This is post #100. Shouldn't there be some little fanfare associated with this?
And I don't even have much to say. Been thinking about theodicy some this week, owing to a conversation in a group earlier this week. We were talking about healing, and that we should always expect miraculous healing because to do otherwise might mean that we don't have enough faith for God to give us the miracle we want.
With apologies to the other members of my group, and with all due respect, doesn't that make us into the gods? If God can't operate because I'm not good enough, then all bets are off, because we will never consistently be good enough. I've had an angelic moment or two, here and there (now rendered meaningless by the sin of pride I've just committed), but if God's goodness depends on mine then we're all headed you-know-where in a handbasket.
I think God's big enough to help us through our suffering, and accompany us in it, and surround us with a body of friends and fellow believers in whom we find strength. There's where we truly say, "not our will but yours," because our will would be complete restoration of health and wholeness, and there is only one place that it is promised: at the resurrection (ours, not just his) when Christ's saving work is complete in us.
And no, it's not fatalism that we practice as we go through life and all the stuff it brings us. It's faith: because the gift of the Incarnation is that God is in fact with us, no matter what stuff happens (I'm rather fond of the bumper sticker with a 4-letter variant spelling of "stuff").
God is. We are. And we are best when we are with God, and with one another. And that's when we can pray for healing with expectation, and know that somewhere between here with us and there with God, our prayers will always be answered with a resounding "yes!" It just might not be before our very eyes...
So do I pray for healing? Yes. Do I believe in it? Yes. Have I seen it? In ways subtle and small and everyday, absolutely. In ways flashy and clearly extraordinary, maybe. But in all these things, easy and difficult, good and not-so-good, God is working for the good of those who love him and are called by him...for his purposes and by his name. Huh. How'd that get in there?
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Telling Stories, or Why I Am So Interested in "Jericho"
Okay, so here it is.
I am interested (as I hope you can see from reading my sermons) in how we communicate our faith through stories, both our own and story of how we are connected through the larger story of God's interaction with human people.
So, here's where Jericho comes in (yes, I've touched on this before. Tough. This blog is the place where I think on the computer.). I got caught up in a serial drama, the story of a small Kansas town in the wake of a nuclear attack. CBS did a pretty great job of creating people I was interested in, who's stories I wanted to see more of, who I empathized with. And then, after a really great cliffhanger at the end of the first season, it was cancelled.
This has happened to me before. It's why I prefer shows like House and CSI: all the drama is neatly tied up at the end of the show, and it's not too hard to pick up the few threads than wander from week to week. I had said (famous last words) that I wouldn't watch any more shows like Jericho because all the stuff I live (except the above, of course) get cancelled. But I got sucked into this one.
After we heard it had been cancelled, I started to hear about this incredible web effort to save the show. The Nuts campaign has been amazing. Fans have purchased more than 13 tons (yes tons) of peanuts to be delivered to CBS in protest. The number of websites and Google hits related to the show has skyrocketed in the last 2 weeks. And it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I suspect they are nearing a tipping point, where the mainline media (already on the scent) will take up the story and force a response from CBS.
And why has this happened?
Because of a story. We found pieces of ourselves in Johnston and Gail, Eric and Jake, Heather and Emily and Dale and all the other characters, and they became a part of us. And CBS fed this with a great web presence, not just a self-promoting fan site but an intentional forum for the creation of a Jericho community. They succeeded, beyond their wildest dreams, or maybe their wildest nightmares, because now it's come back to bite them...or bury them in nuts.
So what I am really interested in, in the midst of all this, is what makes stories so compelling that they become a part of us. Why aren't Christians telling our faith story in such a way that we create the kind of community that spontaneously rallies around its members, even those we don't know personally? How can we tell and understand our faith stories and locate them in the larger context of God's relationship with creation so that it becomes, like the Save Jericho campaign, viral...spreading like wildfire, contagious and maybe even untreatable (more on that and Ben's theories on how the church inoculates us against faith later)? What can we learn from Jericho?
Donald Miller: "The chief role of a Christian is to be a better storyteller."
I am interested (as I hope you can see from reading my sermons) in how we communicate our faith through stories, both our own and story of how we are connected through the larger story of God's interaction with human people.
So, here's where Jericho comes in (yes, I've touched on this before. Tough. This blog is the place where I think on the computer.). I got caught up in a serial drama, the story of a small Kansas town in the wake of a nuclear attack. CBS did a pretty great job of creating people I was interested in, who's stories I wanted to see more of, who I empathized with. And then, after a really great cliffhanger at the end of the first season, it was cancelled.
This has happened to me before. It's why I prefer shows like House and CSI: all the drama is neatly tied up at the end of the show, and it's not too hard to pick up the few threads than wander from week to week. I had said (famous last words) that I wouldn't watch any more shows like Jericho because all the stuff I live (except the above, of course) get cancelled. But I got sucked into this one.
After we heard it had been cancelled, I started to hear about this incredible web effort to save the show. The Nuts campaign has been amazing. Fans have purchased more than 13 tons (yes tons) of peanuts to be delivered to CBS in protest. The number of websites and Google hits related to the show has skyrocketed in the last 2 weeks. And it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I suspect they are nearing a tipping point, where the mainline media (already on the scent) will take up the story and force a response from CBS.
And why has this happened?
Because of a story. We found pieces of ourselves in Johnston and Gail, Eric and Jake, Heather and Emily and Dale and all the other characters, and they became a part of us. And CBS fed this with a great web presence, not just a self-promoting fan site but an intentional forum for the creation of a Jericho community. They succeeded, beyond their wildest dreams, or maybe their wildest nightmares, because now it's come back to bite them...or bury them in nuts.
So what I am really interested in, in the midst of all this, is what makes stories so compelling that they become a part of us. Why aren't Christians telling our faith story in such a way that we create the kind of community that spontaneously rallies around its members, even those we don't know personally? How can we tell and understand our faith stories and locate them in the larger context of God's relationship with creation so that it becomes, like the Save Jericho campaign, viral...spreading like wildfire, contagious and maybe even untreatable (more on that and Ben's theories on how the church inoculates us against faith later)? What can we learn from Jericho?
Donald Miller: "The chief role of a Christian is to be a better storyteller."
Will post again soon, I promise....
it's been hot and stressful at my house.
i'm spoiled...i want my AC back, and i'm told it will be Wednesday before i will have air again.
whine, whimper, moan....
Jericho plug:
now 2 nut suppliers are working together and in addition, giving a portion of the proceeds to help rebuild Greenburg, Kansas, a real Kansas town coping with disaster.
Check out www.jerichonuts.com --you don't have to send nuts to CBS to donate...
Hey, CBS! Bring back Jericho!
i'm spoiled...i want my AC back, and i'm told it will be Wednesday before i will have air again.
whine, whimper, moan....
Jericho plug:
now 2 nut suppliers are working together and in addition, giving a portion of the proceeds to help rebuild Greenburg, Kansas, a real Kansas town coping with disaster.
Check out www.jerichonuts.com --you don't have to send nuts to CBS to donate...
Hey, CBS! Bring back Jericho!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Watching Our Language
Sermon on Acts 2:1-21 on Pentecost Sunday, 2007
The summer before my senior year of high school, I went to a 4 week Spanish immersion program called the Governor’s Spanish Academy. About 40 students from all over the state of Virginia spent that month at Averett College in Danville speaking only Spanish except for 5 minutes every other day, when we were allowed to call home. By the day of our closing ceremony, when we returned back to the English-speaking mainstream of our lives, we were not only fluent in speaking Spanish, we were thinking and dreaming in Spanish. It took a couple of days to shift back into thinking and speaking in English…to remember to watch my language around those who couldn’t understand what I was saying.
Sadly, I’ve let my Spanish become very rusty. I don’t know that I could carry on a meaningful conversation at this point, although I still know how to ask the all-important question, “Donde está el baño?”—Where is the bathroom? But in college, I was still fluent, bilingual. I went on a Volunteers in Mission trip to San Cosme Mazatecochco, Mexico and was the only member of my team who could pronounce the name of the town. Although VIM provided translators for us, my Spanish turned out to be better than their English, so I translated for the team in museums and churches. I was able, literally, to speak the language of our hosts and those we met along the way, and so I was able to communicate much better than if I knew no Spanish at all. And I had a sense of community with the folks I was working with, because I spoke their language without the barriers felt by the rest of my team. We understood one another’s jokes and silly comments, which would have been lost in translation.
Dealing with differing languages would have been a barrier felt strongly by Jesus and the disciples. While they lived under the rule of the Roman Empire, there was no single language that everyone spoke perfectly. Greek appears to have been the language of commerce—so everyone in cities likely knew at least a few words. But on that Pentecost day, as many Jews as could make the pilgrimage traveled to Jerusalem from wherever they were from: the Near- and Middle-East, Europe, Asia, and Africa. Jews at least would know some Hebrew or Aramaic, but church language doesn’t always translate to the everyday: saying “O give praise to the Lord” is a very different proposition than saying, “Where can I find a room for the night?” in terms of everyday speech.
Common language and experience bring people together. I am not speaking here merely of languages, English, French, Latin, Arabic, and so on, although it is true for them as well. Consider a trip you’ve taken: if you met someone on that trip who had something in common with you, didn’t it make you feel more at home to talk about that thing? The Blue Devils, where your great aunt Bertha was from, whatever. When we talk about something and share the same vocabulary—saying, for example, that someone is “from off” instead of “not from around here”—tomato, to-mah-to—we speak the same language. Having a common language builds a sense of community, of togetherness, or having something in common with the people around us. This is the same principle behind many social organizations: coming together around a shared meal, a love of gardening or reading, or a desire to participate in service creates a community that we then call a supper club, a garden or book club, Kiwanis or Lions, and so on.
In the church, we also have a common vocabulary and experience. Part of that experience is built here, in the sanctuary, at worship on Sundays, at funerals, weddings, and cantatas. Part of it is built in homes and hospitals, in the fellowship hall and on mission trips. In many cases, it is these shared experiences which then give us the vocabulary to share the community of the Body of Christ: faith, fellowship, communion, prayer, and praise.
The disciples had had many shared experiences which had given them a vocabulary, a language, which was unique to them. While many people had been healed by Jesus Christ, the disciples were healers themselves and witnesses to the healing power of Jesus. While multitudes had heard Jesus preach in one place or another, the disciples had had many opportunities to learn from him. And while many had spoken with Jesus, the disciples had the privilege of traveling with him, of being his friends and companions, and had heard a great deal that no one else had. They were the witnesses to Jesus’ trial and arrest, and if they couldn’t stand to see his death, who could blame them for hiding from such tragedy?
And in the fifty days from that first Easter Sunday, from the wonder of the resurrection, we have to ask: where have the disciples been? When the drama, fear, and trauma of Good Friday were shown to be a beginning rather than an end, how did they feel? Did they find themselves charged up, full of excitement, energized by the visits from the Risen Christ, ready and raring to go? We have stories about fishing, and Jesus meeting disciples on the Emmaus road, but where have they been? What have they been up to? What would it take to stir them out of their homes, out of their questions, and into the mission Christ gave them? What does it take to excite us, to give us courage to step out, to speak the gospel as we know it? We’ll see in just a moment.
Whatever else the disciples may have been doing, it’s come time for another holiday. Passover marked the crucifixion for them, and so they must have entered Jerusalem with some mixed feelings. Pentecost called to them, to come back to the holy city and worship at the Temple, just as it called Jews from all over the known world. While they shared a common faith, they did not share common languages and cultures: they knew the Temple language, but for these Jews who had been scattered the world over, it must have been difficult to come so far and understand so little of the language of their Judean brothers and sisters.
But it was a feast day, a festival, and so the atmosphere must also have been charged with a carnival air: vendors selling exotic delicacies and treasures from foreign lands, people looking for lost children, sightseers out staring at the strange clothes and facial features, pickpockets and musicians and everyday business people, all out to see the sights, to enjoy the feast, to worship. So the disciples themselves came out to give glory to God, braving the city and the crowds. They were expecting the same chaos of every Pentecost, maybe hoping to lose themselves in the crowds, certainly not expecting to become themselves the center of attention.
Among the masses that day Luke records for us an amazing, life changing, world changing event: the coming of the Holy Spirit to the church. Now remember that the Spirit had been given to the disciples very soon after the resurrection, according to John—this is not the same gift—and Luke doesn’t record that story for us in his gospel nor in Acts. But in Luke the emphasis is not on the Spirit coming for the good of the disciples, to give them encouragement, strength, and focus in those turbulent days following the crucifixion and resurrection.
No, Luke gives us this story to build us into a very different kind of community: instead of a Spirit which strengthens us to keep the faith among ourselves, the Holy Spirit comes in Acts to empower the disciples to share the faith with others. In the middle of the market crowd on a day sacred to the Jews, the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples and they began to preach in a way that everyone around them could understand: regardless of culture, native language, gender, station in life—everyone could hear this good news the disciples preached, and they were amazed. And a new community began to be created that day among diverse people who had come together for a common purpose: to worship and give thanks to God, and who had received more than they bargained for: the gospel of new life in Jesus Christ, God’s Son.
This is the good news of the gospel, then and now: that Christ lived, died, and was resurrected for our salvation…which is meant not only for us but for others. Our common language of faith, our sharing of the stories of how we came to know, love, and follow Christ becomes the bedrock of this Body of Christ which is the Church. And on that first day in Jerusalem when the Church was born, the Holy Spirit makes it plain that the gospel the disciples knew was not for them alone, but for all those who had ears to hear…and that same Spirit made sure they heard it! Not only did the people hear the good news, they heard it as in their native language…their mother tongue, as it were…as if they learned it at their mother’s knee or by their father’s side.
We can’t underestimate the power of this gift, nor its implications for us: we too must learn to speak others’ language in order to communicate this gospel, this community, this faith we have been given. And no, I don’t mean that everyone has to learn French or Spanish to do it…but if we truly believe that the Holy Spirit empowered the disciples that Pentecost day to share the gospel with others in the way they could best understand it, then we also believe that the Spirit empowers us to do the same. This is one of the reasons we started the evening worship service: because for people who haven’t grown up with our hymns and our church language, worship teams leading newer music and a less formal setting are much more comfortable than the Sunday morning we love…and that helps us bring people into the community of faith that shares the good news. We have had to learn to “watch our language” to try to create this new service where people will be drawn into the Ann Street faith community. It’s an experiment, to be sure, but one that’s paying off: we have good attendance with new people almost every week, the folks who attend regularly are very supportive, and everyone there speaks well of how welcoming and friendly our church is.
The gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost reminds us that we need to watch our language to be sure we are communicating in a way that draws us closer to God and one another instead of pushing us farther apart. In college, I had a dual major in Environmental Science and Spanish. To complete a requirement for the Spanish major, I had to take two semesters of a second foreign language…as if one weren’t enough. I spent my junior year deeply frustrated, convinced that there was only room for one foreign language in my brain, and struggling to learn the simple basics, such as using “Da” for yes in Russian class instead of “Sí.” And yes, that took a semester and a half to do. Russian was not the language for me, and rather than the easy companionship I found in my Spanish classes and my Spanish-language dorm, I felt alienated from my classmates because they got it and I didn’t. This is not an experience we want people to have with any college course…nor is it at all an experience we want them to have with the gospel of God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ. Needless to say, when there was a VIM trip to Russia being planned, I did NOT sign up.
One purpose of the church—and we have many—is to share our faith with others so that it becomes their faith, too. This is the work of the disciples in Jerusalem that day: to communicate, with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the good news that they themselves had already become a part of, so that others could become a part of it too. This is one purpose of our preaching: to share the gospel so that you can hear it and be shaped by it into the community of faith that is the Body of Christ. And this is why our relationships with one another and with people who are not part of our church are so important: because that’s the key place we develop a common language that lets us share the gospel in a way others can hear and make a part of themselves.
St. Francis of Assisi has a famous saying attributed to him: “preach the gospel always; when necessary, use words.” Something similar I have seen around somewhere says, “Your actions speak so loud I can’t hear the words you’re saying.” What a wonderful world it would be if the person who first said that meant that she couldn’t understand our minor pettiness because our lives are so clearly preaching the gospel. Somehow I don’t think that was the original feeling behind this saying. And yet I long for the day when it would true in me, and in all those who claim the name “Christian.” Lord, in your mercy, hear my prayer. Amen.
The summer before my senior year of high school, I went to a 4 week Spanish immersion program called the Governor’s Spanish Academy. About 40 students from all over the state of Virginia spent that month at Averett College in Danville speaking only Spanish except for 5 minutes every other day, when we were allowed to call home. By the day of our closing ceremony, when we returned back to the English-speaking mainstream of our lives, we were not only fluent in speaking Spanish, we were thinking and dreaming in Spanish. It took a couple of days to shift back into thinking and speaking in English…to remember to watch my language around those who couldn’t understand what I was saying.
Sadly, I’ve let my Spanish become very rusty. I don’t know that I could carry on a meaningful conversation at this point, although I still know how to ask the all-important question, “Donde está el baño?”—Where is the bathroom? But in college, I was still fluent, bilingual. I went on a Volunteers in Mission trip to San Cosme Mazatecochco, Mexico and was the only member of my team who could pronounce the name of the town. Although VIM provided translators for us, my Spanish turned out to be better than their English, so I translated for the team in museums and churches. I was able, literally, to speak the language of our hosts and those we met along the way, and so I was able to communicate much better than if I knew no Spanish at all. And I had a sense of community with the folks I was working with, because I spoke their language without the barriers felt by the rest of my team. We understood one another’s jokes and silly comments, which would have been lost in translation.
Dealing with differing languages would have been a barrier felt strongly by Jesus and the disciples. While they lived under the rule of the Roman Empire, there was no single language that everyone spoke perfectly. Greek appears to have been the language of commerce—so everyone in cities likely knew at least a few words. But on that Pentecost day, as many Jews as could make the pilgrimage traveled to Jerusalem from wherever they were from: the Near- and Middle-East, Europe, Asia, and Africa. Jews at least would know some Hebrew or Aramaic, but church language doesn’t always translate to the everyday: saying “O give praise to the Lord” is a very different proposition than saying, “Where can I find a room for the night?” in terms of everyday speech.
Common language and experience bring people together. I am not speaking here merely of languages, English, French, Latin, Arabic, and so on, although it is true for them as well. Consider a trip you’ve taken: if you met someone on that trip who had something in common with you, didn’t it make you feel more at home to talk about that thing? The Blue Devils, where your great aunt Bertha was from, whatever. When we talk about something and share the same vocabulary—saying, for example, that someone is “from off” instead of “not from around here”—tomato, to-mah-to—we speak the same language. Having a common language builds a sense of community, of togetherness, or having something in common with the people around us. This is the same principle behind many social organizations: coming together around a shared meal, a love of gardening or reading, or a desire to participate in service creates a community that we then call a supper club, a garden or book club, Kiwanis or Lions, and so on.
In the church, we also have a common vocabulary and experience. Part of that experience is built here, in the sanctuary, at worship on Sundays, at funerals, weddings, and cantatas. Part of it is built in homes and hospitals, in the fellowship hall and on mission trips. In many cases, it is these shared experiences which then give us the vocabulary to share the community of the Body of Christ: faith, fellowship, communion, prayer, and praise.
The disciples had had many shared experiences which had given them a vocabulary, a language, which was unique to them. While many people had been healed by Jesus Christ, the disciples were healers themselves and witnesses to the healing power of Jesus. While multitudes had heard Jesus preach in one place or another, the disciples had had many opportunities to learn from him. And while many had spoken with Jesus, the disciples had the privilege of traveling with him, of being his friends and companions, and had heard a great deal that no one else had. They were the witnesses to Jesus’ trial and arrest, and if they couldn’t stand to see his death, who could blame them for hiding from such tragedy?
And in the fifty days from that first Easter Sunday, from the wonder of the resurrection, we have to ask: where have the disciples been? When the drama, fear, and trauma of Good Friday were shown to be a beginning rather than an end, how did they feel? Did they find themselves charged up, full of excitement, energized by the visits from the Risen Christ, ready and raring to go? We have stories about fishing, and Jesus meeting disciples on the Emmaus road, but where have they been? What have they been up to? What would it take to stir them out of their homes, out of their questions, and into the mission Christ gave them? What does it take to excite us, to give us courage to step out, to speak the gospel as we know it? We’ll see in just a moment.
Whatever else the disciples may have been doing, it’s come time for another holiday. Passover marked the crucifixion for them, and so they must have entered Jerusalem with some mixed feelings. Pentecost called to them, to come back to the holy city and worship at the Temple, just as it called Jews from all over the known world. While they shared a common faith, they did not share common languages and cultures: they knew the Temple language, but for these Jews who had been scattered the world over, it must have been difficult to come so far and understand so little of the language of their Judean brothers and sisters.
But it was a feast day, a festival, and so the atmosphere must also have been charged with a carnival air: vendors selling exotic delicacies and treasures from foreign lands, people looking for lost children, sightseers out staring at the strange clothes and facial features, pickpockets and musicians and everyday business people, all out to see the sights, to enjoy the feast, to worship. So the disciples themselves came out to give glory to God, braving the city and the crowds. They were expecting the same chaos of every Pentecost, maybe hoping to lose themselves in the crowds, certainly not expecting to become themselves the center of attention.
Among the masses that day Luke records for us an amazing, life changing, world changing event: the coming of the Holy Spirit to the church. Now remember that the Spirit had been given to the disciples very soon after the resurrection, according to John—this is not the same gift—and Luke doesn’t record that story for us in his gospel nor in Acts. But in Luke the emphasis is not on the Spirit coming for the good of the disciples, to give them encouragement, strength, and focus in those turbulent days following the crucifixion and resurrection.
No, Luke gives us this story to build us into a very different kind of community: instead of a Spirit which strengthens us to keep the faith among ourselves, the Holy Spirit comes in Acts to empower the disciples to share the faith with others. In the middle of the market crowd on a day sacred to the Jews, the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples and they began to preach in a way that everyone around them could understand: regardless of culture, native language, gender, station in life—everyone could hear this good news the disciples preached, and they were amazed. And a new community began to be created that day among diverse people who had come together for a common purpose: to worship and give thanks to God, and who had received more than they bargained for: the gospel of new life in Jesus Christ, God’s Son.
This is the good news of the gospel, then and now: that Christ lived, died, and was resurrected for our salvation…which is meant not only for us but for others. Our common language of faith, our sharing of the stories of how we came to know, love, and follow Christ becomes the bedrock of this Body of Christ which is the Church. And on that first day in Jerusalem when the Church was born, the Holy Spirit makes it plain that the gospel the disciples knew was not for them alone, but for all those who had ears to hear…and that same Spirit made sure they heard it! Not only did the people hear the good news, they heard it as in their native language…their mother tongue, as it were…as if they learned it at their mother’s knee or by their father’s side.
We can’t underestimate the power of this gift, nor its implications for us: we too must learn to speak others’ language in order to communicate this gospel, this community, this faith we have been given. And no, I don’t mean that everyone has to learn French or Spanish to do it…but if we truly believe that the Holy Spirit empowered the disciples that Pentecost day to share the gospel with others in the way they could best understand it, then we also believe that the Spirit empowers us to do the same. This is one of the reasons we started the evening worship service: because for people who haven’t grown up with our hymns and our church language, worship teams leading newer music and a less formal setting are much more comfortable than the Sunday morning we love…and that helps us bring people into the community of faith that shares the good news. We have had to learn to “watch our language” to try to create this new service where people will be drawn into the Ann Street faith community. It’s an experiment, to be sure, but one that’s paying off: we have good attendance with new people almost every week, the folks who attend regularly are very supportive, and everyone there speaks well of how welcoming and friendly our church is.
The gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost reminds us that we need to watch our language to be sure we are communicating in a way that draws us closer to God and one another instead of pushing us farther apart. In college, I had a dual major in Environmental Science and Spanish. To complete a requirement for the Spanish major, I had to take two semesters of a second foreign language…as if one weren’t enough. I spent my junior year deeply frustrated, convinced that there was only room for one foreign language in my brain, and struggling to learn the simple basics, such as using “Da” for yes in Russian class instead of “Sí.” And yes, that took a semester and a half to do. Russian was not the language for me, and rather than the easy companionship I found in my Spanish classes and my Spanish-language dorm, I felt alienated from my classmates because they got it and I didn’t. This is not an experience we want people to have with any college course…nor is it at all an experience we want them to have with the gospel of God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ. Needless to say, when there was a VIM trip to Russia being planned, I did NOT sign up.
One purpose of the church—and we have many—is to share our faith with others so that it becomes their faith, too. This is the work of the disciples in Jerusalem that day: to communicate, with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the good news that they themselves had already become a part of, so that others could become a part of it too. This is one purpose of our preaching: to share the gospel so that you can hear it and be shaped by it into the community of faith that is the Body of Christ. And this is why our relationships with one another and with people who are not part of our church are so important: because that’s the key place we develop a common language that lets us share the gospel in a way others can hear and make a part of themselves.
St. Francis of Assisi has a famous saying attributed to him: “preach the gospel always; when necessary, use words.” Something similar I have seen around somewhere says, “Your actions speak so loud I can’t hear the words you’re saying.” What a wonderful world it would be if the person who first said that meant that she couldn’t understand our minor pettiness because our lives are so clearly preaching the gospel. Somehow I don’t think that was the original feeling behind this saying. And yet I long for the day when it would true in me, and in all those who claim the name “Christian.” Lord, in your mercy, hear my prayer. Amen.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Still Not Over It
Nope, Jericho fans still aren't.
Ben went so far as to call a local ABC affiliate to try to get them interested, since CBS is downplaying the web campaign bigtime.
Still haven't bought nuts...but it's getting pretty tempting.
Hope they succeed--more good tv for me to watch!
Ben went so far as to call a local ABC affiliate to try to get them interested, since CBS is downplaying the web campaign bigtime.
Still haven't bought nuts...but it's getting pretty tempting.
Hope they succeed--more good tv for me to watch!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Getting ready for Sunday
I figured something rather obvious out this week, as I was contemplating the somewhat stressful fact that here it is Thursday and I've barely started working on Sunday's sermon. So here it is: Eric preaches at the morning services 3 times a month, so pretty much every week he's got time set aside to prepare. I, on the other hand, preach once a month, and so when it's my turn to preach I don't have time set aside. I'm lousy at planning ahead; there's so much I do every week that can't be done ahead, and truth be told, I am a world class procrastinator. I learned in school that I generally did better work when I waited until close to the deadline. I actually did an experiment one year, where I did some of my work as much as a week in advance (yes, I had classmates who did this), and my grades were better when I was in the computer lab at 2 am, trying to find a free printer.
But last time I preached, I wrote a significant portion of my sermon here on this blog. The experiment this time was to use this blog to work out my thoughts ahead of time, to improve my writing, and to maybe learn something about myself in the process.
So here's this week's attempt. The sermon is going to be about Pentecost, with the text being Acts 2:1-21. What it's really about is communication, and I'm determined not to preach about Jericho. Unfortunately, once I get interested in something (like the Jericho protest) everything starts to look the same. Even so, I think I'm on to something here.
I think that what's happening with Jericho fans, and there are thousands out there reading and writing blogs and posts, sending emails and snail mails and nuts, is that they have figured out that the old way of deciding how many people watch a particular TV show (Nielsen boxes and journals) isn't good enough any more.
From what I understand, an extrapolation is made from a statistical sampling of TV watching households from which data is collected in real time. So, for those who watch a show when they air, information is compiled that eventually becomes a "share" of the TV market. This has been an effective system up til now.
The failure comes with the proliferation of DVRs and online viewing of episodes. The Nielsen system simply doesn't track those of us who record our shows on DVR to watch later, nor can it count the episodes watched online (and CBS has made them all available). Sure, CBS could tell us how many have been watched on their "Innertube" viewer, but I haven't seen any numbers, nor have they turned up in any of the Jericho supporter sites.
CBS made a real effort to create an online community for Jericho. From the beginning of the show, web content was made available to viewers to add to the show. Online interviews, "webisodes", surveys and podcasts, in addition to the ability to interact with cast members and fans, all contributed to this sense that Jericho was something special. When Jericho's season ended with a cliff-hanger, fans were ready for a new season, and some resolution. Then the show was cancelled, and the fans felt betrayed, and they have lashed out in an amazingly coordinated attack designed, with good humor, to convince CBS to either renew the show or sell it to another network.
That's a lot of setup for one simple point: the old ways of communicating (and understanding how we communicate) simply don't always work anymore. We no longer have to watch a show at the time when the network decides to air it; I almost never do. Instead, my DVR is set to record the shows I like: Good Eats, CSI, Numb3rs, House, and until now, Jericho. And then I watch them at my convenience: in the morning when I'm trying to wake up, in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, in a stolen half-hour when I've come home for lunch or on a Saturday morning when the cat and I are the only ones awake. If I had a Nielsen box, my "votes" for each show (it is, after all, a popularity contest; reality shows have proven it's not about quality) would not count--not because I wasn't watching, but because the old ways of measuring how popular a show is are no longer relevant to many of us in the coveted 18-49 demographic.
And CBS has not apparently learned to listen to the fans; the very forum they set up has turned into a place where viewers plan their attack against the network that brought them together and gave them a place to come together. CBS seems to have misunderstood the power of the communication tools they provided: downloads and chats and discussion threads and all the things they did to fill the time between episodes meant that the time slot was no longer an issue. They failed to understand that we no longer use TV as we did, so the old ways of evaluating how we use it aren't valid.
I'm very interested to see how this Jericho thing comes out. You see, the Church knows a thing or two about changing how we communicate in changing cultures and times. And we learn (slowly, more often than not) that each new technology, each paradigm shift in communication and worldview and politics, gives us new opportunities if we will only use them. It's not about changing the message, it's about learning how to use a new medium to communicate the message. And that, I think, is the point: part of the point of Pentecost is that we use the tools we have (which change) to proclaim the message of the resurrected Christ (which doesn't).
But last time I preached, I wrote a significant portion of my sermon here on this blog. The experiment this time was to use this blog to work out my thoughts ahead of time, to improve my writing, and to maybe learn something about myself in the process.
So here's this week's attempt. The sermon is going to be about Pentecost, with the text being Acts 2:1-21. What it's really about is communication, and I'm determined not to preach about Jericho. Unfortunately, once I get interested in something (like the Jericho protest) everything starts to look the same. Even so, I think I'm on to something here.
I think that what's happening with Jericho fans, and there are thousands out there reading and writing blogs and posts, sending emails and snail mails and nuts, is that they have figured out that the old way of deciding how many people watch a particular TV show (Nielsen boxes and journals) isn't good enough any more.
From what I understand, an extrapolation is made from a statistical sampling of TV watching households from which data is collected in real time. So, for those who watch a show when they air, information is compiled that eventually becomes a "share" of the TV market. This has been an effective system up til now.
The failure comes with the proliferation of DVRs and online viewing of episodes. The Nielsen system simply doesn't track those of us who record our shows on DVR to watch later, nor can it count the episodes watched online (and CBS has made them all available). Sure, CBS could tell us how many have been watched on their "Innertube" viewer, but I haven't seen any numbers, nor have they turned up in any of the Jericho supporter sites.
CBS made a real effort to create an online community for Jericho. From the beginning of the show, web content was made available to viewers to add to the show. Online interviews, "webisodes", surveys and podcasts, in addition to the ability to interact with cast members and fans, all contributed to this sense that Jericho was something special. When Jericho's season ended with a cliff-hanger, fans were ready for a new season, and some resolution. Then the show was cancelled, and the fans felt betrayed, and they have lashed out in an amazingly coordinated attack designed, with good humor, to convince CBS to either renew the show or sell it to another network.
That's a lot of setup for one simple point: the old ways of communicating (and understanding how we communicate) simply don't always work anymore. We no longer have to watch a show at the time when the network decides to air it; I almost never do. Instead, my DVR is set to record the shows I like: Good Eats, CSI, Numb3rs, House, and until now, Jericho. And then I watch them at my convenience: in the morning when I'm trying to wake up, in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, in a stolen half-hour when I've come home for lunch or on a Saturday morning when the cat and I are the only ones awake. If I had a Nielsen box, my "votes" for each show (it is, after all, a popularity contest; reality shows have proven it's not about quality) would not count--not because I wasn't watching, but because the old ways of measuring how popular a show is are no longer relevant to many of us in the coveted 18-49 demographic.
And CBS has not apparently learned to listen to the fans; the very forum they set up has turned into a place where viewers plan their attack against the network that brought them together and gave them a place to come together. CBS seems to have misunderstood the power of the communication tools they provided: downloads and chats and discussion threads and all the things they did to fill the time between episodes meant that the time slot was no longer an issue. They failed to understand that we no longer use TV as we did, so the old ways of evaluating how we use it aren't valid.
I'm very interested to see how this Jericho thing comes out. You see, the Church knows a thing or two about changing how we communicate in changing cultures and times. And we learn (slowly, more often than not) that each new technology, each paradigm shift in communication and worldview and politics, gives us new opportunities if we will only use them. It's not about changing the message, it's about learning how to use a new medium to communicate the message. And that, I think, is the point: part of the point of Pentecost is that we use the tools we have (which change) to proclaim the message of the resurrected Christ (which doesn't).
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Jericho Saga continues
Yesterday I posted a link to a news item about fan response to CBS' cancellation of the show "Jericho". It's been great fun to watch people rally together for something that's important to them, and one of the things I'm really fascinated with is the civility of this coordinated "attack." The "commanders" have a plan: to overwhelm CBS with polite and passionate viewer feedback emphasizing their desire to see "Jericho" renewed for another season. Oh yeah, and nuts, lots and lots of nuts.
In the season finale, "Nuts!" is the response to a demand for surrender, both at the Battle of the Bulge and the battle between New Bern and Jericho. Jericho fans are saying "Nuts!" to CBS and demanding that the networks (all of them) rethink what their priorities are. CBS put a lot of time and energy into creating online buzz about the show...but online viewers and people like me who record the show on my DVR are excluded from the ratings calculations. CBS may have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams as international viewers, internet viewers, and DVR fans are "attacking" in droves via email, phone, snail mail, and peanut delivery (2 tons scheduled for delivery tomorrow--yes, I said 2 TONS).
The online support has spawned an interesting community; today a man who had been a leading supporter of the effort, to the extent that he planned to send a singing peanut telegram to CBS, wrote a long and tormented post about his 15 year old son. The boy was injured in a car accident over the weekend, and tomorrow at 9:02 am (a nod to the show's Wednesday at 9 pm time slot) his life support will be discontinued. Tomorrow's battle plan includes a moment of silence for the family.
Now, so far I have not posted anything outside of this blog. I haven't sent any peanuts or contributed to the fund to take out a full-page protest ad in Variety. I did answer one online poll (results: 7000 responses, 97% angry about the Jericho cancellation), and that's about as far as I'm willing to go, for now. But I will miss the show, and I'd much prefer that it be renewed.
But I'm much more interested in the passion that's been aroused online, and curious to how far it extends. What would it take to rouse the church to this extent? Even better, what would it take to rouse the unchurched around some Christ-like value? Why is it that we are so passionate about a TV show, but not about the work of God in the world? I'd argue that plenty of us are passionate about our faith and life, but why can't we communicate that passion more effectively? What would it take for poverty, hunger, slavery, war, poor access to health care, etc., etc., ad-almost-nauseam, to be as interesting, as important, as moving to people as the cancellation of a TV show?
In the season finale, "Nuts!" is the response to a demand for surrender, both at the Battle of the Bulge and the battle between New Bern and Jericho. Jericho fans are saying "Nuts!" to CBS and demanding that the networks (all of them) rethink what their priorities are. CBS put a lot of time and energy into creating online buzz about the show...but online viewers and people like me who record the show on my DVR are excluded from the ratings calculations. CBS may have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams as international viewers, internet viewers, and DVR fans are "attacking" in droves via email, phone, snail mail, and peanut delivery (2 tons scheduled for delivery tomorrow--yes, I said 2 TONS).
The online support has spawned an interesting community; today a man who had been a leading supporter of the effort, to the extent that he planned to send a singing peanut telegram to CBS, wrote a long and tormented post about his 15 year old son. The boy was injured in a car accident over the weekend, and tomorrow at 9:02 am (a nod to the show's Wednesday at 9 pm time slot) his life support will be discontinued. Tomorrow's battle plan includes a moment of silence for the family.
Now, so far I have not posted anything outside of this blog. I haven't sent any peanuts or contributed to the fund to take out a full-page protest ad in Variety. I did answer one online poll (results: 7000 responses, 97% angry about the Jericho cancellation), and that's about as far as I'm willing to go, for now. But I will miss the show, and I'd much prefer that it be renewed.
But I'm much more interested in the passion that's been aroused online, and curious to how far it extends. What would it take to rouse the church to this extent? Even better, what would it take to rouse the unchurched around some Christ-like value? Why is it that we are so passionate about a TV show, but not about the work of God in the world? I'd argue that plenty of us are passionate about our faith and life, but why can't we communicate that passion more effectively? What would it take for poverty, hunger, slavery, war, poor access to health care, etc., etc., ad-almost-nauseam, to be as interesting, as important, as moving to people as the cancellation of a TV show?
Monday, May 21, 2007
Half-Ton Of Nuts Heading To CBS
Half-Ton Of Nuts Heading To CBS
I hate it when they cancel my favorite shows...but I've never heard of anything like this!
I hate it when they cancel my favorite shows...but I've never heard of anything like this!
Redundancy
I'm posting my newsletter article, even though it's a bit redundant.
Ponderous Thoughts
I imagine the size of the universe, and I wonder what’s out past the edges
Then I discover inside me a space as big and believe that I’m meant to be
Filled up with more than just questions
--Chris Rice, “Big Enough”
Wow! What a great day we had Sunday! At my last count, 24 people joined the church yesterday, and we have several families getting ready to join in the coming weeks. All of the 21 young people who joined us for Confirmation class will be joining our church as full members. As Eric pointed out, this may be one of the first adult decisions these young people make.
Our church has so much to offer—from opportunities to pray and serve God in the world to a place to come and people to be with when we’re struggling. And one of the gifts we have to share with all these new members (and some who’ve been around a while) is the freedom to think about how God fills the spaces inside us, and to learn from those around us that our faith leads us to ask questions, and to understand the answers, and to live in the tension created in the in-between spaces.
Yep, that’s what I said…faith is how we live when we don’t have the answers, not just when we do. As long as we are growing in grace and faith (as long as we live), we will ask questions, and sometimes we won’t find answers. But we’ve given all these new members, and especially our Confirmation class, the great gift of being able to come together, ask our questions, and find that one another’s faith helps us find answers when we can, and peace when we can’t. And they give us that same gift in return.
Thanks be to God!
Anne
Ponderous Thoughts
I imagine the size of the universe, and I wonder what’s out past the edges
Then I discover inside me a space as big and believe that I’m meant to be
Filled up with more than just questions
--Chris Rice, “Big Enough”
Wow! What a great day we had Sunday! At my last count, 24 people joined the church yesterday, and we have several families getting ready to join in the coming weeks. All of the 21 young people who joined us for Confirmation class will be joining our church as full members. As Eric pointed out, this may be one of the first adult decisions these young people make.
Our church has so much to offer—from opportunities to pray and serve God in the world to a place to come and people to be with when we’re struggling. And one of the gifts we have to share with all these new members (and some who’ve been around a while) is the freedom to think about how God fills the spaces inside us, and to learn from those around us that our faith leads us to ask questions, and to understand the answers, and to live in the tension created in the in-between spaces.
Yep, that’s what I said…faith is how we live when we don’t have the answers, not just when we do. As long as we are growing in grace and faith (as long as we live), we will ask questions, and sometimes we won’t find answers. But we’ve given all these new members, and especially our Confirmation class, the great gift of being able to come together, ask our questions, and find that one another’s faith helps us find answers when we can, and peace when we can’t. And they give us that same gift in return.
Thanks be to God!
Anne
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Happy happy joy joy
It's been an incredible day...we had 24 people join the church today, the vast majority of them on profession of faith (UM speak for 'for the first time')...and as people kept complimenting me on the way out, I found myself saying, "you know, I just show up and play, and great things happen."
I was cautioned to remember that I have had a role in this; I have worked with the young people in particular and been in touch with all the families that joined the church today and those that will be joining in the coming weeks. But I also know that I have worked hard in other places and with other people, and have not had such success...it's a combination of being in the right place at the right time, and maybe also being the right person as well.
Ben and I were talking about prayer at lunch, particularly about how we pray when we are feeling isolated from God or are under stress. He reminded me of a bad day he had in college, when he came back to his room, locked the door, turned his roommate's chair around, and yelled at it for an hour. This is not generally how we picture praying, but I think sometimes it helps us pray to remember that the Incarnation was not a 'one-off' singular event in which God took human form in the person of Jesus Christ from approximately 4 BC to 29 AD (hey, I didn't make the calendar). Instead the Incarnation is on-going, a way that Christ is real to us in our fellowship and worship, and not just a one-time thing. If the Incarnation is real, then we can talk to God however we need to, even if that means yelling, sometimes.
And if the Incarnation is not a singular event, that means that we as the Body of Christ can be the presence of God for people, can literally do the work of God. And we can be wholly honest with God, knowing that he's big enough. Chris Rice has a song about that: "God, if you're there, I wish you'd show me and God, if you care, then I need you to know me. I hope you don't mind me asking the questions but I figure you're big enough...and I imagine the size of the universe, and I wonder what's out past the edges. And I discover inside me a space that's big, and believe that I'm meant to be filled up with more than just questions..."
Anyway, that's the ramble of the day.
I was cautioned to remember that I have had a role in this; I have worked with the young people in particular and been in touch with all the families that joined the church today and those that will be joining in the coming weeks. But I also know that I have worked hard in other places and with other people, and have not had such success...it's a combination of being in the right place at the right time, and maybe also being the right person as well.
Ben and I were talking about prayer at lunch, particularly about how we pray when we are feeling isolated from God or are under stress. He reminded me of a bad day he had in college, when he came back to his room, locked the door, turned his roommate's chair around, and yelled at it for an hour. This is not generally how we picture praying, but I think sometimes it helps us pray to remember that the Incarnation was not a 'one-off' singular event in which God took human form in the person of Jesus Christ from approximately 4 BC to 29 AD (hey, I didn't make the calendar). Instead the Incarnation is on-going, a way that Christ is real to us in our fellowship and worship, and not just a one-time thing. If the Incarnation is real, then we can talk to God however we need to, even if that means yelling, sometimes.
And if the Incarnation is not a singular event, that means that we as the Body of Christ can be the presence of God for people, can literally do the work of God. And we can be wholly honest with God, knowing that he's big enough. Chris Rice has a song about that: "God, if you're there, I wish you'd show me and God, if you care, then I need you to know me. I hope you don't mind me asking the questions but I figure you're big enough...and I imagine the size of the universe, and I wonder what's out past the edges. And I discover inside me a space that's big, and believe that I'm meant to be filled up with more than just questions..."
Anyway, that's the ramble of the day.
Friday, May 18, 2007
What I do when I'm not writing
What I do when I'm online and not writing or reading news posts and looking at whatever eBay item I HAVE TO HAVE, is play games online. I don't play anything too hard or technical. I've learned to really enjoy matching games (Bejeweled! for example), puzzle games (Cubis and Tetris variants), and the match-3 shooting games (Luxor and Tumblebugs) but I have become obsessed this week with Peggle Deluxe, a sort of computer-based variation on pachinko. I of course tend not to want to buy these, and so I download free trials...and now I'm hooked on a particularly twisted shooting game called Scrubbles as well as Peggle, and my trials are up and I'm starting to hunt for a bargain so that I can buy the full versions. This behavior needs to stop!
Tonight is the Carteret County Relay for Life, so at least I'll get some exercise supporting that. If you haven't donated, please follow the link to the right.
Thank you to the wonderful folks who already have.
Tonight is the Carteret County Relay for Life, so at least I'll get some exercise supporting that. If you haven't donated, please follow the link to the right.
Thank you to the wonderful folks who already have.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
A question about the emerging church and ecumenism
I am a member of several inter-denominational groups that meet for conversation on various issues, from theology to local missions to whatever we're through in our own lives. This would seem to be a good thing, except that sometimes we can't agree as much as I'd like.
I've written about the emerging church movement in this blog before; that's what got me started blogging, actually, was a series of workshops on evangelism and technology and the UMC's voice in reaching our culture now and in the future. What emerging church is, is basically a loose confederation of people in conversation about how ministry might look. There are some very public faces, like Brian McLaren, and a whole lot of people simply doing ministry in a variety of settings the best way they know how.
So here's where I am: the most diverse group I meet with has folks from independent churches, people with Pentecostal roots, Methodists, Episcopalians, Southern Baptists, Free Will Baptists, Presbyterians...generally a good spectrum of representatives from the (predominately white) Southern churches. We've sort of flirted around the edges of this emerging church conversation, especially with regard to reading McLaren and Rob Bell, who really put themselves out there as voices in this movement. But it seems like a lot of what we do is focus on our differences, rather than seeing how we can move together to minister to our community.
This setting would seem to naturally lead to emergent-type conversations: how do we communicate faith to people in a way that is authentic both to us and to the gospel? What do our individual traditions have to offer one another? What do we each bring to the table? How do we deal with our differences respectfully?
I don't think we'll solve the problems of the world, or even the community. But I think perhaps we need to know who we are as a group (not just individuals) and what we want to accomplish. And maybe that conversation will lead to the one I'm interested, and maybe it will lead in a direction where I don't have much to offer. That's an odd thing to be at once curious about and at peace with. I'd like to know where the group is going, so I know if I have a place in it...but it's okay with me if I don't.
I've written about the emerging church movement in this blog before; that's what got me started blogging, actually, was a series of workshops on evangelism and technology and the UMC's voice in reaching our culture now and in the future. What emerging church is, is basically a loose confederation of people in conversation about how ministry might look. There are some very public faces, like Brian McLaren, and a whole lot of people simply doing ministry in a variety of settings the best way they know how.
So here's where I am: the most diverse group I meet with has folks from independent churches, people with Pentecostal roots, Methodists, Episcopalians, Southern Baptists, Free Will Baptists, Presbyterians...generally a good spectrum of representatives from the (predominately white) Southern churches. We've sort of flirted around the edges of this emerging church conversation, especially with regard to reading McLaren and Rob Bell, who really put themselves out there as voices in this movement. But it seems like a lot of what we do is focus on our differences, rather than seeing how we can move together to minister to our community.
This setting would seem to naturally lead to emergent-type conversations: how do we communicate faith to people in a way that is authentic both to us and to the gospel? What do our individual traditions have to offer one another? What do we each bring to the table? How do we deal with our differences respectfully?
I don't think we'll solve the problems of the world, or even the community. But I think perhaps we need to know who we are as a group (not just individuals) and what we want to accomplish. And maybe that conversation will lead to the one I'm interested, and maybe it will lead in a direction where I don't have much to offer. That's an odd thing to be at once curious about and at peace with. I'd like to know where the group is going, so I know if I have a place in it...but it's okay with me if I don't.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Chimes Article May 14
Ponderous Thoughts
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of moments that take our breath away.” --unknown
I have a friend who collects little porcelain figurines called “Precious Moments”. Now, just between you and me, I don’t see the attraction, but Kim loves her collection. She has a large china cabinet that’s filled with them, she belongs to a special club that gives her access to limited edition figures, and she loves looking for new ones to commemorate special events in her life and that of her family.
I don’t store my precious moments in a china cabinet, but I do file them away in my mind (if you can call it filing…my mind may be as disordered as my office! But I do know where stuff is). We all have a mental storehouse of those moments that have taken our breath way—right on top, I keep the memory of the first time I saw my niece, Jamie, and the day Ben and I were on the Blue Ridge Parkway and saw a thick fog on one side of the mountains, then as we rode through the next switchback, clear and sunny skies on the other. The day in Arlington National Cemetery when my uncle was interred there is also near the top, as is my wedding, when Ben and I served communion to all our guests.
For me, these “take my breath away” moments remind me of the goodness and power of God, or the wonders of creation and the gift of love God gives us in each other. It’s interesting to me that the word for “spirit” in the Bible is the same as the word for breath…these moments that are breathtaking to us are encounters with the life-giving breath of God. I hope you have many moments filed away that have taken your breath away, and that in each of them you find God, sharing his presence and spirit with you.
Anne
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of moments that take our breath away.” --unknown
I have a friend who collects little porcelain figurines called “Precious Moments”. Now, just between you and me, I don’t see the attraction, but Kim loves her collection. She has a large china cabinet that’s filled with them, she belongs to a special club that gives her access to limited edition figures, and she loves looking for new ones to commemorate special events in her life and that of her family.
I don’t store my precious moments in a china cabinet, but I do file them away in my mind (if you can call it filing…my mind may be as disordered as my office! But I do know where stuff is). We all have a mental storehouse of those moments that have taken our breath way—right on top, I keep the memory of the first time I saw my niece, Jamie, and the day Ben and I were on the Blue Ridge Parkway and saw a thick fog on one side of the mountains, then as we rode through the next switchback, clear and sunny skies on the other. The day in Arlington National Cemetery when my uncle was interred there is also near the top, as is my wedding, when Ben and I served communion to all our guests.
For me, these “take my breath away” moments remind me of the goodness and power of God, or the wonders of creation and the gift of love God gives us in each other. It’s interesting to me that the word for “spirit” in the Bible is the same as the word for breath…these moments that are breathtaking to us are encounters with the life-giving breath of God. I hope you have many moments filed away that have taken your breath away, and that in each of them you find God, sharing his presence and spirit with you.
Anne
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Whatever's on my mind...
It's been too long since I just sat down and wrote. After all, that was my main reason for starting this blog, to sit and write and find out a little more about myself. I really missed it last week, when I was at Avila with no internet connection (can I call it fasting if the internet was simply unavailable?). I found myself journalling on the computer during the reflection time after each session, trying to work some things out.
Here's the revelation of the trip, in essence: I finally figured out that God uses me not in spite of the messiness of my life, but partly because of it. I have always thought that I was called to ministry in spite of some of the things in my past life, things I've done and things that were done to me. Part of me has always, until now, believed that any goodness to my ministry, any confirmation to my calling, any fruit in my spiritual life was a sort of covering over some of the brokenness that I brought with me to my relationship with God. After all, if I was a new person, God could ignore all that, right?
The result of this bad reasoning was a constant sense of waiting to be found out. Any virtue or quality I had, I thought, was a result of God's overcoming the "demon" of "my past." It was something to be hidden, to be ashamed of, to avoid discussing at all costs.
And to be honest, I'm not going to discuss it here. It's not that I am ashamed so much as that it's simply private...God and I have worked it out, and if someday telling the story can be good for someone, maybe then I'll tell it.
Gradually, over the years, I've come to realize that given the choice, I wouldn't change a thing. I am who I am because of all the experiences that shape me...and I don't know who I'd be without them. While I would not want someone else to have some of the experiences I've had, I can't see me without them, and without my faith.
In the past year or so, I've come to realize that God's calling on my life is not in spite of the messiness of my personal history. God's not covering anything up in my life, or overcoming some shameful part of who I am. In some way I don't quite understand, God has called me to the life and ministry I have because of all that I am and have grown to be, as a whole person and not a broken one. God does not whitewash the past, but instead somehow redeems it...redeems me, so that I can accept all of me, and celebrate my call without shame or fear or a sense of inadequacy.
If you read the "Notes from Colleague Forum" post, you can see where I went from there...a renewed sense of calling, and that God's not quite done with me yet (which I have intellectually understood, but which I sort of viscerally understand in a new way). And now, as this whole called person, I am finding that God is calling me to continue to investigate God's call on my life.
Now, let's be perfectly clear here. I am absolutely, without question, called to ministry in local congregations of the United Methodist Church. I am entirely confident that I am serving where I am called to be right now, and that Ann Street is the place for me. I actually believe that my present appointment is a gift from God and maybe even the Cabinet; going into this appointment, I actually asked for some things: to be considered as an associate despite my experience as a pastor, to come out of small rural churches for a time so that I might be better prepared to go back to them when the time comes (please God, not yet!), to have more opportunities for continuing education and more freedom to actually take vacations. All that said, I also believe I'm called to something more than simply continuing to do what I've always done.
I have always wanted to write, but never known what I wanted to write about. The biggest reason for me to start this blog was so that I might practice writing as a sort of spiritual discipline, that I would work out my faith here at the keyboard and on the screen, and maybe find myself with God in a new way.
So here I am. In the last year I have received the unexpected and remarkable gifts of a new appointment that gives me the opportunities I need to continue to grow into this calling from God, of a friend who has listened the the stories of how I came to be me and insisted on seeing me with compassion but not pity, as whole instead of broken, and as a person who has nothing to be ashamed of, but a fair bit to be proud of. (Perfect grammar is not so much one of those things of which I should be proud.) I have received the extraordinary grace of a loving and caring church family, and I am grateful beyond words for all these gifts, and for the freedom to accept them, to live in and with them, and to allow them to support me as I continue to grow as a Christian and a pastor, and maybe as a writer.
Here's the revelation of the trip, in essence: I finally figured out that God uses me not in spite of the messiness of my life, but partly because of it. I have always thought that I was called to ministry in spite of some of the things in my past life, things I've done and things that were done to me. Part of me has always, until now, believed that any goodness to my ministry, any confirmation to my calling, any fruit in my spiritual life was a sort of covering over some of the brokenness that I brought with me to my relationship with God. After all, if I was a new person, God could ignore all that, right?
The result of this bad reasoning was a constant sense of waiting to be found out. Any virtue or quality I had, I thought, was a result of God's overcoming the "demon" of "my past." It was something to be hidden, to be ashamed of, to avoid discussing at all costs.
And to be honest, I'm not going to discuss it here. It's not that I am ashamed so much as that it's simply private...God and I have worked it out, and if someday telling the story can be good for someone, maybe then I'll tell it.
Gradually, over the years, I've come to realize that given the choice, I wouldn't change a thing. I am who I am because of all the experiences that shape me...and I don't know who I'd be without them. While I would not want someone else to have some of the experiences I've had, I can't see me without them, and without my faith.
In the past year or so, I've come to realize that God's calling on my life is not in spite of the messiness of my personal history. God's not covering anything up in my life, or overcoming some shameful part of who I am. In some way I don't quite understand, God has called me to the life and ministry I have because of all that I am and have grown to be, as a whole person and not a broken one. God does not whitewash the past, but instead somehow redeems it...redeems me, so that I can accept all of me, and celebrate my call without shame or fear or a sense of inadequacy.
If you read the "Notes from Colleague Forum" post, you can see where I went from there...a renewed sense of calling, and that God's not quite done with me yet (which I have intellectually understood, but which I sort of viscerally understand in a new way). And now, as this whole called person, I am finding that God is calling me to continue to investigate God's call on my life.
Now, let's be perfectly clear here. I am absolutely, without question, called to ministry in local congregations of the United Methodist Church. I am entirely confident that I am serving where I am called to be right now, and that Ann Street is the place for me. I actually believe that my present appointment is a gift from God and maybe even the Cabinet; going into this appointment, I actually asked for some things: to be considered as an associate despite my experience as a pastor, to come out of small rural churches for a time so that I might be better prepared to go back to them when the time comes (please God, not yet!), to have more opportunities for continuing education and more freedom to actually take vacations. All that said, I also believe I'm called to something more than simply continuing to do what I've always done.
I have always wanted to write, but never known what I wanted to write about. The biggest reason for me to start this blog was so that I might practice writing as a sort of spiritual discipline, that I would work out my faith here at the keyboard and on the screen, and maybe find myself with God in a new way.
So here I am. In the last year I have received the unexpected and remarkable gifts of a new appointment that gives me the opportunities I need to continue to grow into this calling from God, of a friend who has listened the the stories of how I came to be me and insisted on seeing me with compassion but not pity, as whole instead of broken, and as a person who has nothing to be ashamed of, but a fair bit to be proud of. (Perfect grammar is not so much one of those things of which I should be proud.) I have received the extraordinary grace of a loving and caring church family, and I am grateful beyond words for all these gifts, and for the freedom to accept them, to live in and with them, and to allow them to support me as I continue to grow as a Christian and a pastor, and maybe as a writer.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Newsletter Article from this week
Yep, it's cheating, but it gets me over my guilt at not posting.
Ponderous Thoughts
This week’s article is upside down. Once you’ve read to the end, you’ll understand why.
First, a note about the last two weeks’ challenge: I only had one person make a guess, and that was Joe McCreary (who knows where I keep the chocolate, and that he can have some any time, but was still ready to claim his reward). The answer to life, the universe, and everything, according to Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, is 42. Adams gives us no question to make sense of the answer, which is a part of the essential silliness of the book.
In other news, I want to thank everyone who helped with our confirmation classes and retreat, from Julie, Eric, and Harriette to the office volunteers to the parents who helped with “crowd control” to the wonderful folks who provided our lunch for the retreat on Sunday. And let’s not forget all our wonderful young people. I’m still not sure how many, in total, took part, but I know it’s more than 20.
On the 20th, we will see many of these young people join with the church as full members. In the past weeks we’ve talked about the Bible, Jesus Christ, the faith and doctrines of the Christian Church universal, and about our own United Methodist history and congregation. On Confirmation Sunday, they will tell us all a little about what they believe.
I’m so proud of them and their hard work and commitment that I can’t resist giving you a little preview. As one of our exercises, we talked about creeds and doctrine as expressions of what we believe to be true and essential to our faith, and then gave them a chance to make their own “I believe” statements. Those are the quotations for today:
“I believe God will love us no matter what.”
“I believe God really loves the world enough to give up his only Son.”
“I believe everyone can receive God’s love.”
Those are words to live by.
Anne
Ponderous Thoughts
This week’s article is upside down. Once you’ve read to the end, you’ll understand why.
First, a note about the last two weeks’ challenge: I only had one person make a guess, and that was Joe McCreary (who knows where I keep the chocolate, and that he can have some any time, but was still ready to claim his reward). The answer to life, the universe, and everything, according to Douglas Adams in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, is 42. Adams gives us no question to make sense of the answer, which is a part of the essential silliness of the book.
In other news, I want to thank everyone who helped with our confirmation classes and retreat, from Julie, Eric, and Harriette to the office volunteers to the parents who helped with “crowd control” to the wonderful folks who provided our lunch for the retreat on Sunday. And let’s not forget all our wonderful young people. I’m still not sure how many, in total, took part, but I know it’s more than 20.
On the 20th, we will see many of these young people join with the church as full members. In the past weeks we’ve talked about the Bible, Jesus Christ, the faith and doctrines of the Christian Church universal, and about our own United Methodist history and congregation. On Confirmation Sunday, they will tell us all a little about what they believe.
I’m so proud of them and their hard work and commitment that I can’t resist giving you a little preview. As one of our exercises, we talked about creeds and doctrine as expressions of what we believe to be true and essential to our faith, and then gave them a chance to make their own “I believe” statements. Those are the quotations for today:
“I believe God will love us no matter what.”
“I believe God really loves the world enough to give up his only Son.”
“I believe everyone can receive God’s love.”
Those are words to live by.
Anne
Friday, May 11, 2007
Notes from Colleague Forum
Monday, May 7, 2007
Well, I am sort of fasting from the internet…not easy when I have an eBay auction, something I’ve wanted for a while, ending tomorrow. Oh well. I guess we wouldn’t call them disciplines if they were easy, huh? And here I am, “blogging” into a Word doc so that later I can paste this into the blog.
The good news is twofold: first, having failed abjectly at being prepared yesterday, I have got the PowerPoint for Sunday almost ready. This makes me very happy, and means I don’t have it hanging over my head. Instead, I’ll be thinking about Sunday’s sermon, which will be more fun.
Second, I’m here at Avila at the Wellspring Colleague Forum. Something about being here just makes me happier…this is a peaceful place for me. And Michael Williams is here, and I’m getting the chance to talk to yet another of the people I really look up to, and to talk through with him some of the questions I’ve been asking here and elsewhere.
This is what I’ve figured out recently: accepting and celebrating a call to ministry doesn’t mean giving up our own volition…I’m remembering again that I’m an Arminian, and I have free will, and that God is always with me. Sometimes working out this calling business is up to me, not only as an act of submission to the will of God or of depending on God to tell me what to do. Sometimes I’m actually offered a choice in the middle of all this, an equally weighted “you can do this or this” kind of choice. I guess I’m shedding a little of my inner fundamentalist: somehow I think God should just write it on the wall, make my course both indelible and inescapable, which would remove any need I have to make a decision—I could just go with the flow.
But no, this God business keeps calling for more from me, and I mostly love the challenge. Right now the question at hand is about the future and what ambition I have for this life God’s given me, and that I’ve chosen. It’s not all going to simply fall into place. I get to make some choices, I get to express my preference, and that’s heady stuff to know that God trusts me to make some of these decisions. God trusts me to make choices…that’s what that free will stuff is about.
I need to sleep on this.
Tuesday:
Yet another great day. So here’s what I think: at Duke I was working just a little on the concept of an ecumenical catechism. What I’m really interested in is catechesis, in a way, that makes our faith, ancient and modern, meaningful, coherent, a part of us, and transmissible—how we understand ourselves to be located in the narrative of God’s relationships with people, and how we share that story with others and teach them to make it their own.
So now I’m thinking seriously that it’s time to go back to my 5 year plan (only it’s more like 7) and look at places where I can do some writing (maybe even get published somewhere other than this blog). I’m also going to be talking to some of the other folks I admire, like Karen Westerfield-Tucker and Dr. Wainwright, who were influential at the beginning of this process, as well as some folks who have some contact that might help me as I go through this. I’m excited and a little nervous, but I do really believe that this is where God is calling me to go, and it is a part of what I always thought I wanted…now I just have to do some more work.
In other news, Ben got to touch a hawk today, which I know meant a great deal to him. And I got to see Ben climbing a hill, which he’d ordinarily avoid, to do it. One of the other pastors at this event was walking in the woods and found an injured juvenile Sandshill or Cooper’s hawk. Fortunately one of the other pastors here, a good friend, also does wildlife rehabilitation, and so he was able to go into the woods and recover the bird (giving Ben the chance to see it up close and to touch it). It’s spending tonight in a closet (read: safe, dark place) until we can get someone from Piedmont Wildlife Center to come collect it and care for it. It was dehydrated and very poorly muscled, and I hope it will survive the night and recover from its injury.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Well, the question of the day is where are the places in which I need to slow down enough to feel like I am at one with God and how do I do that? My answer is pretty simply, I don’t know.
I mean, I do. I go to the coffee shop with a book that’s not related, I stay up late and think and write and play, but I really don’t know how I do it in a way that really honors God and doesn’t just drown him out. I like the busyness and the chaos. I don’t like silence.
I have rethunk this question. It’s not about silence. It’s about being attuned to God so that we occupy the same space without effort. So my coffee shop time and walks with the dog and catharts and meetings with LaVera, Sally, and Eric count. Getting lost in a book may very well count. And the sacrificial mornings when I ignore the business I am about and spend and hour or two with Eric or Harriette or Peggy, with someone in the hospital or planning something new, those are sacramental too, in a way.
My immediate answer to the where are the places question is just a little bit before I get sick or hurt, but that’s not a fair answer. That is about busy-ness, and not about God or me. I admit I need to be more mindful of my own weariness, but that has little to do with feeling disconnected from God and more to do with being disconnected from myself. Perhaps it’s about being present to God? I’ll have to think more about this.
Well, I am sort of fasting from the internet…not easy when I have an eBay auction, something I’ve wanted for a while, ending tomorrow. Oh well. I guess we wouldn’t call them disciplines if they were easy, huh? And here I am, “blogging” into a Word doc so that later I can paste this into the blog.
The good news is twofold: first, having failed abjectly at being prepared yesterday, I have got the PowerPoint for Sunday almost ready. This makes me very happy, and means I don’t have it hanging over my head. Instead, I’ll be thinking about Sunday’s sermon, which will be more fun.
Second, I’m here at Avila at the Wellspring Colleague Forum. Something about being here just makes me happier…this is a peaceful place for me. And Michael Williams is here, and I’m getting the chance to talk to yet another of the people I really look up to, and to talk through with him some of the questions I’ve been asking here and elsewhere.
This is what I’ve figured out recently: accepting and celebrating a call to ministry doesn’t mean giving up our own volition…I’m remembering again that I’m an Arminian, and I have free will, and that God is always with me. Sometimes working out this calling business is up to me, not only as an act of submission to the will of God or of depending on God to tell me what to do. Sometimes I’m actually offered a choice in the middle of all this, an equally weighted “you can do this or this” kind of choice. I guess I’m shedding a little of my inner fundamentalist: somehow I think God should just write it on the wall, make my course both indelible and inescapable, which would remove any need I have to make a decision—I could just go with the flow.
But no, this God business keeps calling for more from me, and I mostly love the challenge. Right now the question at hand is about the future and what ambition I have for this life God’s given me, and that I’ve chosen. It’s not all going to simply fall into place. I get to make some choices, I get to express my preference, and that’s heady stuff to know that God trusts me to make some of these decisions. God trusts me to make choices…that’s what that free will stuff is about.
I need to sleep on this.
Tuesday:
Yet another great day. So here’s what I think: at Duke I was working just a little on the concept of an ecumenical catechism. What I’m really interested in is catechesis, in a way, that makes our faith, ancient and modern, meaningful, coherent, a part of us, and transmissible—how we understand ourselves to be located in the narrative of God’s relationships with people, and how we share that story with others and teach them to make it their own.
So now I’m thinking seriously that it’s time to go back to my 5 year plan (only it’s more like 7) and look at places where I can do some writing (maybe even get published somewhere other than this blog). I’m also going to be talking to some of the other folks I admire, like Karen Westerfield-Tucker and Dr. Wainwright, who were influential at the beginning of this process, as well as some folks who have some contact that might help me as I go through this. I’m excited and a little nervous, but I do really believe that this is where God is calling me to go, and it is a part of what I always thought I wanted…now I just have to do some more work.
In other news, Ben got to touch a hawk today, which I know meant a great deal to him. And I got to see Ben climbing a hill, which he’d ordinarily avoid, to do it. One of the other pastors at this event was walking in the woods and found an injured juvenile Sandshill or Cooper’s hawk. Fortunately one of the other pastors here, a good friend, also does wildlife rehabilitation, and so he was able to go into the woods and recover the bird (giving Ben the chance to see it up close and to touch it). It’s spending tonight in a closet (read: safe, dark place) until we can get someone from Piedmont Wildlife Center to come collect it and care for it. It was dehydrated and very poorly muscled, and I hope it will survive the night and recover from its injury.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Well, the question of the day is where are the places in which I need to slow down enough to feel like I am at one with God and how do I do that? My answer is pretty simply, I don’t know.
I mean, I do. I go to the coffee shop with a book that’s not related, I stay up late and think and write and play, but I really don’t know how I do it in a way that really honors God and doesn’t just drown him out. I like the busyness and the chaos. I don’t like silence.
I have rethunk this question. It’s not about silence. It’s about being attuned to God so that we occupy the same space without effort. So my coffee shop time and walks with the dog and catharts and meetings with LaVera, Sally, and Eric count. Getting lost in a book may very well count. And the sacrificial mornings when I ignore the business I am about and spend and hour or two with Eric or Harriette or Peggy, with someone in the hospital or planning something new, those are sacramental too, in a way.
My immediate answer to the where are the places question is just a little bit before I get sick or hurt, but that’s not a fair answer. That is about busy-ness, and not about God or me. I admit I need to be more mindful of my own weariness, but that has little to do with feeling disconnected from God and more to do with being disconnected from myself. Perhaps it’s about being present to God? I’ll have to think more about this.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Busy, busy, busy
Wow, what a week. I have to confess that I haven't even looked at this blog for days. Seems like there's been one thing after another. I started last week with a sort of sigh of relief because I thought I didn't have any major projects for the week...just the usual Bible study, PowerPoint for the evening service, and Wednesday nighter. I usually leave the PowerPoint until Friday, but all of the sudden I ran out of time...
I am going to my retreat tomorrow, and really looking forward to it. I'll work a half day tomorrow (afte a 13-hour day today, and some emails yet to return) and then go to the conference, and I'll come home Thursday to do a wedding rehearsal for Friday. Good thing the weather's set to improve.
So I won't be writing again until maybe Friday. Hope it's a good week for us all.
I am going to my retreat tomorrow, and really looking forward to it. I'll work a half day tomorrow (afte a 13-hour day today, and some emails yet to return) and then go to the conference, and I'll come home Thursday to do a wedding rehearsal for Friday. Good thing the weather's set to improve.
So I won't be writing again until maybe Friday. Hope it's a good week for us all.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Oops
The running away from home I referred to below is a conference/retreat I'm going to next week. Michael Williams, the editor of The Storyteller's Companion to the Bible series, is the main presenter. I met him several years ago at another conference and I just think he's great. So that's what I'll be up to next week.
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