'mistakes', I never seem to have accidents. It seems like I have so many friends who have shared similar stories of unexpectedness. My friend who went to the emergency room because she was at a loss as to why she was so ill. My sister calling me late last year to tell me her most unexpected news. Even I was a happy accident at one time in my mom's life. (Now I think I qualify as more of a permament fixture).
For probably a year John and I have been tossing around the idea of having another baby. And like a game of Russian Roulette we half try, half the time. And every month I hold my breath and wait to see if we too will be the recipients of a "happy accident". In my mind I rehearse all the silly things I would say, like "I know! We weren't even really trying! I just can't believe it!" It seems utterly ridiculuos to be diappointed to not get something you weren't even sure you were ready for in the first place.
Because see, there is the other side of me. The logical side that tells my more dramatically inclined side that she is competely insane and needs to go get her uterus removed before she makes a decision that ends up causing her to check into the inpatient facility down at Lutheran Hospital. And then, just like the unwritten story of Mary I imagine, I pray the exact opposite of what I just prayed five minutes ago, taking back everything I just prayed, and tell God how NOT ready I am and how please NOT to 'bless' me with a happy mistake.
Still every time a month goes by without the unexpected news that I wholeheartedly await, I feel a loss.
Maybe that is where our happy accident stories come from. Why we live in the scientific age of the 21st century surrounded by so many couples who literally have no idea how they got pregnant. This fear confessing that we desire to be a parent, to be responsible for a human being in this unpredictable and broken world, and that it is a totally insane endeavor which we just tried for a very long time to willingly enlist into this army of insanity. I don't know exactly what it is, but I want it too. The pleasure of the constant unexpectedness that children bestow upon us...even before their arrival.
For me, in the midst of the realities of a full and demanding life I intuitively create and desire a narrative like Mary's. To embrace this concept that pregnancy just happened to us. Another arrival of unexpected news even to perhaps the most expecting persons.
I remember being four months pregnant on the beaches of Florida watching a tired mom and dad playing with their children in the sand and totally freaking out. I mean complete instant meltdown. Although John and I had tried for almost a year to get pregnant after six months of talking about trying and had just been through four months of utter esctasy that we were going to be parents, I had changed my mind and did not want to be a mother afterall.
Still in sptie of all the tears and hard lessons, the self sacrifices and life changing events, half of me craves my own 'happy mistake.' I want to stop justifying trying to do something totally insane and to just have it happen to me beacuse right now I am stuck in the relentless debate about what will damage Fiona more, being an only child or having a sibling. I worry about where the imaginary baby's room would be, (right now it would be the garage). How we would afford two children. How I could make it through another pregnancy that included throwing up on a daily basis yet, in some cruel joke of fate, still gaining fifty pounds. How I could possible balance another baby with all my personal goals and aspirations in ministry...
Sometimes I feel like a happy accident would be the place where I caught my breath, where I wasn't sitting in the middle but where a decision had been made but seemed so far out of my control.
Mary speaks to me in different ways every year but this year this is where Mary's story truly tugs at my heart. Outside of the whole riding a camel for two weeks while being 9 months pregnant (and no epidural), I really envy Mary's birth story. Because even when our "happy accidents" find their ways into the anticipation of all of our efforts, we still sit in this space of uncertainity.
Wouldn't it be comforting to have angels come down after you see that little positive sign...or don't. After you realize that what has been unexpected is now here...or that it isn't. Angels like those that visited Mary, in what must have been one of the most exciting and devastating moments of her young life, to tell you just as they told her "Look, I know you are feeling about one thousand emotions right now that are all mixing up into some creative expression of a nervous breakdown, but seriously, 'Don't be afraid'. God has a great surprise for you: a happy accident. You are not alone. It will all be okay."
Perhaps the real unexpectedness is never the signs we are stuck with but the messages the angels bring us. That whatever the circumstances; God is with us, we are not alone. For me, in the simultenous emptiness and fullness of my life this message has been the blessing of my Christmas Season. That in pregnancy, in the loss of a child, in the failure to conceive, Mary's angel's words continue to serve as both the quiet winter's snow that comforts me and as the stars guiding my way forward into the unexpectedness of the promises of the Christ child.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Without Gifts (Based on How The Grinch Stole Christmas)
What would Christmas be without gifts? Really? Christians might talk a lot about wanting to get closer to the "Reason for the Season," attempting to set aside the clutter and busyness, condemning the consumerism that seems almost forced upon us with constant commercial ads and store’s blasting Christmas carols, but after years and years of centering the Christmas Season around gift giving and receiving we have to ask ourselves, really, what would Christmas even look like without presents?
We wake up on December 25th….and what do we do? No presents under the tree. No kids jumping on our beds pulling us into the chilled air at unreasonable times. No decorated papers thrown all over the living room floor. Would we be motivated to drive miles and miles to see family? Would we continue to count down the days of unbearable expectation for the morning upon which all our shopping and thoughtful purchases will culminate in the smiles of our children and the happiness of our friends and family? A gift that symbolizes the importance they hold in our lives; showing them that they were remembered…that they are loved.
With this culture of reasoning about the centrality of gifts during the Christmas Season, it seems quite appropriate that the Grinch so vengefully rejects the season of Christmas. Living up on a mountain, rejected by the community he once was a marginalized member of, he receives no Christmas cards and he expects no gifts. He knows nothing of the joy of giving or receiving but more importantly he knows nothing of the mutual love of relationships based on an unconditional acceptance and grace…and still in his perpetual bitterness and loneliness it is the rejection and isolation he feels from the people of Whoville that gives him the wisdom and the courage to challenge the current system of love exchanged through the act of material trading.
Like us, the Grinch sees an aspect of ‘stupidity’ in a season based on the conditions of consuming that which we don’t need. In his anger and woundedness the Grinch mistakenly believes he can ruin Christmas for all of Whoville by impersonating Santa Claus and stealing all of their presents.
While most of us (I hope) aren’t ready to rob the homes of others in an effort to squelch a false sense of Christmas joy, 78% of Americans report that they also wish that Christmas was less materialistic, less about busy shopping malls and credit card debt and more about…well, something else.
And while we might all agree that Christmas isn’t about presents, our actions repeatedly tell a radically different Christmas tale. A habitual confession that no matter how much many of us might question the seemingly irrational consumerism of a season that we idealize to be about charity and connectionalism, we are stuck in a cycle that has very often overshadowed any of our good intentions of creating a sacred space during the Christmas Season.
But unlike us, The Grinch had nothing to lose. Rejecting Christmas for him had little consequence. He was already an outcast, already exempt from the busyness and consumerism that plagues all of Whoville.
Perhaps it takes someone like the Grinch, someone for whom loneliness is constant and expressions of mutual love are void, to remind us of the importance of the gifts God has already given us. The gift of time together in a world where time so often races past us. The gift of connectedness and relationships that we so often take for granted. The gift of a space where we fit in, where we are loved and accepted, remembered and appreciated. And perhaps most importantly for a time valued for generosity of the heart, the gift of grace, that allows is to reach out to The Grinch’s of the world, that they might know and experience the gift of God’s inclusive family spreading the gift of unconditional love.
We wake up on December 25th….and what do we do? No presents under the tree. No kids jumping on our beds pulling us into the chilled air at unreasonable times. No decorated papers thrown all over the living room floor. Would we be motivated to drive miles and miles to see family? Would we continue to count down the days of unbearable expectation for the morning upon which all our shopping and thoughtful purchases will culminate in the smiles of our children and the happiness of our friends and family? A gift that symbolizes the importance they hold in our lives; showing them that they were remembered…that they are loved.
With this culture of reasoning about the centrality of gifts during the Christmas Season, it seems quite appropriate that the Grinch so vengefully rejects the season of Christmas. Living up on a mountain, rejected by the community he once was a marginalized member of, he receives no Christmas cards and he expects no gifts. He knows nothing of the joy of giving or receiving but more importantly he knows nothing of the mutual love of relationships based on an unconditional acceptance and grace…and still in his perpetual bitterness and loneliness it is the rejection and isolation he feels from the people of Whoville that gives him the wisdom and the courage to challenge the current system of love exchanged through the act of material trading.
Like us, the Grinch sees an aspect of ‘stupidity’ in a season based on the conditions of consuming that which we don’t need. In his anger and woundedness the Grinch mistakenly believes he can ruin Christmas for all of Whoville by impersonating Santa Claus and stealing all of their presents.
While most of us (I hope) aren’t ready to rob the homes of others in an effort to squelch a false sense of Christmas joy, 78% of Americans report that they also wish that Christmas was less materialistic, less about busy shopping malls and credit card debt and more about…well, something else.
And while we might all agree that Christmas isn’t about presents, our actions repeatedly tell a radically different Christmas tale. A habitual confession that no matter how much many of us might question the seemingly irrational consumerism of a season that we idealize to be about charity and connectionalism, we are stuck in a cycle that has very often overshadowed any of our good intentions of creating a sacred space during the Christmas Season.
But unlike us, The Grinch had nothing to lose. Rejecting Christmas for him had little consequence. He was already an outcast, already exempt from the busyness and consumerism that plagues all of Whoville.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Resignations
My mom bought me this little church with a candle in it that is sitting on the bathroom counter. I can see it from my bed as I type.
There is something comforting about the light flickering softly. The room dark except for this little ceramic church lighting up the walls with gentle shadows.
In some ways, this little ceramic church, reminds me of all the reasons I ever felt called to ministry in the church. The idea of church as 'home,' functioning as a safe haven from all the darkness and brokenness in the world.
So many things seem to be going right at Hope. New ministries are slowly taking shape, relationships are beginning to deepen as faces and names become more familiar, and my office is busily decorated with various project-piles strategically placed all about.
But in spite of all the progressions of settledness this week has been overshadowed with a dark lining of random tears and insoluble feelings of emptiness. This week I gave a difficult sermon for World AIDS Day and spoke about all the people in the world suffering from the stigma imposed on them from ignorance and fear. I lifted on high the model and life of Christ which demands nothing less of us than to walk forward in solidarity with all people who are plagued with symptoms of a broken world; isolation, rejection, a permanent status of invisibility.
It brought me down to a place I haven't been in awhile. Topped with all the emotional residue from moving my family and beginning a new position, the reminder that I am called to serve and live in a world of such apparent brokenness has seemed incredibly overwhelming as a zealous justice seeking servant of Christ.
In a conversation this week with a more experienced clergy person, I was given the wise advice that my call will become easier once I learn to accept that ministry may not be about changing the world as much as it is about changing the worlds of individuals. Its something I have actually been told a few times before by various people. And its a thought that I have been pondering for the past few days hoping the resignation of my dreams to change this world would bring relief to an untimely depression.
But in the midst of prayers and reflections I still find God to be a relentless force living restlessly in my soul. A force pulling me closer towards a place upon which I can almost envision that "Unthinkable World" in which all oppression in reversed, all those who are hungry are fed, and all those who are broken are restored to wholeness. But with what I am to do with that vision remains and may always remain a mystery....
I really wish I had the ability to resign. Or the choice retire. That I might just be satisfied working nine to five or feel rewarded by ordination or fulfilled through genuine affirmations. But echoing in the background of all the cravings of wishes for an easier path are the reminders that God depends on us to not give up on our call to change this world yet knows that even in our most seemingly unproductive attempts we will undoubtably change lives.
What would God do if we all resigned our dreams of changing this world?
I think God depends on Her Disciples not to resign our individual dreams to change the world but to live in that cold and sparse land of striving to create God's Kingdom on earth. And in the struggle to discover what that looks like for each of us is when we most will need the refuge of the warm glow of the church and the uniting hands of the Body of Christ to carry us forward.
There is something comforting about the light flickering softly. The room dark except for this little ceramic church lighting up the walls with gentle shadows.
In some ways, this little ceramic church, reminds me of all the reasons I ever felt called to ministry in the church. The idea of church as 'home,' functioning as a safe haven from all the darkness and brokenness in the world.
So many things seem to be going right at Hope. New ministries are slowly taking shape, relationships are beginning to deepen as faces and names become more familiar, and my office is busily decorated with various project-piles strategically placed all about.
But in spite of all the progressions of settledness this week has been overshadowed with a dark lining of random tears and insoluble feelings of emptiness. This week I gave a difficult sermon for World AIDS Day and spoke about all the people in the world suffering from the stigma imposed on them from ignorance and fear. I lifted on high the model and life of Christ which demands nothing less of us than to walk forward in solidarity with all people who are plagued with symptoms of a broken world; isolation, rejection, a permanent status of invisibility.
It brought me down to a place I haven't been in awhile. Topped with all the emotional residue from moving my family and beginning a new position, the reminder that I am called to serve and live in a world of such apparent brokenness has seemed incredibly overwhelming as a zealous justice seeking servant of Christ.
In a conversation this week with a more experienced clergy person, I was given the wise advice that my call will become easier once I learn to accept that ministry may not be about changing the world as much as it is about changing the worlds of individuals. Its something I have actually been told a few times before by various people. And its a thought that I have been pondering for the past few days hoping the resignation of my dreams to change this world would bring relief to an untimely depression.
But in the midst of prayers and reflections I still find God to be a relentless force living restlessly in my soul. A force pulling me closer towards a place upon which I can almost envision that "Unthinkable World" in which all oppression in reversed, all those who are hungry are fed, and all those who are broken are restored to wholeness. But with what I am to do with that vision remains and may always remain a mystery....
I really wish I had the ability to resign. Or the choice retire. That I might just be satisfied working nine to five or feel rewarded by ordination or fulfilled through genuine affirmations. But echoing in the background of all the cravings of wishes for an easier path are the reminders that God depends on us to not give up on our call to change this world yet knows that even in our most seemingly unproductive attempts we will undoubtably change lives.
What would God do if we all resigned our dreams of changing this world?
I think God depends on Her Disciples not to resign our individual dreams to change the world but to live in that cold and sparse land of striving to create God's Kingdom on earth. And in the struggle to discover what that looks like for each of us is when we most will need the refuge of the warm glow of the church and the uniting hands of the Body of Christ to carry us forward.
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